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brokenpieces-72 · 3 days ago

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Hi, I hope you’re having a good day, I’m up at like midnight trying to sleep but I had an idea that I just had to submit. What if while the team is working on a trafficking sting in Australia they stumble upon a Tasmanian tiger hybrid who is among the last of their kind. as an Australian I have loved this species since I first found out about it and thought it would make a great tragic story ❤️.

Okay, so I looked up what these creatures look like, and then read further about them later on, and learned they are extinct. This made it a bit of a challenge but a welcome one. I also genuinely could not think of a good name for the reader, even a nickname, so if there is some placeholder spots that's why.

Taz

CoD Hybrid AU | Navigation

CW: Mentions of trafficking, mentions of possible life risks, let me know if I missed anything.

At first you felt yourself drifiting to unconsciousness, your body sore and starting to give out. Then there was a soft voice, and a strange shape outside your kennel. Everything faded into darkness, as you thought you were leaving the mortal world. Something went over your face and the soft voice continued to speak to you. It reassured you everything would be okay, and that you were going to get help.

Then you started to hear beeping. Soft and steady. You didn't feel panicked when you opened your eyes, despite the tubes that were connected to your body. In fact you didn't notice the tubes, until you moved your arms. A sedative no doubt. Maybe you'd already been sold, and they were worried about keeping you alive. At the moment your vision was still dark, there was a blindfold over your eyes, likely to keep you from overstressing. A door opened, making your ears twitch towards the sound.

"Hello?" The soft voice from before spoke before closing the door. "Can you hear me? You can just lift your hand or move a little."

You lifted your hand, your throat dry from a lack of water. "My name is Spirit. I'm here to help you. Your eyes are covered to reduce your stress, along with a sedative to keep your heart rate steady. You're being given some medicine as well. Would you like some water?"

You lifted your hand. Spirit warned you she was going to touch you, and gave you some water with a straw. She went on to explain that you would be in bed for a while, and the blindfold would remain until they can assure your stress levels are low enough. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call out, you have a room to yourself and Spirit would ensure someone came that could be trusted. For now, you should rest for a bit.

"Th-Thank you." You croaked. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Spirit asked.

"Not a...very good product." You said. Spirit stood there for a moment, silent.

"May I hold your hand?" Spirit asked. You nodded, with some hesitation. Not the first time someone asked that, and the result wasn't pleasant. Small calloused hands held your palm, rubbing it gently over the bandages. "You're not a product, no one bought you. My team and I rescued you from your situation. No one will be purchasing you. Once you recover, we'll do everything we can to send you to a good home."

You took a moment, before the tears started to fall. You whimpered, and Spirit's soft hand went to your cheek. Spirit could feel you shaking, despite the sedatives in your body. "You're safe here. I promise."

After some more water and some food fed to you, Spirit made sure you were taken care of for the rest of the night. She went the extra effort to tuck you in, and talk to you a little bit. If you had any questions, she was happy to answer. Once you were more comfortable, Spirit made sure you had everything you needed before saying good night, and leaving you alone. The room was a little cold, but the blanket felt warmer than before. It felt too good to be true. Free. You were free.

Spirit took you on walks once you felt comfortable to walk around. The blindfold stayed on for a while, Spirit leading you to the washroom, taking the role of your caregiver. Some times it was another person, but they were very careful with making you feel safe and preventing you from being overwhelmed. One day you asked Spirit if you could try walking around, wanting to know more about where you were. Spirit made sure you wore shoes, and some pants. The last thing Spirit wanted was for you to walk around in a hospital gown, feeling exposed. You needed a little help with your tail, but that was it.

One foot in front of the other as you walked around, Spirit being very patient with your progress. As you went, people passed, and were pointed out to you. Then there was a shout and you yelped, tensing up. You were off the sedative, so Spirit spoke to you clearly and clamly. Alarm bells were going off in your head, as your heart rate went up. You were grounded quickly, held on to, firmly but not painfully. Spirit readjusted herself, and sat next to you, holding you close, while you clung to her. A hand went to your hair and ears, stroking them gently.

"Sergeant, could you grab Soap for me, remind him to be quiet." Spirit said. You heard footsteps leave and then some come back, along with a scottish accent.

"What appened?" He asked. If you could see the death stare, Spirit gave her older brother, you would think her eyes were silver. Soap realized what he'd done right away. In his defence he didn't realize you'd left the room with her. He apologized and asked what he could do to help.

"I-I... I'm fine now I think." You said. You wanted to keep going, try to push through the attack.

"Are you sure?" Spirit asked. You nodded.

"Wanna 'and?" Soap offered. You sniffed the air, trying to figure out what he was. A wolf maybe? Smelled like it. You cautiously held your hand out and felt much bigger, and rougher hands than Spirit's.

"Thank you." You said. Spirit took your other arm, and you said bye to Soap while Spirit let you keep walking.

For a few minutes everything was fine, until you turned a corner. You were still fine, but you heard Spirit raise her voice a bit. "Horangi, don't even think about it."

You heard a different language and a very odd scent. Certainly not a normal animal. Was that brimstone as well? Spirit assured you she would introduce you to her team if you wanted to meet them. For now she wanted your faculties back and for you to feel safe, so stress wouldn't over take you.

The blindfold came off, and the lights were low. You could still make out the sergeant with rabbit ears and antlers. It didn't take much to know who Spirit was, as she'd spent plenty of time with you. You were her top priority along with the other rescued creatures.

Soap was friendly with you right off the bat. You were a new scent to him as well. He wasn't entirely sure what you were at first, but if his sister could trust you then he was willing. Soap came to visit you on occasion in your room, keeping you company. When the fullmoon comes around though, he is sure to avoid you like the plague. Spirit let's you watch the shift happen from a safe place, with the rest of the team providing a distraction for the wolf. You want to rebuild your confidence, and exposure to experiences was what you wanted to do.

You met others as well. Spirit figured it couldn't hurt for you to interact with other hybrids. Rudy meets you next, and as always the cadejos are a welcome treat. Sometimes the white one will pop half of it's body in first before Rodolfo steps inside. Once you tried throwing something to the dog while it was halfway through the door, and it caught it, coming over to you so you could toss it again. Rudy just stood outside your door, letting you enjoy your little session with the cadejo.

Ghost avoids you like the plague. You're a rare creature, he hasn't seen a hybrid or animal like you before, so he isn't about to take the risk of stressing you out to the point your heart gives out. Not the most comforting sort anyways. However he still has to pass your room from time to time, so you get a whiff of him. It's an odd scent, but when you encounter him face to face you know who it is. Admittedly, when Ghost sees you, it's like finding a hurt puppy. You had been through it no doubt, and if you need to talk to someone, he can take the rough shit you don't like bringing up.

Kyle is surprisingly one of the best people to be around. When you were still blindfolded, he didn't mind leading you around base. His feathers are great when you need a sensory for your hands. Sometimes you think it's annoying for him. No it's not, but if you want you can prune him a bit. Actually it becomes an activity that helps you focus, and Gaz gets some comfort out of it. If you ever need some comfort outside your room, his wings actually make for a great cover when your breathing gets difficult. No you're not holding him up. His superiors are understanding with these sort of things.

Alejandro asked what hybrid you were right off the bat, and honestly you weren't entirely sure yourself. Some people said you were a tiger, others said you were a dog. Alejandro offers to let you test out what you can do, but if you ever need to stop, he won't push. Yeah, that sounds kind of nice. You could use some exercise, and Alejandro is pretty good coach. Gentle but pushes you. One more. You can do one more. If you do one more, he'll piggyback you inside. Done, awesome, you hungry? Alright, he'll carry you there.

Now usually Simon was the one to take an interest in newcomers at a distance. Price however, he is curious about you. Your scent is uncommon, really uncommon. It can't be easy with some of the looks you were getting. That being said, he's a big dragon. Approaching you slowly and carefully was the safest. On occasion you would step outside where he was, and observe whatever was going on outside. Price has a habit and instinct where his wing covers members of his pack, usually during sleep. In this case, he makes sure you have some shade or an umbrella. One such time, it started to rain, and wing went over you. You held out your hand to let it fall on you. It had been a while since you'd felt the rain or even seen it. Price noticed your curiosity and let you step out from under his wing, seeing your curiousity turn into joy.

"I hate both the British government and the Tasmanian government." Spirit said.

"Wanna expand on that Spirit?" Kyle asked, a brow raised.

"I found out what Y/N is." Spirit said.

"Golden retriever?" Soap guessed.

"I guessed greyhound." Rudy added.

"They're not a dog, not exactly." Spirit said sighing. "They're a tasmanian tiger."

The room was a little quiet. Price sighed, knowing this made it harder. The animal itself was extinct for about 50 or so years. Hybrids were even more rare and for all the wrong reasons. No wonder you'd been priced so high. You could very well be the only one left. The rest of the team was a less aware, but Price's reaction was enough to tell them it was bad.

"What does this have to do with the British?" Kyle asked.

"Tasmanian tigers and wolves are extinct, and largely due to the Tasmanian government putting out government-backed bounties, and the British colonizing didn't make that any better." Spirit explained. "At first I thought it was just the animals, but when I contacted some organizations, more than a couple asked whether we wanted to be paid or pay them upon delivering Y/N to them."

"They hunted hybrids?" Soap asked. Yeah, he'd heard of werewolves getting hunted, but shit like that didn't happen as often anymore. It was much more rare to hear about. To hear the government was still offering bounties made him sick. Made all of them sick. Hell you were just a kid, what could you honestly do?

"It's going to take much longer for me to find them a placement, one that I know will be safe." Spirit said.

"Mija, I hate to be that person, but remember that you can't guarentee a perfect placement for them. These are rare circumstances, it won't be easy." Alejandro spoke up. Spirit was aware of that, but it wouldn't stop her from asking around. It could mean sending you to a program, but she could live with that. That was the last resort though. Spirit turned her attention to the captain.

"I'm going to contact Laswell, see what she can find on any possible families or other organizations that could take in someone like Y/N." Spirit reported. Price gave her a nod, accepting her next course of action.

Now you were faced with boredom. You were able to get your hands on some books, which you devoured quickly. There wasn't much else to do on the base. Part of your routine was answering questions. Spirit or Laswell would ask them but it was rare even then. You would ask around for something to do, and even spend time with the other rescues. They seemed happy to get to go home soon, while some were a little nervous to go a program. You were given their contact info, so you could maintain your friendships. Even saw them off as they left the base.

The 141, Los Vacqueros and the members from Kortac didn't mind spending time with you, but they weren't always available. The Kortac members were easier to interact with, as they didn't have the same work as the others.

Horangi decides to show you how to gamble, under the radar. Well he tried but Spirit didn't find your lessons appropriate. Card games are fine, but betting snacks instead of chips was preferred. He can teach you other games as well. Some games you can play by yourself if he isn't around to teach you. Usually Horangi wouldn't bother with you, it's not part of his job. Playing some games to keep you entertained you could at least entertain him too. The best part is he finds playing games with you is a great time killer, and you're good at them as well.

Konig likes you. Usually, he's indifferent, not wanting to get attached but you're an exception. His large size has kept some people at bay, quieting others when things get too loud, and he can run you through the five senses during anxiety attacks. He's also the brimstone smell you caught when you were blindfolded. When you go outside of the base, exploring the area around, König gives you privacy if you need it. Your scent is distinct, so he can find you easily if it's time to head back. Also, he plays with your ears, which is very comforting.

You taught yourself to hunt, with Soap encouraging you to do so. In his eyes you're still a canine, and learning to hunt is something you should know or at least understand at your age. Thing is, while you would catch mice while in captivity, you often let them go. They still fed you, so hunting wasn't necessary. Soap tried to show you how to hunt like a wolf, but you're not exactly a wolf. You don't have the same speed as him but can sniff out prey easily enough, so Soap switches his teaching strategy to tracking.

Alejandro gets involved, understanding that a hybrid like you would often hunt in pairs. Once they marked a critter they released it, letting you chase after it. The two men stood back watching you... well they gave you credit for your determination. You kept chasing and diving for the fake animal, even going face first with your jaws. Okay, admittedly, they didn't know you could open your mouth that wide. Eventually, one nose dive left you on the ground, and you just lay there. Yeah you're okay, just tired and frustrated. Alejandro came over to sit with you, seeing how messy your face, hair and arms had gotten. You spat out dirt. More than once.

"We can take a break." He offered. He saw you keeping quiet, watching the critter take cover in a number of places.

"I'm stupid." You said, hugging your knees. Alejandro sighed, putting a hand on your shoulder.

"No, you're not." Alejandro told you. "You're not used to hunting, and we don't have proper teachers for you."

The colonel noticed you seemed more disappointed in yourself. Your face was a wreck, honestly. Scratches and a couple bruises. "Be proud of yourself. Not everyone dives head first into these things. Literally. It will take time to learn. Okay?"

You nodded, and got a hand up. You would find a way to catch the critter. One way or another. But yeah you were hungry, and probably needed some wounds cleaned. Maybe a shower.

When you returned, Spirit and Price were waiting. Spirit was trying not to look worried, while Price was confused how you got filthy while the colonel and sergeant seemed untouched. As soon as hunting practice is brought up, the two were understanding. Price offered to take you to get fixed and cleaned up. He too, told you to take pride in your bold approach. But to be careful, going face first.

Price took over your training. He watched as you scrambled for the critter, diving for it, and trying to grab at it. Still no luck. Price called you over after the fifth failed attempt, where you nearly broke your nose.

"If you keep chasing it in circles you'll wind up dizzy." He told you. "You need to rethink your plan of attack."

"I have one but it won't work." You told him.

"Why's that?" He asked.

"If I could chase it through the terrain, I think I might know a way to corner it." You told him. Price was intrigued. You'd gone from chasing your tail to suddenly having a strategy. A basic one, but he might be able to work something out to let you think it over more. Price invites you back inside, showing you a map of the surrounding area. In the end you had a good ambush strategy you could pull off with Alejandro.

Price is impressed and expresses as much. Your beaming makes his praise all the sweeter.

When you try again, Alejandro is open to your suggestion, and you're successful, cornering the target and capturing it. Alejandro came over and told you how brilliant you were. After that, you found yourself interested in strategy, intrigued by battles with creative tactics, and losses that could have been won through other means. Price was finding himself asking for your input on a few missions, and letting you look over some reports he was working on.

On one occasion you fell asleep looking at one, sitting slouched in a chair, with your legs tucked up. Price noticed maybe an hour into your nap. Seeing you sleeping there, made him feel old. It also reminded him that someone probably felt the same way. Spirit was still at work, finding a placement for you, one that was safe and thorough, even looking for your parents. Price was wondering, while looking at how peaceful you were, if he could let you go so easily.

Price was watching you learn how to fight, Alejandro dragging Horangi into his training sessions again. Both of them checked in to make sure you didn't freak out or get overwhelmed while they taught you maneuvers. Kyle came up beside him and looked at Price who seemed to be focused on you. Kyle could see why, as to whether he thought it was a good idea, that was in the air.

"I haven't seen you this focused on sparring practice in a while." Kyle commented. Price's focus was finally taken off of you for a moment.

"They're good." Price said shrugging. Just good? Kyle had seen you, you'd gone from a shivering puppy to a confident fighter. The dragon hybrid was looking at you, like you could be a new addition to his hoard. Which made Kyle a little concerned. You could be a valuable addition to the team sure, but the problem was, too much stress could kill you, literally. It was part of the reason Spirit kept you blindfolded until you felt comfortable.

Kyle was getting attached as well. You got excited when he dive bombed targets during your strategies. Seeing how pleased you were when your plans were successful, even just in practice put a smile on his face. You had two tails when you got engrossed in a book. Kyle could sit and listen to you point out all the flaws in an attack plan in your books for hours. You were constantly pushing yourself to be better, and like Price, Kyle had found you passed out with your novels and guides more than once.

Kyle was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard a hard thud, and you apologizing over and over. You'd gotten Horangi on his back who was snickering at your frantic state. There was still plenty for you to learn as Kyle found himself smiling again.

One night, everyone was staying inside, no going out. Above you heard the rain coming down hard. Really hard. Really really- was that rain or hail? Your ears flattened as you felt yourself getting nervous. It was just the weather. Just the weather. The base would protect you. You were safe. Safe.

Thunder crashed above and your cried out. Your hands went over your years, your body tucked up into a ball, and you squeezed your eyes shut. Deep breaths, you needed to take deep breaths. It was loud above you as hail continued to pound against the roof. Your heart was pounding in your chest, threatening to break out of it.

Suddenly, a warm blanket was draped over you, and a large weight joined you on the bed. Your eyes slowly opened, as the blanket was pulled off your head, and wrapped tightly around you. When you looked up, you saw Kyle looking down at you, concern on his face. There waas a flash and you looked around the room, waiting for the thunder, tensing up again. Large hands covered yours, muffling the noise even more, and Kyle sat behind you.

"Pretty loud aye?" Kyle asked, though you could barely hear him. You nodded, whimpering. "You're safe. It can't hurt you here."

Kyle moved in a little closer and pulled you to his chest, while he rested against the wall. He was really warm, and it was really comforting. Safe. You were safe with him. His wings wrapped around you partially. Your heartbeat was settling to a steady beat, as you rested your head on his chest. You didn't know harpy hearts sounded like that. It was calm, soft, and soothing.

Kyle smiled down at you, seeing you were being lulled to sleep. You were nuzzling into his hoodie. The tactical tasmanian tiger, scared of hail and thunder. Yeah he didn't like hail and thunder either. Made flying difficult. Kyle pulled the blanket over you, letting sleep take over. The others were helping the rest of the rescued kids, he had nowhere to be.

While he looked at your sleeping face, he let the hail above drown out his words, thinking out loud. "I think Price wants to adopt you. I want him to as well. This isn't the right place for you though, too much pressure, too much stress. Knowing him though... he'll find a way to make it work. You're special, really special. No matter what we're here for you."

Price was watching the scene from the door way, with Kyle. How could he let you go now?

You were the last rescue, still awaiting a placement. In the mean time, the team made you feel at home. They had you helping with tasks on base, and taking part in training. You sparred with most of them by now, and tested strategies with all of them. You were spending more and more time with Kyle and Price. One of them would often sit in with you while Spirit gave you check-ups and told you how her search for a safe program was going. Spirit wasn't about to force you into a place you didn't want but she had limited time.

The last few times, Price would stay behind to chat with Spirit. You didn't know what about, but that was okay. You could find Kyle for some target practice or tag. A couple times Kyle stayed behind as well, so Price showed you some sparring tricks he'd learned from years of experience. You were getting anxious though as Spirit's window was closing in. Honestly, you didn't need your parents by now. You had your own pack here. It was a little scary, but you were safe.

The final day comes and both Kyle and Price take you to Spirit. They're protective as they walk with, standing on either side. Price kept a hand on your back, while your tail was tucked between your legs. Spirit stood outside the small office giving you a friendly smile. You sat down at a chair, with Kyle and Price behind you, and a stranger standing behind Spirit.

"Y/N, do you want to go to a program?" Spirit asked. Your ears perked up. You thought you didn't have much of a choice. Isn't that why the stranger was there?

"No." You said. The stranger let out a soft breath, expecting your answer. Spirit looked back at him, shrugging.

"You want to stay on base?" She asked. You nodded because yeah you did want to stay. You felt so useful and not just for your looks or hybrid features. Your tail started to wag.

"Unfortunately, staying on base is not very simple." Spirit explained. Your ears lowered, and your tail stopped moving. "There's plenty of noise, things that can startle you and highly stressful situations that would put your life highly at risk."

"I know." You said, lowering your gaze in disappointment.

"There are some solutions for that." Spirit told you. You looked up, hopeful. Spirit sighed, knowing this explaination would be complicated. At least it was a decent compromise.

"There's a program in Australia, one that I have been assured will focus on your health and safety above all else. Not only that, but they can help you with handling stressful situations, as well as allow you to have regular visits with your sponsors. You can come visit the base or any other base as long as your sponsors agree to it." Spirit continued. She gestured to the stranger. "This man is a rerainer for the program, and thoroughly studies the hybrids they work with. He's here to take you to their facility, but only if you agree to it."

You sat there, listening to the explanation. It sounded too good to be true. You'd heard about programs being rough for a lot of hybrids but Spirit trusted this one. You did have a question though.

"Who are my sponsors?" You asked. Spirit looked past you and nodded to the two winged men standing behind you. You turned around and saw both of them smiling. Your face lit up, and without thinking, you ran over to Price, hugging his waist. He chuckled and hugged you back.

"I take it that's a yes?" Spirit asked. You nodded against Price's shirt, tearing up. The stranger smirked, and talked to Spirit for a moment. It was going to be a couple days before you were taken to the facility. It was also going to be scary. You were happy though, and that was enough for Kyle and Price. You had a pack now, and they both had a new treasure.

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 1 day ago

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𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 · · · · 𝚇𝙸. 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚎 ║ ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡⓔⓓ

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 || 𝚗 𝚊 𝚟 𝚒 𝚐 𝚊 𝚝 𝚒 𝚘 𝚗 || 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | CHAPTER CONTENT: POV switching, toxic family dynamics, parental abuse, alcoholism/disordered alcohol use, protective!Joel, domestic fluff, hurt/comfort, beauty in the mundane, learning to be peaceful in the stillness WORD COUNT: 6.8k

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: How odd it is to be haunted by someone who is still alive.

“But what if I miss a payment?”

“You’re not gonna miss a payment,” he assures you for the millionth time.

“And the interest is, like, 27%, so if I miss a payment it’s gonna be so much extra on top of the bill,” you stress.

“Your interest is only that high because you don’t have any credit in your name, baby. It’ll get knocked down eventually – once you build up a good history – but that’s just how it starts out most of the time.”

You can tell he’s about to launch into his comforting finance dialogue yet again, but you don’t stop him. You still need to hear him say it, even if it feels like he’s beating a dead horse at this point. You need the comfort in his assurances, and for once you don’t get down on yourself for needing it and seeking it out.

“And you’re not gonna make huge purchases to start, right? You’re gonna put small, consistent charges on there every month and pay it in full every month. After 6 months to a year, you’ll get a low credit utilization ratio, and you might be able to increase your credit limit. It sounds scary, but it’s really simple. I promise. And I can go over it as many times as you need to feel comfortable with it.”

You gnaw your bottom lip and review the little pamphlets and flyers Joel collected for you. He was insistent about having you use your money not for helping with the mortgage or grocery bill or utilities but rather to open your own bank account and then a line of credit so that you could start building credit in your name and your name solely.

Now you were on a Joel Miller crash course about interest rates, utilization ratios, FICO scoring, and all sorts of other financial planning topics that were meant to help you build a firm foundation for lifelong financial independence and security. You constantly doubted yourself and felt overwhelmed with the volume of information, but Joel was adamant about it. After a while, some of it was finally sticking, and you could only pray that you’d pick up more and more of it each time.

Your payments were scheduled automatically now through your online banking, which he also helped you set up, and he helped you get into the habit of keeping track of things on the phone app. “If it’s easy enough for me to do it, I know you won’t have any issue with it” he’d laughed when he first installed it. He was honest to god excited about how much you’d be able to put into savings over the course of the next five years.

The concept of five years into the future felt hard to conceptualize. You were still getting used to staying on your feet most days and taking more onto your plate when possible. But to Joel, it was something just around the corner. He talked about it as though it was clear as day in his mind’s eye. He saw that future for you – for the both of you – so easily.

The thrum of your pulse felt sticky every time at the casual insinuation that he’d be there to see it, that you and him would still be together and happy and in love, but your stomach lurched at the thought of it.

He cared an awful lot about you. That much was clear. It was the whole acknowledging the whole being in love thing that made it harder to fathom. It felt dangerously hopeful. It was hard enough to admit to yourself that you loved him, even though there was really no denying it at this point. But that awful, nagging worry still nipped at your heels: would he grow tired of it all one of these days? The mollycoddling and constant instruction for shit you should’ve had all figured out by now?

There was no real concept of losing him in your head because that was even harder to envision than anything else. Your thoughts flipped over to a blank slide when you even tried to imagine what it would feel like to not have him in your life. When the nerves of it all started to prick and sting and make you nauseous, those were the moments you held him a little closer to you until the fear subsided.

Joel doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s watching you, all bent over the edge of the deck with your little stack of porcelain plates that you carefully arrange in a neat line along the step.

“Madeline and Helen, you’re over here,” you call over your shoulder to the two grungy “frenemy” cats, as you’d dubbed them.

He snorts and shakes his head, but you just ignore him and continue with your task. All the plates are dispersed, and your usual hoard of neighborhood cats have come meowing and pawing for the “good brand wet food” you insisted on buying for them. When you first started this habit of spoiling the “cat collective,” Joel had been surprised to learn that so many stray cats roamed the neighborhood. That was, until he noticed that many of them had collars and tags. Despite belonging to a nearby family and having perfectly good homes, they regularly showed up like the greedy, indulgent creatures they were.

You didn’t mind, though. You were delighted to greet them all every night like the informal mayor of some feline city. You gave them names despite some tags displaying an entirely different moniker. They responded to whatever you called them, though, so he really had no room to say anything about that. The corner of his mouth twitched up as he watched you slip into your little routine. You’d taken to giving them all nicknames or new names, mostly from movies you’ve watched together.

When the two “frenemy cats” had gotten into a little brawl on the stairs a few weeks back, you broke up their fight and giggled to yourself when you came up with the grand idea of naming them after characters from Death Becomes Her. He shared in a laugh at the fitting names you chose, and you flashed him a million kilowatt smile that made his knees weak.

He watches in open amusement as you chide Walter – the rotund, irritable tabby that struggles to play nice with others once he’s gobbled up his own dish and is unable to bully others for theirs. You’d quoted “you’re outta your element, Donny!” to Walter about a half dozen times by now, but he never seemed to find your references to The Big Lebowski as hilarious as you did. The grumpy furball looks up at you, annoyed but put in his place, and allows you to scratch his head.

While you made your nightly circuit, Joel scanned the back deck, surveying a potential spot for a small safehouse unit. Might as well start looking into building a heated, insulated area for all these cats since you’ll probably worry yourself sick over how cold they could get in the winter without proper shelter. They could always carry their asses back to their own houses in the neighborhood, but, knowing you, the thought of “what if?” would make you fret enough that he wants to have a plan and build ready to go when it’s time. He tucks it into his mind for later, just like so many other ideas and dreams and possible futures with you.

For now he enjoys giving you the space to indulge in the things that make you happy, a freedom to do something not because there’s an end goal in mind but because it makes you feel radiant in the moment. He loves to see what you latch onto without the angry voice of a controlling dirtbag berating you and making you feel insignificant and frivolous just for finding joy in things.

Watching you shift from constantly on edge to relaxed was a reward all in itself. It was most noticeable at night. You’d stir so frequently in bed those first few weeks after moving in. It might’ve been the new house noises, sure, but there’s no doubt the learned vigilance was a big part of your tendency to be a light sleeper. When you’d startle awake, he’d wake, too. You’d be apologetic and sometimes even a little embarrassed at being so jumpy “over nothing.” He’d just pull you closer and tell you it was okay and to try to go back to sleep. It took a while before it really sunk in, but eventually falling asleep and staying asleep came easier to you.

He was constantly discovering new ways your upbringing and home life had carved these jagged neural pathways in your mind. He didn’t know what the answer was for some of them, other than time, but for the simpler things, like letting you freely explore hobbies and whims, he’d jump at the opportunity to give you that sort of life.

“Do you think I could just… wear some shorts and a shirt? I mean….”

Your words taper off as you stare down at the dress Sarah had ordered online along with the pretty blue one you wore to Kenzie’s graduation ceremony. You didn’t want to repeat the blue dress when you’d just worn it so recently, but you really didn’t want to be up moving around and socializing in a dress all day anyway. Plus, the temperature had crept up steadily now that Memorial Day had just come and gone. Ideally it was denim cutoffs and tank top weather, but you could deal with some linen type shorts and a t-shirt for the sake of a party.

“I’ll match with whatever you put on, so just go with somethin’ comfortable,” he suggests. “There’s worse things than being underdressed for a college graduation party. I doubt anybody’ll even care, honey.”

He was probably right, but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself and drag Joel down with you. Attending parties and looking the part of a well put-together couple was new for you, and there was only so much “fake it ‘til you make it” bravado that could pull you through these sorts of settings. Joel dons a pair of darkwash, neat jeans with a short-sleeved button up, and you huff loudly at how easy he makes things look.

He catches your toothless irritation and shoots you a wink before grabbing the dress and hanging it up in your shared closet.

“C’mon, let’s look at the shirt options ya got,” he encourages.

The lack of options ended up being a bit of a blessing because it meant you weren’t overwhelmed with choices. You wind up settling on a spaghetti strap top that’s nice and flowy with a small bow detail in the back. It wasn’t the fanciest thing, but it was dressier than a plain t-shirt. A once over in the mirror reflected a pretty well put together outfit, and your shoulders relaxed with the crisis having been avoided thanks to Joel. He, of course, looked effortlessly handsome and casual.

The drive to Kenzie’s house for the party is uneventful, as are most of your driving excursions these days. Pretty soon you’ll accrue enough hours of road time to take the test to be an actual, bonafide licensed driver. Joel is in his usual spot in the passenger seat with a hand resting on your thigh, calming and a reminder that you’ve got help if you need it.

The half-circle drive is full of cars with brands you’re sure you could never pronounce correctly. The front of the house and down the street is lined with more of the same, and Joel takes mercy on you when it’s time to parallel park, swapping seats with you and taking over. You watch the confident stretch of his arm along the back of your seat as he reverses neatly into a spot. He hops out to get the door for you, and you both comment on the lavish decorations as you walk into the party.

There’s way more people in attendance than you anticipated, and you just hope you won’t have to socialize too much with people you’re probably never going to see again. Kenzie’s dad spots you and makes his way over to extend a firm handshake to Joel and a warm side hug to you. He doesn’t stick around for long as he returns to his hosting duties, but he flags down a member of the waitstaff for beverages before politely excusing himself to continue on his rounds.

Joel whistles low and cocks a brow as he takes in all of the setup. “Nice lookin’ party.”

You laugh under your breath at the understatement of the century. “It’s insane. This could be somebody’s wedding! It’s freaking gorgeous,” you gush.

He agrees silently, sipping on his cocktail and wrapping his free hand around your lower back and waist. He points out that most people seem to be either wearing business casual adjacent looks or something more formal, which places you both a little underdressed but not so much that you stick out. You also observe that he was right about people not really seeming to notice or care what you had on. It made you feel a bit more relaxed as you sought out Kenzie.

So far you hadn’t come across anyone you knew, but it wasn’t awkward with Joel by your side. He had that poised, assured air about him like always, and it made everything feel manageable. Under control. Free of chaos.

“Ooohhh, hey!” a high pitched squeal sounds across an open path of people. You turn to see someone you recognize but can’t remember her name. You refresh Joel’s memory that this is Kenzie’s friend who had asked him at the graduation about any single brothers, cousins, or nephews that he might have. She shimmies up to you and waves excitedly.

“There’s my little matchmakers!”

Joel laughs awkwardly and shakes his head. “Sorry to tell you, er….” he trails off, her name clearly not springing to his mind either.

Thankfully she doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, and you're not entirely convinced she’s aware of much at all. “Sel,” she supplies with a bright smile.

“Sel, right,” he amends. “Sorry to tell you, Sel, but we are unfortunately here sans eligible bachelors.”

She makes an exaggerated pouty face before busting into a fit of giggles and shrugging. “Aw, dammit. Can’t win ‘em all, I guess. Well, it was good seeing you!”

She struts away without another word, and you and Joel exchange an amused look.

“Wonder how many of these she’s had,” Joel chuckles, shaking his half empty cocktail glass.

You giggle and playfully slap his side. “Oh, shush. She’s entitled to celebrate a little bit. It’s gotta feel good getting that degree after being in school for four years,” you contend.

He bobs his head in passive agreement. “Now remind me again why your friend was workin’ with you in a grocery store when she’s got all this waiting for her back home? Coulda just focused on her studies, couldn’t she’ve?”

It was a fair question. Why on earth would someone work a minimum wage, public facing job if their family could afford this sort of lifestyle?

“She told me before that her dad wanted her to know what the ‘real world’ was like. I’m pretty sure he didn’t grow up with a whole lot, and I guess he didn’t want his kids to end up spoiled or whatever.”

Joel nods his head like that makes perfect sense to him. “Explains why her dad seems like a decent guy. Doesn’t have that ‘daddy’s money’ attitude. Your friend doesn’t either for that matter, so I guess he’s done a pretty good job keepin’ her level headed.”

When you finally do come across Kenzie, she seems a bit frazzled. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her so uptight and serious. She hastily explains that she’s spent the entire party schmoozing with all her dad’s “dumb important friends” and hasn’t had a chance to relax at all. You feel a bit sorry for her, but you know she’ll probably end up with extravagant gifts from said family friends in exchange for a few social niceties.

Your eye lands on a familiar looking man whose identity isn’t readily placed. Was he at the graduation ceremony, too? Was he the dad to one of Kenzie’s friends? He looks at you for a split second like he recognizes you as well, before he looks away, disinterested. You shrug it off. Maybe he’s just got one of those faces.

Kenzie’s dad comes back around and asks if he can “borrow Joel for a minute,” to which you assure Joel you’re fine without his company for a little while. He shoots you one last worried glance over his shoulder as Kenzie’s dad claps a hand against his back and starts up the construction conversation they’d been having at the ceremony. You watch Joel’s reluctant figure weave through the crowd until he’s following Kenzie’s dad inside the house through a large side door.

The sea of attendees around you make for good people watching. You wouldn’t admit it to Joel, but not having him by your side feels strange and a bit vulnerable, especially now that you spend practically every waking moment together. It was something you’d become rather accustomed to, and with your nerves starting to pick up again you remind yourself that it’s healthy to do things on your own every once in a while. You’d done it plenty in your life, and being subjected to it now wouldn’t kill you.

A solid twenty minutes have passed, and you distract yourself with the abundance of ornate decorations.

Deeper into the backyard is a small bunching of rose bushes. The delicate folds of pink petals have you considering asking Joel if he could plant this sort of thing in your backyard. You smile gently to yourself, running a fingertip along the velvet furl of the rosette. Your backyard. Together. A little garden of eden right smack dab in the middle of Texas.

Sentimental musings are cut short with the announcement of a “few words shared on the eastern lawn” in about five minutes. Throngs of guests begin making their way toward the tabled section that you assume is the “eastern lawn,” and Joel is still nowhere in sight.

You hang back and check your phone. No texts or missed calls. You call him, but it rings until it goes through to voicemail. He’d probably muted it for the party. You decide to just go look for him in the house, letting yourself into the same side door they’d used when they went inside almost 30 minutes ago. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten carried away talking business.

A welcomed cool breeze butts against your bare skin when you slip inside, the indoor AC a stark difference to the looming summer heat outside. A pristine and stately kitchen filled with stock for the party greets you: ice filled coolers, wrapped trays of hor d’oeuvres lining the countertops, napkins and utensils and glassware all stacked to the side and ready to go when toasts are made. The smooth marble counters give an air of quiet opulence, made all the more silent with no noise coming from anywhere in the house.

A sliver of a stairwell is visible just around the corner. A separate hallway stretches door after door, no light glowing from any of the rooms behind them. A dull babble of laughter and conversation outside at the opposite end of the house is practically a white noise in this massive, empty space. Joel’s deep timbre is absent. No creaking footsteps from upstairs. No friendly hum of conversation.

It felt a bit intrusive to just waltz upstairs to look for him, but it’s not like you didn’t have a good reason to be looking around. Surely at the very least Kenzie’s dad wouldn’t want to miss whatever was about to happen on the eastern lawn.

“Can’t say I’m surprised to find you hiding out in here.”

The familiar voice cuts through your chest, your heart clenching sharply as you turn to find your dad wearing a nasty, callous expression. He looks more exhausted than you remember, somehow more dead in the eyes. It’s only been a few weeks since you’ve last seen him, but he stands before you more gnarled and sickly than memory serves. His skin shines with a thin layer of perspiration, and his lips are so dry and chapped it’s as if all the moisture in his body is steadily exiting through the gathering beads of sweat along his brow. His eyes are sluggish but malevolent, darting all along your face and body as though he’s taking inventory of your present state.

The words you wish to scream, for him to get away from you, get twisted and caught in your throat. You stand there, infuriatingly mute, and await whatever venom he’s here to deliver. He makes no rush as he walks fully into the room and slides the door shut. He looks so out of place here, in your world. In your life. A living ghost here to haunt you once more.

“Takes guts to be at somebody’s party celebrating everything you’ll never be.” He pauses to let the barb cleave and carve, laughing to himself as he continues, “ I mean, imagine you a college graduate. Barely fucking graduated high school.”

His line of sight wanders around the room as he picks you apart. Although his air is indifferent and unrushed, you have an odd, sneaking feeling that he doesn’t want to look you in the eye again until he’s established a rhythm of cutting you down, as though your absence has left him feeling out of sorts and unpracticed in destruction.

“Some hell of a fluke that the driven, successful young ladies here at this party see anything in common with a loser like you.”

His eyes slip over to yours again, narrowing with palpable hatred. “Can’t imagine any of them are a complete embarrassment to their families.”

“What are you doing here?” you finally manage to spit out.

He bobs on the balls of his feet, stepping around airily with his hands in his pockets like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like he found all of this an amusing way to pass the time. Like he hadn’t just cannonballed himself into your life again.

“Got a funny text from an, uh, acquaintance of mine. A picture of you, sticking out like a sore thumb. Surrounded by better dressed people. Way outta your social class.”

Embarrassment warms the back of your neck and the tips of your ears at his astute, cutting words.

“Had my friend wondering if he was imagining it was you - misremembering your face, maybe – especially since he didn’t see me anywhere nearby. Told him he was right and that I’d be sure to come say hello when I dropped in. He was nice enough to remind me of the address. What a guy,” he finishes in a dry tone.

He laughs, a hollow and mirthless sound, and takes a step forward, hands shoved in his pockets that you now realize are balled into fists. His voice was steady enough, but the fury bubbling beneath the surface was quickly rising to the tipping point. There was no doubt he’d been drinking heavily – that dangerous teetering between being dampened by the alcohol and being livid that it still didn’t make all his problems fade away into a muted, ignorable thing.

“How much have you had today?” you lob at him. “Or has it just carried over from last night?”

He laughs again, just as empty and forced as the first. “It’s funny because, the thing is, I can promise you there’s no amount of whiskey that could make me as delusional as you are. I mean, parading around this party in what? Backyard barbecue clothes? Can’t even put together a decent outfit for one day, but you expect to keep up with these people? College graduates getting real jobs, not just some entry level bullshit you sucked off some old jackass for.”

Heat rises on your chest and neck at the insinuation that Joel only offered you the job in return for sexual favors. You jut your chin out defiantly but can’t find the words to say. Can’t find the words that will defend yourself. Defend Joel. Make your dad leave with his tail between his legs. He takes your silence as another opportunity to tear you down.

“You think you got real friends here? How many times do you think they’re gonna cover your tab? Spot you $100? Invite you to weekend trips? Hm? How many times are they gonna get out their wallets before they see you for the leech that you are?” he hisses.

“I think you need to leave,” you warn with a tremble tacked to the last word.

“And don’t get me started on that middle aged perv you got brainwashed into giving a shit about you,” he continues, completely ignoring your reproval. “He might be giving you a little allowance for now, but I give it a few years max before he dumps you for the next young bimbo he can use to wet his dick. Of course you’re too fucking stupid to realize that. It would be funny if it weren’t so fucking pathetic.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” you snap, adrenaline rushing through you now and helping to supply the harsh words.

His eyes crinkle with a malicious smirk, like he revels in finally having got to you.

“Or what?” he sneers. “All you can ever manage to do when things get tough is run. So, what are you gonna do now? Run?”

You don’t miss the challenge in his tone, daring you to try to leave before he gives you permission to do so.

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE NOW.”

The curve of his mouth is sickly sweet, a slip of red the only thing standing between you and his corrosive words. His gate is unhurried walking towards the door, leaning against it in a lazy show of provocation as he blocks it. The shrill tempo of your pulse in your ears grows louder while you stare each other down. It’s a dangerous game of calling the other’s bluff, and you know he’s banking on you fleeing. You know he wants to track you down and catch you this time before you can get away, just to prove that your actions wouldn’t go unpunished. Just to remind you of who’s in control.

But something contrarian and fortified slinks between your ribcage and finds purchase there next to the hum of your heart.

He doesn’t make the rules anymore.

This is no longer his game that you’re forced to play just to survive. You don’t live in this nightmare anymore. This isn’t your life now.

He doesn’t control you anymore.

“You’re a really sad person, dad.”

The somatic buzz kindling and catching inside you yields a wave of goosebumps all over your body, the shake in your hands and voice just a timid thing that stays barely in check. You still your head and really look at the fractured shell of a man in front of you, and it’s more obvious than ever: he’s more lost than you’ve ever been and ever will be.

“You’re never gonna be happy,” you assert.

It all floods you now, a blurred picture coming into focus. That clarity you’d sought so long but never had with the mind muddling environment of abuse. But suddenly you aren’t searching for the words anymore. They’re all right on the tip of your tongue and ready to depart.

“You’re gonna die sad and miserable and probably alone, and I know that has to eat you up inside to finally realize it. That no matter how much you try to put your anger and your– and your pain onto others, it still doesn’t make it go away inside of you.”

His balled fists rest at his sides, heaving breaths moving his chest like the snap of a rubber band.

“You can’t hurt me anymore. You can’t hurt anybody I care about anymore. You don’t have the power like you used to. You’re just… you’re just nothing, dad. An empty person who’s trapped inside his own mind like a prison. And-And honestly? I feel bad for you.”

The flicker of surprise at your words graces his worn features before quickly being replaced with a deep scowl. For once it’s him cornered into a stunned silence, but you have no intention of letting up.

“I left, dad. Don’t you get it? I’m done. You don’t have power over me like that. Not anymore. The sooner you realize that, the less of your life you’ll waste trying to hurt me again because it’s not going to happen. You tried to break me down and take away everything, and it still didn’t work. I’m not broken like you. I’m gonna be okay, no matter how much you hate that. And you can call me a loser as many times as you want, but it won’t change the fact that it’s really you who’s lost out on everything in life.”

A heavy air lingers, but you feel lighter than you ever have. Your deep, centering inhale punctuates the finality of the meeting.

“I’m gonna go now, and I think you should leave the party before something bad happens.”

The urge to scurry away from the danger rises, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction. You refuse to let him see you run from him anymore.

Of course, it was never likely that he’d just let it go so easily.

Menacing stomps follow your measured stride towards the stairwell, your exit cut short by his piercing grip around your bicep and the sharp whip of your body as he yanks you sideways to face him. The smell of alcohol comes off him like a foggy wet cloud.

“You think you just get to leave in the middle of the night like a disgusting, slimy rat and not have to answer for it?” he fumes, his nose pressing against yours when he hauls you face to face.

He doesn’t control you anymore.

There’s no hesitation in your movements, wrenching your arm from his grasp and slamming the butt of your palm into his nose. As clumsy as the unfamiliar motion is, it affords a moment of frozen shock from your father, which you take as an opening to rear back and slap him with as much force as you can muster. Your hand immediately prickles and tingles from the impact.

The few feet of space apart that you gain is quickly closed when he charges at you with a raised, clenched hand ready to strike. The fact that you’ve never fought back before seems to be your saving grace in this moment, the disorientation of you actually resisting and challenging him making his approach unsteady and delayed.

Your hand still stings from the slap as you wad it up and swing it into his gut before he can make contact with you. He sputters and doubles over in shock at the unexpected blow, but the late retribution still comes sooner than you anticipated. He readies to ambush you, lip curled over his bared teeth, when something smashes and shatters into the wall beside his head.

“I was hoping you’d show up one of these days and make trouble just so I’d have the fucking excuse to beat you within an inch of your fucking life,” Joel growls.

It’s a blur of violence as he barrels into your dad, tackling him to the floor in one headlong motion, and lands two punches before it can even register. The clamor draws more people, one of them being Kenzie’s dad who you spot darting back out of the room with his phone to his head — you assume to call the police. A handful of waitstaff hang at the perimeter of the commotion, gawking at the all out brawl taking place in the middle of the kitchen. You aren’t much better, just standing there rooted to the spot in an adrenaline freeze, as your dad manages to topple Joel onto his back and land a punch to his jaw.

By the time they flip again, two men have been alerted to the fight and brought inside to intervene. They aren’t dressed like the other waitstaff, but it’s clear they’re here working the event in some other capacity. A frenzied

yelp pierces the air as Joel digs his knees into your dad’s elbows, pinning him to the ground. Joel yanks a chilled bottle of wine from a nearby bucket and smashes the neck of it against the edge of the counter. The light catches on all the jagged edges of broken glass when he raises it in the air and flips it over in a drive directly into your dad’s mouth, who instantly gurgles and gags at the influx of liquid and serrated opening.

“You look real thirsty,” Joel taunts. “Have a drink. This one’s on me.”

Pockets of liquid jet out from the side of your dad’s mouth as he chokes on it, Joel holding the bottle snug in place as the contents pour out. The two men in matching black uniform shout “break it up, fellas,” which falls on deaf ears. The liquid eventually empties, and the bottle cracks into several more pieces when Joel slams it against your dad’s temple. Blood spills and mixes with the choked out liquid, pooling and smearing across the floor.

The two men quickly lodge themselves between the two when a flurry of fists and kicks and jabs from Joel start right back up. He manages to get one last closed hand strike to your dad’s face and one crushing stomp to his thigh as the bigger of the two uniformed men finally drags him away. Your dad lies motionless on the floor as the man scolds Joel for taking “cheap shots” instead of heeding the calls to break the fight up like they’d asked.

Joel wears a flinty, unrepentant sneer that only deepens when his eyes cast down to your unmoving but groaning dad. He spits a bloody pool of saliva onto him as he’s ushered to the other side of the kitchen.

“Put your hands on her again, asshole. See if you walk away the next time.”

You can feel all the eyes in the room slip over to you, making the connection of what had started this entire mess. Some of the faces lose their look of pity for your dad, all crumpled and thrashed in a feeble sprawl on the floor.

“You okay, baby? He hurt you?” Joel demands.

He doesn’t wait for you to respond, instead running impatient hands all along your body to assess for injury.

“I’m okay,” you answer, and it’s a relief to be able to offer that in truth. “I was holding him off long enough for you to get to me.”

His shoulders sag with the reassurance that you’ve not been harmed, hands roaming up to gently cup your jaw and search your face for any lingering distress. You don’t turn away, content to let him find the undercurrent of peace that swells within you, held in his arms.

It’s the first Father’s Day since you severed contact. Calum had already gleefully sent you a picture of your dad’s mugshot, framed and hung on a wall in his apartment. Having the advantage of knowing you were safe and sound while he listened to the recap of Kenzie’s party meant he got to enjoy every last bit of comeuppance relayed. He’d cheered you on when you recalled how you’d defended yourself, verbally and physically, and he demanded to complement Joel directly on his part in all of it before he let you hang up.

Kenzie’s dad was the first to press charges, having absolutely no qualms about sending a message to the guy who almost ruined his daughter’s graduation party. It didn’t hurt that he had connections with some law enforcement higher ups, more than enough “fuck you money” to throw around, and a top notch lawyer on retainer ready to let the long arm of the law screw your dad over. With a neutral but supportive nudge from Joel, you also pressed charges.

When all was said and done, your dad was looking at: trespassing, assault, battery, menacing, criminal mischief, disorderly intoxication, disorderly conduct, false imprisonment, stalking, driving while intoxicated, open container in a motor vehicle, property damage, and a smattering of any other offense that the lawyer could manage to unearth, ready to assist his client in rubbing salt into your dad’s wound.

You weren’t sure how much of it was going to stick or what the outcome would be, but it sure as hell didn’t look good to have a pending imputation like that with a job like his. Hell, any employer would look sideways at a string of legal infractions that extensive and that damning. It wasn’t exactly something tenure and bullshitting could smooth over. And if Kenzie’s dad had any say in the proceedings, your dad wasn’t going to get off the hook easily.

“You’re just buttering your old man up now,” Joel chortles to the screen.

You smile to yourself as you listen to his and Sarah’s video chat. She couldn’t make it back home to celebrate in person, but she’d made sure to call and lay the sweet talk on thick.

“Yeah, but it’s obviously working, sssoooooooo….”

“Little shit,” he chuckles under his breath, walking aimlessly through the house and out onto the back deck.

You hear him laugh loudly a couple minutes later, and you can’t help but join in with your own giggle. Eventually the cadence of his voice changes into words of endearment and goodbyes. He tucks his phone into his pocket as he rounds the corner.

“You’re a really good dad,” you observe warmly.

The corner of his mouth ticks up softly at the compliment, but he takes his time walking over to where you’re sat comfortably on the couch before responding. “Ya think so, huh?”

“Yeah. I do.”

Your voice is steady and pointed. You want him to know you mean it. You might not have a personal reference to defend your position, but you know without a doubt that Joel Miller is the best father and deserves to hear it every day of his life.

He pauses for a moment before asking, “You doin’ okay? Is the day botherin’ you at all?”

You assume he means the fact that it’s Father’s Day and you have a strong contender for worst dad on the planet.

“I actually– it might sound weird, but I actually feel really light. I feel good.”

“Not weird at all,” he assures you, plopping down next to you and scooping your legs to lay across his lap so he can rub your ankles and calves. “Dead weight is dead weight. Not bein’ weighed down by him’s gotta feel like you’re finally able to live the life you deserve. Deserve the damn moon on a string for all the shit he’s put you through.”

You exhale, an amused little sound. “You’re doing it again.”

“What? What am I doin’?”

“Gunning for Best Boyfriend in the World award.”

“Remind me again what put me in the running,” he teases and leans in for a kiss.

“A million things, but today it’s mostly just– seeing you be who you are. Getting to experience that and be a part of it.”

The air of levity dampens a bit when you reach for his hands and draw him closer, and he recognizes the shift from playful to earnest.

“I think sometimes people are just meant to… they’re made for showing love. They’re made to pour their love into special people, people they love. And they are the most happy when they get to do that. I think- I think that’s you. I think you pour your love into people, and that’s when you’re happiest. To see the people you love being filled with your love.”

“Goddamn, honey, Sarah already made me all mushy,” he grouses, suddenly blinking rapidly with glossy eyes. “Y’all are gonna have me a blubbering baby if y’all don’t quit.”

But you can’t stop. You can’t hold it in. You can’t keep yourself from gushing about this beautiful person you’ve been lucky enough to know and create this life with.

“I love you, Joel. I’m in love with you.”

It comes out without thinking, but it’s meant for this moment. There’s no hesitation or regret in it. You want to say it again.

“I love you,” you repeat, drawing on the intoxication and freedom of it finally being spoken.

“I love you, too, honey,” he returns softly. “So damn much. Love you so damn much.”

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@copperhalfcent @guelyury @keylimebeag @magpiepills @bizarrelove-triangle

@missladym1981 @wand-erer5 @koshkaj-blog @bubble-pop-eclectic @lovelyladiess

@ellenmunn @lavema @confusedpuffin @getitoutofmymindwrites @getitoutofmymind

@fishingforpike @drunk-and-capable @sheepdogchick3 @pastelpinkflowerlife @bonezone44

@guiltyasdave @toomanystoriessolittletime

#fic: chrysalism #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller au #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #hurt/comfort #pedro pascal characters #joel miller smut #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fluff

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fadeling · 2 days ago

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if it were up to me i could fix the alistair companion quest. i mean most people probably could but i definitely would. here's my pitch:

so alistair is a guy who is actually pretty even-keeled throughout the story, although undeniable that he's idealist and naive. the thing that makes him cool is that hes not simply a bumbling fool covering it up with desperate attempts at sarcasm, he knows his own weaknesses and his sardonic attitude lampshades that while also letting you in on the joke. hes always aware of the fact that hes like if a failgirl was a boy and instead of trying to fight against that impression, he shrugs his shoulders and lets it happen. he lives in a terrible world in a faction that exposes him to The Horrors, so he has to operate on a casual, malleable attitude even if that isn't really true to his heart

that discrepancy makes him confused, conflicted, and most of all: extremely vulnerable to moments of extreme genuineness. (his romance works much in the same vein i think) the way his personal quest starts in the game is actually perfect for showing that about him. he gets ahead of himself, he lets his hopes become known and it's obvious how much he wants to Try even if he understands why the warden may reject him. if the warden accepts, it reinforces him getting his hopes up and he unknowingly feels a bit safer in letting hid idealism just exist for a bit

it's for these reasons that i actually wouldnt change how it starts or the way it's initially presented. i'm even going to keep the fact that he thinks hes the son of a maid and has a sister, because thats what eamon told him and i'm sure it was reinforced by duncan too. i dont think it's a problem for alistair to be wrong about his lineage, but something needs to be done about that

so you arrive at goldanna's house (she would also be given a name that isnt fucking stupid btw) and she's not in a great mood because shes busy and these strangers just kind of demanded her attention to talk about he's her brother when it turns out her mother never died during childbirth at all. she worked at redcliffe's manor but she like, left, man. she did die but that that was a few years later and its actually really annoying that i have to talk about it to two strangers.

her rudeness would be more justified because shes just trying to live her life but this guy has to show up at her door and hallucinate a backstory and promptly get his whole world flipped upside down. it's not really something she had the mental capacity for she just wanted to do the laundry.

NOW this would mean that alistair went into this hoping to gain something, but actually lost more than what he started with. losing the ideal domestic family dynamic stings, sure, but the strongest familial ties he had in the first place were with eamon (a little bit) and ESPECIALLY duncan. now he has good reason to doubt both of them, one of them being especially difficult because it's tangled in so much grief too.

alistair takes a chance on something, finally sticks his neck out, and then he gets hurt. the warden can help him process that in a few different ways; you could coddle him by insisting she sucks and was probably lying anyway, or you could encourage him to acknowledge the truth and still persist anyway. there could even be the asshole third option where you tell him that hes too cringe to live idk. there could even be more things to say, the point is that the sentiment of the warden would accurately reflect how his attitude changes when hes hardened thats all

also theres a bonus opportunity for adding another layer of drama between him and eamon with very little extra effort, and thats always good

#dragon age #dragon age origins #alistair theirin #okay i think i should probably try and never talk about him again

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sammywolfgirl · 2 days ago

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Okay let’s do this

The tarot card readings in the spire of deceit

According to my interpretation-

Uh disclaimer that tarot is subjective and I’ll be getting my info from a tarot app that sources from Wikipedia and my own general knowledge, I read tarot as a hobby and am still learning so this is my subjective reading bassed off the cards, my knowledge, and my vibes from the characters themselves.

That being saiiiiid let’s start with Pure Vanilla’s reading

An all reversed draw, I will say reversed cards don’t always mean it’s bad but it is a different way of reading it. Though idk how helpful that’d be in this case.

All drawings are done in the three card set which is the classic, past, present, future. So I’ll be operating under that structure for all the readings.

In the first slot we have the magician reversed- the magician represents power, channeling fights from the universe or higher power into a tangible world. But reversed it means destruction. The use of personal power for destructive purposes.

In the second slot is the fool reversed- the fool means beginnings, a new start. But reversed it means foolishness. A new beginning but not the best choice of action, uncertainty and recklessness.

The third slot is the hanged man reverse- the hanged man means sacrifice, self sacrifice and growing with the flow, it can also mean a different point of view. Reversed meaning is martyrdom, self sacrifice to an unhealthy extent. A different point of view but one that should be re-examined.

My reading-

Considering how pure vanilla is when he draws these cards (and the grain of salt of shadow milk trying to corrupt the guy) I’d read this as follows- pure vanilla has squandered his power, causing more harm than good, misusing it and harming others in the process, because of this, he is currently lost, a foolish lost sheep trying to find his way in the world, nievly holding onto grains of truth in hopes it’ll guide him, but to no avail. Now he must adapt, but all other perspectives seem foolish or lost, if he continues to cling to this truth he will be led astray, will he sacrifice his morals and abandon them or reject the new perspective?

Basically shadow milk wasn’t wrong when he said this is probably one of the worst hands he could draw. The cards are saying “oh you’re screwed buddy” though I think there can be some hope if you see this as a warning. I mean he’s not exactly in thr best place right now, and who knows how much shadow milk is ‘rigging fate’ as it were

Now onto shadow milks tarot cards

Now unfortunately these aren’t numbered (damnit shadow milk!) so I’ll have to make assumptions based off the card faces. The good news is I think these are pulling from the classic tarot card faces so it shouldn’t be too hard. Now for the reading,

Card one is the Devil upright- The devil represents obsession, indulgence in the superficial, instant gratification, obsession, addiction and materlialism. It also means being led astray, evil or negative influence, and incarceration. Being trapped by vises basically.

Card two is death upright- death represents inevitable change. Metamorphosis, difficult times, trial of the soul. And pandemic. It basically means the inevitable end of a cycle.

Card three I wasn’t sure for a bit but I have reason to believe it’s judgement upright- judgment represents awakening. An epiphany or spiritual awakening. A change in personal consciousness or important life lesion. Essentially the end of the journey and a lesion learned.

Now this is his first pull, no trickery explicitly done yet, and going off that this is my reading: this could essentially be telling how shadow milk fell and became the beast of deceit.

The font of knowledge was tempted by spreading little lies and half truths and sewing seeds of doubt and chaos across cookies, and as that obsession grew he became more and more addicted to it, cookies would believe him no matter what, so why tell the full truth? They don’t want to hear it anyways! This indulgence grew until a turning point came and he succumbed to corruption, a rebirth into the beast of deceit. Now as the beast he’s had an epiphany, truth doesn’t matter, lies and trickery are where it’s at! He understands now the power of lies and will wring chaos across all of crispia and cookie kind!

In short, lies are addictive and he has become the king of them. And he’s having a blast,

At least that’s my reading, not sure if shadow milk would enjoy that or not but hey I’m playing to the audience here. Now for his second reading where his minions modified it

Like his first pull no numbers so I have to use the card faces as clues. But I think I got it.

The first card is wheel of fortune upright- fortune means destiny, kismet, fate, synchronicity, the universe continues to turn despite the ups and downs. Control what you can and accept what you cannot, things happen for a reason. Essentially it’s the cycles of the world.

The second card is the emperor upright- the emperor represents authority, stability, laws, government and society, leadership, might, influence, and control. It can also represent a single person that hold power, wether that’s emotional or physical.

The third card is the high priestess upright- high priestess represents intuition. Opening up one’s own intuition to receive messages from the universe. Meditate, tap into your subconscious, wisdom and introspection to find answers. It can also means secrets, mystery, the future as yet unraveled.

All that said here’s his second reading, which In short I think is essentially a reading saying how he is in charge, in control, and that your better just giving in and following him then fighting.

It was destiny that made him the beast of deceit, this was always going to happen, he has the power and authority here, so open your mind and embrace the chaos of lies and disharmony! It will set you free.

Honestly I’d believe this reading is more telling pure vanilla to just listen to him already than anything reflecting shadow milk himself. His minions did rig the cards.

But hey that’s just my interpretation, if anyone has any alternative readings or got something different out of this I genuinely would love to know. Tarot is subjective and in my own experience one part reading the vibes to two parts reading the cards. This is just what reading I’d give these guys if I was dealing them.

Anyways thanks for coming to my Ted talk I think tarot is super neat

#it me #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run au #pure vanilla cookie #shadow milk cookie #long post

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honeysghost · 20 hours ago

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Right Here, With You

Happy Valentine's Day!!! 💗I'm participating in @ode2youu/@shadowofyouu's Valenswap and wrote this sappy Sweetheart/Milo fic for @annahxredaxted 🫶🏻 I hope you like it!

Pairing: Milo/Sweetheart

Word count: 2,377

The AO3 version if you prefer: Right Here, With You - honeysghost

With every second spent in traffic, Sweetheart wishes desperately they had just taken the day off. I mean, it’s Valentine’s Day—they should be with Milo, getting swept up in their love for one another and taking some time to just be.

It feels like they’d barely seen each other at all this week, with Milo working three nights in a row and Sweetheart leaving too early in the morning to catch him awake. It felt silly to say they missed him when they literally lived together, but it was the truth.

Plus, Jett would’ve had their ass on a silver platter if they called off today, no doubt already having a lecture stored for them about responsibility, despite the fact that they had been practically carrying the Department on their back since the day they joined.

When they turn into the driveway, they let out a long breath. Finally, they were home.

Milo greets them at the door, pulling them into his arms before they even have a chance to close it completely—but they don’t mind. They sink into his embrace, nosing at the space between his shoulder and neck, breathing him in.

“You smell delicious,” they mumble, barely coherent with their mouth pressed against his skin.

“You look exhausted,” he comments, placing his hands on their shoulders and holding them steady, getting a good look at them.

“Hey, that’s not nice. I gave you a compliment, and you tell me I look like shit,” Sweetheart pouts, fighting a smile when Milo boops their nose to soften the blow.

“I did not say that, Sweetheart. I said you look tired, which you do. Long day?”

They nod, leaning back into him. “You have no idea.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He laughs when they shake their head, their hair tickling him when it brushes against his jaw.

“I just want to forget about it. It’s over and done with, there’s no point in wasting energy rehashing everything, you know? Besides, there’s more important things to do. I missed you.”

They kiss him softly, running a hand through his hair as they do, relishing in the contended sigh that leaves his lips as they do.

Aggro, who had been sitting quietly by the door, inserts himself between the two, rubbing against their legs—the vibrations of his purring making Milo laugh into the kiss. Sweetheart pulls away and crouches down to his level, kissing him all over his face and scratching behind his ears.

“You’re kind of ruining the mood, sweet boy,” they chide, pressing another kiss to the top of his head.

Warmth blooms in Milo’s chest as he watches his mate shower the cat in affection. It hadn’t taken very long at all for Aggro to decide he liked Sweetheart. It surprised Milo a little to see him follow them around the apartment whenever they were there, not wanting to be somewhere they weren’t. Even Asher had a hard time getting the cat to do anything but hide away under the bed.

Sometimes Milo swore he liked them more than him, which was absurd.

Imagine favoring someone who had broken into his apartment twice over his parent? It wasn’t held against him, though. I mean, who could blame him? His Sweetheart was everything.

“Are we gonna spend the whole night in the hall petting Aggro, or can we make this a little more romantic?” Milo questions, a smile on his face when Sweetheart stands, offering him a peck on the lips in consolation.

“You’re not jealous of your cat, are you, baby?” They tease.

“Me? Jealous? As if I have anything to be jealous of. I’m simply stating the facts: it’s Valentine’s Day, and all that love shouldn’t be wasted on the man that’s going to steal food off your plate later.”

“That could be either one of you, honestly.”

A light smack on the shoulder makes Sweetheart laugh as they take off their shoes and walk further into the house.

Milo trails behind them, eyeing the stiffness in their shoulders as they stretch, trying to ease the tension out, to no avail.

“Really, Sweetheart, you should relax.”

They plop down onto the couch, leaving enough space for Milo to settle in beside them, pulling them closer as he does. They waste no time melting into him.

“This is relaxing.”

He sighs, brushing a loose strand of hair out of their face. It was hopeless, trying to convince them to take a break—and it wasn’t for lack of wanting, believe me. It was just that they could never seem to shut their brain off long enough to take one, which was endlessly frustrating for the both of them.

“Little pauses here and there don't count as relaxing, and you know it.”

It made his heart ache to see Sweetheart come home every day, looking more and more tense by the second. If it was up to him, they’d both take a week off once a month and give themselves ample time to unwind—but convincing them to take even a day off was an impossible task.

With everything going on at the Department these days, the reopened investigation into CloseKnit took up all their time and energy, leaving none for themselves.

“You know what they say about glass houses,” Sweetheart sighs, leaning their head back against Milo’s shoulder and pressing a kiss to his jaw.

He hums in response, running a hand absentmindedly through their hair. It’s not lost on him how quick they are to deflect. If there was one thing they hated more than anything, it was being lectured about needing to take a break. They knew it, Milo knew it, but talking about it wasn’t something they were interested in.

If it were up to Sweetheart, this was all they’d need. A few quiet moments cuddled up on the couch was worth more to them than any actual break.

“If we keep sitting here, I’m gonna fall asleep.” They mumble, breaking the comfortable silence that lingered around them.

Milo lets out a little laugh, turning to kiss their temple. “Would that be so terrible?”

“No, definitely not—but I’m hungry, and I want to change out of my work clothes.”

When Milo moves them over on the couch to stand up, they whine at the immediate loss, making him laugh again.

“What? You just said you wanted to change and eat.”

“I didn’t mean right this second.”

They continue to pout as Milo takes their hands and pulls them onto their feet.

“Well, too bad, Sweetheart. Come on, let’s get you feelin’ good.”

When they raise their eyebrows at the statement, Milo pulls them in for a kiss before rolling his eyes. “Not like that, you goof.”

“What exactly are you suggesting then, Greer?”

“Nothing, perv. Is it a crime to offer my mate a completely innocent chance to get dressed down?”

The way they glance at him in response hints at similar offers given in the past that were anything but innocent.

“I mean it,” he whispers against their lips, kissing them once more. “I just want you feeling a little more relaxed.”

Without protest, Sweetheart follows him down the hall to their bedroom, pausing in the door frame as Milo starts to dig through their closet, eventually settling on one of their favorite shirts—his shirt, might he add, that they had all but stolen from him not even a month into dating—and a pair of sweatpants.

“Come here, baby,” Milo coaxes.

They oblige, shuffling toward him. His hands rest on their shoulders, squeezing lightly to loosen them up a little.

“Hey there,” they whisper, eyes focused on the coy smile tugging at Milo’s lips.

“Hey there,” he echoes as his hands slide down their sides until his fingers find the hem of their shirt and curl into it, lifting it ever so slightly.

With newly exposed skin to explore, he lets his hands linger, thumbs rubbing small circles into their hips.

“You’re getting a little handsy there, Greer.”

His smile widens. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. All I’m doing is helping my mate undress, completely innocent, as promised.”

“Mm, sure.” Sweetheart hums in response, unconvinced.

He hooks two fingers under their chin, tilting their head to meet his eyes. “Hey, have I ever lied to you?”

“No,” they sigh, biting back a smile of their own. “No, you haven’t.”

“Exactly.” He emphasizes the word with a kiss, “So let's get you into something comfy.”

“I just didn’t realize this was a group project, is all,” they note, but let him continue his achingly slow efforts to undress them himself, savoring the way his hands roam over their body, already knowing every inch of them.

When their work clothes are finally replaced with the outfit Milo chose, he takes a step back–admiring his handy work.

“Proud of yourself?” Sweetheart asks, and he nods.

“Much better.”

“Yeah, yeah,” they laugh, pressing a kiss to his nose before taking his hand in theirs and leading him back down the hall, toward the kitchen.

“Onto the next task: food. What’s on the menu?” Sweetheart asks, opening the fridge to study its contents. Milo settles in behind them, arms wrapped around their waist, his chin resting on their shoulder.

“Pasta? We could make it ourselves.” His breath tickles against their ear. “It tastes better that way.”

“Pasta it is.”

➽──────────────❥

The kitchen smells like garlic and onions. Aggro has taken on the role of supervisor, sitting on the counter and watching dutifully over the kitchen as Milo and Sweetheart take on the task of making dinner.

“Can you hand me the butter, please?” Sweetheart asks, standing over a pan on the stove. It had only taken a few minutes to make the pasta dough–the only thing left to do was wait for it to rise.

Milo hands them a stick of it, catching their wrist before they can pull away, and presses a kiss to their knuckles before letting them go.

“You’re a dork,” Sweetheart laughs, more so at the dumb grin on Milo’s face as he leans into the full romantic aspect of the night than the gesture itself.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is this day not all about being cheesy and romantic? Excuse me for wanting to schmooze my mate.” He mumbles, mock exasperation in his tone.

“You’re right, baby. I’m sorry, how dare I chastise you for being a softie.” They lean in to give him a proper kiss, laughing more when Milo leans in the opposite direction, making a show of avoiding them.

“No, no. You had your chance, Sweetheart. Romance privileges revoked.”

Warily eyeing the exchange, Aggro finds himself to be the next victim of Sweetheart’s antics as he’s promptly scooped off the counter and smothered in kisses, much to his chagrin.

“It’s alright if you won’t kiss me,” they sigh dramatically, “I have Aggro to give me all the love I ne-”

Milo is quick to pluck the cat out of Sweetheart’s hold, setting him down on the floor before finally kissing them properly.

“You are such a brat.”

“You love me,” they counter, arms wrapped around Milo’s neck, pulling him in for another kiss. It’s deep, heady—he tastes like the wine they’d been sipping since their cooking endeavor had begun.

“I do,” he mumbles against their mouth. “More than anything, baby.”

By the time dinner is cooked, and the table is set, the house is bathed in golden light provided by the setting sun. It heightens the mood, Sweetheart thinks, and Milo lights candles to further add to the atmosphere.

“Now this is romance.” They exclaim, sitting down.

Milo sits beside them, both of them relieved to be off their feet for the evening.

“Worth all the effort?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

“Absolutely.”

For a while, they eat in silence, enjoying the meal they worked so hard on and soaking up each other’s company. If this was all their night entailed, it would be more than enough.

There wasn’t enough time in the world spent with Milo, Sweetheart thinks. From their first meeting, the connection they shared was clear—even if it was a little complicated at first.

“Do you ever think about the past?” Sweetheart asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

Milo shoots them a look, curious. “How do you mean?”

“Like when we first met. I think about it a lot, and then I think about where we are now and how funny it seems to have started with breaking and entering and ended up… here—in a house we own together. I never would’ve believed you if you told me eight years ago that this was our life. Surrounded by people we love, thrilled with the life we’ve created… it’s just crazy to think about that kind of stuff.”

He reaches under the table, hand finding their thigh and squeezing lightly. “Well, when you put it like that, yeah, it sounds crazy.”

There’s a smile on his face as he says it that makes Sweetheart’s heart ache at the sight. He was beautiful.

“You made me so nervous at first,” they admit, feeling heat rise to their cheeks. They avoid eye contact, choosing to push food around their plate instead.

They trusted him with every part of themselves, but it was still hard to say it out loud.

“I love you,” Milo says, threading his fingers between theirs.

He knows all of it, even before they’ve said it. He’s always been good at taking the pressure off when Sweetheart starts to get overwhelmed with emotion. He can see it before it happens, reads them like a book and offers them comfort and a sense of understanding without them having to ask.

He made it so easy to love him.

“There’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be than right here, with you, Sweetheart. You’re my forever—I mean that.”

When they look up from their plate, lock eyes with Milo, every worry they had about their day or their feelings melts away.

“I love you, Mi. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Sweetheart. Now let’s eat, before it gets cold. It’d be a shame to let all our hard work go to waste, huh?”

#happy valentine's day to all of u 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻#let it be known it took me TWO MONTHS to figure out what the title of this would be and i'm still not happy with it #posting this very early in the day bc i'm busy and worried about forgetting #🍯#redacted audio #redacted milo #redacted sweetheart #redacted valenswap #valenswap

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astracora · 9 hours ago

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EVER's Tool - Chapter 4

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc, Caleb x gn!mc (Zayne POV/MC POV/Caleb POV)

Warnings: Hurt/No Comfort, Angst, Talk of EVER Experiments and Torture, Violence, Gore, Suicide Ideation, Spoilers for all current story as of Caleb release.

Word Count: 10112

Written: 14th February 2025

Notes: Established-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. My notes today are that I fought for my life with this one (dramatic), because I cannot multitask for shit, and I am grinding tkrb instead of writing. Oopsies. Happy Valentines Day all, I hope you have/had a good day. ❤️ Take some nasty angst as a present. I'm going to sleep (aka grind more tkrb and fall asleep until my phone hits me in the face when I drop it).

Now Playing: The Dark of You, By Breaking Benjamin

Masterlist AO3

<- Previous

Zayne is a doctor, he understands the concept of amnesia. He has experience with dementia patients, those who have been in accidents. He knows that some never get their memories back, he knows that pushing and rushing can create emotional strain, stress and anxiety. That asking questions the patient has no answers for, can hurt them.

He knows, objectively, that he should not bombard you with information. That he could make it worse, even worse he could aggravate your heart, and cause a relapse. He could hurt you, rather than help you, by trying to bring you back to yourself. If he rushes… if he loses the logical part of his brain… if he isn't careful.

He does not sleep when he is given a cot by the scientist you sneered at. He sits and he thinks and he stews. Working through the situation in his mind, he takes the tracker Sylus gave him off, and sticks it somewhere out of sight. Just in case. He doubts EVER are stupid enough to not have signal blockers in place, but he also knows that if it is cut off at some point, that will give his family something to work with.

If they know he has it though, there's a chance they'll move him. Or worse. He has a chance, right now, and he needs to be careful. He has to be smart.

It's difficult, though, when he saw you, when you raised a hand to him, to Sylus. When you fought and you hurt. He fights with himself, reminds himself that he is a doctor. That he can help you, like he would with your heart, like he would with any other injury. He can help you with this.

Even if his heart and mind are screaming at odds.

He's always been fairly good at listening to his mind… he just hopes it doesn't betray his heart.

Regardless of his sense of logic, he cannot simply sleep. There's a feeling over his shoulder that he's waiting to be watched, like if he sleeps someone will snatch him up. It's a paranoid sense of disturbance, that he cannot shake. Unable to relax in any real way. Unable to even feel tired, let alone finally sleep. So he sits, and he thinks.

For hours. He ignores the scientist, Leon. He calls out, asks to talk, and Zayne ignores him. There's nothing to say. He has been through this process, Carter asks, he rejects. They continue the cycle.

He wonders how long EVER will ask, now that he is here. How much patience they can possibly have.

If the anxieties of his family were anything to go on, when they were hunting, pulling in favours, chasing through the underworlds, he doubts it's plentiful. He cannot imagine anyone willing to experiment past the edges of morality, will hesitate too long on the cliff of conscience.

It is when he hears your voice through the feeble door, that he finally raises himself up. Takes the clothes he has been given, there is little else in this room, it's a broom closet, more than a room. He cannot clean up, cannot go through routines that give him some semblance of comfort. So he decides to simply face it, he has to.

"Where is your guest?"

Zayne looks at you, really looks. He had seen you in that cafe, had noticed the claw at your side in a flash out of the side of his vision. It is something else to see it in the lab's bright lights. As you growl at Leon, he sees fangs peeking out under your lips. Inhuman and out of place, though he remembers seeing something similar when you had been cursed by cats.

These are tinged red, from biting into your lip, and you twitch and clench your claw to a fist. He recognises the motion, normally you would seek out a hand, or someone's clothes to hold onto. To ground yourself. Later, twirling a dagger when on a mission, after Sylus taught you how.

His own hand reaches out on impulse as he approaches, to take yours. To ground you. To ground himself. It is a reflex that he has to pull back, reign in and remind. You will not take kindly to a stranger touching you. The feeling is like a shard of ice through his chest, that he is a stranger.

A target.

The kind of realisation that shatters at hope.

He thinks of moments when Rafayel had drunk too much, on days you were out on missions. The Lemurian had bemoaned the tides, the pains of being forgotten, the agony in his chest for things he didn't fully explain. Like he was offering Zayne parts of a puzzle, but holding back the box. He had only gleaned some sense out of the heartbroken Lemurian, placing a head in his lap, and running fingers through hair and over skin, wiping cried pearls away.

That memory was a fragile thing, that he already knew, saw shades of it when you reconnected, when you looked at him and didn't hate him for the way he had hurt you in your youth. Barely recognised stories he shared, only realising later when the recognition took longer to shine in your eyes. That the albums he had seen Caleb tend to with you, were for a purpose. To protect your memory, to strengthen the foundations.

That, despite the pain, he saw the same thing in Rafayel's heart that he saw in Caleb's in his childhood. A sheer determination, that no matter how many things were forgotten, that there would be more memories. Endless as the sky.

It kept the small jasmine of hope protected against the cold.

He still sees you, in the way you talk. There is none of what Xavier and Sylus recollected from their first run-in with you. None of the cold chill to your eyes like the previous day. He recognises this you, though you're short and you're angry. There's a familiarity to the casual tone, to the way you interact. Underneath the new scars he can see, the unfamiliar attachment, and the gold flickering around the edges of your eyes, you are there.

If he can only draw you out.

It should be a relief that you are forced to spend time with him, though the idea of you spending time with him under duress makes him feel sickened, instead he realises it is a threat. That like Carter has teased, multiple times, he would do anything for you. That all he has done in his pursuit of studying the heart, has been to save you.

Can he really keep that moral code, that the you now teases him for, when there is a chain around his love, keeping them at EVER's feet? It is a question that he truly hopes he never finds an answer to. He just needs time.

There are so many questions Zayne wants to ask you, so many things he needs to learn, to understand. Like there's a door he can push open if he gets the right key, and things will settle into place. It's a naive little thing, like every promise he makes against his logical judgement for an eternity.

Instead, his eyes are drawn to your bared arm, the lightning scars visible from yesterday, and he falls into familiarity, "Are you alright?"

He tries to offer the same smile he's offered to his patients, despite how he worries that it might tremble when you flinch away from him. Looking at him like he has lost his mind, irritated by his questioning.

So he tries again, tells you that it's natural for a doctor to worry. It's not a lie. Any real doctor would be concerned for others, their lives, especially if they were injured in front of them. There's a deeper, consistent reasoning. He loves you, your life means more to him than his own ever could. You're hurt, and even if he hadn't been your doctor for so long, not being able to help you, cut more than he expected.

Wrestling with the feeling, of wanting to reach out, to hold your hand, soothe aches and pains. Check your health, make sure you're alright. To be the one to heal you. Instead, he simply watches, the pout on your face as you respond to him in irritation. The way your gaze wavers when you look away. It's akin to embarrassment, a look he's seen on you when he teases, and you aren't sure how to respond.

You're out of your depth. It's endearing, even when you bite without cruelty.

He watches as you look past him, the gold in your eyes flickering, filling your irises. Leaning forwards, he reaches a hand out, waves it but you don't react. The gold flashes silver, and he finally finds his voice, "Darling?"

It slips out, but he watches as you blink. As the gold and silver filter away, and the familiar mismatch of your eyes returns to him. As you look at him, warmth in your eyes for a moment, and a flicker of a warm smile as you shiver, before you are this you again. You avoid his hands again, and sink your fang into your lip. He wants to reach out but he does not want to feel the sting of your withdrawal again.

He finds relief in the fact you have taken care of your wounds, as reserved about it as you are. So he tries something else. Decides to rattle you, watches you make him hot chocolate. You're short with him now, demanding he stay. There's a bite to your words, but your eyes…

You're sad. He doesn't know why, there's too much he doesn't know. What they've done to you, what you've been through in the months you've been separated. The way your shoulder droops as you make his drink, more careful with your actions. Carefully pouring, stirring with your left hand. For a second, he lets himself imagine you're home again. That he's sat working at the kitchen bar, Sylus reading a book nearby, Rafayel playing an overly noisy game on his phone, Xavier half reading a book and half drifting to sleep.

You're making drinks for them, humming and bobbing your head to music that is as familiar to him now as everything else in their home.

When you turn to hand it to him, he is still in that daydream. Taking it with hands too cold, and sipping. It is only when you point out the risk, that he pulls out of the fantasy.

That you are watching him, again, like he is insane, and every moment you call him Doctor is a spear.

He spent so long trying to be Zayne for you again, to overcome walls he had placed between you. Icy thorns, tangled around his heart, forcing his hand to be steadier. Controlled. He has lost so much time running from you, before he could finally open up, finally take your hand freely. Finally have you close to him, opening doors to the tower, letting him walk freely wherever he wanted.

Without fearing the ice as much as he had.

It's like he is back in the moment of when you first walked back through his door, keeping your distance. Calling him doctor, reacting with a lack of recognition when you see his face. There's even more of a frost to you now, and his title is bitten off.

He wonders how many doctors in EVER treat you with the same kindness those in Akso have.

He doubts any.

When you growl his name out, glaring at him, he cannot help the feeling. Like he's won something, he thinks it might be the same feeling he has when he has won a plushie out of the claw machine for you. Victory and pride, and warmth in this chest at the crooked smile you gave him. Even if you and Rafayel often tease him for not being very good at it.

Zayne learns a lot just watching, he's always needed to be observant, and the flickering of the gold of your resonance, over your skin, up your wanderer prosthetic, is uncontrolled. Driven by fluctuating emotions, that you cannot comprehend. He's familiar with the struggle, and he knows it is something you had struggled to learn. Now you are back at the space without the skills to navigate, with no comfort or safety to try.

"Did they hurt you?"

It feels like a stupid question, he can see new scars, that he has not traced with his fingers. He can see the shades of fear in you as you flinch out of his grasp. EVER have hurt you, he knows that.

Yet… he needs to know. Has to understand, if he ever hopes to fix it. He cannot cure something that he cannot see.

There's some guilt, that he could not help, that he has not been here. It's a pointless thing, to feel guilt. He is one man, all of his family cannot fight against EVER without struggling against it. Still… he cannot help but guilt when he sees your hand press to your chest. Is it a physical pain or an emotional one?, he wonders. Unable to ask. Press, push and pull like he wants.

You are not close enough to answer him. Biting back at all of his questions, bristling at him when he pries.

So when you question him, looking at him as you bring up the name he has called you so often, his heart skips. Darling has been as familiar on his tongue, as his own name could be. He remembers the moment he had first called you it, felt the heat on your cheeks, the glistening in your eyes. The way you had turned away to hide it, only to be pulled back to him. So that he could kiss you.

Whispering it against your lips. Tasting the sigh of his name in return. It had taken so much restraint from him to stop, when you needed to breathe. He was so desperate, his control fraying, his mind tumbling around the sensation, the need, the yearning. Everything he wanted, in his hands.

It fits you better than the words of EVER, ever could. You are not their weapon, or their rare beast to keep in a cage. You are his Darling. Rafayel's Cutie. Xavier's Starlight. Sylus' Kitten. You are you.

When Unicorn leaves his lips, he feels sickened by it. It is not you. It's not right, and he watches the flicker of pain in your eyes, like you wish he'd never said it. He wishes he had not, he wishes he could call you anything else. That the pain as you press to your chest was not so stark, that he could ignore it for a moment longer, to whisper your name.

It is patience, it is process. Medicine is not a quick and easy journey. Struggles with memory are never so simple to fix. He cannot say a word and watch you be healed in front of his eyes.

He has to remind himself. He has to remember.

Even if you cannot.

He can, and he can find a path forward.

Out of all the things that he wishes to know, he faces your wary gaze with a simple thing. He finds the doctor's manual, and he processes.

Dealing with those with memory loss. Keep questions simple, without being belittling. Do not ask if they remember certain things. Offer conversation, help build up rapport.

He has to remember, because if he cannot be your lover, he will be your doctor. He has always cared first and foremost about keeping you healthy.

If the look you give him, upon questioning about hobbies, is anything to go on, he has succeeded somewhat in disarming you. He remembers your reaction to finding out he had toothache and had been avoiding the dentist.

Disbelief, amusement, and the need to tease. If you had a tail, it would have flicked.

You have wide eyes, and blink at him. Startled, and he thinks of a cat. Though he would not do Sylus the pleasure of agreeing with the 'Kitten' moniker too loudly.

As you gaze off, you describe Destiny Cafe to him. Starry eyed, with gold flickering around the edges. Fading out of focus. Your words stall, and his heart skips again.

Despite everything, despite the situation you are in… you are drawn to places that you and they have left marks. A place that is as familiar as home, at this point. It tempers, reminding himself that he cannot cling too blindly to hope. Yet… against his will, it is water for the small flower he protects.

If even part of you remembers, there is hope.

He will fix this, he will see you find yourself again, offer you sanctuary even if you do not trust easily, and he will wait and find a way to get out of this nightmare.

He promised a future, and he will not let it go.

After all, you helped cut through the icy thorns for him. He will help you break down EVER's bars around you.

At the very least, he has a chance. If you are to be forced to spend your time with him, then he can use it to his advantage. He can ignore the ache, and find a goal. He chased medicine all his life to cure your heart, he is not one to quit.

Not on you.

Even as he stares his dead childhood friend in the face. As purple and pink eyes look back at him coldly.

As you step back from between them, and raise a brow.

There are questions on Zayne's tongue. So many, too many. What has EVER done to those he cares for, to have laid their damned claws into everything? Is it the fact he feels the distance in Caleb, that keeps him from doing much but holding his gaze. There is a feeling of being watched by a snake, that he has never felt before.

The Caleb he knows, beyond being protective, was warm. Even if most of it was reserved for you.

Zayne has never felt like a threat, not like this.

"How are you?"

His words come out short, when Zayne finally manages to pull himself out of thought, "I have been better." He receives a laugh in response, as empty as the man's eyes. Like he finds the situation of little interest. Like his childhood friends being caged by EVER are not a concern to him.

This waking nightmare feels less real by the moment, as he looks at the uniform. As he picks out the Farspace Fleet insignia. As he sees the colonel badge. As he pieces the vision together.

There is a biting, and vicious question that is out of his character, but is full of frustration and anger at all the things he has seen. That reminds him of Sylus on the floor, in pain, gasping. That makes him see the wanderer claw out the corner of his eye. That sees him stitching up a deep gash in Xavier's chest. That hears the eulogy from the bathroom as Rafayel mourns.

How could you stand there and see this happen?

How could you see this and not fight?

How could you claim to care for them, and turn a blind eye to their suffering?

So much, too much. Overwhelmed and hurting.

If there is a god Zayne can believe in, he wishes they would make this nightmare end.

"You two know each other?" You finally speak up, looking between them, and Zayne sees it. The wary look in your eye as you look at Caleb, the way you do not stand closer to either of them. Whatever the situation has become, you are not sure where you stand.

Caleb must notice it too, looking down at you. There's more warmth in his eyes when his gaze holds yours, and Zayne almost can trick himself into believing it's the same Caleb he knows.

"We used to be old friends, didn't we?"

"I suppose so."

"So that's how they plan to convince you, Zayne? An old friend?"

He almost laughs, it has no humour, and it would be a broken rattling thing, but he almost does. "Yes, I suppose you could say that."

You look incredulous at him, brow raised and chewing on your lip, like the idea is more confusing to you, than anything else right now. Like your dead best friend, is not the biggest question here. Like he is the odd one. He isn't lying to you either, the chain EVER want to place on him, is a reminder. Of the person he fought so hard to save, who is right in the grasp of people who would break you with such little effort.

It's simply not Caleb, who keeps him tethered.

It is not Caleb who reminds him that he is at EVER's mercy.

You say something under your breath, that he does not catch, shrugging to yourself.

"How about we chat, for a bit, Zayne? I'm sure Pipsqueak can go find some food, you haven't eaten yet, have you?"

This causes you to bristle, and Zayne watches as you move in front of him. Facing Caleb. There's a height difference, and you have to look up at him, but there's an immovable force. A tenseness to your claw, that reminds him that you are well trained.

And he is your job.

"Pipsqueak?" A flicker of doubt over Caleb's face, almost makes Zayne's anger temper. Almost.

"My job is to protect him, Caleb. I can't leave him alone."

There's a laugh, warm and jovial, as Caleb extends a hand towards your head, and goes to pat it, but you carefully move back a little more. Forcing Zayne back a step to avoid you bumping into him. It tapers out, the humour, and his eyes narrow up at Zayne like it is his fault, this is happening. "From me?"

"From everyone." Your voice is cold, the empty look in your eyes is back. The wall around you that forces the shocked, irritated looks to the back of his mind. The version of you he saw outside your home. Ready to hurt anyone in your path to fulfill your role.

The weapon EVER are so ready to throw at others.

Zayne watches, and he waits, in the course of your conversation he learned you carry out your jobs, no matter what. Even if you bristled at the orders. He wonders if you could bring Caleb to his knees like you did with Sylus, angry and snarling.

Caleb's eyes narrow, and then soften, his hands up. Appeasing, his smile is wide but Zayne can't feel the warmth from it. Too busy overlapping the chill in his gaze, with the friend he grew up with. "Alright Pipsqueak, I get it. No leaving the doctor alone, why don't I go and get us connected rooms sorted so it's easier to guard him?"

Your hackles raise, then ease, then settle. The gold that was drifting down your claw, now dissipates, leaving flickering around your eyes once more. You don't smile, but you do nod, "That would be helpful, thank you Caleb." This time when the hand extends to your head, you do not pull from Caleb, and Zayne finds himself irritatingly jealous.

It is a feeling he is not very familiar with, so used to reaching out and touching you. To knowing you inside and out. To being more than confident in every moment spent, every day lived, and every experience had by your side.

Now he is nothing more than a stranger, watching you pull away from him, into someone else's arms.

He's only slightly relieved when you seem to have enough of being touched, pulling back and indicating for him to follow, "Let's go, before there's no food left." You glance at Caleb, then back at Zayne, then urge him to keep up as you leave. He follows, as quickly as he can. Unwilling to strain the new found relationship, when he sees how wary you are of someone you trusted implicitly.

That if he came to it… he has no idea if you would align yourself with EVER, or with Caleb. Which is a question that while he never thought he would ask, he certainly never thought the answer would be so clouded in mystery.

As he leaves, his head slightly turns to glance at Caleb. The flash of hurt in purple eyes quickly smothered, makes him think he is not the only one with the question.

—---

Your time with Zayne is time you aren't sure how to fill. You cannot remember the last time you spent an extended period of time with anyone.

So you do what you can think of. Imagining he's a pet you have to take care of. It's an insulting assessment, but you know the basics for it better than you know the basics of general human survival. Eat, sleep, repeat, you think. Truthfully though, you don't want to parade the man around EVER's compound.

As you enter the canteen you see all the faceless white coats who you barely want to acknowledge, look up at your entrance. Unlike Zayne, who takes a cursory look around him, you keep eyes forward. There's nothing to be gained from their curiosity. Just more agony, and more probing questions.

At least the doctor's questions aren't met at the end of a scalpel you can feel in your flesh, like one of their cruel vivisections.

"Pick." You indicate the menu, looking over at the machines. It's a simple automated system, the less people in the compound the better. You see the OTTO bouncing about as they clean up, or bring trays to people.

It's a simple enough system, so you don't have to explain it, while you stand by his side and look around.

Shooting particularly sharp eyes at some scientists staring far too much at your new charge.

You hope, your only charge.

"Done." You look back and see he's inputted his choice, and then see that he's inputted for chocolate cake. He at least has the decency to look a little red faced when you raise a brow at him.

He's a mystery you won't entertain.

You can't.

So you shrug and shove in an order for whatever won't turn your stomach. You haven't eaten properly, besides some fruit slices, and you doubt you'll keep the prepared food down much longer than usual. Still, if you don't try you worry Leon will find out and inform the lab coats. Then you'll be hooked up to an IV, and forced through the process of keeping your body workable.

They can't risk a knife rusting, after all.

The canteen is as silent as it always is when you enter, like if they talk you'll bite. You're used to the treatment, but Zayne lets out a small chuckle, "Is it against the rules to talk when you're a member of EVER?"

You almost laugh, almost, biting it back down because it's not exactly inaccurate. Everyone here knows something, that if they shared would get them killed. Still, it's not that threat keeping them silent. "They're too curious about you Doctor Li." You respond, taking the trays away from the OTTO, shoving them at the Doctor so you're free just in case, and leading him to a table that keeps his back to the wall.

"Eat."

"Am I going to be ordered around a lot, going forwards? Is the correct response, yes zir?"

"The correct response is to eat. If you drop down out of malnutrition, I've failed my job."

"Ah, can't have a stain on your record now, can we?" There's no venom when he says it, and when you look at him, he does not look at you like he's picking a fight. His eyes aren't cold, in fact they're as warm as they always seem to be, but the words do hurt.

You aren't sure why. It should be a badge of honour, that you've never failed. Even in all your ignorance, though, you know blood on your hand is nothing to sing for.

Not in front of a man who has made promises to save people. You are diametrically opposed.

He should hate you, for everything you represent. Instead he simply seems at peace to eat, next to you.

Surely it is an insanity, to sit next to a killer, and not even check your food for poison?

Still, would you hurt him? Not right now, you have your orders. To keep him safe, protect him. From anyone, even yourself.

Even Caleb…

The cold look in his eyes is embedded in your mind, the way he glared at Zayne, someone who should have been his friend. You look up at Zayne, watching him eat cake as if he hasn't a care in the world, but you notice the tapping of his finger against the table. It's quiet, and he's looking off as he eats.

You remember the anxious energy you get in your hand without your dagger to twirl.

Perhaps that's something you can understand. The mask. It makes him easier to understand, to believe.

You still can't bring yourself to ask.

Do you really want to know more about this man, to humanise him more than he already is, if the order comes down that he's not needed anymore?

"When did Caleb return?"

He does not give you the reprieve of avoiding it, but you're not even sure how to respond. If you should even tell him anything. You remember him picking at the fact this is personal information. It's not a threat to EVER. For all reasoning you have no orders to keep this secret. There's little stopping you sharing whatever you like.

Information is dangerous, in anyone's hands. Even if you feel a little foolish for thinking this doctor might not be one of them.

"Does it matter?"

He pushes some of the cake over to you, when he realises you've barely eaten anything. Picked at some vegetables, speared them around the plate and then ignored them. You hesitate before taking a bite, the sweetness spreading over your tongue.

For a moment you hear laughter, and see a warm smile, as you eat. Before it fades, and you hear him speak again, "He was dead for a year. I mourned him. I just want to understand what happened."

You see the flash of pain in his eyes, the way his tapping speeds up for a moment, before he pulls his restless hands out of your view. Steadying himself with an exhale.

You aren't sure what part of your twisted heart compels you… but you don't want to hide this information, "Yesterday, I saw him again yesterday. He told me he was gone for a year, but I don't remember anything beyond that."

"Nothing?"

You bristle, the idea of sharing anymore about it does not appeal, no matter how warm his eyes are. You aren't sure if it's protectivity over your own being, or if it's fear. So you clamp shut again, sitting back and pushing the cake back to him.

He seems to accept the close of topic, and tries something else, "Have you noticed anything-" He pauses, seems to think of how to word it, "Odd, about him?"

"Odd about me, Zayne? Am I so different?"

You look to the side, as Caleb approaches, his hat pulled down to cover his eyes somewhat. He's smiling, but it's the same smile you saw earlier. Chilling, and unwelcoming, even though when he turns to look at you. It blooms brighter.

You can't quite figure out what it means.

Why he would level a glare at someone he called a friend.

Or why it would make you feel like stepping away that you noticed it.

Zayne lets out a sigh, and you're impressed when his expression does not change at being heard, or when he simply raises his head to nod in greeting, "It's been a year. Everyone changes with time, Colonel."

"Please, how long have we known each other? It's Caleb." He pulls out a chair to join you both at the table, a steady smile on his face. Warmer now, like he's thawed.

You wait for a sign the frost is returning.

"Still have a sweet tooth? It seems some things don't change."

"If it isn't broken." Is the level response, as he finishes.

"I'm sure your dentist wouldn't agree." You respond, looking down at your plate, before you blink. Why… did you-

The chuckle is small, and warm eyes watch you when you raise your head at the sound. The doctor nods, "He wouldn't, no."

You try to hold his gaze, stunned at the way he watches you, at the words out of your mouth before you'd even processed you were speaking, and let out a tch. Turning your face away, catching Caleb watching you.

His expression is flat, before his eyes meet yours, and he smiles at you. Warm and sunny, "Are you finished?"

You look down at the still full plate and ache a little at the waste. You go through this process every now and then, order, stomach a bite, feel torn up, and stop. "I'm not hungry."

Zayne doesn't bring up your growling stomach from earlier, he simply watches like he wants to say something to you, but isn't sure what or where to begin. You can only imagine what an actually good doctor might say.

You're going to be sick. You're not taking care of yourself. You need to eat.

You know that, you know logically you need to…

You think about the pastries in the cafe, the only thing you'd managed to keep down. Maybe you could convince Leon to get you more.

Or would they turn to ashes in your mouth if you eat them in EVER's walls.

"How about I cook for you next time? It's been a while, after all." You flinch, looking up at Caleb. Like he's seen through you, like he knows more than you want him to. That feeling like he and the doctor can see through you. Read whatever they want through walls.

You want to shiver at it, but you also don't want them to see more. If there's even a point, anymore, to hiding.

"Surely you're busy with work for the fleet?" Zayne interrupts, "Do you have the time to spend here?"

A muscle in Caleb's jaw jumps, and you watch his eyes change, as he looks at Zayne, "I have plenty of time for when Pipsqueak needs me."

This time when Caleb talks, he keeps his gaze mostly on Zayne, but his voice is warmer, "How about we go to see Skyhaven soon, Pipsqueak, and I can make you food there?"

It's like you're watching a tug of war, in a game you don't even remember seeing start. You suddenly want to ask if friend is even the word for whatever these two are. You're almost sure a friend isn't supposed to glare at you.

Almost.

But you can feel eyes at your back, can feel too many people curious about the Colonel, and his conversation with EVER's pet, and the new doctor. Can already tell the second you leave this room, the gossip will become unbearable. You'll hear it in whispers for weeks at the least. Until another horrible thing happens to draw the vulture's attention.

So you push back out of your seat and look at Zayne, "We should go."

Before you can begin to force the man out of the room, Caleb stands, "What about a tour? I've sorted out the rooms, so we may as well show our dear doctor around, right Pipsqueak?"

"Can't we just give him a map?"

You barely have time to react when he ruffles your hair again, laughing at you, "Come on, be a tour guide for a little bit, instead of a guard."

There's a biting remark on the tip of your tongue, to the effect of 'I'm only spending time here to guard him.' It feels like too much effort though, to argue when you can see the immovable object that is Caleb.

Especially when Zayne steps over and nods, "It would be prudent to see the place properly."

You're sure he wants to investigate to figure out how to escape, if he's foolish enough to think that's an option, you may as well make your life easier and show him how it's not. At the very least you won't have to chase him through the corridors at any point, while he tries to find one door that will let him outside.

It doesn't sound like a good use of the time you don't spend sleeping.

"Fine."

So you follow along, truthfully, Caleb does the tour. You barely know where anything other than the training room and Leon's lab is. You can find your way mostly, but if anyone asked what rooms were what you'd be pointing them at the signs.

There's a small voice in the back of your mind, that wonders why Caleb, of all people, knows the place inside and out.

You remind yourself that EVER brought him back. Maybe in this specific compound.

It's a good enough reason.

So you allow yourself to be led around, nodding on occasion but mostly watching. Zayne, to try to puzzle out what is going through his head, and Caleb, to try to understand the feeling you've felt since that cold smile had shown on his face.

"Do you not spend much time in the compound?" Zayne asks you at some point while you're shrugging at an anecdote Caleb offers about a specific lab's work.

"I told you, I train, I get experimented on, I go to sleep. I only need three rooms for that. The rest of this place is a maze I have no interest getting lost in."

"They need more signs, otherwise one day I'm going to get a message from you going 'Hey Caleb I'm lost.' again."

Again?

It's cold. You're so cold.

Hair soaked to your skin, the chill biting at you.

Your chest aches and hurts and twists. Sobbing and choking and gasping on air.

It's so cold and you just want it to stop.

It's too much, why won't it stop?

"Pipsqueak, I found you."

"Pipsqueak?"

You stumble back at hands on your skin. Caleb pulls his own back to show you it, as you leave his grasp. The Doctor with his own outstretched. You shake your head, clearing it, fighting through the crackling edges of broken ghosts.

"I'm fine." It's broken and choked and cracking. You're not fine. You can't be. You need to be fixed, you need whatever is wrong with you to stop. "Just tired."

They don't believe you, you see the doubt in eyes. Worry, things you don't want to see.

You don't deserve it and you don't want it.

You can't keep looking at them.

"The joined room is ready, we can go back there, you can get some sleep, and Zayne can be safe in the next room over." Caleb offers, trying to catch your gaze, as you stubbornly keep your eyes away. "I can get him a book or something, that'll waste a few hours."

You're barely listening. You need to see Philip. Need him to fix your head.

If you tell him, maybe you won't be subjected to something more painful.

You force a nod, "Sure. Sleep." You're barely aware enough to be ashamed of how your voice breaks, how your fingers are trembling, so you shove them into pockets, and clench your claw into a fist. "Let's go."

You're a better tool than this, you're better at what you do than this… yet as you walk away, at no point do you turn to check your charge is safely following.

—----

Caleb tries to tell himself that you're fine, that you will be fine. As he sits near the bed where you're curled up in on yourself, he tells himself that. Over and over like a mantra. That you'll be alright.

He's angry, and frustrated, that part of EVER's plans involve dangling you around Zayne like some treat he'll get if he's a well behaved dog. If he follows their orders and does what they ask. That you don't understand the game you're being played as a pawn in. That you don't have the answers.

There is a tearing in his heart, that cannot decide whether telling you is better than keeping it secret. The more you know, the better prepared you will be… the more you know, the more at risk you are of fighting back. He cannot put ammo in your hands, that will inevitably end up in your own head.

It is not a risk he will take. Not now, not now he finally has you back.

He gently takes your hand, to press a kiss to the back of it, as you talk in your sleep. Another trait that has not dissipated along with your memories.

For a moment, Caleb wonders what Zayne saw when he saw you. He's no fool, and he has kept a close eye. Has seen how close you have gotten to their common companion. Has watched dates with that 'family', the word turns his stomach, and seen the touches. The kisses, the contact. Has seen you smile and laugh and live happily with them.

He can touch you now though. His lips on your skin. His hand on your head. His body at your side in your sleep.

He is the only one you can really trust here, because he will never abandon you.

He will do whatever it takes, to protect you.

In a world with just the two of you.

His mind unwillingly calls up the cold look you had levelled him with. The way you had stood in front of Zayne like a guardian, had moved away from his touch, like he was the thing to fight against. That he was the enemy.

Caleb tries not to think of it, of the wary, chilled look. No recognition or acknowledgement. He tries to focus instead on the heat of you through his left hand. The scent of the shampoo you use. The soft exhales through your parted lips.

Today had called images into his mind that while he would hate to forget any part of you, the particular memories of his childhood were unnecessary. That even for a split second, as he'd walked with Zayne and you, he had felt like that young boy, playing with a younger you. That everytime he had turned around you were there, pulling Zayne along with you, in case he was left behind.

That there were days in warm summer sun where you had spent time on swing sets. Where on cooler days after school, you had studied together, Caleb trying to outpace Zayne so that he could be the one to show you how to do calculations. That he tried not to see times when you used your change to buy sweets, to share with Zayne so he wouldn't be embarrassed about his sweet tooth.

That he'd do something stupid to impress or appease one of your requests, falling or catching himself on something, only for Zayne to help clean his wounds and take care of his injuries. As much as he frowned and said he was fine. The older boy had simply carried on wiping with antiseptic, and carefully bandaging him up.

That all he needed to do was think about what games to keep you entertained, or what school work hung over your heads. That those warmer days faded after as you became older teens. As Zayne left, and he never really understood why. As your heart ached more and more, and you finally faced your painful reality.

As he watched his world start to shatter again.

That finding time to just watch the sunset by the river was harder and harder to do, no matter how much time he wanted to make for you. How as time passed, that small smile and warm laugh got weaker and weaker, more withdrawn. Before you stopped altogether.

He had forgotten, he supposed, how cruel the world was to you both. Allowed himself to be foolish, allowed himself to forget Gran's words. 'Keep them safe'.

Now he was dealing with what he had wrought in his ignorance. His blind foolishness, had led to this outcome.

So he had to find a way to keep you safe.

He had to protect your world together.

No matter what it is that lies as a threat.

The door to Zayne's room is easily opened, and he does not knock, does not ask for entry. He pushes the door open and steps inside. He watches Zayne sit up, ice in his hand, the cold swirls travelling over his skin. He watches as the man's eyes move past him, through the gap in the door, to where you sleep.

Irritation swirls. A protective craving and bite. The thought of a rotting apple falling to the floor. He pushes it closed, so he won't be able to see you. He doesn't deserve to see you. He didn't protect you well enough either.

He failed to fix your heart too.

Zayne is just as foolish, if not more so, than he is.

"You're prone to sneaking around now Caleb?" If there's something to be said for Zayne, it is that his expression does not change when he looks at Caleb. When he sees the threat. He's always had little change to his face, even as kids. You were convinced he hated you for a long time, because of it. Caleb had known differently, but telling you so would require telling you how much Zayne had liked you.

It hadn't been a conversation he wanted to have.

"I wouldn't want to raise my Pipsqueak's ire again, now would I?"

"Their job is just to protect me, unless you plan to kill me-"

Caleb barely keeps himself from twitching, but he isn't convinced his expression is as level as he likes, the impulse to bare teeth at the man is immense. To suggest he would ever go out of his way to ruin one of your jobs, without a good reason. That the man has the gall to flaunt his 'protection', in Caleb's face. A reminder of the leash about your neck, that now this man holds.

That you are a tool for him, is his misconception.

It is pulled back, as he reminds himself he has a mask for this moment. That his every day as a colonel, has taught him how to lie, and keep things hidden. That the very act of wearing it was how he survived. How he got back to you. That without it, without every lie he has ever told, he would not be able to keep you safe now.

"No, I wouldn't want them to fail one of their orders for EVER. That would be disastrous. They have a clean record, you won't be the reason that changes." He leans against the wall, and indicates to Zayne with a finger outstretched, "I just wanted to remind you not to do anything stupid."

"I would have believed my old friend would know me to be anything but stupid, after all, I helped you with your studies too."

It irritates him, the reminder, the knowledge of times he hadn't been enough, and had needed someone else to cover where he lacked. It wasn't true anymore, he didn't need Zayne's helping hand. He doesn't need anyone's hand, except for yours.

"What strikes me as stupid, is the situation we have found ourselves in. Or perhaps, foolish, is a better term. After all, what could possibly have convinced you that this is the right place for them to be?"

Like he understands, like the choice was ever that easy.

"This, or a grave, Zayne, which would you choose?"

"Better to die with your mind intact, than live as a monster."

He laughs, it is a scoff and it is bitter, and he turns away from the man. Thinks about moments in that testing facility. At every electric shock through his limbs to make him work like the tool they needed him to be. To make his arm function, to make him a reliable weapon.

A monster. He thinks about how he despises the thing they put to him, that perhaps it's true and the cybernetics make him a monster. That his right arm is dirty and filthy and every choice he has made, made him a beast. If he is a beast, however, he will be a beast for you. In service to you. That even if you do not know it, the fact your right arm carries the beast of burden too, makes him feel like you two still are the only two that matter in this filthy place.

That at the very least, even though he wishes it had never happened, he shares the connection that only you can understand. With your claw soaked and stained in blood he knows you cannot wash clean.

Just like he cannot.

"A monster, mhm? Is that what they are now, to you?"

Zayne does not respond, just looks at him, cool, calm eyes watching him. Caleb tries not to remember moments in childhood, when he'd gotten hurt, and Zayne had simply watched him until he finally cracked and confessed so. So the younger boy could help him with his cuts.

They aren't kids anymore.

"I'm keeping them safe, what could you possibly understand of that?"

"Safe? In EVER's den? With them watching every move, keeping track of everything that happens? Holding onto them like they're some kind of attack dog?"

It's the first time Caleb has seen real emotion leak out of him. That in all the time, watching and keeping an eye on him, that Zayne bites. He watches the ice spread up his arm, as his emotions fluctuate.

So he really still can't control it, is a thought that flickers through his mind. A reminder of seeing through the camera, as you resonate with him. Keeping him from hurting himself, or others. Easing the out of control ice down.

You're not here, though, and Caleb watches as the hand tightens. Then eases open, and the ice fades back away, as the cold man warms back up.

It's another reminder, that Zayne cannot help you. When he cannot even really help himself.

An assurance, to Caleb, that he is the best place to keep you safe.

"At least they have me protecting them."

"Who is protecting them from you?"

He's a controlled man, he tries to be. Violence is to be used carefully. His EVOL is a tool, a powerful one, that he has harnessed and learned out of need and through pain. That every experiment his was subjected to, as a child, and as an adult, has made him stronger. That when he needs it, he can use it with a wave of his hand.

That he can bring forth a black hole like it's nothing.

For a split second, his hand twitches, and he feels his anger pull. Zayne's shoulders slump, and he chokes on nothing, before Caleb pulls it back. Reels himself in, steadies it. He cannot kill the man. He cannot hurt him, not when you will suffer it.

He will not hurt you. Ever. You are the one thing in this world he values, that he cares for. You are everything. His beacon and his home base. No matter what, you are where he belongs.

You do not need protecting from him, because he loves you. More than you'll ever understand, more than you'll ever know. More than he'll ever tell you. "I would never hurt them. Ever." It feels wet, like he's close to tears, choked out on the feeling.

The idea of his hands ever being responsible for your pain.

He will never be a weapon to hurt you. No matter what anyone else intends.

"You are, keeping them here, helping EVER, is hurting them. You have to be smarter than this Caleb, surely?"

"Don't act like you could understand this. All you have to do is help them, and they'll leave you alone. Let you do your work, and you won't have to look over your shoulder anymore-" It's not true, it's never true. Caleb knows that, he knows Zayne will never be safe from them anymore. No one will ever be safe from EVER. There is not a safe place in this world anymore. "Pipsqueak can't. Pipsqueak will never be safe from them. They always find us, they always will."

There is nowhere he can run with you, nowhere he can hide you. There is no place EVER cannot touch. He hates every time he realises, every time he remembers the simple fact. That even if he took you to another world, they would follow.

"Caleb-" Zayne tries, trying to catch his gaze, and he simply turns away. Staring directly at the wall. Like if he could look out through it, he could see something better.

Zayne can't understand. Not really.

He hasn't lived through the tests, the iron grip over your lives.

The snapshot of time without EVER's cruelty was too short, before they found you both again.

This entire world is filthy. It's ruined everything. Every happy moment, and every bit of joy. It has done nothing but hurt you, taken from you. There is nothing to be gained from a world that does nothing but hurt. When the day comes and he figures out how to destroy it, he'll do so gladly.

He'll build somewhere better, where you can be happy, and safe. Where the two of you will finally be free, away from pain. Where he won't have to lie to you again. Where he can finally touch you at will and tell you every secret in his heart.

It is a dream within a dream, he wants nothing more than to make it a reality.

"All you need to do Zayne, is stay in line. Don't cause issues, don't make their job harder. Let this pass, and accept your new reality."

The words do not stop him from sighing, or speaking out again, voice steady but desperate. As though he truly needs Caleb to understand.

"If you really knew them, you would know this isn't what they would want. You urged them to be a hunter, you wanted them to help people to protect the world. Surely you know they don't want to abandon everything they care about? The people they love?" He exhales, "Do they look happy to you? Is this what you want to protect so badly? Do they want all this blood on their hands?"

This time, his anger truly gets the best of him. It's an ice cold chill that rivals Zayne's EVOL. He clearly does not expect it, because it takes too long for him to react as Caleb tightens his cybernetic hand around the man's throat and squeezes. He can't feel it, but he can watch. The pain flickering through Zayne's eyes. The shock. As his hand raises sluggishly to tighten a grip around his wrist. As the ice spears through Caleb's synthetic skin and tries to pry through the cybernetics.

He watches with a degree of glee, as he sees Zayne see the cybernetics. As he comes face to face with the way EVER has rebuilt him. There is pain in him at the damage the ice causes. He knows he'll have to go through repairs again, agony waiting on the horizon. It is with irritation that when the sensation of his arm comes back to him, it is through the pain, and is the feeling of Zayne's skin under his iron grip.

His sensations should be saved for you, as rare as they are.

Still, at least he knows it will leave a reminding bruise.

"Don't you dare act like you know them better than me, Zayne. Everything I have ever done, has been for them. Everything I am, every choice I've made. For them."

The creak of the door filters through his anger, reminds him that he cannot kill the man, not if he doesn't have to. Not if it leaves you punished for no reason. Not if you give him that look again, cold and wary. Like he is not the only person you can trust.

Like he's not your only real ally in this world.

You're in pain, but he can help you, and when he has, you'll never feel pain like this ever again.

You'll understand one day, that there's nothing redeemable about this world. That he can build a better one just for you. As good a heart as you have, as much as you care. He knows you'll understand.

You have to.

He backs away, releases Zayne like he scorches to touch. Pushing him back and away, and feels himself laugh under the strain of his aching heart, "If it comes down to a choice, Zayne, of your life or theirs. It will be an easy choice to make. If I have to kill you, no matter their mission, no matter what will happen, if the alternative is EVER's chip in their head, then I will do it."

Zayne rubs at the skin around his neck, and as Caleb turns, walking back to the door, back to you. Where he belongs. He hears a raw and scratchy voice behind him, rough with pain, "When you wake up from this dream Caleb, you're going to be horrified of what you've wrought."

He finds himself laughing again but it doesn't feel funny, and looks back to smile, "Well Doctor, at least I'm not living in a nightmare."

—---

You're inside a cage. The bars are rusted and it's too small to stand in. Hands and knees, with a dirty dog bowl as the only other thing in there.

You crawl to the gate, grab at it with the claw. Pull and tug and rattle it, but no matter how much you try it does not open. No matter how rusted the bars are they do not break. You don't stop, pulling and clawing at them, until the lights switch on.

A man in a black uniform, hat pulled low enters. You cannot see his face, can't make him out. No matter how you crane your neck to try to look up at him.

When your mouth opens, instead of words, you whine. Hurt and wounded like an injured dog.

He exhales, and reaches for the gate. Opens it, and then leaves.

It's a moment, when you wait. For him to come back and lock it again. To bring you a new bowl. To do anything. As you hesitate on the threshold.

When your sad, hurting heart tells you one thing.

He is never coming back.

Unneeded, unwanted, and worthless.

You have been abandoned.

You crawl out of the cage, drag yourself over the ground, your legs too shaky and unused to the space to stand to do more than stumble and fall as you try to raise yourself up. Scrapping and tearing each time you make impact with the floor.

As you reach the door he left through, the lights flick back off, and you fall through the floor.

It is almost a quiet bliss as you fall now. The ground will approach, and you will hit it. The assurance, and the knowledge of that fact, comforts you.

Because you ache, and you hurt, and no one is coming back for you.

The claw is so cold on your skin, as you wrap your arms around yourself. Seeking out any degree of comfort, any reminder of what it felt like.

Surely, at one point, you knew that. Knew kindness and warmth.

You can hear the whine in your throat, the feeling like you want to sob but can't. Falling backwards into the abyss.

When your body slows, stopping, floating. You wait for the sudden impact, for the assurance of the end.

You wait, and you wait, and it does not come.

Flickering blue lights and static.

There is no sudden relief, there is no release.

You're going to wake back up in the cage again. Left to stare at the dirty bowl as company. Waiting for something that never arrives.

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jd-loves-fiction · 1 day ago

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Hi!

could you write something about karasu? as we know he sees himself as mediocre so could u do like him feeling somewhat insecure and reader comforting him like established relationship.

feel free to ignore!

Thanks💗

🌑Thank youuuu so much for requesting my man Karasu 😭i wanted to write him so bad but i had no ideas for so long :( Also there are no Blue lock requests in my inbox where are you guys 🥺

[09:45] There are moments in Tabito’s life where his way of thinking catches up to him. What he once thought of as a sly way to brush off his insecurities comes back to bite him and drag him down to a pit of horrendous self-doubt, an awful, gloomy cloud forming over his head and refusing to leave.

Mediocre. That's all he is – he reasons with himself – all he’ll ever be. And normally that’d be fine, just not today.

“Good morning, baby.” You greet him fondly as you step into the kitchen where he stands motionless, unaware of the storm brewing inside him. You wrap your arms around his middle and happily nuzzle against his strong back.

“Mornin’,” He answers half-heartedly, placing a light hand over yours, mind still miles away. Why do you like him? Do you even like him? Why do you tolerate him when you can do so much better? He’s just mediocre and you’re so much more than that.

The awful little monster at the back of his mind keeps whispering ugly truth to him as his frown deepens. Now you know something isn't right.

“Tabito?” His hand flinches over yours, your gentle voice cutting through the fog of his insecurities for a moment, “Are you alright?”

He shakes his head before sighing, fingers running across your skin in a self-soothing motion as he thinks, “Just… feeling a little strange.”

“Strange? Are you sick? Was it the yakisoba? I knew I should’ve added les–” He cuts you off, taking your hands and turning around to face you with an oddly serious expression.

He struggles with himself for a moment, looking for the words and finding none that fit, “I’m just… Have ya ever thought there was something I could do better?” In his mind it's perfectly subtle, prying while hiding the worst of his insecurities. It’s perfect, for anyone but you, of course.

You can't help making a face, before the realization hits you. You know him too well to not get it, “Tabito…”

“Ya know what? Forget I said anythin’” He tries to appear relaxed and suddenly uninterested, attempting to step around to go sulk somewhere alone. You don't let him – gripping the fabric of hoodie and pulling him close before he can escape.

“‘m serious, baby. It's fine.”

“It’s not fine! If you’re feeling some type of you just tell me and I'll do what I can to help you. Because I love you and I want to help you but… I can't if you hide it from me.” He flushes a lovely red under your attention, squirming slightly under your grip. Clearly the direct approach isn't working. Time to change tactics.

With a long-suffering sign, you move your hands to both his cheeks, holding them so they get smushed, “Is my big, strong, clever, funny, kind boyfriend feeling insecure?” you coo, hoping a jokey tone will help get him to open up.

Tabito clicks his tongue while looking off to the side, before nodding faintly. “Ah, I see. Well, let me tell you this,” you bring him close to your face, so close you can feel his breath on the tip of your nose, looking deeply into his eyes with all the honesty in your bones, “I love you and I think you’re incredible. Beyond that even. I know that this is something that you have to believe in yourself but hopefully my words mean something to you because they are absolutely true and absolutely correct.”

He scoffs at that, cheeks warm beneath your hands and darker than they had been as he thinks over what you’ve said so effortlessly. You’ve never once thought of him as somehow inferior and he thinks you can do no wrong so, is it so hard to believe that he is that much more than mediocre?

You kiss him square on the lips to seal the deal, “You have to say ‘I love you’ back though.”

“I love you too, baby.”

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spikeisawesome456 · 25 days ago

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#Well I just had an unfortunate experience with my (now former for reasons that will become clear) dentist office #Apparently my insurance plan through my dad expired on December 31st and the dentist didn’t bother telling us before I had my cleaning and #x-rays done. Despite us ASKING THEM MULTIPLE TIMES if I was still on my dad’s plan #Instead I got a phone call today saying that the insurance wasn’t working since I had a filling scheduled for Wednesday #I mean at least they checked before THAT.#But even though I canceled that appointment I a) still have a cavity that needs to be filled #And b) now have to pay 185 fricken dollars for the X-ray and cleaning that I hadn’t anticipated #Luckily I do have the money so it’s not going to bankrupt me or really affect me too badly #But I also have other unexpected expenses that I have to pay for and all of that adds up fast #And I bought some frivolous things recently that I wouldn’t have had I known about these unexpected expenses #The only good thing is that I got a promotion at work recently but I don’t know when that starts #And it will give me prolly only like… ¢50 more an hour since I already get paid a decent wage in my current position #Unless they’re actually fair with the wage increase but I would doubt it #I also might be getting another promotion as a counselor at my job but that wouldn’t be until AT LEAST next school year #IF they can find the funding for it #And even then I’m positive they’d only take me on for like… $36000 a year since I said I’d accept that #It’s not nearly what I’m worth but I’m hoping that if I do it at a lowered rate they’ll be more inclined to go up later on #And if not then at least I’ll have experience to get a somewhat better school counseling job than if I had no experience #Honestly $36000 would seem like an obscene amount of money considering I got only $18000 after taxes last year #Thank god my grandpa pays for my family’s rent so I don’t have to worry about that #But my grandma is sick now so he has to pay for her care and can’t afford to help my family as much #Which is fair since he has paid for our rent and most of the bills for decades #(My mom is disabled and my dad is her caretaker. My grandpa pays for her care willingly since my dad is pretty much her full time caretaker #and can’t get a full time job even if he wanted. And since I still live at home I get that benefit at least.)#All of this to say that things are Not Great right now. -.-#I really hope my job accepts me as a counselor for next year. I really do… While the pay wouldn’t be great #It at least would be an improvement. And it beats trying to find another counseling job that could be absolute chaos the first year #I’ve been told multiple times that the first year is the hardest. If I can circumvent that a little by working at an after school program #That would be preferable. Plus the hours would be much better #Anyway I reached 30 tags apparently so I’ll be done now. Ugh. Thanks for reading y’all.

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barbatos-sama · 2 months ago

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this is an ask to the creator of the show this is so ominous. raggattha npc theory real maybe??

#i'm trying to think of what this could mean #was he wrong and he actually Can control minds? is it something to do with raggy specifically?#her being an npc would make the line 'she'd rather hang out with an npc with us 🙄' very ironic lol #i feel like i rly want at least at One of these fuckers to be an npc without knowing it #especially since caine mentioned the possibility that he Could mix playable characters and npcs up if he didn't keep them segregated #i really do wanna know what the mystery of this place is #i think there's only like. i can't remember if it was 8 or 10 episodes of this bitch? and we're on 4 right now #it feels like such little time to figure out what's going on so honestly maybe it's more simple than it seems #maybe None of them are real lmao #maybe only one of them is #also i really hope we get to see someone abstract #i don't really care who i just wanna see someone abstract lol #god what if it was jaxx that would be really unexpected and cool #like i'm not just saying that because i don't like him i think it would just be a really good way to subvert expectations #like he's set up as this really mysterious character and a lot of theories are spawned as to why he's special and important #and how he must have a larger role in the story #only for him to abstract and you realize he wasn't actually all that important he was just someone who had to go to extreme lengths #not to abstract but he finally hit his breaking point #i doubt that'll actually happen but it would be really good in my humble onion #anyway raaaaaaa i want more episodes

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savanir · 3 months ago

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The What Corps?

“we have you now spook! there is nowhere you can run and hide with our new spectral tethers active!”

Danny winces at the small metal clips that have hooked themselves in his leg, some new GIW tech that is messing with his powers.

“oh yeah? I was just dying for you guys to give me a challenge” plan. plan. He's gotta think of a plan to get out of here and fast. He takes a steadying breath and starts to look for anything that can help him.

he can’t get caught here. He just can't. He simply won’t allow himself.

suddenly the two GIW goons in front of him click their earpieces to clearly listen to what someone else is telling them, Danny is very glad for his own enhanced senses.

“Operatives K and O, be advised, there have been sightings of a new ectoplasmic entity near your location. Other operatives report that it’s incredibly small and moves fast. watch your backs, this may be an ambush”

small and fast? it better not be some poor little blob ghost, Danny sort of hopes it’s some manner of ectowasp, at least that could be entertaining to see.

“you better not be hoping for back up, ecto scum”

“I have no idea what you are talking about”

It's then that a small bright green light zips on scene and weaves through crowds in the distance with ease and then speeds up towards the two operatives who do not hesitate to shoot, missing completely like the storm troopers they are.

Whatever it is, it is indeed going very fast but Danny manages to figure out what it looks like and it appears to be a… ring?

“hold it you tiny accessory shaped ecto fiend!”

The ring does a speedy circle around Operative O while K is lining up a shot and ends up blasting the poor guy point blank in his face, “O!”

Danny takes a step forward with an arm outstretched and a “oh damn! Are you alright?” on his lips when the ring takes the chance to slip on his finger. “Daniel Fenton of Earth”

Danny already had a freakout about a ghost jewelry getting on him, his experiences with those so far have been incredibly bad after all, what with the rings and crowns and pendants… now this damn thing is just straight up outing him!

Thank the ancients the two GIW stooges are too busy with each other right now to pay close attention to what this weird ring is saying.

“You have the ability to overcome great fear” ah so this is related to him steeling himself just now? Maybe? or something??

You have been chosen” never good, we are back to freaking out again.

“Welcome to the green lantern corps”

… the what?

Danny notices that his usual outfit suddenly has more green going on, and his DP symbol has some sort of… he guess it’s supposed to be a lantern, maybe? shape around it.

He’s somehow even more glowy now, and there is something on his face. Feeling its shape makes him think it’s some sort of mask.

The metal clip things are no longer attached to his legs though so that’s great!

“You’re not getting away so easily ecto scum! sentient ghost paraphernalia coming to your rescue or no!” They both aim their weapons to take a shot.

Danny figures he can now easily hold them back with his usual shields,“you guys realize you just called this weird ring sentient and thereby negate the whole nonsentie-ack!”

“Attacking a corps lantern is punishable offense as of the instatement of the galactic diplomatic immunity as declared by the-” Okay so now Danny is just raising his eyebrow at this weird as fuck ring. Just what is it going on about?

“notifying nearby lanterns and requesting assistance with apprehension of hostiles”

what?

“getting your friends to help you out vile spook? such a thing is useless with the Blackout still very much in place”

Well… the two streaks of green light in the distance is making Danny doubt that statement.

Maybe there is more to this Lantern corps thing than he thought… And something tells him his life is about to get even more complicated than it already is.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #phanfic #green lantern corps #Danny really doesn't need a power ring for it's abilities #but he's going to be an insufferable little shit with the whole diplomatic immunity thing #you can pry that trinket from his colder deader hands #after seeing those moves Danny already decided #that ring is his spirit animal #personally I also think he'd love being a Lantern because Space. but that's just me

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medicinemane · 1 year ago

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#I don't think I really have the energy to flesh out this post and I've got even less to deal with people twisting my words #so we get a tag post instead of a post; but I really wish american leftists would study what's going on in Ukraine #not just cause more support would be good; but because I see a lot of parallels in behavior between SJ movements and Ukrainian activism #I think there's some real lessons that could be learned if they engaged and paid attention #what lessons? come back with a warrant #I honestly fucking refuse to elaborate cause I don't trust people enough to listen and understand what I'm saying #I can't say anything without saying too much; and I don't feel like tipping my hand even slightly #I just think that the american left might learn some lessons about how they do stuff if they looked at Ukraine #and maybe they'd want to change up how they did stuff to be more effective #but then again I doubt they'd get the point I'm hoping to hammer home #all that aside... every day I keep any ear to the ground about Ukraine #everyday I hope for miracles but prepare to keep ridding along doing the little I can; in it till every inch of land is returned #I know this post gives like zero info; and like I said; there's reasons for that #you really really want to know; you can probably ask me and I'll consider telling you #though I may not; who knows #don't think I have any Ukrainians following me; so probably not relevant #do have american leftists following me; and really rather than explaining I'll just say follow some Ukrainians for a couple months #come talk with me then and we'll see if we can figure out any lessons that might make US movements better

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plutotheplum · 2 months ago

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Winter's Kiss

sylus x fem!reader

summary: luke and kieran rope you into spending christmas at the n109 zone (and kissing their boss).

cw: fluff, soft!sylus, kissing under the mistletoe, luke and kieran being idiots, found family

wc: 2.7k

a/n: merry christmas eve/christmas my lovelies!! some fluff for the holiday season! here's to hoping sylus turns up under our christmas trees :)

also on ao3!

Somehow, you’d ended up in the N109 Zone for Christmas.

It wasn’t like the barrage of texts from Luke and Kieran had weighed upon your decision, the rapid influx of messages from the twins demanding your presence for Christmas. That coupled with the image of Sylus alone on Christmas night hadn’t made your stomach churn and heart ache at all.

The year had been a tumultuous one. Wanderers, disturbing visions and wanted criminals had you on edge these past few months, so perhaps unwinding with said, now somewhat mellow, wanted criminals was warranted in some way.

You heft the presents under your arms, moving your fingers to stabilize the wrapped goods when you feel one of them begin to slip. Shopping hadn’t been too difficult, although choosing a gift for Sylus had proved to be somewhat of a challenge. You weren’t sure whether to get him something heartfelt or to gift him a refurbished gun with new prototyped features that were advertised to the Hunter Association.

The glittering streams of tinsel drags you out of your thoughts, a smile pulling at your lips as you imagine Luke, Kieran and Sylus decorating. You hear panicked, hushed whispers when you turn the corner, a laugh spilling out of you when you see the sight before you.

Luke perched atop Kieran’s shoulders, Kieran grumbling irritatedly when Luke flails and misses the tip of the Christmas tree, the golden star falling off only for Kieran to shift and have Luke catch it.

“It’s not that hard, you idiot,” Kieran grunts, his knees bending in an attempt to readjust to Luke’s weight.

“Then you try!” Luke protests.

“I thought you two were meant to be in tune,” you muse, stepping closer, over the strewn wrapping paper and bending down to add your presents to the growing collection under the Christmas tree.

“We are,” they both say in unison, their eyes landing on you.

“You made it!” Luke says happily, squirming, “Boss will be glad.”

“ Really glad,” Keiran adds, his annoyance forgotten momentarily. “We’re glad too.”

You smile at them, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s nice to see you guys too. Maybe you should try holding the star at the tip, Luke?”

“That’s what I told him!” Kieran says, letting out an aggrieved sigh.

Luke huffs indignantly, adjusting his position yet again as Keiran steps closer to the tree, giving Luke some more leverage. It’s another failed attempt and Kieran is rolling his eyes, dumping Luke onto his feet unceremoniously.

“You do me now.”

“What about her?” Luke asks, pointing at you.

“You could ask Mephisto,” you offer, pointing at the mechanical crow that was currently preening his feathers. “What do you say, buddy?”

Mephisto gives an indignant squawk, his little head turning away arrogantly, tending to his feathers with care.

“Nevermind,” you sigh, before looking towards the twins. “Kieran is taller than me, though.”

“Just get on,” Luke whines as he bends his knees, waiting for you to climb up onto his shoulders.

You open your mouth to protest, but there’s a warm hand curling over your hip, pulling you back gently, flush against a firm chest. “Let’s not badger our guest, hm?”

Deep and velvety, you have no doubts as to who this voice belongs to. Your head tilts back to find Sylus smirking down at you, his expression amused.

“Glad you could join us, sweetie. The N109 Zone isn’t usually so… festive.”

“Yeah, well, apparently you were missing me, so I figured I’d drop in,” you tease, a sly smile spreading across your face.

Luke and Kieran snicker until Sylus’ stern expression silences them, his hand squeezing at your hip in warning.

“I never said that.”

“Must’ve been the wind,” you murmur.

“Right,” Sylus deadpans.

You squeak when the red mist wraps around you, lifting you off of the ground, the golden star being thrust into your hand by the same swirling mist. The trio of men beneath you seem amused as the tendrils sweep you higher, closer to the top of the tree, giving you enough height to place the star right where it needs to be.

Sylus’ Evol dissipates as it sets you down onto your feet, the mist sweeping across playfully and making your dress flutter.

“That’s one way to do it,” Kieran remarks, slinging his arm over Luke’s shoulders before they shoot each other knowing glances and disappear from the living room.

“You came,” Sylus says once the twins have left, his arms crossing over his chest.

“I did,” you reply, peering up at him, your hands clasping behind your back, “too bad you never sent me a personal invitation.” Sylus smiles, and you can’t help but think he looks softer in this light, the ruthless leader of Onychinus replaced by a man who seems less intense and more accommodating than usual.

“I figured Luke and Kieran would’ve gotten through to you,” he muses, his head tilting as he lets his gaze dip over you.

You do the same, taking in his sweater and trousers, trying to quell the inconvenient yet undeniable pull of attraction you feel towards him.

“Well, they did,” you sigh, managing to drag your gaze back up to meet his, “although I can’t say I appreciated how many texts they sent.”

“The twins tend to get excited,” Sylus replies, reaching out towards you, his fingers tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

It’s hard to not notice how Sylus’ touch lingers for a moment, his expression looking a little absent-minded as though remembering something from the past. Your brows furrow, unable to decide between asking him or letting his touch linger further. His hand drops away after a few moments before he clears his throat.

“I made dinner,” he announces.

You laugh, eyes lighting up at the thought of Sylus in the kitchen. You don’t quite believe him though, not when Sylus had enough money to hire at least a dozen personal chefs.

“You’re not serious,” you say, head tilting in amusement.

“I am,” Sylus smirks, his hand landing on your lower back as he guides you forward, towards the hallway, “Luke and Kieran pitched in.”

“Now I feel special,” you muse.

“I suppose you are,” Sylus replies, his expression sobering, “to all of us.”

You’re taken aback by the sincerity in his words, heart giving way to a flutter that you attempt to squash down by pinching yourself, not that it helps. This sense of belonging isn’t what you’d planned on, warmth blooming in your chest as you stare up at Sylus and remember the twins. It’s nice, really, to be valued like this. You can’t help but think you could get used to it.

Laughter echoes through the hallway as you and Sylus move through it. You startle when Kieran shouts, his voice urgent.

“Don’t move!”

“Oh, look at that ,” Luke sighs dramatically, feigning innocence as he peers upwards, directing his gaze above you and Sylus.

Bewilderment flashes across your face until you hear Sylus let out a low laugh. You tip your head back, eyes narrowing when you spy the sprig of mistletoe hanging right above where you’re standing. Mephisto adds in something that sounds like a suspiciously happy squawk, and you stare at the crow, realising you’ve been betrayed.

“Funny,” you say drily, shaking your head.

Kieran sighs just like Luke, as though he can’t quite believe the situation. The cunning expression in their eyes gives them away.

Devious, little brats.

“Well, you can’t move now,” Luke says, sounding positively aggrieved.

“I suppose you’ll just have to kiss, isn’t that right?” Kieran says, looking towards Luke. Luke nods, a self-satisfied smile settling on his face. “Those are the rules.”

“What rules?” you shoot back, glaring at the pair of twins, “there are no rules. I could quite literally just walk away.”

“Christmas tradition !” Luke and Kieran both argue, their faces looking a little crestfallen when they hear the tone of your voice, “you have to kiss!”

You can feel your heart twinge at the earnest tone present in their voices, your eyes flickering up to meet Sylus’. Strangely enough, he doesn’t seem to have any protests, his gaze boring down into yours expectantly.

“You seriously have nothing to say?” you grouse, head tilting.

“It’s just a kiss, sweetie,” he replies, his arm wrapping around your waist to bring you closer to him. “What’s the matter, hm? Afraid you’ll fall for me?”

“The thought is laughable,” you retort, trying to ignore the soothing squeeze of his hand against your side; the unrelenting warmth that was currently seeping into you and melting your hardened resolve.

“I suppose we’ll find out,” Sylus murmurs, his fingers gripping your chin to tilt your head. “We have time.”

“Move a little to the right!” Kieran calls out, waving his hand.

“What for?” you ask exasperatedly, feeling Sylus step closer, moving you with him.

“For- for the aesthetic !” Luke huffs out.

The twins look a little impatient as you stare at them, your brows furrowing further when you see Kieran whisper something to Luke.

Sylus doesn’t let you dwell longer on the twins’ antics, his calloused hand cupping your cheek to turn you towards him.

“Merry Christmas, sweetie.”

Your eyes flutter shut as his lips slot over yours, your hand curling around his wrist. Sylus kisses you like he means it, lips soft yet insistent, his thumb smoothing over your cheek. You forget where you are momentarily, knees feeling weak as you fist his sweater pulling him closer, rising up on the tips of your toes to meet his kiss better.

Sylus tilts his head, deepening the kiss. Your stubborn resolve weakens pitifully and you can only think about how perfect this moment is, how good Sylus’ lips feel, how warm his embrace is-

There’s a blinding array of flashes, white sparking out from under your closed eyelids until your eyes snap open, head turning to the side to find both Luke and Kieran with cameras in hand.

“Oh, shit,” Luke begins.

“I thought the flash was off,” Kieran mutters, frowning.

You grit your teeth, taking one step towards them, your eyes narrowing. “Give that to me.”

Luke and Kieran hug their cameras to their chest protectively.

“Christmas memories,” Luke laughs nervously when he sees the determination in your eyes. “Wouldn’t- wouldn’t want to lose those.”

Kieran nods in agreement.

“Boss!” They cry out when the cameras get swept out of their hands by Sylus’ Evol, one of them landing in your hands.

You click through the images, heat blossoming in your stomach when you see how intimate the kiss looks, Sylus’ body pressed firmly against yours, his hand on your cheek. It’s romantic, your somewhat eager response, Sylus’ tight hold, all captured closely through the lens.

“‘s nice,” Sylus murmurs, his chest pressing up against your back as he peers down at the little camera screen.

“ No ,” you shake your head vehemently, “it’s not nice.”

“We look good,” he whispers, his voice dropping lower, lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

You try to ignore the way his hands feel on your hips, his body pressing a little closer into yours. It’s hard not to agree with him the longer you stare at the images though, you do look good, and Luke’s interjection about Christmas memories has you feeling a little forgiving.

“Fine, keep them,” you sigh, handing the camera back to Luke whilst Sylus does the same to Kieran, “but don’t share them, please.”

Luke and Kieran nod enthusiastically and you snag onto Kieran’s arm before he can leave, your voice dropping to a low whisper.

“Send them to me,” you whisper, “and not a word to anyone.”

Kieran smiles deviously and you roll your eyes, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

“You’re such a jerk, Kieran.”

“C’mon,” he whines, “you love us.”

You smile up at him, your arm hooking with his. “Maybe just a little.”

He snorts and you let out a laugh, following after Luke and Sylus who had left earlier, talking about something else. Dinner goes smoothly enough and you refuse to tell Luke and Kieran what their presents are, despite their whining.

You feed Mephisto little bites of your food, your finger petting his little feathery head gently every now and then. He preens at the attention, letting out an odd sounding chirp every now and then when you tap his little beak and offer him some more food.

Sylus is seated beside you and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to stop stealing glances at the side of his face. The longer you stare, the more you can feel yourself falling deeper, a pressing crisis unfolding in your mind.

Fuck . You think you might like him.

Deep rooted feelings of yearning never lead to any good, and yet, you were too impatient not to act on them.You wait patiently, fingers playing with themselves in your lap, for the perfect opportunity.

It presents itself when Luke and Kieran break out into an insignificant quarrel, their eyes moving elsewhere. Sylus is already looking towards you and you’re leaning forward, cupping the back of his head to bring him closer, lips meeting his in a slow, sweet kiss.

“What was that for?” Sylus murmurs when you break away, his eyes roving over the flush settling on your cheeks.

“No reason,” you reply nonchalantly, leaning back in your chair.

Sylus scoffs out a laugh, behaving seemingly unaffected. There’s a light flush dusted across his cheeks however, his tongue darting out to taste the remnants of you on his lips.

“This is for no reason too,” he says, grabbing your chin and pulling you closer.

You sigh contentedly when he kisses you, arms wrapping around his neck, your lips working against his a little feverishly as though you can’t get enough.

A cacophony of protests breaks out from the twins when they see you and Sylus kissing at the table.

“Gross! Get a room!”

You roll your eyes, breaking away from Sylus to peer over at them.

“You were the ones that made us kiss,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yeah, we didn’t mean all the time,” Luke corrects.

“Deal with it,” Sylus interrupts, brushing a kiss to your cheek.

You hum happily, Sylus’ hand warm as it encases yours under the table. Luke pouts and Kieran mirrors him, both of them slumping back in their chairs.

You and Sylus get a little more privacy when you step outside, snow dusting across both of you, covering the shrubbery and trees. Mephisto swoops through the air, his mechanical wings flapping as he lands on a tree branch above. The icy chill of the wintery air isn’t so bad, not when Sylus is stepping up behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder as he holds you close to him.

“It was bound to happen,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek again as you stare up at the night sky, glittering with stars.

“You seem awfully sure of yourself,” you reply, squeezing his forearms.

“Let’s just say… I had an inkling. I know you, sweetie.”

“I don’t understand what you mean sometimes,” you sigh, peering up at him, head resting on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to,” he whispers, dropping a kiss to your temple.

You sway gently in his arms, pressing yourself closer, eyes slipping shut. You’d kill for more moments of peace like this.

It never seems to last for long.

The beginnings of torn wrapping paper begin to fill your ears and you peek through the glass window to find the twins tearing at their presents.

“Oh, these are sick !” Luke announces, beginning to twirl around the pair of knives you had gotten him.

“They have to wait!” you protest, reaching for the door, “Sylus, they have to wait!”

“Let them,” Sylus murmurs, dragging you back into his arms, his chest rumbling with laughter.

You can’t help but let out an exasperated noise, smiling up at him. Sylus lowers his head and you nudge your nose against his gently, pressing a tender kiss to his lips.

“What?” he asks quietly when you trace the curve of his cheek, your fingers splaying across his skin.

You kiss him again, revelling in the softness of his eyes when you pull apart. There's a strange warmth in your chest, an unknown pull in the back of your mind as though something familiar were evading you.

You feel like you know him too.

“Merry Christmas, Sylus.”

#sylus fluff #sylus x reader #sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace sylus #lnd sylus #lnd fluff #sylus qin #l&ds #l&ds fluff #l&ds sylys

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luveline · 8 months ago

Note

could you write bau!reader x aaron, reader is pregnant and baby is so restless and kicking a lot as reader is at her desk working and aaron is the only one who can calm baby down

ty for requesting <3 pregnant!reader, 1k

“Woh,” you mumble, almost clipping your head on your desk as you lean forward. “Oh, my gosh.”

“What’s wrong, mama?”

You wave your free hand weakly at Derek, the other to your bump. “Nothing’s wrong, handsome.”

Derek laughs warmly and stands from his chair. “I don’t believe you. Come on, tell me what’s wrong. Or I’ll go get the big man and he can force it out of you himself.”

Hotch’s never forced anything out of you, but he has kissed a confession from you before. He could do it again easily.

You right yourself as the baby’s rampant kicking makes you feel as though you’ll pee your pants. “Derek, there’s some crazy stuff happening inside of me right now.”

He smiles at you fondly. “I bet there is.”

“She’s kicking the shit out of me.” Sitting up, your back twinges and relaxes, the weight of your baby bump spreading out. You’re very pregnant and the baby is extremely active. She kicks pretty much 24/7 these last few days, and it’s driving you crazy. “Do you wanna feel?”

Derek presents his hand for feeling. You stand up, and Derek lays a hand across your bump. You don’t have to move it anywhere: the second he touches you, he can no doubt feel the baby’s aggressiveness. She’s aiming her little feet almost like she knows where your most fragile organs are.

One rough kick has Derek taking back his hand. “She’s beating you up, mama.”

“She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Spencer says, twirling in his chair to give one of his innocuous tidbits of information, “babies kick for all sorts of reasons. They kick when they’re hungry, or after you’ve just eaten because of the extra glucose shared via the placenta. Sometimes they kick because they can feel sensation through your skin.”

Spencer stands up. You raise your brows. “You wanna feel?” you ask.

He grins and offers his hand. You take it and place it against the baby’s restless feet, smiling at Spencer’s smile, a little enchanted by how fascinated he seems. At Spencer’s touch, she starts to kick quickly like she had been with Derek, and eventually you have to move his hand in the hopes she’ll stop. She slows, but the occasional stretch pokes at your stomach. You can see the distension of her limb even through your shirt.

“She’s really going for it today,” you say. “Maybe I had too much brown sugar in my oatmeal.”

“You know babies can tell the difference between hands?” Spencer asks.

“I sort of guessed,” you say distractedly, rubbing at the baby’s kicking with the crest of your palm. “She doesn’t act like this with Hotch.”

“Good to know he has that effect on everyone,” Derek says with a laugh.

“I might go and ask him to make her stop. I’m gonna need a change of clothes if she doesn’t.”

Derek laughs again, full-bellied, his arm wrapping around your shoulders in a pitying hug. “Aw, sweetheart, you’ll be okay. Just two more months and this will all be over.”

“Well, you never know. The longest overdue pregnancy in human history was almost a hundred days, that’s more than an extra three months.”

“Spencer!” you say, not truly shouting, but your volume escaping you as the horror of a year long pregnancy sinks in. “Don’t jinx me.”

Your loud voice, or perhaps Derek’s roaring laughter, draws the attention of JJ and Hotch, who appear from the depths of his office with matching curious expressions. JJ begins down the steps to the bullpen, while Hotch stays at the balcony waiting for an explanation.

“Baby Hotchner’s giving it large,” Derek says, rubbing your upper arm.

“She won’t stop,” you complain, relieved to see your stern husband. “Can you come and set her straight?”

You aren’t always so quick to complain to him, but this is too much. It feels as though she’s about to start doing spin kinks against your spine —it’s honestly the most she’s ever moved. When you were just a few weeks pregnant you’d longed for her to wriggle and show you a sign that she could feel you, but now you’d appreciate a few minutes of calm.

Hotch follows JJ down obligingly, and he, surrounded by your curious coworkers and colleagues, without any hesitation (but certainly some care), slips his hand under your blouse to feel at his baby’s sharp kicking. He presses against what might be a foot for a few moments, his smile barely hidden, his palm warm.

“She really is giving it large,” he says, the deep softness of his voice like a signal.

The baby’s kicks soften, until, barely ten seconds later, they stop. Your spine ceases vibrating, and you can finally stand there without having to press your thighs together.

“Thank you,” you say, holding Hotch’s elbow. He’s well and truly saved you.

He rubs your stomach with his thumb. His dark eyes stay set on your bump. “You’re welcome.”

“I guess baby just missed her dad,” JJ says.

You look at Spencer. He doesn’t say anything. “No correction?” you ask.

“No,” he says, pouting that you’d ask. “Either she missed the sound of his voice, or your reaction to seeing him has calmed her down. That’s not a big difference.”

“It’s both, I think,” you say, paused by a big yawn.

“Are you tired?” Hotch asks.

“Urgently.” You let yourself sag forward toward him, gesturing for Spencer, Derek and JJ to look away. “Thanks for your help, boys, but I need something no one else can give me.” You collapse into Hotch’s chest for a hug.

The bump is very much in the way, but he reacts accordingly, ushering your chest to his, cheek pressed gently to your forehead. “She’s exhausted you,” he teases under his breath.

“She really has.”

“I love how she settles with me,” he says, rubbing your back for a long, slow handful of seconds, before he pulls away enough to grin at you. “But I suppose she gets that from her mother.”

“You’re very calming.”

“So I’ve been told.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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okaylikeschaewon · 2 months ago

Text

Hotter-N-Funner

~10k words, Roommates series, smut, Part 1 here

“... part of a punishment.”

“She did what?!” Mint shouted through the door right before a thundering crash echoed in the room.

“Mint? You alright?!” you called out, holding your ear to the door. “Mint?”

“Yeah, all good!” Mint’s disheveled voice came through. After a couple of seconds, he opened the door, rubbing his hip. “I fell.”

“You fell in the toilet?”

“Not in the toilet you idiot,” Mint shoved your shoulder. “So, tell me, how the fuck did you manage that on the first date?”

“A bit of an odd story honestly,” you started.

“How odd could it be?” Mint asked while grabbing a bag of chips off the counter. “Sounds like a simple case of another college hoe being horny.”

“Be nice,” you scolded him. “She’s actually really sweet. No jokes like that when she stops by.”

“She’s coming over?” Mint gasped through a handful of chips. “I can’t even remember the last girl you’ve had over.”

“I mean it,” you snatched the bag out of his hands and took a chip for yourself. “I really like this girl, I want to see where it goes.”

“Do you actually like her or do you just like that she’s hot as fuck?” Mint asked while he took another chip from the bag as you held it out for him. “What about that bartender you’ve been chatting up?”

“I don’t know man. I don’t think she’s actually interested in a serious relationship anyway, even if I did want that. I’m happy just being friends,” you replied. “But back to this girl, seriously, I had such a good time with her. And sure, it helps that she’s hot as fuck.”

“Yeah of course you had a good time with her sucking-”

“Stop it,” you gave Mint’s arm a little shove. “That’s the one part I kinda regret.”

“Regret? The fuck?” Mint cocked his eyebrows. “Head game that weak?”

“No, that definitely wasn’t the problem,” you sighed. “I just like… almost feel like we robbed ourselves of having a really special first time… does that make sense?”

“No.”

“Maybe you’re right,” you mumbled as you picked up a couple of dirty glasses from the table.

“Here,” Mint took the glasses from your hands. “Of course I get what you’re saying, and you already know I support whatever decision you wanna make. Just tell me though, why do you think this girl’s so special already?”

“Well,” you began before pausing to think for a moment. “One could argue the coffee date and even what happened in the bathroom was kinda forced-”

“You don’t say?” Mint dramatically gasped, feigning shock.

“But lunch wasn’t,” you continued, ignoring his theatrics. “And it went fucking perfectly, we just meshed so well, I swear I could talk to her for hours. The vibe, her energy, everything was just so… when I think about her right now, I think about lunch, not the coffee shop.”

“Sounds like my roommate’s in love already,” Mint teased. “Devil’s advocate, she was just using you for the free meal.”

“She paid for it.”

“You let her pay? That’s not like you.”

“Not exactly,” you elaborated. “We were hitting it off pretty well and the idea of me treating her to dinner sorta came up, so she snuck off to the bathroom and did the whole pay behind your back thing.”

“This might be the most unbelievable part of the story,” Mint chuckled. “Why the hell would she do that?”

“Obviously I don’t know for sure, but this is why I’m telling you I feel like there’s something more here,” you explained. “She could have easily done her punishment and then left, or even taken the free lunch and then left, but I think her logic was if I’m treating her to dinner later that she should take care of lunch.”

“Hmm,” Mint pondered for a moment. “Maybe you’re right about there being something here, and maybe she feels the same way. That would explain why she doesn’t want to make it seem like she’s using you for a meal.”

“I hope so, guess I’ll find out more tonight.”

“You like her enough to give up your fuck buddy? I doubt she’d be cool with you having one.”

“Absolutely, even after just one date with her.”

“That’s crazy, you’d actually throw away what you have?”

“I mean, she’s graduating this year anyway, how many more times am I realistically going to fuck her?” you considered your options. “Girl’s a damn genius and beautiful, she’ll be fine without me.”

“You’re losing her roommate, too,” Mint added jokingly.

“Damn,” you muttered under your breath with a smirk, thinking back to some wild nights. “I kinda forgot about that part.”

“Not so easy anymore, is it?” Mint teased.

“It’s fine, seriously Mint, I haven’t felt this way about a girl since Rina,” you replied. “But it’s also way too early, I’ve known this girl for less than a day.”

“What, you haven’t started picking baby names yet?”

“First I have to work on making the babies.”

“I hope she’s good at that part, otherwise you’re throwing away an absolute dime piece for nothing,” Mint laughed.

“Or, hear me out, I just won’t make it official until next year. That way I’m still clear until Sana graduates.”

“You realize half the guys at this school would literally kill to have what you have going on, and you’re here playing games?”

“I had my fun with her, I guess I’ll be doing half the school a favor by moving on.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re an absolute fuckboy?” Mint scoffed. “Sana is not just a toy for you to use.”

“Once or twice, I think,” you chuckled. “What was the first time again? When I brought that one girl back last year?”

“Oh yeah, the one with the massive rack, right? She was so fucking fit, can’t lie, I was pretty jealous of that one.”

“Yeah,” you sighed heavily. “I still think about her to this day. She’s really the one who got away.”

“Maybe if you didn’t decide to fuck her best friend, she wouldn’t have gotten away,” Mint burst out laughing as he snatched the bag of chips back. “Absolute idiot.”

“I was drunk.”

“Not an excuse,” Mint kept laughing.

“She was drunk!”

“Even if we accept that excuse - which we don’t,” Mint began shaking his head. “How do you justify the second time?”

“We were horny,” you shrugged.

“Idiot,” Mint chuckled. “The roommate had a cute smile though, I don’t entirely blame you.”

“Yeah, what was her name again?”

“Bro, you’re the one who slept with her,” Mint shook his head in disbelief, laughing at you. “It started with an ‘N’.”

“‘N”? Shit, I really got nothing.”

“Fuckboy,” Mint sang, before gasping. “Wait, should I be concerned about your roommate fetish?”

“Yeah, lock your door when you sleep,” you said casually while cleaning up some dishes left on the coffee table. “Mind helping me? I don’t want Zuha to get the wrong idea.”

“Fuck, even her name is hot.”

“Idiot,” you tossed an empty can at him.

“I know she’s pretty and all,” Mint began helping you clean up. “But seriously? I can’t remember a single time you’ve cleaned up just for a girl. Now that I think about it, you almost never bring them back to our room.”

“Not almost never. Never, not after Rina,” you replied as you fixed the pillows on the couch. “We have any Febreze left?”

“Yeah, in my room,” Mint answered as he tidied up. “Promise me one thing though.”

“What’s up?” you asked as you walked back into the living room.

“If you’re going into this one with serious intentions, promise me you’ll take it slower this time,” Mint responded. “You know I don’t give a shit what you do with your random hookups, but this isn’t a random hookup.”

“Is this because of Rina?” you asked as you casually sprayed ‘Ocean Mist’ into the air. “I told you, I’m all good with that situation.”

“I know you are,” Mint replied. “It’s just that sometimes when you climb too high too fast, the fall ends up being a lot harder.”

“Alright Socrates, relax.”

“Seriously bro, you know I’m just looking out for you.”

“I know,” you gave Mint a tight hug. “I really appreciate you, thank you.”

“And her name was Nayeon, you idiot.”

—

“Oh,” you gasped, louder than intended, caught off guard by how stunning Kazuha’s figure looked in her skirt and jacket.

“I’m not overdressed am I? I know you mentioned it was a casual place, I can quickly go change if-”

“You look stunning, I love how it brings out your smile.”

“Oh, thank you,” Kazuha turned away slightly, blushing profusely.

It could not be any more obvious that she was nervous.

“Please, come in,” you opened the door wide and stepped aside, a rush of warmth flowing through your body. Kazuha gracefully stepped into your room, leaving you admiring her long, slender legs with each step. She paused ever so slightly as she walked past you before looking around your room. “Have a seat, I’ll be right there.”

Kazuha nodded before stepping across the room and taking a seat on your couch, placing her small black purse on the side table. You quickly stepped into the kitchen and placed two flutes on the counter before filling them generously with champagne and walking over to Kazuha.

“Thank you,” Kazuha respectfully accepted the glass with a warm smile.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, taking a seat next to her.

The two of you took a sip together before placing your glasses to the side. For a moment, she simply stared at you, smiling nervously. Without speaking, you slid your body closer before wrapping your arm around the back of the couch behind Kazuha’s body.

“You smell really nice,” Kazuha commented, leaning forward into you slightly.

“Do I?” you replied, tilting your head slightly.

“Yeah,” she mumbled softly right in front of your lips as she closed her eyes.

The world around you began to gracefully fade away, leaving just you and Kazuha in a shared moment of pure intimacy. Your lips met, gentle at first, a tender brush sending a spark through your body, before gradually becoming more passionate. You found yourself losing yourself in Kazuha’s warmth as your lips pressed deeper against hers.

While the kiss, slow and lingering, continued, your hand found its way to Kazuha’s thigh where it softly pressed against her soft skin. Your other hand fell from the back of the couch to the back of Kazuha’s neck. You savored each moment of closeness, that delightful hint of strawberry inundating your brain with a warm sweetness. Her hand gently made its way to yours, her delicate fingers softly intertwining with your own. The tenderness of your fingers lacing together amplified the connection - invoking a deeper sense of comfort, grounding you in the moment.

Instinctively, your bodies pulled closer, your hand slid down from Kazuha’s neck to the middle of her back, while her arm snaked underneath yours to wrap around your body. The hold you had on each other tightened while remaining tender, a subtle dance of intimacy with your bodies as your mouths stayed glued to each other’s lips.

Finally, the two of you break apart the kiss, breathing heavily into each other’s mouths. No words were shared, just an intense gaze as your eyes locked, turning the connection electric. For just a moment, the silence of your feelings was being taken in, the squeeze of Kazuha’s fingers against your body was all you felt.

Then, suddenly, she let go of your body as both of her hands grabbed your face while her lips collided against yours. Initially, you were pushed back by the sudden fierce urgency, but then with equal hunger and desperation you found your strength - now it was Kazuha’s turn to fall backwards.

The kiss was an overwhelming whirlwind of emotions, blurring your senses until you found yourself with your hands on Kazuha’s hips as her back hit the couch. She spread her legs, making room for you to move even closer as your body nestled into hers, still with electricity and passion flowing through the kiss.

With audacious intrepidity, you slipped a hand up Kazuha’s skirt, resting it against the side of her soft upper thigh. She gasped into your mouth, but she didn’t pull away - in fact, she did the opposite. She curled her fingers into your hair, pulling you even closer somehow, your bodies colliding, a testament to your shared passion, urging you to keep going.

Everything just felt right. This kiss felt right. Kazuha felt right. Your brain was desperately trying to make sense of your heart right now, and you found yourself coming to the conclusion that you wanted, needed, Kazuha. Nothing else made sense, the connection was too compelling. Then, you finally pulled away, leaving Kazuha breathless and wide-eyed, you could really feel the fire that the two of you just shared. Your heart was racing, beating out of your chest as you smiled down at Kazuha who was smiling back.

“I should have asked earlier, but you eat sushi, right?” you asked as you sat back up.

“Of course, I love sushi,” she answered, still breathing heavily.

“Perfect, you’ll love this place,” you replied, helping her sit up by taking her hand. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, one second,” she paused, reaching for her glass of champagne and downing it. “Ready!”

—

“Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, who woulda thought our day would end up like this?” Kazuha smiled as she picked up another piece of otoro.

“Breakfast is a wild thing to say.”

“Oh my God,” Kazuha choked, laughing at your reference once she understood what you meant.

“Sorry, that was probably inappropriate.”

“It’s fine,” she laughed, taking a sip of her sake. “If anything, I’m surprised we’ve almost gotten through two meals without bringing it up.”

“Was I supposed to? I can’t say I’ve ever had an experience like that before,” you chuckled, taking a sip of sake as well.

“Trust me, it was new for me as well,” Kazuha replied. “I’m really enjoying spending the day with you.”

“I want to be completely honest with you, I really like you, a lot,” you started cautiously. “I know it’s super early, but I just feel something so special with you.”

“I really like you a lot, too,” Kazuha smiled warmly, showing you that smile, the one that absolutely melted your heart. “It doesn’t feel like the first day, it feels like we’ve been dating for a while already.”

“In a way, this is sort of the third date.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” she giggled before turning slightly more serious. “So then, can I be honest with you for a second?”

“Of course you can, anything at all,” you replied warmly, leaning forward slightly to show her you were fully engaged.

“I promise it’s not because of attraction, because I really am attracted to you, but I sorta regret what happened in the bathroom this morning.”

“Oh my God, me too!” you couldn’t control your excitement. “Sorry, please finish what you were going to say.”

“It’s just that… it’s going to sound a bit stupid, so please don’t make fun of me for it,” Kazuha began blushing. “I almost feel like I ruined a special moment?”

“I swear if I had a ring I’d be on my knees right now, I thought the exact same thing!”

“Really?” her eyes lit up, making her the most pure and beautiful girl in the world in your mind. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since lunch, I wish we could have found each other without the stupid punishment.”

“Look, Zuha,” you reached your hand forward and gently took hers. “It happened, but we can move on from that. I think you’re very special, I’d love nothing more than to see this out properly if you’re also willing.”

“I am,” she smiled softly, giving your hand a quick squeeze. “But if you’re asking me to be your girlfriend, I think the first day is still a bit too early.”

“Absolutely,” you agreed. “Let’s forget this morning ever happened and we can do things properly. The way we want.”

“I’d love that,” she blushed again.

“I have another one, sorta related.”

“Yeah? Shoot.”

“What do you think about being exclusive? I get it if you think it’s too early.”

She pondered the question for a moment, taking another sip and slowly putting down her glass before answering. “I don’t think it’s too early, at least, I don’t feel like it is,” she answered slowly. “I’m not actually talking to anyone else right now, but I’d be willing to make this exclusive if you are.”

“Me too.”

Kazuha hesitated, waiting for you to continue.

“It’s complicated,” you added.

“Oh, alright,” she replied, looking a bit disheartened.

“There’s this girl,” you began explaining. “We’re not in a relationship or anything, but we have a bit of a friends-with-benefits type thing going on.”

“Oh.”

“I know that’s probably not what you wanted to hear, and I’m sorry, but I really want to be honest with you, and of course I promise I’m done with that stuff now,” you replied softly. “My last serious relationship had some… I just don’t want to go through that again, I’d rather be honest with you about everything.”

“I get that, my last relationship also wasn’t great,” Kazuha frowned. “No, you’re right, thank you for telling me. If you don’t mind, do you think we can maybe keep past relationships to ourselves going forward? Sorry, but I don’t know if it’s something I want to hear-”

“You don’t have to explain, trust me, I get it,” you interjected warmly. “And I’ll say the same for you. We’ve both gone through stuff. I'm here if you need someone to talk to about it, but I don’t need to know every specific detail. The past is the past, it doesn’t affect whatever our relationship ends up being.”

“Thank you,” Kazuha smiled again, visibly relaxing as you spoke the right words. “Do you mind if I step away to the bathroom real quick?”

“Of course not, but you have to promise me you won’t pull that trick again,” you answered, flashing her a suspicious look. “I told you I’m treating you to dinner, this one’s on me.”

“Fine,” she smiled, rolling her eyes. “I promise.”

With that, Kazuha got up from the table, gracefully making her way across the restaurant. Her movements, fluid as possible, had you completely in awe, unable to take your eyes away. The way her skirt showcased her perfect legs, accentuating those meticulously sculpted curves, she had your breath catching in your throat, mesmerized and captivated by her grace.

She left this imprint on your mind, convincing you that she was something special. The honeymoon effect was hitting hard, even though you weren’t officially together, you knew it was inevitable at this point - you were going to make Kazuha your girlfriend.

—

“I’m getting this.”

“No you’re not,” you pushed her hand away and tapped your card against the reader.

“You got dinner, this isn’t fair,” Kazuha argued.

“And you’re pretty, what’s your point?”

Kazuha began blushing again, her fingers struggling to put her card back into her wallet. “Th-That has nothing to do with anything,” she stammered, unable to hide how flustered she would get whenever you gave her cheesy compliments.

“Sure it does,” you replied, reaching forward and taking her card from her shaking hand and inserting it into her wallet for her. “I appreciate the gesture, but really, it’s like four dollars, not a big deal.”

“Alright fine, thank you,” she replied, cheeks still flushed a light pink as she accepted her wallet back. “Have you been here before?”

“Nope, first time,” you answered as the two of you sat down. “You?”

“Yeah a couple of times, it’s really good.”

“Ah, so that’s how you picked the flavor so quickly.”

“Actually, it’s my first time trying this one,” Kazuha giggled nervously. “I kinda wanted to try something new, make a new memory with you…”

Your heart skipped a beat. “That is actually so sweet, wow,” you muttered, staring into her beautiful round eyes. “Hopefully it’s good then.”

“Or really bad.”

“Huh?”

“Think about it,” Kazuha began explaining. “Just like when you go to a restaurant, you generally remember the really good and really bad, no one remembers the average stuff.”

“Ah I see what you mean,” you responded. “That’s true, but I promise you I’m not going to forget this ice cream no matter how good, bad, or average it is.”

“And why’s that?” Kazuha chuckled, leaning back in her chair. “Don’t tell me, is it because you’re sharing it with me?”

“How’d you know?”

“You’re getting predictable,” Kazuha laughed, smiling brightly.

“And you’re so-”

“Pretty?”

��Beautiful.”

The way her face lit up when she smiled was absolutely enchanting. She didn’t know it, but she had you wrapped around her finger, you were starting to think you’d do anything for this girl. No, you already knew it, you would do anything for this girl. Your heart rate whenever she smiled was all the confirmation you needed.

“Your sundae, enjoy!” a cheery staff member dropped off the bowl of ice cream at your table. “Let me know if you need anything else!”

“Thank you,” Kazuha smiled respectfully at the young girl before turning back to you. “It looks good.”

“Then let’s find out if it’s as good as it looks.”

Kazuha picked up her spoon, scooping up some of the cookie crumbles and fudge ice cream onto it before holding it out for you. Taking her lead, you opened your mouth and let her feed you.

“Wow,” you mumbled as the taste hit your tongue. “That is seriously way better than I expected.”

“Is it?” Kazuha looked at you with glee.

“Yeah, here,” you picked up your spoon and returned the favor, feeding Kazuha the ice cream. Her eyes lit up immediately - she was so unbelievably cute. “Right?”

“You weren’t kidding, that’s amazing,” Kazuha gushed, going for another bite.

Something you noticed, and loved, about Kazuha was that she wasn’t afraid to eat. Even though she was exceptionally feminine and graceful, she wasn’t shy when it came to food. It was adorable, especially with how expressive she would be when the food was good. Within just a minute, full of spoon hitting glass, the bowl of ice cream the two of you were sharing was practically emptied.

“So, Zuha, you never actually told me, what’s your major?” you asked as you put down your spoon. “I just realized I never asked what you wanted to do after school.”

“I’d love to one day teach ballet, and my major is biology,” she answered, scooping out pieces of cookies from the bottom of the bowl before looking up at you and laughing. “You look shocked.”

“Sorry, it’s a lovely dream, I just wasn’t expecting it,” you chuckled. “So I guess the next natural question would be why the hell did you pick biology if you want to teach ballet?”

“Well, I’ve been training ballet my whole life,” Kazuha explained. “And I wanted to do something interesting and challenging on top of that, so I found myself in biochemical sciences.”

That would explain why she was so graceful, you thought to yourself. “That’s awesome, and quite admirable.”

“Thank you. It can be pretty tough managing all of that while still trying to keep some semblance of a social life.”

“You seem to be doing alright,” you replied with a smile. “Especially if you found time to go on a date with me.”

“I make time for things I want to do,” Kazuha smiled back, making your cheeks warm. “What, no cheeky response this time?”

“Sorry, sometimes it’s just so hard to focus on anything other than your smile.”

“There it is,” Kazuha laughed while rolling her eyes.

“Hey, I know it’s getting kinda late, but would you want-”

“I’d love to come over for a bit,” Kazuha cut you off, smiling brighter than ever.

—

“How could you possibly forget sugar?” you burst out laughing. “They’re cookies, that’s like, the most basic part.”

“That was Chaewon’s responsibility, not mine!” Kazuha defended herself. “Anyway, we tried making them without it.”

“You tried making cookies without sugar?” you laughed even harder. “I gotta know, how’d they turn out?”

“I don’t know, we ended up burning them,” Kazuha joined you in laughter. “I’ll have to make them for you some day.”

“After hearing about your baking skills, I think I’m alright,” you teased, picking up your glass of champagne and taking another sip. “I don’t think I’ll be buying your cookbook.”

“You sure?” Kazuha took a big sip before putting her own glass down. “I’ll even sign it for you,” she added, leaning closer to you.

“Depends what you sign it as,” you replied, putting your glass down as well, opening your arms for Kazuha to snuggle up with you.

“And what would you want me to sign it as?” she asked, her face right in front of yours.

“My girlfriend?”

“I thought we agreed it’s too early,” she whispered, moving her lips even closer to yours. “That one day wasn’t enough time?”

“It’s past midnight already,” you whispered into her mouth before leaning forward and closing the gap slightly.

“Have we really been talking for that long?” she whispered back, closing it some more.

And just like that, you found your lips softly brushing again Kazuha’s once more. The kiss was soft; Kazuha’s pretty eyes fluttered shut as she leaned into it, sweet and tender. The room went silent, completely still, as the air was filled with the lingering sounds of your lips colliding. A tender echo, her sweet breaths reverberating in your ears, perfectly describing the gentle and warm feeling you had coursing through your body as you kissed Kazuha. Delicate and calm, you got lost in her touch.

She brought her hands up to your cheeks, cupping your face lightly, leaning into you. Meanwhile, your hand explored her body, rubbing against her core, feeling through her top how toned she was. Your hand slowly slid lower until it was resting against the side of her thigh, slipping just a bit underneath her skirt.

Kazuha pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting yours, a hint of hesitation showing. “I’m not ready to go all the way,” she whispered softly.

“I’m in no rush,” you whispered back, pressing your lips forward again.

Her eyes shot wide open for a moment before she slowly closed them again, relief calming her down as she began gently prodding her tongue against yours. Then, to your surprise, she grabbed your wrist and gently guided it along her leg until your palm was resting against her soft ass before she brought her hand back up to the back of your neck, her fingers lightly grabbing your hair.

Following her lead, you gave her ass a gentle squeeze, making sure not to push past her boundaries. The way she kissed you, the increase in passion, was confirmation that she was okay with it. Her body was perfect, you got lost in the warmth of her skin, your fingers brushing just slightly against the fabric of her underwear by mistake.

Yet, she didn’t pull back at all. She didn’t seem to mind, at least that’s what her kiss was telling you. Kazuha was getting more and more aggressive with it, and soon enough you found yourself falling onto your back with Kazuha on top of you. Her hands which were previously squeezing your hair, returned to your face, cupping your cheeks again as her tongue pushed audaciously into your mouth.

Her passion was met with your own as you brought your other hand around her body, holding her perfectly sculpted ass in your palms. You gave her a few soft squeezes, addicted to her body, at this point your palms were placed directly on her ass, your fingers gently kneading her softness. Caution was slowly dissipating as you got more comfortable with each other’s bodies.

The moment felt like it was stretching, enveloping you in excitement, a sign of hopefully some future with the girl you were holding onto. However, even though you could have kept going all night, you could feel the natural end coming. With her cheeks flushed red, and a soft smile on her lips, Kazuha pulled back, breathing deeply above you.

“I could really get used to this,” she smiled warmly down at you.

“I’m definitely not going to stop you,” you smiled back before pulling her into your embrace, gently rubbing her back as you took in the lovely scent of her shampoo. “Zuha, it’s getting kinda late.”

“Are you kicking me out?” Kazuha giggled as she started to get off you.

Without hesitation, you pulled her back in even tighter. “Absolutely not,” you clarified, giving the top of her head a little peck. “I was just going to ask if you have class tomorrow morning.”

“I do,” Kazuha sighed heavily. “But it’s fine, I’ll skip it.”

“I can’t in good conscience be responsible for that,” you replied when Kazuha’s phone began ringing. “You going to skip that, too?”

“I probably shouldn’t,” Kazuha groaned as she leaned over towards the table, nearly falling off the couch if it wasn’t for you catching her. “Thanks,” she giggled before answering. “Hello? No, I'm not still out. No, I'm not drunk. Yes Chaewon-ah, I’m safe. Are you done? Oh my God, bye.”

“Cookie girl?” you teased as Kazuha sat up and began stretching.

“Yeah,” she yawned, arms straight up, her top riding up just enough for you to see her perfectly sculpted abs. “I had a lot of fun today,” she smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling as she let her arms fall to her side, shoulders slumped.

“I did too,” you smiled back, sitting up as well to give her another quick kiss. “Want me to walk you back to your room?”

“Actually,” Kazuha bit her lip nervously. “I kinda promised Chaewon that I wouldn’t drink tonight, I don’t really want her to know.”

“Zuha, you should have told me. We didn’t have to finish that bottle.”

“No no, I wanted to drink with you… I guess I felt safe with you,” she replied softly. “But now I have to ask, do you mind if I spend the night? I really don’t want to get scolded by her.”

“Uh, sure, but don’t you think she’ll be more concerned if you spend the night?”

“Nah, she’s going to have to get used to it anyway,” Kazuha replied casually while standing up and holding her hand out for you. “I’m going to be spending the night in my boyfriend’s room from time to time.”

“Boyfriend?” you stood up and grabbed her hand excitedly. “Does that mean…”

“Yes,” Kazuha silenced you with another kiss. “Boyfriend. Fuck timelines, I’m ready if you are.”

If only she could feel your heart pounding out of your chest. “Definitely,” you smiled back, giving her hand a squeeze.

—

“I’m pretty impressed that you have all this makeup remover stuff,” Kazuha commented as she walked out of your bathroom. “You have girls over often or something?”

“Umm.”

“Oh, I completely forgot about…” Kazuha’s cheeks turned bright red. “Sorry, ignore that.”

“Her name is Sana, but no,” you answered honestly, ignoring her embarrassment. “That stuff is from when I was with my ex. She was the last girl I let in my room.”

“I see, well, it’s very convenient regardless,” Kazuha replied as she looked around your room.

“You’re more than welcome to borrow whatever clothes you’d like by the way, I assume you’re not sleeping in that,” you added as you took off your shirt and pants before getting into your bed, admiring how incredibly stunning Kazuha looked even without makeup - this girl was unreal.

“It’s fine,” a shy smile formed on Kazuha’s lips before she turned around and began stripping down to her underwear as well. “You don’t mind, right?”

“By all means, whatever you’re most comfortable with.”

“I’m going to turn the lights off before I get in, alright?”

“Sure,” you replied casually while plugging your phone into your charger. “Just be careful, don’t trip on anything.”

“I will,” Kazuha responded as she shut off the lights. In the darkness, Kazuha took a second before slipping into the bed next to you, her beautiful face barely visible under the faint moonlight shining through your window. “Can I ask you another question?”

“You can always ask me a question.”

“How’d you like feeling my body earlier while we kissed?”

“Ah, what a question,” you chuckled. “Your body is fucking amazing Zuha, I can tell you work out a lot.”

“Oh yeah? How’s that?” Kazuha asked, her voice littered with allure in the most teasing way possible.

“Your abs, they’re rock solid.”

“Let’s play a little game, how about you try finding my abs in the dark?” Kazuha teased, giggling softly.

“Sounds fun,” you smirked, reaching your hand across the bed. You fumbled around for a second until your hand made contact with skin, soft skin. It took you a moment before you realized what you were holding. “Yup, that’s a titty, and you aren’t wearing a bra.”

“You’re right,” she giggled, grabbing your wrist and sliding it down until your hand was rubbing against her core. “And these are my abs.”

“Damn, they’re so nice,” you moaned softly. “We should workout together, you could train me.”

“Sure,” Kazuha whispered before sliding your wrist even lower. “And how does this feel?”

“Zuha,” you gasped as she placed your hand between her legs, and sure enough, she wasn’t wearing anything. “What happened to not being ready tonight?”

“This is different,” she whispered. “I’ve already sucked your cock in a bathroom, this is pretty harmless if you ask me.”

“Yeah, but-”

“If you’re not comfortable, I won’t be offended if you pull away.”

Yeah, there was no chance you were doing that.

“You’re sure about this?” you asked carefully as you began rubbing between her legs softly, feeling how wet she was.

“Absolutely,” she muttered, sliding closer to you.

“Then I want this to be perfect,” you whispered back, sliding your other hand under her body and wrapping it around her, placing it on her chest, giving her tit a soft squeeze. “Tell me what feels good.”

“What you’re doing now is nice,” she moaned as you rubbed slow and steady circles against her clit.

“Good,” you breathed before leaning forward and finding her lips.

As you began kissing her, you started moving your fingers a bit faster, sliding down her slit every few circles, teasing her entrance with the tip of your finger. You used her moans as your guidance, feeling for when you hit the right spots, hyperfocusing on what made Kazuha feel good. Once you began finding a rhythm, figuring her out, you started speeding up some more.

“Fuck that’s nice,” she moaned, separating her lips from yours, breathing into your mouth heavily.

With that moment of opportunity, you shoved your mouth into her neck and began kissing her collarbone. At the same time, you pinched her nipple softly with one hand and eased one finger into her pussy, just up until the first knuckle.

“Oh fuck,” she gasped, grabbing the back of your head with her hand and latching onto your hair. “Go deeper.”

And that was exactly what you did, pushing your finger deeper while using your thumb to rub her clit. You also took the opportunity to move lower down her body, leaving her neck and putting your mouth on her nipple, sucking it taut. With your mouth on one nipple and your finger lightly pinching the other, you found something was working because Kazuha’s whole body was moving up and down with her moans at this point.

Your fingers worked nonstop, gently fucking her pussy, daring to go deeper with each thrust. It was a balancing act of making her feel good and making sure you don’t go too hard, a balancing act that you were succeeding in, clearly. But you wanted more.

“Zuha,” you pulled back, looking up at her. “Can I go down on you?”

Even in the darkness, you could see her bite her lower lip nervously. “Maybe just… just fingers tonight… if that’s okay,” she mumbled quietly.

“No problem,” you whispered back before leaning forward and kissing her again.

She was hesitant for just a second before she got back into it, that burning passion returning with a vengeance. As you kissed her, you went back to slipping your finger into her soft pussy. She was warm, and incredibly wet, a soft wet squishing sound filled the room, mixed with the sound of your kiss, as you pushed your finger in and out of her.

With your tongue down her mouth and one hand gently massaging her tit, it really didn’t take much longer for you to start feeling Kazuha’s insides squeezing against your finger. In rhythmic beauty, she began moaning into your mouth, gasping and panting as her pussy pressed down hard. You slipped your finger out and began rubbing soft circles around her clit, making sure not to press too hard.

Kazuha rode her orgasm out for as long as she could, making sure to never separate her lips from yours. It wasn’t until her body finally relaxed did she stop kissing you. “I can’t believe how comfortable I feel around you,” Kazuha mumbled, rubbing wrapping her hands around your body gently. “To think, I only met you because of that stupid punishment.”

“You’re telling me,” you gave her a small squeeze. “I can’t believe how quickly things are moving.”

“Yeah,” Kazuha sighed. “I guess I set the tempo kinda fast this morning.”

“Zuha,” you paused to give her cheek a kiss. “We agreed to forget about that silliness, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I know, but I can’t exactly forget what I did,” Kazuha laughed softly. “Seriously I promise I’m not that type of girl.”

“Zuha-”

“Like, I know it kinda seems like it with what happened this morning and the fact that I’m literally laying in your bed naked, but I swear-”

“Zuha!” you interrupted her. “It’s fine, seriously, I wouldn’t have asked you to be my girlfriend if I didn’t really like you. So what if things are moving fast, who cares?”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Let’s just let things happen, do what feels right,” you added, playing with the muscles on her back. “Whatever feels natural, I’m here with you and committed to making this work.”

“Then how about you let me take care of you?” Kazuha giggled softly.

“What?”

“You realize I can feel everything in this position, right?”

“Alright well with how fucking hot you are, there’s not a straight man on this planet who wouldn’t be, not in this position.”

“I’m not blaming you,” Kazuha whispered, leaning back so that she was face to face with you. She slowly snaked her hand down your body, softly rubbing your shaft through your underwear. “It would be pretty cruel of me if I didn’t, not after what you just did for me.”

“I’m happy just holding you, there’s no pressure for you to do anything tonight,” you replied, your breath hitching as Kazuha slipped her delicate fingers down your waistband. “Really, Zuha, if you’re tired it’s totally fine.”

“Let’s be real with ourselves,” Kazuha leaned forward and kissed you before smiling softly at you. “Neither of us are sleeping much tonight.”

“Is that so?” you moaned as she took a gentle grip on your shaft.

“That’s right,” she whispered before pushing you onto your back. Then, inch by inch, she planted kisses down your body. She started at your neck, moving lower, kissing your chest tenderly, all the while still stroking your cock. As she moved lower down your body, she started stroking faster and faster, pausing only to yank your underwear down. “Did I ever tell you why my punishment involved sucking someone off?”

“No,” you flinched as Kazuha let a glob of her warm spit fall onto your cock.

“Because I love sucking cock,” she answered in a whisper.

Before you could respond, Kazuha engulfed your cock in her mouth, making a firm seal around your tip with her lips, prodding softly at your hole with her tongue. Then, she lowered her mouth, swallowing your whole cock in one swift motion before slowly - agonizingly slowly - pulling back up to your tip. After that, she repeated the motion a few more times, plunging down your cock and slowly withdrawing. Any degree of awkwardness from the first time had been replaced with familiarity now as Kazuha worked your cock like an expert.

“Fuck me, Zuha, that feels so fucking good,” you heaved, trying to catch your breath.

“Yeah?” she replied, her voice soft as sugar, before she leaned in and started kissing your balls.

“Yeah, the only shame is not being able to see that beautiful face.”

“Then turn the lamp on,” Kazuha cooed, tossing your blanket to the side and climbing over you, positioning herself between your legs before putting your cock back into her mouth.

As per her suggestion, you leaned over and turned on a small lamp you kept on your side table. With that, you felt your cock ready to completely erupt as you took a look at Kazuha who was staring up at you. Her eyes were so fucking beautiful. You couldn’t hold back, not with how good she looked right now with her cheeks hollowed, moving steadily up and down your shaft.

“Zuha, you’re going to make me cum,” you mumbled, straining and squirming your whole body as you desperately tried to hold back. “I can’t…”

She wasn’t phased at all, she just kept on sucking your cock at the same excruciatingly slow pace. The next who-knows-how-many seconds went by in a flash, instantly yet somehow lasting forever at the same time. She never once broke eye contact, and her mouth never once changed tempo, all that changed was how much pressure she applied with her lips, expertly varying it to make your cock feel that much better.

It wasn’t until the first burst of your cum flew into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat, did she finally stop moving. As your cum began volleying into her mouth, she held her lips tight around your cock, making sure not a single drop leaked through the smirk that formed on her face. Her eyes, those beautiful eyes, were fading into adorable little crescents as she proudly accepted all of your cum into her mouth.

“Holy fuck,” you cried out, your cock still pumping away.

Kazuha waited until the impulses slowed down, she let you slowly regain strength, but then as she felt your body relaxing, she started bobbing her head up and down your cock again as fast as she could.

“Please,” you moaned as your cock went into a frenzy, the final few shots of cum flying into Kazuha’s mouth. “Holy fuck!”

Once you were finally done, Kazuha slowly pulled back, letting a fountain of your white cum spill down your shaft as she lifted her lips off, tilting her back before swallowing everything in her mouth.

“I thought there was a lot last time,” Kazuha giggled, unable to contain her proud smile as she grinned from ear to ear. “But there’s so much more this time.”

“Zuha that was so fucking good, look,” you opened your eyes wide. “I’m literally in tears.”

“Good,” she smirked before leaning forward and using her tongue to scoop your cum off your shaft into her mouth. “I’ll do this for you whenever you want. Every night if you want.”

“I would literally die,” you inhaled sharply as her tongue grazed against your tip. “I wouldn’t be able to think about anything else all day.”

“Did you really like it that much?” she asked while licking nearing your shaft, looking for more spilled cum.

“Zuha,” you sat up and grabbed her by the arms. “Yes, I don’t know how to convince you.”

She looked deep into your eyes, her beautiful round eyes shimmering in the dim light of your room. Those beautiful features, the perfect face, sporting a soft expression as she stared at you. “I believe you,” she whispered before closing her eyes and tilting her head.

Without hesitation, you met her movement and pressed your lips firmly against hers, bringing your hands around her body and feeling her back. Her skin was so soft, you wanted to touch and feel her body forever. Unfortunately for you, the kiss did not last forever, and eventually you had to let go of her.

“I know we agreed not to talk about exes, but can I tell you something?” Zuha asked as she snuggled up in your arms.

“What’s up?”

“He’d never kiss me after I-”

Before replying, you pushed her chin up with a finger and kissed her mouth again. “Sounds like an idiot, no offense,” you replied casually. “I’ll never understand that. If I’m willing to suck on a girl’s vagina, I feel like kissing after head is really not a big deal.”

“I’ve never actually had anyone…” her voice trailed off.

“Zuha,” you let go of her and sat up, looking down at her. “Is that why you didn’t let me go down on you earlier?”

Her cheeks turned red as she avoided your gaze for a moment before she looked back up at you and nodded slowly. You bent forward and kissed her again, repeatedly, on the lips for about a minute before sitting up again.

“It’s entirely your choice, I’d never make you do something that you’re not comfortable with,” you began softly while rubbing her thigh. “But I want you to know, I’d love nothing more than to make you feel good.”

“I just can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed,” Kazuha admitted quietly. “It’s not that I’m not comfortable with you, because I am, I just don’t know…”

“I never want you to feel embarrassed around me,” you spoke softly as you moved down the bed and began slowly spreading her legs. “Do I have your permission?”

She hesitated again, as if fighting an internal battle, but then she nodded, her eyes shimmering as the early signs of dawn crept through your window.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” she whispered back, adjusting herself to get more comfortable.

“Then just relax,” you instructed her softly before pressing your lips below her navel and leaving a long, very drawn out kiss on her skin. Then, as you slid a bit lower, you paused to reach up and grab Kazuha’s hands. She took your lead, interlocking her fingers with yours and taking a deep breath. “You’re so incredibly breathtaking, just tell me what feels good,” you murmured, letting the breath of your words hit her pussy.

Your mouth began drooling at this point, overwhelmed by how enticing Kazuha’s pussy looked right now as the sun crept through the window some more, making her body glisten beautifully. It was enchanting. You pressed your lips to her pussy, holding steady as Kazuha took a deep breath, letting her get truly comfortable with your touch before giving her pussy a tender kiss.

“You alright?”

“Mhmm,” Kazuha breathed, giving your fingers a little squeeze, encouraging you to keep going.

Even that small taste of her body had you desperate for more. You wanted nothing more than to shove your face as deep into her pussy as physically possible, to suck and lick her until the sun went down again. But this was less for you, and more for Kazuha, so you took it slow.

With your mouth opened wide, you carefully pressed down on her pussy, creating a seal with your lips and her skin. She squeezed your hand again as you stuck out your tongue and pressed it flat against her folds. You began pressing down, applying pressure with various parts of your tongue, truly relishing in the slight tang of Kazuha’s pussy. She tasted so addicting despite it being so subtle.

And just like that, you were addicted and completely consumed by Kazuha’s taste. Paired with the sounds of Kazuha moaning as you applied more pressure with your tongue and lips, you were in heaven. You moved around, exploring Kazuha’s body to your heart’s desire, pausing occasionally to give her inner thighs kisses before latching back onto her pussy.

The more you feasted, the more she gave. Your lower face was completely drenched in Kazuha’s wetness as she leaked all over you. It wasn’t possible to lap it all up, despite how hard you tried, but you tried nonetheless. As her pussy, wet and warm, responded to your touch, her moans became even more vocal. She was definitely trying to stay quiet to the best of her ability, but she was failing as she got closer.

Especially now, as you could feel her body trembling slightly, each lick made her body jolt. Each kiss sent her into a frenzy. Her moans crescendoed as you sped up, sucking and licking her pussy with all of your power, and her thighs began pressing against the sides of your head and her fingers threatened to crush yours.

Then, with a particularly hefty gush of pleasure jetting out of her pussy, Kazuha began crying out in pleasure, her body convulsing in your mouth. “Oh fuck,” she sobbed, digging her nails into the back of your hands. “That feels so good.”

All you wanted to do was make her feel good - nothing brought you more pleasure. You held yourself in place between Kazuha’s legs, not that you could move even if you wanted to thanks to how hard her legs were clamping down on your face, and you gently teased her pussy with your tongue, giving it a few flicks before planting a very soft kiss on her clit, sucking on it tenderly.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Kazuha moaned, letting go of your hand and pushing your face away, detaching your mouth from her sensitive clit. “It’s too much.”

As soon as she pushed your head away, you dove back in and started kissing her thighs, switching back and forth between them. You knew her pussy was far too sensitive right now, the most you did was let your breath hit her skin, even that earned a full-body shudder. You gave her a final kiss on each thigh before crawling back up the bed next to Kazuha.

She turned to face you, and without saying a word, she lunged for your mouth, kissing you passionately and deeply - harder than ever. You let her take control, she got to guide the kiss, regulate the passion to her desires. Kazuha went on for a bit, even wrapping her leg around your body, rubbing her warmth against you until she was finally satisfied. She backed up, looking you straight in the eyes, the most precious girl you have ever seen in your life.

“That was amazing,” she muttered quietly, unable to contain her smile.

“You’re amazing,” you replied, giving her butt a small pat before glancing at your window. “The sun’s up.”

“I’m not sleepy.”

“Me neither,” you smiled back, giving her another kiss. “So, what should we do?”

“Do you have class?” she asked.

“I’ll skip it if you skip yours.”

“I’m definitely skipping,” Kazuha giggled.

“Then I guess I don’t have class.”

“Perfect,” she turned around and snuggled her body into yours.

Within just a minute of being in your arms, the ‘not sleepy’ girl passed out, pushing against your body with each deep breath she took. You gave her one last gentle kiss on the top of her head before closing your eyes, unable to wipe the smile off your face.

---

A/N:

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS. I've been wanting to write this for so long and I finally decided to sit down and get to it. Words really cannot explain how into Kazuha I am at the moment, but hopefully this fic at least shed some light on my recent addiction over her.

I don't know what to work on next. The next Dating Seraphs chapter is going to be kinda Kazuha heavy, so I kinda don't want to post that right after this. I think this fic is the first time I've blatantly teased some of the other idols who will be appearing in Roommates, I hope that's exciting for some of you!

Maybe I'll try releasing something else around the New Years, we'll see. I'd love to hear what you guys think about this fic though, I can't rememember the last time I wrote this much straight up one-on-one fluff in a fic. There's going to be a third part to this mini series, and I promise you that one will have some sex scenes!

#kpop smut #smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #fanfiction #kazuha smut #le sserafim smut #kpop fanfiction

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