#this thing turned out to be a 19k+ MONSTER | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kyleoreillylover · 7 months ago

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Monster- Part II

Summary: Roman thought you would get over what he did to you, and stand by his side like you always did, but he was sorely mistaken. He learned he needed to face his demons in the form of you when you threatened to wreck everything the two of you have built, and he realizes you're just as much of a monster as he is, and doesn't understand why you are hurting him, why you want to take away the empire he built. But he wouldn't be Roman if he didn't use your demons against you, in the form of Jey

Trigger Warnings: Manipulation, cursing, wrestling related violence, allusions to smut but no actual smut written, Roman Reigns being toxic but you’re just as toxic, etc.

word count: 19K

tagged: @southerngirl41 @venusesworld @jeysbae @reci1996 @tbonesteakwithasideofmashngrav @hope4more @selena-tyler-564 @saintaquarius @whatdoeseverybodywant @raya-hunter01 @empressdede @judgementdaysunshine

a/n: not my best work, but I decided to try and get rid of my writers block, and a lot of people liked this one-shot, so I decided to turn it into a series!! hope ya'll enjoy!

dividers by @firefly-graphics

“You know you can’t keep avoiding him, right?”

“Yes, I can.”

You sighed at feeling Jey’s stare burning a whole through you, waiting for you to look up at him. You avoided his gaze, focusing on putting on your outfit for tonight’s Smackdown. You were wearing Jey's merch with one of his jackets to cover up the bruises that were blooming on your skin.

Jey approached you slowly, his footsteps echoing in the quiet locker room. His hand reached out, gently lifting your chin so that your eyes met. "Baby, you can't keep running forever." he said softly, his voice tinged with concern. "He's not going to leave you alone until you confront him."

You swallowed hard, knowing Jey was right but not wanting to admit it.

Ever since your loss in the HIAC match last week against Roman, you had been avoiding your former best friend. He thought you would run to him with open arms and get over the loss, but instead you were playing mind games by avoiding him, knowing it would hurt him, and tried to distance yourself from the pain and the memories that haunted you.

"I can't face him, Jey," you finally confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I thought I could handle it, but every time I see him, all I can think about is that match. How I let him embarrass me in front of you, how I let you down..."

"Hey, you didn't let me down." Jey's hand moved from your chin to gently cup your cheek, his touch warm and reassuring. "You had all the odds stacked against you, and you still scared the hell out of Roman. You fought with everything you had, and that's all I could ever ask for."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at Jey, feeling a mix of gratitude and guilt. "But I lost, Jey. I lost for us, for our family, for everything we stand for. I can't face him because I let him hurt you, I let him hurt the man I ove." You choked on the last words, the weight of your emotions heavy in the air.

Jey's expression softened, his thumb wiping away a stray tear from your cheek. He felt the same embarrassment, knowing he couldn't stop Roman from humiliating you in the match. humiliating you in the match. But his love for you overshadowed any feelings of resentment towards Roman.

Having to watch you take blow after blow from the outside of the cell, watching the two people he loved the most beat each other to hell, seeing you push yourself to your limits despite the odds stacked against you, it tore him apart inside. But he also knew that holding onto that pain wouldn't solve anything.

"Babe," Jey whispered, his voice filled with tenderness, "Roman didn't hurt me. He didn't hurt us. He just... he pushed us. The only thing he hurt was your pride, but you didn't let him break you. You stood tall in that ring, faced him head-on, and pushed him to his limits, and you think I could ever be ashamed of that?" He gently wiped away another tear, his eyes filled with love and admiration as he looked down at you, making you feel as though you were the only person in the world.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin. He wanted you to feel the love from him and know that he loves you no matter what. "Please...baby, I know this is hard for you, and I understand," Jey murmured, his voice barely audible over the hum of your racing heartbeat. "But he's family, and-"

"I dont care if he's family!" you interrupted, your voice rising with frustration and hurt. "Family is supposed to have your back, not tear you down in front of the whole world! He's not family to me anymore, Jey. He's just... just someone I used to know."

Jey sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he processed your words. He knew deep down that you were right, that Roman's actions had fractured the bond that once held you all together. But he couldn't shake the feeling of loyalty, the sense of duty he felt towards his cousin, even in the midst of the chaos he had caused.

"I hear you, baby," Jey said finally, his voice tinged with sadness. "But for me, please try to at least talk to him. For the sake of our family, for the sake of us. Yell at him, scream at him, do whatever you need to do to get closure, but don't let this eat you up inside. We'll get through this together, okay?"

What you didnt know was that Roman was forcing Jey to choose sides, and Jey felt torn between his loyalty to his cousin and his love for you. So to stop the escalating tension between you and Roman, Jey felt compelled to intervene, hoping to find a resolution that would appease both parties without causing further rifts in their family.

You took a deep breath, steel your resolve, knowing that Jey was right. You couldn't keep avoiding Roman forever, and as much as you resented him for what he had done, you also knew that letting this fester would only cause more pain in the long run. With a nod, you squeezed Jey's hand, silently promising to face Roman head-on, for the sake of your relationship and your sanity.

"Okay, Jey," you whispered, your voice wavering slightly but filled with determination. "I'll talk to him. But only because you asked me to." Oh, talk to him you would. You never said you would forgive him or forget what he did, but you knew it was time to confront the demons that had been haunting you since that fateful match.

Jey's eyes softened with relief, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Thank you, baby," he murmured, pulling you into a tight embrace. He was surprised that you agreed to talk to Roman, knowing you hated him right now with every fiber of your being. But he also knew that you were doing it for him, for your relationship, and for your own peace of mind.

He held you close, his arms wrapped protectively around you, silently promising to be there for you every step of the way. You felt anger course through your veins at the mere thought of facing Roman again, and you knew it would go in a way Jey wouldn't like. But you didn't care. You were done running, done hiding. It was time to confront the man who had shattered your pride and nearly torn apart everything you held dear.

Roman was angry as he made his way to the ring, Paul Heyman flanking him with a concerned look etched on his face. He thought you would understand why he did what he did during the match.

He thought you would see it as tough love, as a way to push you to your limits and make you stronger. He thought you out of all people would know that he did it for your own good.

But instead, he was met with silence, with avoidance, with betrayal. He couldn't understand why you were shutting him out, why you were pushing him away when all he wanted was to help you become the best version of yourself.

He thought you'd get over the loss , of him using Jey against you, but you were proving him wrong with every passing day. As he stepped into the ring, the crowd erupted into a chorus of boos, but Roman barely registered their disapproval. His thoughts were consumed by you, by the way you had been avoiding him, by the hurt and anger simmering just beneath the surface.

The moment he picked up a microphone, the arena fell into a tense silence, every pair of eyes fixated on him, waiting for his next move. "Y/N," he began, his voice low and controlled, "I know you're out there somewhere, hiding in the shadows like a wounded animal. But you can't hide from me forever."

He paused, letting his words sink in, letting the weight of his presence hang heavy in the air. "I did what I did because I care about you, because I wanted to push you to your limits and make you stronger. But instead of seeing it for what it was, you've chosen to see me as the enemy, as the one who tore you down instead of building you up."

He took a breath, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his emotions. "But I'm not your enemy, Y/N. I'm your family. I'm your best friend. And no matter how much you try to push me away, I'll always be here for you. You can't ignore your feelings forever, Y/N. Sooner or later, you're going to have to face them, and when you do, I'll be waiting. Because no matter what happens, no matter how much you hate me right now, I'll always love you."

The crowd murmured amongst themselves, unsure of how to react to Roman's unexpected vulnerability. But Roman paid them no mind, his focus solely on you, on getting through to you, on making you understand his perspective. He lowered the microphone, his gaze scanning the crowd as if searching for a sign, a clue as to your whereabouts.

"So come out, Y/N." Roman continued, his voice softening slightly. "Or are you too scared to face me?" Roman's voice echoed through the arena, cutting through the tension like a knife. He could feel the eyes of the audience on him, the weight of their anticipation heavy in the air.

But his eyes were focused on the ramp, knowing your music would begin playing now, knowing you couldn't resist protecting your ego.

Sure enough, the familiar strains of your entrance music filled the arena, eliciting cheers from the crowd. You paid them no mind as you stepped out of the back, your expression guarded but determined.

Jey was standing beside you, his hand resting reassuringly on your shoulder as you made your way to the ring. He was your rock, your anchor, the one who gave you the strength to face Roman head-on, even when every fiber of your being screamed at you to run.

Roman smirked to himself at the sight. He knew threatening the person you love most was a low blow, but he didn't care. He was tired of playing nice, tired of pretending everything was okay when it clearly wasn't. He wanted answers, and he wasn't going to stop until he got them.

You climbed into the ring, your gaze locked with Roman's, neither of you backing down from the intense stare. You could feel the tension crackling between you, the weight of unresolved emotions hanging heavy in the air. But you refused to let Roman see how much he had affected you, how deeply his actions had cut you.

Jey lightly tugged on your arm, silently urging you to speak up, to get this over with. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come.

"Roman," you began, your voice steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling inside you, "You are standing there, all smug and self-righteous, as if I wasn't this close to becoming champion and taking everything you worked so hard to get. I was 3 seconds away from winning, so don't act like you are some untouchable god."

Roman cackled at your words, the sound echoing through the arena like a gunshot. "Oh, Y/N," he chuckled, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Don't act so surprised. You knew what you were getting into when you stepped into that ring with me. You knew the stakes, you knew the consequences. And yet, you still couldn't handle the pressure."

He took a step closer to you, his gaze unwavering. "You talk about being three seconds away from victory, but you forget that those three seconds were the most crucial of your career. Those three seconds were the difference between success and failure, between glory and defeat. And that's the difference between you and me. I don't crack under pressure, Y/N. I thrive on it. I thrive on the challenge, on the competition, on pushing myself to be better, to be stronger, to be the best.

But you? You crumbled. You let the pressure get to you, and you lost. And now you're standing here, trying to shift the blame onto me, trying to make excuses for your failure. But the truth is, Y/N, you have no one to blame but yourself."

Your jaw clenched at Roman's words, the anger bubbling up inside you threatening to spill over. How dare he stand there and lecture you about failure when he was the one who orchestrated your downfall? How dare he act like he was above reproach, like he was untouchable, like was not at fault when he was the one who manipulated the situation to his advantage?

Jey stood next to you, sharing a worried look with Paul and cautiously watching the tense exchange between you and Roman unfold. He could see the fire burning in your eyes, the rage simmering just beneath the surface, and he knew that if he didn't intervene soon, things would escalate beyond repair.

But before he could step in, you took a step forward, your fists clenched at your sides as you met Roman's gaze head-on.

"You want to talk about pressure, Roman?" you spat, your voice dripping with venom. "You want to talk about what it means to thrive on competition? Fine. Let's talk about pressure. I used our friendship in that match to gain an advantage, and like the idiot you are, you took the bait. It only took you some tears to distract you, to make you lose focus, to show the world that you're not as untouchable as you think you are."

You were now the one cackling at Roman's angry expression, relishing in the satisfaction of finally getting the upper hand. "'Oh Roman, I give up! Please, don't hurt me anymore!'

You mocked your words during the match, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "You really thought you could manipulate me into submission, didn't you? You thought you could use our history against me, use Jey against me, and I would just roll over and take it like a good little puppy. Well, guess what, Roman? I'm not your pawn. I'm not your puppet. And I sure as hell am not your friend."

Roman's expression darkened at your words, his fists clenched at his sides as he struggled to maintain his composure. He hadn't expected you to turn the tables on him, to use his own tactics against him. But as much as he hated to admit it, he couldn't deny the truth in your words. He had let his emotions cloud his judgment, had let his anger towards Jey blind him to the consequences of his actions. And now, he was paying the price for his arrogance.

"Guys, maybe we should just calm down and talk this out," Jey interjected, stepping between you and Roman, his hands raised in a placating gesture. He could feel the tension in the air, the anger radiating off both you and Roman like a palpable force, and he knew that if they didn't find a way to resolve this peacefully, things would only escalate further.

But neither you nor Roman seemed inclined to listen to reason, both of you still seething with anger and resentment towards each other. You glared at Roman, your fists clenched at your sides as you fought to control your rising temper.

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down, Jey," you snapped, your voice laced with venom. "He's the one who started this, who used you against me. He doesn't get to play the peacemaker now."

Roman scoffed at your words, his eyes narrowing in disdain. "You lost, you tapped out, you humiliated yourself in front of your family, and now you want to play the victim?" he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "You made your bed, Y/N. Now lie in it."

Your blood boiled at Roman's words, the anger and hurt coursing through your veins like wildfire.

"How dare you!" You shouted, your voice echoing through the arena, your chest heaving with anger and frustration. You pushed Roman away from you, taking a step back to compose yourself.

"How dare I?!" Roman pushed back, his voice rising with fury. "How dare you come out here and try to blame me for your own failures? How dare you try to make me the villain in this story when all I've ever done is try to help you? You're the one who tapped out, who gave up, who let your pride get in the way of victory. And now you have the audacity to stand there and act like I'm the one who's wrong? You're delusional, Y/N. You're a disgrace to this family, to our legacy."

A resounding slap echoed through the arena as your hand connected with Roman's cheek, the sound reverberating like thunder in the tense silence that followed. Roman staggered back, his hand instinctively rising to his stinging cheek as he stared at you in shock, his expression a mixture of anger and disbelief.

Jey quickly stepped between you and Roman, his hands outstretched to keep you both apart. "That's enough!" he exclaimed, his voice firm and commanding. "Both of you, calm down!" He tried to push the both of you away from each other, Paul rushing in to assist Jey in diffusing the escalating tension.

But the damage had been done. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife, and neither you nor Roman seemed inclined to back down. You glared at Roman, your chest heaving with anger and frustration, while Roman's expression was a mask of rage and indignation.

"You said you were gonna settle this, baby!" Jey grabbed your waist, pulling you away from Roman, his grip firm but gentle as he tried to calm you down. "You need to calm down, please, We can't go on like this. You're both tearing each other apart, and for what? A match? A championship? Is it really worth sacrificing your relationship over?" Jey's words cut through the tension like a knife, his voice pleading for reason, for peace, for a resolution that didn't involve further bloodshed.

Roman gripped the ropes of the ring, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. He glared at you, his eyes burning with anger and hurt, but underneath it all, there was a glimmer of something else. Something softer, more vulnerable, hidden beneath the layers of resentment and pride.

"You're still part of the Boodline, Y/N," Roman growled, his voice low and threatening. "You may not want to admit it, but you're still one of us. And no matter how much you try to push me away, I'll always be here for you. I may not agree with your decisions, with your actions, but I'll always love you. And I'll always be willing to fight for you, even when you won't fight for yourself."

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the storm of emotions raging inside you. "I'm leaving the Bloodline, Roman." You declared, your voice steady despite the turmoil in your heart.

It was like a pin dropped in the arena, the crowd falling silent as they processed your words. Jey let go of your waist, his eyes widening in shock at your declaration. Roman's expression turned icy, his features hardening with anger, hurt, and betrayal.

"You're what?" Roman's voice was barely above a whisper, but the intensity behind it sent shivers down your spine.

"Yeah, you're what?" Jey's voice was sad, and filled with disbelief, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt, any indication that you were joking.

"You pushed me too far this time, Roman." Your eyes were filled with tears as you took a step back, your voice trembling with emotion. "I don't care if you hurt me, but you hurt the man I love in front of me, and you made me watch the life slip from his eyes. I can't forgive you for that. I won't forgive you for that."

You bit your lip, fighting back the tears threatening to spill over. "I'm done, Roman. I'm done being your pawn, your punching bag. I'm done sacrificing my happiness for your ego. I'm done pretending like everything is okay when it clearly isn't. I'm leaving the Bloodline, and I'm never coming back."

Roman's expression darkened, his eyes blazing with fury as he took a step towards you. You were his best friend, his family, his everything, and the thought of you leaving was like a knife twisting n his heart. "You... you can't leave, Y/N," he growled, his voice laced with desperation. "You're a part of this family, a part of this legacy. You can't just walk away from that."

But you stood your ground, your resolve unwavering despite the fear and uncertainty swirling inside you. "Watch me," you shot back, your voice firm and resolute.

You turned around, but you were stopped by Jey standing in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. His hand automatically went to your shoulder, and his eyes were filled with sadness and regret as he looked at you, his grip tightening slightly as if trying to anchor you to him, to the life you had built together.

"Y/N, please," he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Jey..." You started, but Jey nterrupted you, his voice filled with desperation. "Don't do this, baby. Please. We can work through this together. We can find a way to make things right, to rebuild what's been broken... we can start over, start fresh. You don't have to leave the Bloodline, leave me. We can make it work, I know we can."

"Yeah, we can make it work. Not me and Roman." You said softly, tears glistening in your eyes.

"You leaving is leaving us." Jey 's voice cracked as he spoke, his own tears threatening to spill over. "I can't lose you, Y/N. I can't lose what we have. Please, don't do this. Please, don't leave me."

It was like deja vu, watching him cry was bringing you back to when you forced Roman to sign the contract and thought you left Jey for good, and you knew you couldn't live without him in your life. So this time, you were gonna make the right choice.

"Then come with me," you whispered, reaching out to cup Jey's cheek, your thumb wiping away a stray tear. "Come with me, Jey. Leave the Bloodline behind, leave Roman behind. We can start over, start fresh. Just you and me, against the world."

Jey's eyes widened in disbelief, his heart pounding in his chest as he processed your words. The thought of leaving the Bloodline, leaving his family, wasn't something he could do easily.

Roman's laughter interrupted the tense moment, his voice dripping with scorn and amusement.

"Oh, this is rich," he sneered, his gaze flickering between you and Jey. "This happy couple thing the both of you have going on disgusts me. You two think you can just walk away from the Bloodline, from everything we've built together? You think you can just turn your backs on your family, on your legacy, and expect to live happily ever after? You're delusional, both of you. You'll always be part of the Bloodline, whether you like it or not. And if you think you can just walk away without consequences, you're sorely mistaken."

Roman's gaze went to Jey, and the angry expression on his face made Jey's heart grow with fear, scared of what Roman might do to him, to you, to their relationship. "Jey, I know I might be hard on you, but I love you. I did what I did to protect her, and I'm sorry for any pain I may have caused you."

You gaped as Roman was... outwardly apologizing to Jey. Roman NEVER apologized to anyone, let alone someone he considered family.

Jey's expression softened at Roman's unexpected apology, his gaze flickering between you and Roman as he processed the words. He could see the sincerity in Roman's eyes, the genuine remorse behind his tough exterior, and it gave him a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to move forward from this mess.

"But you have to understand, she's making a mistake. She's letting her emotions cloud her judgment, and if you go with her, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. You'll regret leaving the Bloodline, leaving me. You'll regret choosing her over your own family."

"Roman..." Jey's voice was barely a whisper, his throat tight with emotion.

"Don't you dare make him choose between us, Roman." You glared at Roman, stepping in front of Jey to shield him from Roman's manipulative words.

"You're the one that said something about making a choice, Y/N," Roman shot back, his voice dripping with contempt. "You're the one that's forcing him to choose between his loyalty to his family and his love for you. So don't act like I'm the bad guy here."

"Miss Y/N, he's right, y'know?" Paul interjected, his voice calm but firm as he stepped forward, his gaze flickering between you, Jey, and Roman. "You're putting Jey in an impossible position, asking him to choose between his loyalty to his family and his love for you. And as much as you hate to admit it, Roman has a point. You are making Jey get hurt either way, and if you truly love him you would sacrifice your own desires for the sake of his well-being."

You clenched your fists, your jaw tightening with frustration at Paul's words. He was right, of course, but that didn't make it any easier to accept. You couldn't bear the thought of losing Jey, of watching him choose between you and his family, between his loyalty and his love.

But you also couldn't bear the thought of staying in the Bloodline, of subjecting yourself to Roman's manipulation and control any longer.

"You're the one that's choosing to walk away, to abandon your family, your legacy, your bloodline. And for what? For a relationship that's built on lies and deception? You think Jey is going to choose you over his own flesh and blood? You think he's going to turn his back on everything he's ever known, everything he's ever fought for, everything he's ever believed in, just to be with you?"

You turned to Roman, tears filling your eyes as you struggled to find the words to express the turmoil raging inside you. “Just shut up.”

“No, I’m not going to. And you know why?” Roman 's voice rose with anger, his fists clenched at his sides as he took a step towards you.

"Because I'm not going to stand here and watch you destroy everything we've built, everything we've fought for, everything we've sacrificed for, just because you can't handle a little pressure. You're selfish, Y/N. You're selfish for putting Jey in this position, for forcing him to choose between you and his family. And you're selfish for thinking that you can just walk away from the Bloodline without facing any consequences. I wont let you leave me, I wont let your stuborness destroy what we have, and I wont let you take Jey away from me."

Roman's voice was low and menacing, his eyes flashing with anger and determination. “You will thank me for stopping you from making the biggest mistake of your life. You will thank me for saving you from yourself.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks as you took a step back, the weight of Roman's words bearing down on you like a ton of bricks. “I... you can’t force me to stay, Roman," you choked out, your voice breaking with emotion.

"Like hell I can't," Roman growled, his voice laced with venom as he took another step towards you. "You're not leaving, Y/N. Not now, not ever. You're practically my family, and I'll be damned if I let you walk out that door and never look back. You're staying, whether you like it or not."

You scoffed at the utter insanity coming out of Roman's mouth, unable to comprehend how someone could be so controlling, so manipulative. "Are you actually this insane Roman?! You can't control my life!"

"I can do whatever I want, Y/N," Roman snapped, his voice filled with rage and frustration. "I'm the head of the Bloodline, the Tribal Chief, and I make the rules around here. And the rule is, you're not leaving. Not without my permission."

Jey gently grabbed your hand, softly squeezing it in a silent gesture of support. "Baby, Roman doesn't mean any of that," he murmured, his voice filled with reassurance. "He's just... he's just scared of losing you, of losing his family."

You pulled away from Jey at his words. "What?" You stared at him in disbelief. You knew Roman had him in a chokehold, but you didn't think it was this bad. You were so gonna beat some sense into Roman.

"Jey, please tell me you realize how crazy that sounds. He literally tricked you last week and put you in a chokehold to make me tap out. You think family acts like this? That they hurt and manipulate each other like this?" Your voice cracked with emotion, tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggled to make sense of the chaos unfolding around you.

Jey's expression softened, his eyes filled with regret as he reached out to cup your cheek. "I know, baby, I know," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the hum of the crowd.

"But he's family, and... and I can't just turn my back on him, on everything we've built together. I can't just walk away from the Bloodline, from our legacy. I can't... I can't choose between you and him, Y/N. I can't lose you, but I can't lose him either."

In Jey's mind, he stood up to Roman by not letting him take you from him and by being with you, so the two of you just needed to work your shit out and get on the same page.

You sighed, hurt, but knowing where he was coming from. You knew that Jey was torn between his loyalty to Roman and his love for you, and you couldn't fault him for it. But at the same time, you couldn't stand by and watch as Roman continued to manipulate and control both of you. You had to make a choice, and you had to make it now.

"I told you that he would never choose you over me." Roman's voice turned somber, and a sense of triumph rang in his words as he looked at you, his gaze piercing through the veil of uncertainty that shrouded your heart.

"So please... stop this insanity. Stop trying to tear apart the only family you've ever known, the only family you've ever had. You belong with us, Y/N. You belong with me. So please... come home."

You stood there, caught between the two men you loved most in the world, their words swirling around you like a whirlwind of emotions. Roman actually looked remorseful, regretful, and... lonely. For the first time, you saw the vulnerability in his eyes, the pain hidden behind the facade of anger and control.

And for a moment, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him, a flicker of understanding for the struggles he had faced, the burdens he had carried.

"Okay...I'll stay. Under one condition," you said finally, your voice firm and resolute. "I get another shot at your title. If I lose, I stay in the Bloodline for good, no strings attached. But if I win... you let me walk away, no questions asked... and I bring Jey with me."

You could feel Jey's gaze burning through you from across the ring, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief at your ultimatum. Roman's laugh echoed through the arena, but you could hear the hurt and resentment beneath the surface.

"You think I'm going to let you get another shot at my title, Y/N? You think I'm just going to hand it over to you on a silver platter, like some kind of consolation prize?" Roman sneered, his voice dripping with contempt.

"You had your chance, Y/N. You had your shot at glory, and you blew it. You tapped out, you gave up, you proved that you're not worthy of holding this title. And now you have the audacity to stand there and demand another shot? You're delusional, Y/N. You're living in a fantasy world if you think I'm going to give you another chance to humiliate yourself, to embarrass yourself, to hurt you, because believe it or not, I actually care about you, Y/N. I care about you more than you'll ever know, and I don't want to see you get hurt again."

You bristled at Roman's words, the anger rising inside you like a tidal wave threatening to consume everything in its path. "You care about me?" you scoffed, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

"If you cared about me, you wouldn't have manipulated me, you wouldn't have used me, you wouldn't have hurt me. You say you care about me, Roman, but your actions speak louder than words. And right now, your actions are telling me that you don't give a damn about me, about my feelings, about my well-being. You only care about yourself, about your precious title, about your precious legacy. Well, guess what, Roman? I don't give a damn about your title, about your legacy, about your precious Bloodline.

All I care about is getting justice for what you did to me, to Jey, to us. So you can either give me another shot at your title, or you can watch as I tear down everything you've ever worked for, piece by piece, until there's nothing left but ash and dust. The choice is yours, Roman. But know this... I won't stop until I get what I want. And if that means destroying everything you hold dear, then so be it."

"No, you not gonna do this." Jey interrupted, his voice filled with desperation as he stepped forward, his hand outstretched towards you.

"You think those bruises on your body magically appeared? No, they were caused by Roman. He manipulated you into signing the contract, he hurt you, he humiliated you, he made you feel like you were worthless. And now you want to give him another chance to do it all over again? You want to risk getting hurt again, just for the chance to prove that you're better than him? You want to get hurt by him just to prove a point? Just to hurt him?! Are you fucking crazy, Y/N?! Do you want to end up like me, forced to watch as you get hurt over and over again, unable to do anything to stop it? Is that really what you want?"

You flinched at Jey's words, the pain in his voice cutting through you like a knife. He was right, of course. You had seen the bruises on your body, felt the pain in your bones, and you knew deep down that Roman was capable of inflicting even more damage if given the chance. But you also couldn't bear the thought of letting him win, of letting him continue to manipulate and control you, to dictate your life and your choices.

Damn your stubbornness that led you to this point. "Jey... I''m doing this, for you." Your admission hung heavy in the air, the weight of your words settling over the ring like a shroud of uncertainty.

"You never got to choose how things went down with Roman last time. You never got to stand up for yourself, to fight back against the injustice he inflicted upon us. And I can't just stand by and let him get away with it. I have to do something, Jey. I have to fight back, for both of us. Even if it means risking everything, even if it means putting myself in harm's way. I have to try, Jey. I have to try."

"I'm not letting myself hurt you again." Roman interrupted, his voice softening as he stepped forward, his gaze locked on yours with a mixture of regret and determination. "Listen to your boyfriend, Y/N. You really want to be battered and bruised again? You really want to do that? You can't beat me.

And even if you did somehow manage to win, it wouldn't change anything. I'd. never let you leave this faction, you'd still be part of the Bloodline, you'd still be my family, you'd still be trapped in this never-ending cycle of violence and betrayal. Is that really what you want, Y/N? Is that really worth risking everything for?"

You hesitated, the weight of Roman's words bearing down on you like a ton of bricks. He was right, of course. Even if you did somehow manage to defeat him, it wouldn't change the fact that he would never let you leave the Bloodline. You would still be trapped in a toxic environment, forced to endure his manipulation and control for the rest of your life. And as much as you hated to admit it, you knew that Roman was right. You couldn't beat him, not without sacrificing everything you held dear.

But as you turned to Jey, all that anger and hurt came back in a rush, the memories of everything you had endured together flooding your mind like a tidal wave. You remembered the nights spent comforting each other, the whispered promises of love and loyalty, the moments of pure bliss amidst the chaos of the world around you. And in that moment, you knew what you had to do.

"Yes." You whispered, your voice barely above a whisper as you looked into Jey's eyes, your heart heavy with regret and determination. "I have to do this, Jey. I have to try. For us." You turned back to Roman, a defiant look in your eye that he loved and hated at the same time. "Please, Ro." At your nickname for him, he paused, his expression softening slightly at the familiar term of endearment.

"Please, Roman," you continued, your voice pleading now, "let me do this. Let me have one more chance to prove myself, to prove that I'm not just some pawn in your game. Let me show you that I'm stronger than you think, that I'm capable of standing on my own two feet, that I'm not afraid to fight for what I believe in. Just... let me try."

Roman stared at you for a long moment, his gaze searching yours for any sign of doubt, any indication that you weren't serious about this. But all he saw was unwavering determination, a fierce determination that mirrored his own, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride swell in his chest.

"If you can beat Auksa, and get back your Smackdown Women's Championship, then I accept your request," Roman finally conceded, his voice low and measured. "But know this, Y/N... if you fail, if you lose to Auksa again, then that's it. No more chances, no more second opportunities. You'll stay in the Bloodline, and you'll never leave again. Do you understand?"

You nodded, the weight of Roman's words settling over you like a heavy burden. "I understand," you murmured, your voice barely audible over the hum of the crowd. "I'll do whatever it takes to win, Roman. I promise."

Roman's gaze softened at your words, a flicker of something akin to pride flashing in his eyes. "Good," he said simply, his voice firm but not unkind. "You'll need that title for when you lose to me for the 2nd time."

The tension in the arena was palpable as Roman's words hung in the air, a challenge issued and accepted. You knew that defeating Auksa and reclaiming your championship would be no easy task, especially with Roman looming over you like a shadow, ready to pounce at the first sign of weakness. But you knew you could do it.

With a nod of determination, you turned away from Roman, but when you turned back to Jey and saw the look in his eyes, you knew he was anything but okay with your decision. His expression was one of heartbreak and disappointment, his shoulders slumped in defeat as he realized that you were going to go through with this risky plan. You reached out to him, your heart aching at the thought of hurting him even more, but he pulled away, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggled to compose himself.

But if you could finally beat Roman, then he would see that this was the right choice. You would prove to him that you were strong enough to stand on your own, that you were capable of making your own decisions, and that you were willing to fight for your freedom, for your happiness, for your love.

And that's all you ever wanted to do.

"Baby." You were now the one trying to talk to Jey, but he ignored you in favor of taking out your luggagge in your rental car. You felt a pang of sadness as you watched him, knowing that you had hurt him deeply with your decision to go through with Roman's challenge. But you also knew that you couldn't let his pain stop you from doing what you believed was right.

"Jey, please," you pleaded, reaching out to touch his arm, but he flinched away from your touch, his expression closed off and unreadable. "I know you're upset, and I understand why. But please, try to see things from my perspective. I have to do this, Jey. I have to try to beat Roman, to prove to him that I'm not just some pawn in his game. I have to try to reclaim my title, to show him that I'm stronger than he thinks. And if I don't... if I fail... then at least I'll know that I tried. At least I'll know that I didn't give up without a fight."

Jey sighed, his shoulders sagging with resignation as he turned to face you, his gaze softening with regret and understanding. "I know, baby, I know," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I'm not saying that I don't understand why you're doing this. I do. I understand completely. But... but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

You felt a lump form in your throat at his words, the weight of his disappointment settling over you like a heavy blanket. "I'm sorry, Jey," you whispered, tears stinging your eyes as you reached out to cup his cheek, but he pulled away from your touch, his expression guarded and closed off. "I'm sorry for hurting you, for putting you in this position. I never wanted to hurt you, Jey. You have to believe me."

Jey sighed, his gaze softening slightly as he reached out to take your hand in his, his touch gentle and reassuring. "I know you didn't, baby," he murmured, his voice filled with sadness and regret. "And I believe you. I do. But..I know you ain't gonna stop till you get what you want, and I respect that about you. I just... wish you weren't so stubborn, that it wouldn't kill you to listen to me. Do you not see that I'm just trying to protect you, to keep you safe from Roman's manipulation and control? I love you, Y/N. I love you more than anything in this world, and I would do anything to keep you safe, to keep you from getting hurt.

But I also know that I can't stop you from doing what you believe is right, from fighting for what you believe in. And as much as it hurts me to see you put yourself in harm's way, I also know that I can't stand in your way, that I have to let you fight your own battles, make your own choices, and live with the consequences.

So... so please, just promise me one thing, Y/N. Promise me that you'll be careful, that you won't do anything reckless, that you'll come back to me in one piece. Can you do that for me, baby? Can you promise me that? That if you lose to Auska, then that's it. You'll stop trying to fight Roman and accept that you'll have to stay in the Bloodline, for better or for worse?"

You looked into Jey's eyes, seeing the love and concern shining through despite the pain and uncertainty clouding his gaze. You knew that he was asking you to make a difficult decision, to choose between your desire for revenge and your love for him.

And as much as it pained you to admit it, you knew that he was right. You couldn't keep putting yourself in harm's way, risking your safety and well-being for the sake of a vendetta against Roman. You had to put your love for Jey above all else, even if it meant sacrificing your own desires and ambitions.

With a heavy heart, you nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks as you reached out to cup Jey's cheek, your thumb wiping away a stray tear.

"I promise, Jey," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "I promise that if I lose to Auska, then that's that. I won't keep trying to fight Roman, to prove myself, to reclaim my title. I'll accept that I'll have to stay in the Bloodline, for better or for worse. I promise that I'll be careful, that I won't do anything reckless, that I'll come back to you in one piece. I promise, Jey. I promise."

Jey's eyes softened at your words, his gaze searching yours for any sign of doubt, any indication that you weren't being sincere. But all he saw was unwavering determination, a fierce determination that mirrored his own, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride swell in his chest.

"Thank you, baby," he murmured, cupping your face and kissing you on the lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth in a desperate attempt to convey all the love and longing he felt for you in that moment.

You melted into his embrace, the weight of his love and support enveloping you like a warm blanket, soothing the ache in your heart and easing the doubts swirling in your mind.

When you pulled away reluctantly, you clung to his comforting cologne and the feel of his arms around you, cherishing the warmth and security he provided.

"I love you, Jey," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper as you rested your forehead against his, your breath mingling with his in a silent exchange of love and affection.

"I love you too, baby," Jey murmured, his voice filled with emotion as he pressed his lips against yours once more, savoring the taste and feel of you against him. "More than anything in this world. And I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, to keep you happy, to keep you by my side. I promise."

You smiled through your tears, feeling a sense of peace settle over you as you clung to Jey, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, as a team, as partners, as lovers. "You really promise?"

Jey smiled at you, guilt and regret lingering in his eyes as he nodded. "I promise, baby. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, to keep you happy, to keep you by my side. I won't let anything or anyone come between us, not even Roman."

You leaned into his embrace, feeling a sense of relief wash over you at his words. "Thank you, Jey," you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Jey smiled, his arms tightening around you. "You ain't gotta know. I'll always protect you." Even from yourself.

He felt that same guilt when he was pacing in the locker room right before your match. He was so deep in his anxious thoughts he didn’t notice the door open until his twin's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Hey, Uce. You alright?"

Jey looked up, meeting Jimmy's concerned gaze with a forced smile. He was glad his twin was finally cleared for in-ring action after his injury, but he couldn't help but feel guilty for dragging him into this mess with Roman and you. "Yeah, I'm fine, Uce," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper as he tried to push aside his doubts and fears. "Just... nervous, I guess."

Jimmy frowned, his expression filled with concern as he stepped forward, his hand resting on Jey's shoulder in a silent gesture of support. "Hey, it's gonna be okay, Uce," he murmured, his voice soft and reassuring.

"No, it ain't. You ain't been here, you don't know what been going on. Roman and Y/N been going at it, and I'm stuck in the middle. I just... I don't know what to do, Uce," Jey confessed, his voice filled with frustration and uncertainty.

"Did you talk to big uce?" Jimmy loved you and viewed you as a little sister, and he wanted nothing but the best for you and Jey. He knew that you both were going through a tough time, torn between loyalty to Roman and your love for each other. But he also knew that Jey needed to make a decision for himself, to choose what was best for him and his future.

Jey glared at the wall at the reminder of his conversation with Roman. It went about as well as you'd expected. Roman wasn't willing to let him go, to let either of you go, without a fight. And Jey didn't know if he had the strength to stand up to his cousin, to defy him and choose his own path.

"Yeah, everything's good. He said he'd let her fight Auska on her own, but you know him. He gon' do something to interfere. He always does," Jey muttered, his voice filled with frustration and resignation. "I just... I don't know what to do, Uce. I want to be there for her, to support her, but I also don't want to go against Roman. He's family, Uce. And I can't just turn my back on him, on everything we've built together."

Jimmy sighed, his gaze softening with understanding as he squeezed Jey's shoulder in a comforting gesture. "I know, Uce. But just let them work their shit out. If Roman wants to do some shit, then you let him. And if he tells you to stay out of it, then you stay out of it. You gotta do what's best for you, Uce. And if that means staying loyal to Roman, then so be it. But if it means standing by Y/N's side and supporting her, then you do that too. You gotta figure out what you want, Uce. What's gonna make you happy in the long run."

But Jey didn't know what would make him happy anymore. All he knew was that he couldn't bear to see you get hurt again, to watch as you put yourself in harm's way for the sake of revenge against Roman. He couldn't stand by and do nothing while you risked your safety and well-being for the chance to reclaim your title. But he also couldn't bring himself to betray Roman, to go against his family and everything they had built together.

A knock on the door made both men look up, and they saw you standing there, dressed in your wrestling gear and looking determined as ever, Naomi in tow.

Jey's heart clenched at the sight of you, knowing that you were about to step into the ring and face off against Auska, the current Smackdown Women's Champion, in a high-stakes match that could determine the course of your future.

"Can we come in?" You softly asked, your voice wavering slightly with nerves as you glanced between Jey and Jimmy. You could see the worry etched on their faces, and it only served to heighten your own anxiety about the upcoming match.

"Of course, baby," Jey replied, his voice soft and reassuring as he stepped forward to open the door wider, allowing you to enter the locker room. He could see the determination shining in your eyes, the fire burning bright despite the uncertainty swirling around you, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of pride swell in his chest.

"You ready for this?" Jimmy asked after giving Naomi a kiss, his voice filled with concern as he studied you closely, taking in your appearance and demeanor with a critical eye. He knew that you were facing a tough opponent in Auska, and he wanted to make sure that you were mentally and physically prepared.

"As ready as she'll ever be." Naomi chimed in, her voice filled with confidence as she wrapped an arm around your shoulder, offering you a reassuring squeeze.

She narrowed her eyes at the worried looks on Jey and Jimmy's faces, knowing that you needed their support now more than ever. "You gonna show them what you're made of, right, sis?"

You nodded, a determined glint in your eye as you squared your shoulders and took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the challenge ahead. "Yeah, I'm ready," you replied, your voice steady and resolute despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach.

"We just wanted to say goodbye, before the match. Just in case." You forced a smile, trying to reassure Jey and Jimmy that you would be okay, even though deep down, you were terrified of what lay ahead.

Jey stepped forward, enveloping you in a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you like a shield, protecting you from the doubts and fears swirling in your mind. "You got this, baby," he murmured, his voice filled with confidence and reassurance. "You're the strongest person I know, and I know you can beat Auska. Just stay focused, stay determined, and remember that I'll always be here for you, no matter what happens."

You nodded, burying your face in Jey's chest as you allowed yourself to soak in his warmth and strength, drawing comfort from his his presence as you clung to him for support.

"Thank you, Jey," you whispered, your voice muffled by his shirt as you breathed in his familiar scent, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. You pulled away and let him give you a good luck kiss, melting into him.

"Okay, okay, that's enough! I don't need to see that!" Jimmy exclaimed, pretending to shield his eyes from the affectionate display. You giggled at antics, kissing Jey exxageratingly, making him yell louder and Jey blush and chuckle in response. "Sorry, Uce," you teased, playfully ruffling his hair as you stepped back, feeling a surge of confidence wash over you at the sight of his smile. "We'll see you guys after the match, okay?"

Jimmy nodded, his expression softening with pride as he dapped you up. "Good luck out there, sis," he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth and encouragement. "I know you're gonna kill it."

You smiled at his words, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over you as you did your handshake with him, drawing strength from his unwavering support. "Thanks, Jimmy," you replied, your voice filled with determination and resolve. "I won't let you down."

With one last glance at Jey, you turned and followed Naomi out of the locker room, steeling yourself for the challenge that lay ahead.

"You see, she's fine." Jimmy concluded, his voice filled with pride as he watched you leave the locker room, knowing that you were about to face one of the toughest challenges of your career. He turned to Jey, his expression softening with concern as he placed a hand on his shoulder. "You gonna be okay, Uce?"

Jey nodded, a determined glint in his eye as he straightened his posture, steeling himself for the emotional rollercoaster that was about to unfold. "Yeah, I'll be okay."

He just wished those words would become true.

"You motherfucker!" Roman screamed at you as you made your way out of your new private locker room, courtesy of the new championship that rested on your shoulder, fury blazing in his eyes. "You tricked me!"

Let's go back to a hour prior, where you were beating the hell out of Auska. The match was violent, fast paced, and brutal, and for good reason: a title was on the line, and a rule was in place. If the ref caught anyone interfering, the other wrestle would automatically win. No one else knew this stipulation but you and Auska.

As you threw punch after punch, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you could feel the crowd's energy pulsating around you. Every strike, every kick, every move was fueled by a burning desire to prove yourself, to show Roman that you were not to be underestimated, that you were a force to be reckoned with.

But just as victory seemed within your grasp, just as you were about to deliver the finishing blow to Auska, everything came crashing down in an instant. Roman's music hit, interrupting the flow of the match. You scoffed, knowing the mind games he plays, and turned back to ignore the distraction.

Naomi was standing at ringside, her expression filled with concern as she watched the chaos unfold, but you couldn't focus on her right now. Your attention was solely on Auska, on the task at hand, on proving to yourself and to everyone watching that you were the rightful champion and that you were not going to let anyone or anything stand in your way.

It turned out to be a false alarm, and the distraction only lasted a few seconds. But those few seconds were all Auska needed to try and capitalize on your momentary lapse in concentration and mist you, just as she did before to take the title from you.

But Naomi yelled at you to watch out, and you managed to dodge just in time, narrowly avoiding the green mist, but it ended up hitting the ref instead, making him collapse to the mat in agony, clutching at his eyes. Auska stopped what she was doing as she realized the chaos that had ensued.

With the referee incapacitated, the match was thrown into disarray, leaving you and Auska in a standstill as you slowly looked back to her, and the hairs on her arms stood up as she saw the look on your face. It was a mix of fury, frustration, and determination.

Anger surged through you as you realized what Auska had tried to do, and you knew that you couldn't let her get away with it. Not again.

"Are you kidding me?!" You shouted at Auska, your voice echoing with fury as you advanced towards her, your fists clenched at your sides. "I'll fucking kill you!" You lunged at Auska, your rage propelling you forward as you unleashed a flurry of punches, each one fueled by the burning desire for revenge.

Your brain was on autopilot, your body moving on instinct as you unleashed all of your pent-up frustration and anger on Auska, each strike landing with precision and force. But even as you rained down blows on your opponent, a small voice in the back of your mind whispered a warning, reminding you of the consequences of your actions, of the potential repercussions of losing control.

But you couldn't stop. Not now. Not when victory was within your grasp, when all you could see was red, when all you could feel was the burning need for retribution. Naomi was hyping you up, encouraging you to keep fighting, her voice a constant stream of support and encouragement as you unleashed your fury on Auska.

But even as you fought, a sense of guilt gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, reminding you of the promises you had made to Jey, of the risks you were taking by giving in to your anger and letting it consume you.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the chaos came to an abrupt halt as your leg was pulled from underneath you, causing you to stumble and fall to the mat with a resounding thud. You blinked in surprise, momentarily disoriented as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

And then you saw Kairi smirking at you, then that smirk getting wiped off as Naomi launched herself at her, taking her down with a fierce tackle, the force of the impact sending both women crashing to the ground in a tangled heap.

Auska joined in the fight, and you quickly scrambled to your feet, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you launched yourself at Auska, the four of you engaging in a chaotic brawl as the arena erupted into a frenzy of cheers and boos.

The match had devolved into utter pandemonium, with bodies flying and fists swinging in every direction. The ref was still down, so there was no one to call for order or to declare a winner. It was just chaos, pure and simple.

You all eventually ended up backstage, still beating the hell out of each other, the chaos continuing unabated as the brawl spilled into the backstage area.

"You thought you could beat me, Auska?!" You growled as you slammed her against the nearest wall, your fists raining down on her with relentless fury. "You thought you could take my title from me?!" You punctuated each word with a punishing blow, the sound of your knuckles connecting with her flesh echoing through the hallway as you unleashed all of your pent-up anger and frustration.

Naomi grabbed Kairi by the hair, pulling her away from the fray and slamming her against a nearby equipment crate. "Y/N, finish her off!" Naomi yelled, her voice filled with urgency as she grappled with Kairi, trying to subdue her long enough for you to finish the job. She knew that you were on the brink of victory, that you had Auska right where you wanted her, and she wasn't about to let this opportunity slip through your fingers.

You nodded at Naomi's words, your heart pounding with adrenaline as you focused all of your energy on defeating Auska once and for all. You grabbed her by the head, and started dragging her to the ring, your hands gripping her hair tightly as you pulled her along, determination burning bright in your eyes, going faster as you could taste the victory and feel it on your fingertips.

But just as you reached the entrance ramp, ready to deliver the finishing blow and claim victory, a push from behind sent you tumbling down the ramp, Auska's limp body collapsing on top of you as you both crashed to the ground in a tangled heap.

You groaned in pain, the impact knocking the wind out of you as you struggled to catch your breath, your head spinning from the sudden fall.

As you lay on the ground, trying to shake off the dizziness and regain your bearings, you felt a surge of anger rise up within you at the cowardly attack. You glanced up, expecting to see Auska standing over you, a smug grin on her face, but instead, you were met with the sight of Roman, his expression twisted with rage as he glared down at you, his fists clenched at his sides.

"I told you, I won't let anyone come between us." Roman's voice was low, filled with barely-contained fury as he stared down at you, his gaze burning with intensity. "Not even you, Y/N."

Instead of reacting angrily like he expected you to, too, you surprised Roman by laughing, a smile on your lips despite the pain coursing through your body.

He furrowed his brow in confusion, taken aback by your unexpected reaction. "What's so funny?" he demanded, his voice tinged with irritation as he glared down at you. The ref was down after being misted, and he was about to cost you the match.

You grinned up at him, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you shook your head. "That you only have yourself to blame for me winning." You replied, your voice laced with amusement as you pointed to the ref, who saw everything that happened and was signaling for the bell to ring.

"And due to disqualification, the winner and the new Smackdown Women's Champion, is Y/N!" The announcer boomed over the arena speakers, and you smiled even wider as Roman's eyes widened in shock, his expression morphing into one of disbelief as he realized the implications of your words.

You could see the anger bubbling beneath the surface, the frustration at having been outsmarted, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction wash over you at the sight of his defeat.

You got up with a smirk and made you way to the ring, grabbing YOUR title belt and holding it high above your head, your smirk turning into a smile as you saw Jey making his wy down to the ring, turning the other way and propping yourself up on the turnbuckle.

What you didn't see was Roman and Jey staring each other down, the tension between them palpable as they stood across from each other on the ramp, their eyes speaking more than words ever could.

Romans told Jey to go fix this or else, and Jey's eyes were telling Roman that he might choose his own path, to finally break free from Roman's control and to stand up for what he believed in.

But as much as Jey wanted to defy his cousin, to choose his own destiny and to fight for his own happiness, he couldn't bring himself to abandon his family, to turn his back on everything they had built together.

But then he thought of you, of the promise he had made to protect you, to keep you safe and happy, and he knew the only way to do that was to keep you in the Bloodline and make you and Roman patch things up. He could live with you being mad at him, but not with you being hurt because of Roman.

You dropped down from the turnbuckle to jump into Jey's arms, arms, wrapping your arms around his neck as he caught you, spinning you around in a joyous embrace as the crowd erupted into cheers, the sound echoing throughout the arena. You couldn't stop smiling as you clung to Jey, feeling a sense of relief wash over you at the sight of his familiar face, knowing that he was there to support you, to celebrate your victory, to stand by your side no matter what.

"I did it, Jey," you exclaimed, your voice filled with excitement as you looked into his eyes, seeing the pride and adoration shining in his gaze. "I actually did it!"

Jey grinned at you, his heart swelling with pride as he hugged you tightly, his arms wrapped around you like a protective shield. "I knew you could do it, baby," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine warmth and affection.

"I'm so proud of you." The guilt lingered in the back of his mind, a constant reminder of the difficult choices he had to make, of the sacrifices he had to endure for the sake of his family.

But when you kissed him passionately, all thoughts of guilt and regret melted away, replaced by a sense of overwhelming love and happiness as you basked in the glow of your victory.

"Huh, answer me?! Roman's outburst brought you back into the present time, and you looked up at him, a defiant glint in your eye as you slowly rose to your feet, clutching the title belt tightly in your hands.

"It's not my fault you decided to interfere." You snarked at him, a defiant glint in your eye as you moved towards him, clutching the title belt tightly in your hands. "I played the game fair and square, Roman. And I won. So deal with it."

You noticed the mist marks on his face and started laughing. "Oh, I guess Auska wasn't too happy that you ruined her plan, huh?" You taunted, a smirk playing on your lips as you took a step forward, closing the distance between you and Roman. "Looks like karma's a bitch."

You tried to move past Roman, but he stepped into your path, blocking your way with his imposing presence. His eyes burned with fury as he glared down at you, his jaw clenched tight with anger.

"Why are you acting like this?!" Roman growled at you, his voice laced with frustration and disbelief. "After everything I've done for you, after all the opportunities I've given you, you choose to betray me like this?!"

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief at Roman's words. "Betray you? Are you serious right now?" You shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you stared him down, unflinching in the face of his anger.

"Yes, I'm serious." Roman replied, iconically sounding exasperated and defiant at the same time. "I've done everything for you, Y/N. I've given you opportunities, I've supported you, I've protected you. How many years have we been family, Y/N? How many times have I had your back, had your best interests at heart? And this is how you repay me? By going behind my back, by defying me, by siding with them?!"

"Siding with them? Are you hearing yourself right now? You sound insane!" You retorted, incredulous at Roman's accusations. "You're the one who started this whole mess, Roman. I'm the one trying to get my best friend back, to fix what you ruined!"

You took a step forward, your voice rising with each word as you stared Roman down, refusing to back down in the face of his anger. "I'm tired of being your puppet, Roman. I'm tired of living in your shadow, of doing your bidding without question. I have sacrificed too much for you to make you happy, let you push and push , but this time you pushed too far. And weren't you the one that said sometimes you need to show the ones you love the truth so they can understand the pain they cause?"

You paused, your chest heaving with emotion as you locked eyes with Roman, daring him to deny the truth of your words. "Well, consider this me showing you the truth, Roman. If I have to take the very title you hold dear to make you see that, then so be it."

Roman's expression was a mixture of shock and anger as he listened to your words, his fists clenched at his sides as he struggled to process the magnitude of what you were saying. He had never expected you to turn against him like this, to defy him so openly and without remorse.

But deep down, he knew that he had brought this upon himself, that his actions had driven you to this point, and he couldn't help but feel hurt at the thought of losing the person that meant more to him than anything else in the world. He thought of what he was doing wrong, of what he needed to do to make you loyal to him.

The only other time he had this issue was with Jey, and he made sure to make sure Jey knew his place in the Bloodline. But with you, it was different. You were family, but you were also his equal, his partner, his confidant.

Wait… Jey. Jey was the key in bringing you back into the fold, Roman realized. He pushed Jey to make put him in his place when he was acting out, and he knew he could do the same with you. He had to make Jey see reason, to make him understand that you both belonged with him, in the Bloodline, where you could thrive and succeed together. And he knew just the way to do it.

"Then I guess that applies to you too." Roman paused, his voice low and dangerous as he took a step closer to you, his eyes narrowing with determination. "If you want to show me the truth, Y/N, then let me show you mine." With that, he left the hallway, leaving you to contemplate the weight of his words and the implications of his actions.

You stood there in the hallway, feeling a sense of unease settle over you as you pondered Roman's warning. Part of you wanted to dismiss his words, to brush off his threats as nothing more than empty promises meant to intimidate you into submission.

But another part of you couldn't shake the feeling that there was truth to what he said, that he had the power and influence to make your life a living hell if you dared to defy him.

But you had Jey, Jimmy, and Naomi by your side. They would be by your side… right? Roman couldn't possibly turn them against you, could he?

"Baby?" At your voice, Jey perked up from where he laid in bed, turning to face you with concern etched in his features. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice filled with worry as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face.

"I feel like I should be asking you that." You murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you snuggled closer to Jey, seeking comfort and solace in his embrace. "You've been quiet for the past few days. I know I leave you breathless with my beauty, but you have been unusually silent even for you," you teased, trying to lighten the mood with a playful jab.

Jey chuckled softly, the sound like music to your ears as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his chest. "I've just been thinking," he admitted, his voice low and reflective as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

"That's not a good sign." You finished his sentence with a playful smile, reaching up to caress his cheek gently. "What's been on your mind, Jey? You know you can talk to me about anything."

Jey sighed, his expression turning serious as he met your gaze, his eyes filled with uncertainty and doubt. "I just feel like… I promised to protect you, to keep you safe and happy, but I don't know if I'm doing a good job of that." He confessed, his voice tinged with guilt as he struggled to put his feelings into words.

"I'm supposed to be the man and take care of you, but I'm failing at that." His voice was sad and filled with self-doubt, and you felt your heart ache at the sight of his pain. You reached out and gently cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze as you searched his eyes for any sign of reassurance.

"Jey, look at me," you whispered, your voice soft and soothing as you tried to convey your love and support through your voice, but he pulled away, avoiding your gaze as he shook his head.

"No, Y/N, I know what you're gonna say, that I'm doing my best and that's all that matters, but I'm not, and that's the fucking truth." His voice cracked under the weight of his emotions, his words filled with self-doubt and frustration. You could see the turmoil swirling in his eyes, the pain etched into his features, and it broke your heart to see him struggling like this.

"Jey, just because you feel like you're not doing enough doesn't mean you're failing," you interrupted gently, your voice firm but filled with compassion as you reached out to gently cup his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. "I'm doing this for you, I'm choosing to do this-"

"That's the problem, you're choosing to do this," Jey interjected, his voice tinged with bitterness as he pulled away from your touch, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and frustration. "You shouldn't have to sacrifice yourself for me, Y/N. You shouldn't have to put yourself in harm's way just to prove a point or to protect me. I should be the one protecting you, not the other way around."

"You are doing everything you can to protect me, Jey," you insisted, your voice filled with conviction as you reached out to gently touch his arm, hoping to reassure him of your love and support.

"How? By watching you put yourself in danger? By standing by while you risk your life for me?" Jey retorted, his voice laced with frustration as he turned away from you, unable to bear the weight of his guilt any longer. "That should be me taking the hits, taking the risks, not you. I can't stand seeing you hurt, Y/N."

"And you think I should just sit back and watch you get hurt instead?" You shot back, your voice tinged with frustration as you struggled to make him see reason.

"Yeah, I do." Jey snarked at you, his tone defiant as he turned back to face you, his eyes blazing with intensity. "Because that's what I signed up for, Y/N. I signed up to be the one to take the hits, to take the risks, to protect you at all costs. That's my job, my duty, and I won't let anyone else take that away from me. Not even you."

You blinked at Jey's words, stunned into silence by the raw intensity of his emotions. "What's that supposed to mean, Jey?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you searched his eyes for any sign of reassurance.

"It means that I love you, baby." Jey replied, his voice soft and filled with emotion as he reached out to gently cup your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. "It means that I would do anything to protect you, to keep you safe and happy, and I can't let you sacrifice yourself for me. I can't."

"But don't you get that I'm doing this because he hurt you! " You exclaimed, your voice trembling with emotion as you struggled to make Jey understand the depth of your feelings.

"I forgave him, Y/N." Jey's voice was quiet, but filled with conviction as he looked into your eyes, his gaze unwavering as he spoke. "And I think you should too."

His words hung heavy in the air, the weight of their meaning sinking in as you processed his confession. "What did you say?" Your voice was barely a whisper, disbelief and shock coloring your words as you stared at Jey, unable to comprehend what you had just heard.

"I said I forgave him." " Jey repeated, his eyes firm and resolved as he met your gaze, his expression serious and determined. "Roman may not have always made the right choices, but he's still family, Y/N. And family sticks together, no matter what."

You shook your head in disbelief, unable to comprehend Jey's words. "What did he say to you?" You murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you searched Jey's eyes for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

"What?" Jey tried to act nonchalant, but you could see the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the hesitation in his voice as he struggled to find the right words.

"Last week you were telling me that you have to let me fight my own battles, that you can't keep protecting me from everything. And now you're telling me that you forgave Roman? What. Did. He. Say. To. You?"

Jey's eyes were filled with fear and uncertainty as he met your gaze, his lips pressed into a thin line as he struggled to find the right words to say. "Nothing. Let it go, Y/N," he replied evasively, his voice tinged with guilt as he averted his gaze, unable to meet your eyes.

"Jey, please." You pleaded, your voice soft and filled with emotion as you reached out to gently touch his arm, hoping to reassure him of your love and support, and he flinched away from your touch, his eyes filled with sadness and regret as he turned away from you, unable to bear the weight of his guilt any longer.

"I can't, Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper as he struggled to contain his emotions. "I can't let you keep sacrificing yourself for me. I can't keep watching you put yourself in harm's way just to prove a point or to protect me. I have to do this, for both of us."

You felt a lump form in your throat at Jey's words, a sense of sadness washing over you as you realized the depth of his sacrifice, the lengths he was willing to go to in order to protect you and keep you safe. "Jey, please," you pleaded, your voice trembling with emotion as you reached out to him, desperate to make him understand. "I can't lose you too."

Jey's eyes turned glassy, but he refused to shed a tear, his expression a mix of pain and determination as he met your gaze, and the longer your heart writhed in pain. "How do you think I feel, Y/N?" he whispered, his voice filled with anguish as he took a step back, his eyes clouded with tears as he struggled to contain his emotions. "How do you think it feels to watch you put yourself in danger, to see you risk your life for me? I can't bear the thought of losing you, Y/N. I can't."

You felt your heart break at Jey's words, the weight of his pain and guilt crashing down on you like a tidal wave. "Jey… I'm sorry that I put you in this position," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion as you reached out to gently touch his arm, hoping to offer him some small measure of comfort. "I never meant to hurt you, or put you in the middle, Jey. I never meant for any of this to happen."

"Then stop, Y/N. Stop putting yourself in danger for me. Stop sacrificing yourself for my sake. I can't bear to see you hurt, Y/N. I can't." Jey's voice was soft, filled with pain and confusion as he pleaded with you, his eyes pleading for you to understand, to see reason, to stop endangering yourself for his sake.

"You already got a championship, do you really need to risk your life anymore? Can't you just let it go? "

'I can't let you get hurt, otherwise Roman will do to you what he did to me' Jey thought, his heart aching with the weight of his guilt and regret. "Please, Y/N. Please."

You blinked back tears at Jey's words, the depth of his pain and anguish cutting through you like a knife.

" I'm sorry, Jey," you whispered, your voice filled with remorse as you reached out to gently touch his cheek, hoping to convey the depth of your love and regret through your touch. "But I can't stop when I'm so close to getting justice for what Roman did to you. I can't just let it go, Jey. Not when he's still out there, still causing harm to people I care about. I have to do this, Jey. For you, for me, for everyone he's hurt."

Jey's eyes softened at your words, a flicker of understanding crossing his features, and he looked like he wanted to get something off his chest that had been locked in his heart for far too long, but instead he remained silent, his emotions roiling beneath the surface.

"I need my best friend back, Jey." You pleaded, your voice filled with longing and sadness as you gazed into Jey's eyes, hoping to convey the depth of your emotions through your words. "This Tribal Chief bullshit is getting to Romans head, and he's not the same person he used to be. He's lost sight of who he is, of what's really important, and I can't stand by and watch him self-destruct like this. I have to make him see reason, Jey. I have to make him understand the consequences of his actions, of the pain and suffering he's causing to everyone around him. I can't just let him get away with it, Jey. I can't."

Jey's eyes turned icy, his expression unreadable as he listened to your words, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions. "You can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped, Y/N," he replied, his voice low and filled with resignation as he met your gaze, his eyes filled with sadness and regret. "Roman's made his choices, and he's not gonna change just because you ask him to. You can't save him, Y/N. You can't fix him. And you can't sacrifice yourself trying to."

You felt a pang of guilt at Jey's words, the weight of his pain and sadness pressing down on you like a heavy burden. At the sight of your teary eyes, Jey sighed and inched closer to you, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle embrace. "Shh, I know baby. Please don't cry."

You wrapped your arms tightly around Jey, clinging to him for support as you buried your face in his chest, the tears streaming down your cheeks as you let out a choked sob. "I just want things to go back to the way they used to be, Jey," you whispered, your voice muffled by his shirt as you allowed yourself to release all of the pent-up emotions that had been weighing on your heart. "I want my best friend back. I want Roman to see reason. I want us to be happy again."

Jey held you close, his arms wrapped around you like a protective shield as he gently stroked your hair, murmuring soothing words of comfort and reassurance as he tried to calm your racing heart. "I know, baby. I know," he whispered, his voice filled with empathy and understanding as he pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head. "I got you. Always."

He maneuvered you to sit on top of him as he leaned back against the headboard of the bed, cradling you in his arms as he held you close, his heart aching with the weight of your pain and longing. He whispered sweet nothings to you as your tears slowly subsided and your eyes turned heavy with the need for sleep.

Jey's arms tightened around you, his touch a comforting presence as you drifted off into a troubled sleep, your dreams filled with visions of the past, of happier times, of a future filled with uncertainty and hope.

As you slept, Jey stayed by your side, his gaze never leaving your face as he watched over you with a mixture of love and concern. His mind went back to his meeting with Roman, and the weight of their conversation weighed heavily on his mind.

"Jey, we both know she won't stop until she tears us apart." Roman had told Jey during their meeting, his face filled with a mixture of anger and concern. "She's stubborn, Jey. She's determined. And she's not going to give up until she gets what she wants.So I need to stop her from beating Auska, and you're not gonna stop me making sure that happens."

"Hold up." Jey interrupted, his expression filled with confusion and disbelief as he turned to Roman. "You want me to know you boutta sabotage her match? You want me to go against my own girlfriend, my own family, just to keep her from getting another shot at your title? Are you out of your damn mind, Roman?"

Roman's expression hardened at Jey's defiance, his gaze narrowing as he took a step towards him. "I'm not asking you to go against her, Jey," he replied, his voice low and measured. "I'm asking you to do what's best for both of you, for the Bloodline. And if that means stopping her from getting another shot at my title, then so be it. You know she can't beat me, Jey. She's not ready, she's not prepared, and she's not strong enough to take me on. So why would you want to put her in harm's way, to risk her safety and well-being for the sake of a foolish vendetta against me?"

Jey clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with frustration at Roman's manipulative words. He knew that Roman was trying to play on his fears and insecurities, to make him doubt his own judgment and loyalties. But deep down, Jey knew that he couldn't betray you, not after everything you had been through together. You were his rock, his anchor, his everything, and he couldn't bear the thought of turning his back on you, of betraying your trust and love.

"This is between the two of you." Jey finally spoke, his voice firm and resolute as he met Roman's gaze head-on. "I can't choose sides, Roman. I won't. Y/N is my girlfriend, my partner, my family. And I'll do whatever it takes to support her, to stand by her, to protect her. Even if it means going against you."

Roman's face hardened, and he took a step closer to Jey, the tension in the air palpable as the two cousins faced off against each other. "I heard Jimmy's coming back tonight." At the mention of his twin, Roman took a step closer to Jey, the tension in the air palpable as the two cousins faced off against each other.

"Yeah, he is." Jey replied, his voice tinged with caution, excitement and anticipation.

"Would be a shame if Jimmy got caught up in all of this, wouldn't it?" Roman's voice was calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it, a silent threat lurking beneath the surface.

Jey's eyes narrowed, his muscles tensing as he stared back at Roman. "You wouldn't dare," he growled, his voice low and menacing.

Roman's lips curled into a cold smile. "Try me," he replied, his voice dripping with confidence. "We both know that if I hurt poor Jimmy, that would only add fuel to the fire. Naomi would be distraught , Y/N would blame herself, and their relationship would be irreparably damaged. Are you willing to risk all that, Jey? Think about what's truly important to you. Is it your loyalty to your family, or is it protecting the ones you love?"

Jey's heart clenched as he gritted his teeth, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. If he continued to defy Roman, he risked not only his own safety but also the safety and well-being of his loved ones. But if he betrayed you, he would lose the trust and respect of the person who meant everything to him.

"That's what I thought." Roman's voice was smug as he turned away from Jey, confident that he had gotten his message across. "You know what you have to do, Jey. Make the right choice."

His phone dinging brought Jey out of his thoughts, and he gently reached over to check the notification, his heart sinking at the sight of the message from Roman. "Did you convince her to drop the title match?"

That was their ultamatium. Make Y/N drop the match, or else Jimmy would pay the price. Jey's heart raced with fear and uncertainty as he read Roman's message, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions. Either you get hurt or Jimmy gets hurt. It was an impossible choice, a decision that tore at Jey's heart as he struggled to find a way to protect both you and his family. but he would rather hurt you emotionally then see his brother pay the price for his defiance.

"She's on the fence about dropping the match," Jey replied, his fingers trembling as he typed out the words, his heart heavy with guilt and regret. "But I'll try to talk her out of it."

A sense of unease settled over Jey as he hit send, knowing that he was betraying your trust and love in order to protect his family. But deep down, he knew that he couldn't risk Jimmy's safety, couldn't bear the thought of his brother getting caught in the crossfire of his feud with Roman.

A ding interrupted his thoughts, and Jey's heart sank as he read Roman's response. "If that doesn't convince her, then you know who pays the price." Jey's hands shook as he stared at the message, the weight of Roman's threat pressing down on him like a heavy burden. He knew that he had to do something, had to find a way to protect both you and Jimmy from Roman's wrath.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion as he gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his heart breaking at the thought of what he had to do next. "I can't let anything happen to you, to Jimmy. I have to find a way to protect you both, no matter what it takes."

Jey knew that he couldn't let Roman's threats become a reality, and even if he had to betray your trust and love to make sure they don't come true, he was willing to do whatever it took to keep you safe.

FRIDAY NIGHT SMACKDOWN

incoming text from Naomi<3: girl, somethings up with our men.

outgoing text to Naomi<3: what do you mean?

incoming text from Naomi<3: Jimmy just left the house without saying anything, and Jey's been acting all weird and distant lately. I'm worried, Y/N. Something's not right.

outgoing text to Naomi<3: was jimmy acting normal before he left?

incoming text from Naomi<3: No, he seemed tense and on edge. And when I asked him where he was going, he just brushed me off and said he had some business to take care of.

outgoing text to Naomi<3: That's strange. Jey's been acting the same way lately. I think Roman is involved somehow. I think I know what's up. Talk to you after my interview. Love you.

incoming text from Naomi<3: kay boo, love you too <3

You turned off your phone as you shifted in your chair nervously, a tech telling you your interview segment with Roman would start in a few minutes. Your mind raced with thoughts of what could be happening. Jey had been acting strangely, and now Jimmy was mysteriously leaving the house without explanation. It all seemed too coincidental to ignore, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong, and you seemed to know what it was.

"I'm Michael Cole, and welcome back to Friday Night Smackdown! I'm here with the Tribal Chief himself, Roman Reigns, and the Smackdown Women's Champion, Y/N, for an exclusive interview. Roman, Y/N, thank you for joining us tonight."

"Thank you for having us, Michael," Roman replied, his expression cool and composed as he settled into his seat, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You're welcome, Michael," you echoed, your voice steady despite the turmoil swirling inside you as you met Roman's gaze head-on, determined not to show any signs of weakness or fear.

"Now, let's get straight to the point. The 2 of you used to be best friends, the unstoppable duo of the WWE, now it seems like all of that is just a distant memory. Fights, clashes, and tension have been brewing between you two for weeks now. Roman, can you shed some light on what caused this rift between you and Y/N?"

Roman's gaze remained steady as he spoke, his words measured and deliberate. "This 'rift' was caused when I reminded Y/N of her place, and I did that at Hell in a Cell when I tapped her out. She just can't accept that while I see her as an equal, she is not on my level. She can't handle that I have the power that she has always yelieded, and she can't handle that I have the power now. You lost your title, and I had to punish you for your disobedience, and that's when you started to turn against me."

You clenched your jaw at Roman's words, fighting to keep your emotions in check as you listened to his manipulative rhetoric. "You know what Roman? You are right. I was foolish in thinking that I was exempt from your tyranny. I was foolish in thinking that you were still the same person I used to call my friend. But you're not, Roman. You've changed. You've let the power go to your head, and now you're just a shadow of the person you used to be.

You leaned forward in your seat, your eyes blazing with determination as you faced off against Roman, refusing to back down in the face of his intimidation tactics "But don't you dare forget that I was the person that helped create the Roman Reigns that everyone fears today. I was the one who stood by your side, who fought alongside you, who believed in you when no one else did. I was the one that built this monster that you've become, and now it's time for me to tear it down."

Roman tried to remain impassive, but you could see the hurt that your words inflicted, the flicker of doubt and insecurity that crossed his features before he quickly masked it with a facade of arrogance and superiority. "And don't you dare forget that you, Y/N, are the monster that helped me become the Tribal Chief," he retorted, his voice dripping with venom as he leaned forward, his eyes flashing with anger.

"You were the one who egged me on, who pushed me to embrace my destiny, who encouraged me to seize power at any cost. So don't try to play the victim now, Y/N. You knew what you were getting yourself into when you chose to align yourself with me, when you chose to stand by my side as my equal. You are a manipulative, calculating, and selfish person who will do anything to get what she wants, even if it means sacrificing the ones she claims to care about."

"That's rich coming from the person who's willing to manipulate and threaten his own family just to maintain control," you shot back, your voice dripping with contempt as you stared down Roman, refusing to be intimidated by his attempts to gaslight you.

"Oh really?" Roman leaned back in his chair, his expression filled with smug satisfaction as he met your gaze head-on. "And how many women in that locker room have you thrown under the bus to get to the top? How many friendships have you betrayed, how many promises have you broken, how many lives have you ruined just to satisfy your own selfish desires? Why do you think no one trusts you, Y/N? Why do you think you're all alone in this world, with no one to stand by your side? It's because you've burned every bridge, alienated every ally, and betrayed every friend you've ever had."

Your eyes turned steely as Roman continued his tirade, his words cutting through you like a knife as he struck at the heart of your insecurities and fears. The worst part was that he was right. You had made mistakes, you had hurt people, you had let your ambition and thirst for power cloud your judgment and lead you down a dark path. You were a monster that had created your own downfall, and now you were paying the price for your sins.

"And now here you are, acting like you haven't done anything wrong, like you're the victim in all of this," Roman continued, his voice filled with disdain as he stared you down, his gaze piercing through your defenses with a brutal honesty that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

"Well, let me tell you something, Y/N. You're not the victim here. You're the villain. You're the one who's been pulling the strings, manipulating everyone around you to get what you want. And now you're paying the price for your actions, for your betrayal, for your selfishness.

And you know what? You deserve it. You deserve to suffer, to feel the pain and anguish that you've inflicted on others. You deserve to be alone, to be abandoned, to be hated by everyone you've ever cared about. Because that's what happens when you cross the Tribal Chief. That's what happens when you dare to defy me. But you can end this cycle of pain and destruction, Y/N. You can stop fighting against me and embrace your destiny as my right hand women, and come back to your best friend!"

Roman concluded, his voice softening slightly, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and pity. "All you have to do is drop the title match, and everything will go back to the way it used to be. You'll be safe, you'll be protected, and you'll have everything you've ever wanted. So what do you say, Y/N? Are you ready to stop fighting against me and start fighting alongside me? Are you ready to accept your rightful place by my side as my equal, my partner, my family?"

As you listened to Roman's words, a whirlwind of emotions swept through you. His accusations stung, hitting painfully close to home, but a part of you couldn't help but wonder if there was a grain of truth to them. Had you really become the villain in this story?

Had your thirst for revenge blinded you to the consequences of your actions? And was it worth sacrificing everything, including your relationships with those you loved, just to satisfy your own desires for justice?

"Y/N," Michael Cole's voice interrupted your thoughts, bringing you back to reality as he turned to you expectantly, his gaze filled with curiosity and anticipation. "What's your response to Roman's offer? Will you drop the title match and reconcile with him and bring your title to the Bloodline, or will you continue to fight against him and risk losing everything?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come as you met Roman's gaze head-on, your eyes blazing with determination. "You call me a monster, but I'm not the one threatening Jimmy to get Jey to betray me."

At your words, Roman's facade of confidence faltered, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features before he quickly regained his composure, his expression turning cold and impassive once again.

"Jey, you can come to me right now, I know you're watching, I won't be mad, I just want you to come to me." You looked straight into the camera, your voice breaking slightly with emotion as you addressed your boyfriend, hoping that he would hear your plea and make the right choice.

Roman's face turned from uncertain to smug as he realized he still held the upper hand. "I almost forgot how smart you are, Y/N. That's why you are my best friend and my partner, and I know you'll make the right choice." He said, his voice dripping with confidence as he leaned back in his chair.

"Jey, you can come out now." Roman instructed, and you scoffed as the camera panned on Roman's face, his smirk widening as Jey made his way from the corner of the room, stepping into view with a conflicted expression on his face.

Your heart sank as you watched Jey approach, his eyes filled with guilt and shame as he avoided your gaze, unable to meet your eyes. "Why are you putting him in the middle of this, Roman?" you demanded, your voice trembling with anger and betrayal as you turned to face Roman, your eyes flashing with fury. "He has nothing to do with our feud, nothing to do with our rivalry!"

Roman's smirk only widened at your outburst, his eyes gleaming with triumph as he leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped together in front of him. "Because, Y/N, Jey is family," he replied, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "And you said if you beat me, you would take Jey away from the bloodline, and you are not going to do that. So I had to remind him of where his loyalties lie, of what's truly important. And it seems like he's made the right choice, hasn't he, Jey?"

You felt a knot form in your stomach at Roman's words, the weight of his manipulation and coercion pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. You had hoped that Jey would stand by your side, that he would refuse to be swayed by Roman's threats and intimidation tactics. But now, as you watched him approach with a heavy heart, you couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal and disappointment wash over you.

Jey's jaw clenched as he stood before you, torn between his loyalty to you and his fear of Roman's retribution. "I'm sorry, Y/N," he murmured, his voice barely audible as he met your gaze, his eyes filled with guilt and shame. "I can't let anything happen to Jimmy. I have to protect him, no matter what it takes."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you watched Jey turn away from you, his shoulders slumped with defeat as he joined Roman's side, his betrayal cutting you to the core. "Jey, don't do this." you whispered, your voice choked with emotion as you struggled to come to terms with the harsh reality of his choice.

"If you hurt Jimmy, I'll never forgive you," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper as you turned away Jey, and your eyes were pleading with him to see reason, to stand up against Roman and protect his brother.

"No, Naomi will never forgive you if you continue to defy the Tribal Chief," Roman interjected, his voice cold and menacing as he fixed you with a steely gaze. "And I'll make sure she knows exactly who to blame if anything happens to poor Jimmy."

You clenched your title belt tightly, your knuckles turning white as you fought to hold back tears of frustration and despair. You had never felt so powerless, so alone, so utterly defeated in your entire life.

"You just proved my point. You are the most manipulative and selfish person I have ever known, Roman," you spat, your voice filled with contempt as you glared at him, refusing to let him see the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. "And if you think that using the person I love against me will make me give in to your demands, then you don't know me at all."

Roman leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable as he watched you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "Is that so, Y/N?" he replied, his voice calm and composed despite the tension crackling in the air between you. "Well, I guess we'll just have to see how long you can hold out against me, won't we? Because I'm not going to stop until you drop that title match and come back to the Bloodline where you belong."

He turned to Jey, who was standing by his side, his expression conflicted as he avoided your gaze. "Jey, what do you think? Do you think Y/N will come to her senses and do what's best for the Bloodline, or is she too stubborn and selfish to see reason?"

Jey hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting between you and Roman as he wrestled with his conflicting loyalties. "I don't know, Roman," he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "But I hope she does. For her own sake."

'Please don't make the same mistake I made, I'm begging you.' Jey thought.

Roman's lips curled into a cold smile as he turned back to you, his gaze filled with a predatory gleam. "Well, Y/N, the choice is yours," he said, his voice dripping with malice as he leaned forward, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "You can either drop the title match and come back to the Bloodline, or you can continue to defy me and suffer the consequences. The clock is ticking, Y/N. Next week there will be a Tribal Meeting, and you make your decision there. Choose wisely."

With those ominous words hanging in the air, Roman stood up from his chair, a smug smirk playing on his lips as he turned away from you, confident in his control over the situation. You watched helplessly as he left the interview area, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the weight of his ultimatum pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

You thought Jey would be by your side, that he would stand up against Roman's manipulation and coercion. But as you watched him walk away with Roman, a sense of betrayal and abandonment washed over you, leaving you feeling more alone and vulnerable than ever before.

You'd be lying to yourself if you said there wasn't a part of you that knew that eventually Roman's manipulation would wear down Jey's resistance, but you had hoped that he would have the strength to resist Roman's influence, to stand by your side no matter what. Now, as you watched him walk away with Roman, you couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal and heartbreak wash over you.

But amidst the pain and despair, a spark of defiance ignited within you, a stubborn refusal to bow down to Roman's tyranny, to sacrifice your principles and integrity for the sake of power and control. You knew that dropping the title match would only be the beginning, that Roman would continue to manipulate and coerce you into submission, until you were nothing more than the shell of the person you used to be. And you refused to let that happen.

Jimmy… you had to find jimmy.

You wiped the tears coming from your face as you stood up and walked through the hallway, your steps heavy with determination as you made your way to find Jimmy. You had to find what made Roman tick, and you had to make sure Jimmy was safe, to protect him from whatever danger Roman had threatened him with.

Finally, you found Jimmy about to leave the building, his expression tense and worried as he glanced around nervously. "Jimmy!" you called out, relief flooding through you as you rushed towards him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Where are you going? What's going on?"

Jimmy turned to face you, his eyes widening in surprise as he took in your disheveled appearance, your eyes red and puffy from crying. "Y/N, I can't be seen with you right now," he replied, his voice hushed and urgent as he glanced around nervously. "It's not safe for either of us."

"What do you mean it's not safe?" you demanded, your voice rising with concern as you reached out to grab Jimmy's arm, stopping him from leaving. "What did Roman do? What did he threaten you with?"

Jimmy hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering with uncertainty as he struggled to find the right words. "It's… it's complicated, Y/N," he finally replied, his voice tinged with regret as he met your gaze. "But you need to trust me when I say that you're in danger. Roman's not playing around, and if you don't do what he wants, then…"

His words trailed off, but you didn't need him to finish the sentence. The threat was clear, hanging in the air between you like a dark cloud. Roman would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, to maintain his control over the Bloodline, even if it meant resorting to violence and coercion.

"Naomi's worried sick about me," Jimmy continued, his voice heavy with guilt as he avoided your gaze, unable to meet your eyes. "She's afraid that something's happened to me, that I've gotten caught up in all of this mess between you and Roman. And I can't bear to see her hurting like this, Y/N. I can't bear to see her worrying about me, wondering if I'm safe, if I'm okay."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to Jimmy's words, the weight of his love and concern for Naomi pressing down on you like a heavy burden. You knew that you couldn't let Roman's threats tear apart the people you cared about, couldn't let his manipulation and coercion destroy everything you had fought so hard to build.

"I'm sorry, Jimmy," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion as you reached out to hug him tightly, holding onto him as if your life depended on it. ""I'm sorry that you got caught up in all of this, that you have to suffer because of my feud with Roman. But I promise you, I won't let anything happen to you or Naomi, or to Jey. I'll do whatever it takes to protect everyone, no matter the cost."

At the mention of his twin, Jimmy pulled back from the embrace, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of gratitude and concern. "Y/N, I'm sorry bout Jey," he said, his voice tinged with regret as he met your gaze. "He doesn't mean anything that he's doing, he's just trying to protect us, to keep us safe from whatever Roman has planned. But I know that deep down, he still loves you, still cares about you, still wants what's best for you. Roman said…" Jimmy trailed off, his words catching in his throat as he hesitated, unsure of whether he should reveal Roman's ultimatum to you. But seeing the determination and resolve in your eyes, he knew that he couldn't keep it a secret any longer.

"Roman said that if Jey didn't convince you to drop the title match, then he would hurt me," Jimmy admitted, his voice trembling with fear and uncertainty as he met your gaze, his eyes filled with guilt and shame. "He said that if you didn't comply with his demands, then he would make me pay the price, that he would hurt me to punish Jey for his defiance. That Naomi would get hurt in the process, that I would be the one to blame for everything that happened. And I couldn't let that happen, Y/N. I couldn't let Roman hurt you or Naomi or anyone else because of me."

Your heart clenched at Jimmy's words, the weight of Roman's threats pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. You couldn't believe that Roman would stoop so low, would resort to using violence and coercion to get what he wanted. But deep down, you knew that there was nothing he wouldn't do to maintain his control over the Bloodline, to keep you under his thumb.

"Jimmy, listen to me." your voice firm and resolute as you met his gaze, your eyes blazing with determination. "This isn't your fault. I won't let any of you get hurt because of me. Go home to Naomi, and tell her that everything will be okay, because everything will be okay. I'll find a way to handle Roman, to protect you both from whatever he has planned. But for now, I need you to trust me, to believe that I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Can you do that for me?"

Jimmys face was conflicted as he listened to your words, torn between his love and concern for you and his fear of Roman's retribution. "I trust you, Y/N," he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he reached out to squeeze your hand tightly, his eyes filled with gratitude and relief. "I trust that you'll find a way to handle Roman, to protect us from whatever he has planned. But please, be careful. I don't want anything to happen to you because of me."

You nodded, a sense of determination settling over you as you met Jimmy's gaze, your eyes filled with resolve. "I'll be careful, Jimmy," you promised, your voice steady despite the fear and uncertainty swirling inside you.

A loud clank interrupted your conversation, making Jimmy nervously glance around and realize that at any moment , someone might discover the two of you talking. "I gotta go, Y/N," he said hurriedly, his expression tense with worry as he pulled away from you, his eyes scanning the hallway for any signs of danger. "But please understand that Jey cares about you, that' shy he's doing this, to protect you. He just doesn't know how to handle the situation right now. But I know he'll come around eventually, he just needs time to figure things out."

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips as you reached out to squeeze Jimmy's hand one last time. "Thank you, Jimmy," you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude and affection. "You're a good man, Jimmy Uso, and don't you ever forget that."

With those final words, you watched as Jimmy disappeared into the crowd, his figure fading into the distance as he made his way towards the exit. And as you stood there alone in the hallway, a sense of determination settled over you, a stubborn refusal to let Roman's threats and manipulation tear apart the people you cared about.

You just wished that Jey could see through Roman's lies and manipulation, that he could find the strength to stand up against him and protect you and his family. But for now, all you could do was wait and hope that he would come to his senses, that he would realize the true cost of betraying you for the sake of Roman's control.

And you knew just what move you needed to play.

"Yo uce, you need to chill out." At Jimmy's words, Jey whipped his head to him and glared at his brother, his frustration and anger bubbling to the surface.

"Chill out? You expect me to chill out when Roman is threatening to hurt you if I don't do what he wants?" Jey exclaimed, his voice laced with disbelief and desperation. "When my girl hates me because she thinks I'm betraying her for the sake of Roman's control?"

Loud music thumped in the background at the party both twins were attending, the bass vibrating through the air as people danced and laughed around them, oblivious to the turmoil brewing between the two brothers. Roman had organized a party that served as a facade, a way to keep up appearances and distract everyone from the tension and conflict within the Bloodline.

Lavish decorations adorned the room, extravagant drinks flowed freely, and the atmosphere was filled with laughter and revelry. Wrestlers and celebrities that the Tribal Chief had invited mingled with the guests, creating a facade of camaraderie and unity that belied the underlying tensions simmering beneath the surface.

"She doesn't hate you, Jey," Jimmy replied, his voice calm and steady as he placed a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder. "She's just confused and hurt right now. She doesn't understand why you're doing this, why you're letting Roman manipulate you like this. But deep down, she knows that you love her, that you would never intentionally betray her trust."

Jey shook his head, his jaw clenched with frustration as he turned away from his brother, unable to meet his gaze. "It doesn't matter what she knows or doesn't know," he muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness.

He snatched a drink from the nearby table and took a long swig, the alcohol burning his throat as he tried to drown out his feelings of guilt and shame. "What matters is that I'm a fucking pussy that can't stand up to Roman, and she probably thinks I'm spineless for going along with his bullshit."

Jimmy sighed, his expression filled with sympathy as he watched his brother struggle with his inner turmoil. "You're not a pussy, Jey," he said firmly, his voice tinged with frustration. "You're just caught in a difficult situation, one that none of us saw coming. Roman has a way of twisting things, of manipulating people into doing what he wants, and you're just trying to protect us from whatever he has planned."

Jey scoffed, his bitterness and self-loathing bubbling to the surface as he slammed his drink down on the table. "Yeah, well, look how well that's working out for me," he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I talked to her, and she doesn't hate you," Jimmy continued, ignoring Jey's bitter remark as he pressed on, his voice firm and determined. He watched as Jey downed another drink, his expression clouded with anger and frustration, and he knew that he had to find a way to break through his brother's defenses, to make him see reason before it was too late.

"She's just scared and confused right now, Jey. She doesn't understand why you're letting Roman manipulate you, why you're putting yourself and your relationship with her at risk for the sake of his control. But she still loves you."

Jey's eyes widened at Jimmy's words, a flicker of hope stirring within him as he processed what his brother was saying. "You think she still loves me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he turned to face Jimmy, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and desperation.

Jimmy nodded, his expression filled with reassurance as he met Jey's gaze head-on. "Of course she still loves you, Jey," he replied, his voice soft and gentle as he placed a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder. "You know, she was crying when she thought you were betraying her. That's not the reaction of someone who doesn't care. And you need to try to secretly talk to her, explain everything, and make things right before it's too late."

Jey's heart clenched at Jimmy's words, the weight of his brother's advice pressing down on him like a heavy burden. He knew that he had to find a way to reach out to you, to explain everything and make things right before Roman's manipulation tore you both apart.

"But how am I supposed to do that, Jimmy?" Jey asked, his voice tinged with frustration and uncertainty. "Roman's watching us like a hawk, and if he finds out that I'm trying to secretly talk to Y/N, he'll make good on his threats to hurt you and Naomi."

Something in the corner caught Jimmy's eye, and he gestured subtly to something behind Jey, taking the cup out of his hand. "Looks like we've got company," he said casually, his voice low as he glanced over Jey's shoulder.

Jey turned around to see Roman approaching them, his expression unreadable as he made his way through the crowd towards them.

"Jey, Jimmy," Roman greeted them, his voice cool and composed as he came to a stop in front of them, his eyes flickering with a dangerous gleam. "Having a good time at the party?"

Jey clenched his jaw, his muscles tensing with frustration as he met Roman's gaze head-on. "What do you want, Roman?" he demanded, his voice laced with hostility. He didn't have the patience for Roman's games, not when his relationship with you hung in the balance.

Roman's lips curled into a cold smile, his eyes glinting with amusement as he leaned in closer to Jey, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "I just wanted to make sure that you're still on board with our little arrangement, Jey," he replied, his tone dripping with malice. "Because if you're having second thoughts, then I'm sure Jimmy here wouldn't mind taking your place."

Jey's blood ran cold at Roman's words, his heart pounding in his chest as he realized the true extent of Roman's manipulation and coercion. He glanced at Jimmy, who was watching them with a mixture of apprehension and fear, and he knew that he couldn't let his brother suffer because of his own weakness.

"I'm still in, Roman," Jey replied, his voice firm and resolute despite the fear and uncertainty rippling through him. He couldn't let Roman hurt Jimmy, Naomi, or you, couldn't let his own selfish desires put his family at risk,

Roman's smile widened at Jey's response, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he clapped a hand on Jey's shoulder, his grip firm and commanding. "Good," he said, his voice low and menacing. "I knew I could count on you, Jey. I need you to stick to the plan tonight."

"Tonight?" Jimmy echoed, his brow furrowing with confusion as he glanced between Roman and Jey. "What plan?"

Roman's smirk only widened at Jimmy's question, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he turned to face him, his expression cold and calculating. "Oh, I just invited-"

"Y/N?" Your name fell from Jey's lips like a prayer, his heart sinking as he watched you enter the house, and god did you look beautiful. If you thought Roman was lavish, you were the epitome of elegance and grace, your presence commanding attention as you made your way through the crowd with confidence and poise.

Makeup on point, your dress clinging to your curves in all the right places, your hair styled to perfection. You were a vision, a sight to behold, and Jey couldn't help but feel a surge of longing and desire wash over him as he watched you approach, his heart pounding in his chest with anticipation.

"Y/N," Roman greeted you, his voice smooth and suave as he stepped forward to greet you, his eyes flickering with a dangerous gleam. "So glad you could make it to the party. You look stunning as always."

You nodded politely in response, your gaze flickering over Roman's shoulder to meet Jey's eyes, and the tension crackling in the air between you was palpable.

There was so much left unsaid between you, so many unresolved feelings and emotions swirling beneath the surface, and Jey couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt and regret as he met your gaze, his heart aching with the knowledge that he was the reason for the pain on your face.

"I'm glad you invited me. I almost thought you had forgotten about me," you replied, your voice cool and composed despite the turmoil swirling inside you. You forced a smile onto your lips, refusing to let Roman see how much his presence affected you, how much his manipulation and coercion had torn you apart. "But it seems like I'm just in time for the party."

Roman smiled at you, his teeth glinting in the dim light as he gestured towards the crowd of guests milling around them. "Of course not, Y/N," he replied smoothly, his voice dripping with charm and charisma. "I figured tonight I could show you what true family looks like, how we celebrate our victories together, as one cohesive unit. And what better way to do that than with a party, right?"

You raised an eyebrow at Roman's words, the sarcasm evident in your tone as you glanced around the room, taking in the extravagant decorations and lavish spread of food and drinks. "Ah yes, because nothing says 'family' like a room full of people you've threatened and manipulated into doing your bidding," you remarked dryly, your voice laced with contempt.

Roman's smile faltered slightly at your words, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features before he quickly masked it with a facade of indifference. "Come on, Y/N," he said, his tone light and casual as he tried to lead you to a quieter corner of the room, away from prying eyes and listening ears. "Let's not ruin the party with talk of business and politics. Tonight is about celebration, about unity, about family."

But you didn't let him pull you away from the main gathering, keeping your feet planted firmly in place as you met Roman's gaze head-on, your eyes blazing with defiance.

"You're right, let's not ruin this party. I brought a plus one, by the way," you interrupted, your voice firm and resolute as you gestured towards Jey, who was watching the exchange with a mixture of apprehension and concern, the tension between the two of you thick enough to cut with a knife. "I hope you don't mind, but I thought it would be nice for him to see what true family looks like, to experience the unity and celebration that you speak of."

You turned back to Roman with a look in your eye that meant you were planning something he couldn't anticipate, a sense of determination burning brightly within you as you stood your ground against him.

Roman's smile faltered at your words. "Of course not, Y/N," he replied smoothly, his voice tinged with annoyance as he turned back to face you, his expression carefully neutral. "Everyone is welcome at the party, especially family."

"Good." You nodded in response, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips as you watched Roman struggle to maintain his composure in the face of your defiance. You turned towards the door, and when you saw him, a smile lit up on your face. "Cause he's here right now."

"He?!" Jey whispered under his breath at the mention of another guy, his curiosity piqued as he glanced around the room, trying to spot the person you were referring to. His heart skipped a beat when he saw who it was, his eyes widening in surprise and disbelief as he took in their presence, standing at the entrance of the room with a confident smirk on their face.

"Seth!" You exclaimed, your voice filled with excitement and surprise as you rushed over to greet him, your steps quickening with anticipation. Jey's heart sank at the sight of Seth Rollins, his worst nightmare come to life as he watched you approach the man with a smile on your face, completely unaware of the turmoil raging inside him.

"Seth!" you called out again, your voice echoing through the room as you reached his side, your eyes bright with excitement as you wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace. "I can't believe you made it to the party! It's been too long since we last saw each other."

Roman's expression turned angry at the sight of one of his biggest enemies, the man who stabbed him in the back and betrayed him numerous times in the past. "What is he doing here?" he growled, his voice low and menacing as he watched you and Seth interact with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "I thought I made it clear that he's not welcome in our family."

But you ignored Roman's question, too caught up in the excitement of seeing Seth after so long. "I missed you, Seth," you said, your voice filled with genuine affection as you pulled back from the embrace, a wide smile on your lips. "I'm glad you could make it to the party. You have no idea how much I needed a familiar face tonight."

Seth returned your smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he glanced around the room, taking in the extravagant decorations and lively atmosphere. "Well, I couldn't pass up the chance to see my favorite person," he replied, his voice smooth and charming as he flashed you a playful grin. "Plus, I heard there was going to be free drinks and good company, so how could I resist?"

"You could resist because you weren't invited." Roman's voice cut through the conversation like a knife, his tone cold and menacing as he stepped forward to confront Seth, his eyes flashing with anger and hostility. "So you could leave right now and take your ugly outfit with you"

Seth's smirk widened at Roman's words, his expression unbothered as he met Roman's gaze head-on. "Ah, but where's the fun in that, Roman?" he replied casually, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I thought we were past all the animosity and hostility, that we could bury the hatchet and move on from our past grievances. After all, isn't that what brothers do, right? They forgive and forget, right?"

Roman's jaw clenched with anger at Seth's words, his fists tightening at his sides as he struggled to maintain his composure in the face of Seth's provocation, but before he could advance, you stepped forward, placing yourself between Roman and Seth, your eyes blazing with determination as you met Roman's gaze head-on.

"Let's not ruin the party with talk of business and politics. Tonight is about celebration, about unity, about family." You threw Roman's words back in his face, your voice firm and resolute as you stared him down, a manipulative smirk on your lips.

"Everyone is looking at you, Roman. Everyone is watching to see how you handle this situation, how you react to Seth's presence. And if you make a scene, if you let your anger and hostility get the best of you, then what does that say about you as a leader, as a Tribal Chief? What does that say about your control over the Bloodline, your ability to keep your family in line?"

Roman's expression hardened at your words, his gaze narrowing as he took a step closer to you, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. "Fine. Make yourself at home, traitor."

Seth's smirk only widened at Roman's threat, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he met Roman's gaze head-on, unafraid of the Tribal Chief's anger and hostility. "You know, Roman, for someone who claims to be all about family and unity, you sure do have a funny way of showing it," he replied casually, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "But hey, who am I to judge? After all, I'm just a guest at your little party."

With that, Seth turned away from Roman, his attention shifting back to you as he flashed you a charming grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "So, Y/N, how about we grab a drink and catch up? I'm sure there's a lot we have to talk about."

You returned Seth's grin with a smile of your own, your heart pounding in your chest with excitement and anticipation. "I'd love that, Seth," you replied, your voice filled with genuine affection as you linked your arm with his, allowing him to lead you away from the tense confrontation with Roman. "Let's go find a quiet corner and chat."

You passed by Jey, your eyes locking with his for a moment, and you could see the turmoil and conflict raging inside him, and wished that he was the one you were walking away with, that he was the one you were sharing this moment of reunion and companionship with.

But you knew that right now, he was still caught up in Roman's web of manipulation and coercion, unable to break free from the hold that his cousin had over him. And until he found the strength to stand up against Roman and choose you over his loyalty to the Bloodline, you had to focus on your plan and bringing him to you yourself instead of allowing Roman to continue controlling him.

"You're a really good actress." Seth commented as he led you away from the tense confrontation with Roman, his voice low and conspiratorial as he glanced over his shoulder to make sure that Roman wasn't following you. "I almost believed that you were glad to see me."

You chuckled softly at Seth's words, the tension slowly melting away as you allowed yourself to relax in his presence, grateful for the distraction from the chaos and conflict swirling around you. How did you and Seth get aquatinted, you might ask? Becky Lynch is the answer to that.

When Roman said you had no allies, something inside of you snapped, and you realized that instead of being a bitch and pushing away any allies in the women's locker room in favor of opportunities, you could actually start forming connections and alliances that could help you in the long run so you could forge your own path to success.

"I know you don't like me." You bluntly told her as you walked into the locker room, your tone firm and resolute as you met Becky's gaze head-on. "And honestly, I don't blame you. I've been a real bitch in the past, but if you want to get a head start in the line for my title, I would start listening to me right now."

Becky raised an eyebrow at your boldness, her expression unreadable as she studied you for a moment before responding. "You're right, I don't like you," she admitted bluntly, her voice tinged with skepticism. "But I can respect someone who knows what they want and isn't afraid to go after it. So, what's the catch? Why are you suddenly willing to play nice?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, a coy smile playing on your lips as you leaned against the locker next to hers, your eyes gleaming with mischief. "I'll give you a title shot."

Becky's eyebrows shot up in surprise at your offer, her skepticism giving way to curiosity as she considered your proposition. "A title shot, huh?" she echoed, her voice laced with intrigue. "And what's in it for you? Why would you be willing to give me a title shot out of the blue?"

You smirked at Becky's question, your mind already spinning with possibilities as you considered the potential benefits of forming an alliance with her.

"Because I need to get into Roman's head, and considering Seth is your husband, I figured you could help me with that." You replied casually, your voice filled with confidence as you met Becky's gaze head-on. "I need him to hang out with me when my plan starts, and I want your permission since he's your man, and I know how I'd feel if a random women started spending time with my husband without my knowledge or consent."

Becky regarded you with a mixture of skepticism and amusement, her lips curling into a wry smile as she crossed her arms over her chest. "You're not as dumb as you look," she remarked, her tone teasing as she gave you a once-over. "But why should I trust you? What's to stop you from double-crossing me and using Seth against me?"

You held Becky's gaze steadily, your expression serious as you made your intentions clear. "Because I'm not interested in playing games, Becky," you replied firmly, your voice tinged with sincerity. "I need your help, and I'm willing to offer you something in return. If you agree to work with me, to help me get inside Roman's head and figure out his plans, then I'll give you a fair shot at my title. No strings attached, no hidden agendas. Just a mutually beneficial arrangement between two women who have a common enemy."

Becky studied you for a moment, her gaze searching yours for any sign of deception or ulterior motives. Finally, she nodded in agreement, a small smile playing on her lips as she extended her hand towards you. "Alright, you've got yourself a deal," she said, her voice filled with determination.

And that is what brought you to where you were now, Seth's arm around your shoulder (platonically, but Jey didn't know that) as e led you away from the tense confrontation with Roman, his voice low and conspiratorial as you chuckled softly at his comment.

"Thanks, Seth," you replied, your voice filled with genuine appreciation as you leaned into his side, allowing yourself to relax in his presence. "You aren't too bad yourself."

Seth chuckled softly at your response, his arm tightening around your shoulder as he led you to get drinks, the lights of the party casting a soft glow over the room as the music thumped in the background.

"Well, I aim to please," he replied, his tone playful as he glanced down at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Becky told me that she made a deal with you to get a title shot in exchange for helping you with Roman. That's some pretty impressive maneuvering, Y/N. Looks like you're not as helpless as Roman thinks you are."

You smirked at Seth's words, a sense of satisfaction swelling within you as you realized just how far you had come since you first entered the wrestling world. "Your wife is pretty smart herself," you replied, your voice tinged with amusement. "And she knows a good opportunity when she sees one. You picked a good one, Seth. You're lucky to have her."

Seth chuckled softly at your words, his gaze warm and affectionate as he met your eyes. "Yeah, I know," he replied, his voice tinged with pride. "I'm a lucky guy. But enough about us. Let's focus on you and Roman. What's your plan?"

You glanced around the room, making sure that no one was eavesdropping on your conversation before leaning in closer to Seth, your voice low and conspiratorial as you filled him in on your plan to take down Roman. When you finished outlining your strategy, Seth nodded in approval, a confident smile on his lips as he squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.

"That's a solid plan, Y/N," Seth remarked, his voice filled with admiration. "You've really thought this through. I'm impressed."

"I know." You quipped, grabbing a fruity drink from a passing waiter's tray and taking a sip, the sweet taste of the cocktail washing away the lingering tension from your confrontation with Roman. Seth giggled at your confident response, his laughter mingling with the music as he took a drink of his own. "Well, I'm glad I could be of assistance," he said, his tone light and playful as he gestured towards the dance floor. "But enough about business. Let's have some fun and enjoy the party. What do you say?"

You grinned at Seth's suggestion, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as you allowed yourself to let go of the stress and tension of the evening. "I say let's dance," you replied, your voice filled with excitement as you linked arms with Seth, allowing him to lead you onto the dance floor.

You wrapped your arms around Seth's neck, moving in sync with the music as you danced together, the rhythm of the music pulsing through your veins as you lost yourself in the moment. The tension and conflict of the evening faded into the background as you allowed yourself to simply enjoy the company of your friend, the music drowning out the noise of the party as you moved together in perfect harmony.

3, 2, 1- You counted down, knowing what would happen when Seth's hands wrapped around your waist.

"I'll be gone, remember the plan." You whispered to Seth right as a hand grabbed your arm and started pulling you away from Seth, interrupting your dance mid-motion. You turned to see Jey struggling to maintain his composure, his expression a mixture of anger and frustration as he pulled you away from Seth, his grip tight on your arm, dragging you upstairs.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Jey growled out as he brought you upstairs and slammed open a door, dragging you inside before slamming it shut behind him, his chest heaving with anger and frustration.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were given permission to talk to me." You retorted sarcastically, pulling your arm out of Jey's grasp and trying to get to the door, but Jey blocking your path with his body, his eyes blazing with intensity as he glared at you. Damn, he looked good in his fitted suit, his muscles tense with pent-up aggression as he loomed over you, his presence dominating the small room.

"Don't play games with me, Y/N," Jey snapped, his voice low and dangerous as he took a step closer to you, his eyes flashing with anger. "I saw you out there with Seth, flirting and laughing like you didn't have a care in the world. Do you have any idea how that made me feel, seeing you with another guy?"

You rolled your eyes at Jey's accusation, your frustration boiling over as you met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down in the face of his anger. "I was not flirting with him. And now you know how I felt when you betrayed me for Roman," you shot back, your voice laced with bitterness as you pushed past Jey, making another attempt to leave the room.

But Jey was quicker this time, his hand shooting out to grab your wrist and pull you back towards him, his grip tight and unyielding as he glared down at you with intensity.

"Don't you dare try to turn this around on me, Y/N," Jey growled, his voice low and menacing as he forced you to look up at him, his eyes burning with anger and frustration. "I did what I had to do to protect you and Naomi, to keep us safe from Roman's threats. I didn't have a choice."

You scoffed at Jey's words, your frustration boiling over. "I know, and that's what makes it worse."

Jey stopped in his tracks, his grip on your wrist loosening slightly as he stared at you in disbelief, his expression softening with confusion and uncertainty. "What?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he searched your face for any sign of deception or manipulation.

You sighed, your anger and frustration giving way to a sense of sadness and resignation as you met Jey's gaze head-on, your eyes filled with vulnerability. "I mean that I understand why you did what you did, Jey," you replied softly, your voice tinged with sadness. "I understand that you were trying to protect your family, that you were put in an impossible situation with Roman's threats hanging over your head. But that doesn't change the fact that you chose to betray me, to side with Roman over our relationship. And seeing you with Roman, seeing you go along with his manipulation and coercion, it hurt. It hurt more than you'll ever know."

You willed yourself not to cry, biting your lip to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over as you laid bare your heartache and disappointment, your words hanging heavy in the air between you as you waited for Jey's response. "And maybe I used Seth to make you jealous cause I knew there was no way you would talk to me without some kind of push."

Jey stared at you in stunned silence, his heart sinking at the pain and sadness evident in your eyes, his own guilt and regret weighing heavily on his shoulders. He had known that his decision to side with Roman would hurt you, but he hadn't realized just how deeply his actions had affected you, how much he had damaged your trust and faith in him.

"Baby, I…" Jey paused, his voice choked with emotion as he struggled to find the right words to express his remorse and regret.

"Do you know how I feel seeing you with another guy?" he finally continued, his voice raw with emotion as he reached out to gently cup your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had escaped down your cheeks. "It tears me apart, Y/N. It makes me feel like the biggest piece of shit in the world, knowing that I'm the reason you're hurting, that I'm the reason you're crying. I never wanted to hurt you, baby. I never wanted any of this to happen."

Against your better judgement, you leaned into Jey's touch, the warmth of his hands comforting as you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with him, to let him see the pain and sadness that had been weighing on your heart. "I know you didn't, Jey," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper as you gazed up at him with tear-filled eyes. "But that doesn't change the fact that it did happen. It doesn't change the fact you hurt me, Jey. And I don't know if I can just forget about it and move on like nothing happened."

Jey's heart clenched at your words, his own tears threatening to spill over as he realized the extent of the damage he had caused, the irreparable rift he had created between you. "I ain't have a choice, Y/N," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion as he searched your eyes for any sign of forgiveness or understanding. "I had to protect my family, had to keep you safe from Roman's threats. I couldn't risk losing you, losing Naomi. I know I fucked up, baby, but please… please don't give up on us. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right, to earn back your trust. Just give me a chance."

You sighed, torn between the love you still felt for Jey and the pain of his betrayal, the conflict raging inside you as you struggled to make sense of your feelings. He leaned his forehead against yours, his cologne deliciously scenting the air around you as the tension between you turned into sexual tension. Your heart raced as you felt the heat of his body so close to yours, his breath mingling with yours as you gazed into his eyes, seeing the raw vulnerability and desperation reflected in their depths.

"Jey…" you whispered, your voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart as you reached up to brush your fingers against his cheek, feeling the rough stubble beneath your touch. "You hurt me."

"Then let me make it up to you." He pleaded, his voice husky with desire as he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours, the tension between you crackling with electricity. "Let me show you how much I love you, how much I regret hurting you. Give me a chance to prove myself to you, to earn back your trust and your love."

You hesitated for a moment, the conflicting emotions swirling inside you as you struggled to make sense of your feelings. But in the end, your love for Jey won out, the bond between you too strong to ignore. With a soft sigh, you closed the gap between you, your lips meeting his in a passionate kiss that spoke volumes of the love and longing you still felt for him.

Jey's arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a desperate intensity that left you breathless. It felt like coming home, like all the pain and heartache of the past few weeks melted away, and in that moment, there was only you and Jey, lost in each other's embrace, trying to mend the shattered pieces of your relationship.

You slip your tongue into his mouth and brought your hand to his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss grew more passionate, the heat between you igniting a fire that burned brighter with each passing moment.

Jey responded eagerly, his hands roaming over your body as he grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you onto the nearby bed, the kiss deepening as he hovered over you, his body pressed against yours in a heated embrace. The air crackled with electricity as your hands roamed over each other's bodies, exploring every inch with a desperate hunger born from weeks of longing and pent-up desire.

"Take off your suit." You whispered, your voice husky with desire as you reached up to unbutton Jey's shirt, your fingers trembling with anticipation.

Jey complied eagerly, his hands fumbling with the buttons as he stripped off his shirt, revealing the sculpted muscles beneath, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. You ran your hands over his bare skin, feeling the heat of his body beneath your touch as you trailed kisses along his jawline, savoring the taste of him on your lips.

"I missed you," you murmured against his skin, your voice soft and filled with longing as you pressed your body closer to his, reveling in the sensation of his warmth enveloping you. "I missed this."

Jey's hands roamed over your body, his touch igniting a fire within you as he trailed kisses along your neck, his lips moving with a fervent intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "I missed you too, baby," he whispered, his voice husky with desire as he trailed kisses down your chest, his hands deftly unzipping the back of your dress and sliding it off your shoulders, revealing the lingerie underneath.

You watched him with hungry eyes, the desire burning brightly within you as he worshipped your body with his hands and lips, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

You tried to focus on his body, on his soft lips against yours, on how good his hands felt as they explored every inch of your skin, but a thump in the background grew louder and more persistent, but you tried to ignore it until you heard a loud crash outside the room, followed by raised voices and the sound of scuffling. You and Jey froze, the passion of the moment shattered as you exchanged worried glances.

"What the hell was that?" Jey muttered, his voice tense with apprehension as he pulled away from you, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of danger.

"It was Seth." You looked up at Jey, your eyes widening with concern. The plan was going well, but you knew Jey wouldn't like the idea of Seth being involved in your scheme against Roman. "He got into a fight with Roman downstairs. It was my plan." You quickly zipped up your dress as Jey helped you with your dress before you helped him with his suit.

"Go the fuck to hell!" You heard Roman's booming voice from downstairs, followed by the sound of a scuffle and a loud crash. Jey's eyes widened in shock and concern as he processed your words, his mind racing with a mixture of fear and adrenaline.

"Let's go." Jey said urgently, his voice tense with apprehension as he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the door, his muscles tense with pent-up aggression as he prepared to confront whatever chaos awaited them downstairs.

You nodded in agreement, your heart pounding in your chest as you followed Jey out of the room and down the stairs, the sounds of the commotion growing louder with each step. When you reached the main hall, you saw Roman and Seth locked in a fierce struggle, their fists flying as they traded blows with ferocious intensity. The room was in chaos, guests scattering in all directions as they tried to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.

"You're the weakest link in your own group, and that's why Y/N is smart enough to bring me here." Seth taunted Roman as he dodged a punch and delivered one of his own, his voice filled with confidence and defiance as he faced off against the Tribal Chief. "You think you can control everyone around you, but you're just a puppet master pulling the strings of your own downfall."

Roman growled in frustration, lunging at Seth and punching him square in the jaw, sending him stumbling backwards. "I'm the Tribal Chief!" Roman roared, and Jey and Jimmy grabbed his shoulders, pulling him back before he could do any more damage to Seth. "And I'll be damned if I let some backstabbing snake like you undermine my authority."

"You wanna talk about backstabbing?" Seth cackled at Roman's words, wiping the blood from his split lip as he regained his footing, his eyes flashing with defiance. "You are nothing but a traitor, Roman. You turned your back on your own family, on your own blood, all for the sake of power and control. You think you're untouchable, that you can manipulate and coerce everyone around you into doing your bidding. But you're wrong. You're not as powerful as you think you are, Roman. And sooner or later, your reign of terror will come to an end."

Roman's eyes blazed with anger and hurt at Seth's words, but security intervened before the situation could escalate any further, separating Roman and Seth and ushering Seth out of the house.

"You." Roman turned to you, his eyes narrowing with fury as he advanced towards you, his fists clenched at his sides. "You set me up, didn't you? You brought Seth here to provoke me, to try and undermine my authority. You know what he did to me, and you still brought him here to hurt me."

"Just like you hurt me by using Jey against me?" You shot back, your voice cold and composed despite the turmoil swirling inside you. "How does that sinking feeling you get in your stomach feel, Roman? How does it feel to know that the people you thought you could control are starting to see you for the manipulative, power-hungry tyrant that you really are?"

"Jey hates your guts, Roman. He's only here because he wants to protect me from you." You continued, your voice dripping with contempt as you stood your ground against Roman, refusing to let him intimidate you.

"Oh please, what are you talking about…" Roman trailed off when he noticed that your hair was tangled, your dress was wrinkled, and when he turned to Jey, his hair disheveled and that guilty look in his eyes, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place as he realized what had transpired while he was preoccupied with Seth.

"You two…" Roman's voice trailed off, the anger and hurt evident in his eyes as he looked between you and Jey, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. "You distracted Jey so that Seth could provoke me and make me look like a fool." Roman's voice was low and dangerous, his gaze flickering with anger and betrayal as he turned his attention back to you, his expression cold and unforgiving.

"I did no such thing," you replied calmly, meeting Roman's gaze with steely resolve. "But if you want to believe that, go ahead. It doesn't change the fact that your grip on the Bloodline is slipping, Roman. You can't control everything and everyone around you forever. Sooner or later, your reign will come to an end."

You felt everyones eyes on you as the party came to an abrupt end, guests murmuring amongst themselves as they filed out, leaving you, Jey, and Jimmy alone in the empty hall. "You should clean yourself up, Roman," you continued, your voice dripping with disdain as you turned on your heel and started to walk away, Jey following closely behind you. "You have a lot of work to do if you want to salvage what's left of your reputation."

You wanted to hurt Roman like he hurt you, and you knew that the best way to do that was to hit him where it hurt the most - his pride and his reputation. You had planted the seeds of doubt in his mind, sowing discord and chaos within the Bloodline, and now it was only a matter of time before those seeds grew into something much bigger and more destructive.

"Oh, and you don't have to wait till next week to know my decision about our match, I'm not dropping out. And if you hurt Jimmy, you'll face Seth instead of me, and we both know you don't want to face him." With that final warning, you turned to Jey and blew him a kiss before heading out of the door, leaving Roman seething with anger and frustration in your wake.

Your plan worked out perfectly.

1- You made Roman look like a fool in front of his guests, undermining his authority and sowing discord within the Bloodline.

2- You showed Jey that he couldn't ignore his feelings for you any longer, pushing him to confront the truth about his loyalty to Roman and his own desires.

3- Roman couldn't use Jimmy against Jey anymore, knowing you are willing to bring Seth into the mix if he tries to hurt his cousin, and now Roman couldn't guilt you into staying with him by threatening Jimmy.

Maybe you were a monster. But you didn't care, because sometimes you had to become a deamon to stop the monsters around you.

Cause Jey was worth losing yourself for.

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neowinestainedress · 2 years ago

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© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).

LONG FICS

rock, paper, scissors ; 11k — johnjaenomin fivesome [s] — five friends rent a house together for a few weeks to enjoy summer like they used to do when they were younger, thinking that nothing could change their friendship. But teasing leads to pent-up tension and tension leads to problems. Problems that can’t be fixed by playing ‘rock, paper, scissors’ like when they were young.

can you handle it? ; 12k — johnjaenomin fivesome part 2 [s] — Johnny drags her wildest fantasies out of her mouth, or to be more precise, out of her phone. But can she handle it?

rose-colored glasses ; 18k — requested | bet!au [a] [s] — a long-lasting crush for her brother’s best friend, a bet, obsession, devotion and jealousy; all things that cannot lead to anything good. But the world that Jeno showed her was perfect and she couldn’t see what it really hid behind the rose-colored glasses. It was all distorted.

shattered glasses ; 28k — rose-colored glasses sequel | yandere [s] [f] [a] — there’s only one way to survive in a cage made of rose-colored glasses: don’t shatter the glasses, reality will be painful to accept.

10 things I love about you ; 3k — requested | [f] [a] — she feels like Jeno’s only dating her for sex, and he proves to her how much he loves her by telling her ten of the things he loves about her the most (spoiler: they are more than ten).

wrapped around your fingers ; 8k — requested | CEO!au [s] [f] — Jeno finds out he has his girlfriend wrapped around his fingers... well, in a way he doesn’t quite expect.

drippin’ ; 18k — requested | x reader | haemarknomin fivesome [s] — you need relief from this strange pain you’re feeling, but you don’t know what to do. Your boyfriend and his friends offer to help, giving you a solution you didn’t quite expect coming.

into the woods ; 11k — inferno event | werewolves (feat kun, jaehyun, johnny, yangyang) [s] — ‘don’t go in the woods, past the first two rows of trees.’ It’s a simple rule, planted in every kid’s mind in the village since they are born. Nobody knows why, but nobody dares to question why. But pride leads to do dangerous things and what’s supposed to be a silly bet to prove something, gets you lost a bit too far into the scary forest. And those who seem to be polite strangers turn out to be something they’re not.

sweet lies ; 7k — inferno event | ghost [s] — you find out what’s the weird sensation that’s been torturing you for years, but just when you think things start to make sense, he confuses you even more. Are you really who he thinks you are?

sweet deception ; 19k — inferno event | x reader | various monsters, multiple members [s] — on Halloween, nothing is as it seems. You end up in a room with six guys thinking they have amazing costumes only to be struck by reality when it’s too late; those are not costumes at all. But remember, on October 31, nothing is as it seems.

enough for you ; 5k — requested | traitor sequel + haechan [a] [f] — all she ever wanted was to be enough for Haechan, even now that they aren’t together anymore. Until someone opens her eyes and makes her realize that she is already enough the way she is.

happier ; 20k — requested | enough for you sequel + haechan [a] [f] [s] — Haechan can’t live with the weight of losing her forever, he can live even less with the fear that she might be happier with Jeno. He wonders if he’s still in time to fix what he tore apart or if he’ll have to pay the price for what he did forever.

wait for me ; 6k — gift | sequel | x reader [s] — jeno keeps his promise of turning you into a mess under him

secret ; 10k — gift | sub!jeno | x reader [s][f] — jeno has a secret he can’t tell anybody, not even you

do you want to play a game, detective? ; 10k — ghostface/scream!au [s] — in these past months your only goal is to find the killer that is terrorizing the town of Woodsboro, but when you get close to him and feel like you finally have the upper hand, Ghostface turns the game around again. Or, Ghostface wants to play with you but not like he does with his victims, and you let him.

SERIES

SOUR — COMPLETED distorted — COMPLETED

DRABBLES

nipple sucking— requested | x reader [s]

phone sex + innocence kink — requested | x reader [s]

villain!jeno + rough anal sex — requested | x reader [s]

shibari + hard!dom + toys — requested | x reader [s]

vampire!jeno x human!reader + sweet love making — requested | x reader [s]

game over — gamer!haechan + mark, jeno, jaemin | requested | x reader [s]

insecure reader — requested | x reader [f]

insecure jeno — requested | x reader [f]

fingers sucking — requested | x reader [s]

sub!jeno — requested | x reader [s] (it's more like a blurb but longer)

subspace — requested | x reader [s]

BLURBS / HARD HOURS

nominhyuck humiliation + filming [s]

nominhyuck humiliation [s]

#nct fanfiction #jeno masterlist #jeno smut #jeno fluff #jeno angst

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yoonieper · 1 year ago

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Pecattiphilia— Part 5 | PJM

Pecattiphilia is the sexual arousal from performing an act one believes is a sin.

✽ Pairing: Jimin x Reader

✽ Genre: Angel Au, angst, fluff, future smut, this is a slow burn (kinda?)!

✽ Rated: A for Asskicking!

✽ Series Warnings: This series will include discussion of religious aspects such as the afterlife and concepts of heaven and hell (There are no direct ties to any specific religion besides the mention of angels and demons— all aspects of religion was created by me for this series), this series includes a lot of violence (sometimes graphic depictions) and gore (nothing extreme, Jimin and the boys fight monsters sometimes), and mentions of sin (particularly revolving around sexual topics)

✽ Chapter Specific Warnings: Violence (think like a battle scene)! Lots of it!, gorey at times, torture is mentioned, lore~, questionable characters 😇, very brief mentions of illegal substances, things do get smutty towards the end ;)

✽ Word Count: 19k

✽ Summary: Jimin is sent to watch over you and as the years go by he gets more and more curious and sometimes just wishes he could get to know you. But he knows that’s forbidden, it's sin. However, a freak accident somehow causes Jimin and your eyes to meet for the first time with purpose. He knows it shouldn’t happen but he doesn’t want to break away. He wants you to look at him, wants you to touch him, wants you to be with him. The problem is none of this should have happened in the first place… what’s happening to him?

✽ Now Playing…: Gang Up by Young Thug, 2 Chainz, Wiz Khalifa, & PnB Rock— full playlist available on masterlist!

✽ Beta: Thank you to @theharrowing for reading over this <3!

✽ Author’s Note: The first “heist” chapter! This turned out like 2x longer than I thought it would be, but I made it through 😅~~ I won’t say too much but some of the details in these chapters are important for later so keep an eye out 😉

No reposting, modifying. Translating is not allowed unless given explicit permission. Thank you so much :D

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Phase #1 (Survey)

Devil’s Night

L'appel du vide.

The call of the void.

That tiny, impulsive voice that tells you to jerk the steering wheel to the right and take a flying leap off the ledge… that inclination to walk right into the ocean and never return… the urge to just jump as you gaze off the edge of a skyscraper… the call of the Siren song.

The void was so unknown yet that innate urge for humans to explore and understand, even the things they weren’t meant to— sometimes that voice gets too loud. Their curiosity, so wondrous at first, oftentimes is their downfall.

Humans are complicated yet so simple.

However that voice isn’t always their strange impulses trying to send them to an early grave. That void is sometimes very real and that alluring voice, that call to the void, is just a lure to trap its prey in its hungry grasp for eternity.

Devil’s Night

It shouldn’t exist.

A casino that easily blended in with the hundreds of others along the strip. It was covered in enticing, flashy lights, easily attracting those who craved a quick trip to wealth or who wanted an eventful, possibly regrettable, night of fun. It had just as many people walk in for a night of celebration and just as many walk out disappointed as all the others, bringing any who walked through the doors the standard Las Vegas experience. To most it didn’t look out of the ordinary, it didn’t act out of the ordinary, it was just another casino in a city that was populated by the get rich quick scheme.

But they saw what it truly was.

It was like looking upon a line-up of seemingly perfectly identical shapes. They were all circles to the untrained eye, but to a server of H.E.A.V.E.N. it was clear one of those circles was not as it should be; an oval in disguise, if you will.

A demon’s lair was a black hole for information. P2 angels were aware of everything that was happening according to their set clock, but even they couldn't see demon lairs unless they stumbled onto it by chance. The higher-ups even struggled to locate their lairs, it being the reason for how these situations can get as bad as they do.

In this instance, they already knew it was going to be even worse. So many demons had managed to escape and just from the collected information there were a lot of high profiles. Who knows how long they’d been feeding as well?

It was Las Vegas, year 2002, time 11:35 pm as the boys flew over the neon lights. All the current information came to them in an instant except for the spot towards the end of the strip.

Devil’s Night

It was a place that all the locals believed had always been here. Those who were alive at the time had memories of passing by it during its construction back in the 70s and how it recently reopened after doing some intense renovations only a year prior.

Business was booming now with their new modern look, and many tourists and regulars came through the doors everyday. But memories were so easy to manipulate on the cosmic scale.

Time itself was something that no human, even as an angel, can fully grasp to the point where no one who was born with a soul would ever experience it fully. But memories are so easy, even as a P2 angel getting humans to see what they want them too, to remember things that they’ve never experienced in their lives, was child’s play.

None of them would ever truly understand how insignificant they were, how they were just pawns, apparitions really of the balance of the universe at play.

Humans were nothing, yet you meant everything to him.

You were all Jimin could think about as his team flew over the city.

You, your lips on his as you kissed underneath the tree where you first met— at least the tree you think you first met. He missed you, and despite how busy things have been, you were all he could think about.

2002– you were only six right now back in Seoul, the P1 angel that came before him watching over you intently until he took their place 14 years later.

Jimin had to make this mission quick, he wanted to get back to you.

You never fail to disappoint me.

I’m glad. I’m finally happy.

You don’t know what that is.

I know that’s what she makes me feel.

They are right here, you made a promise.

It was right, here he was thinking about you when he promised his leader that he wouldn’t see you again. Normally he’d be reviewing the battle plans they’d discussed in the meeting they had right before they left, but it was just you, you, and more you.

He had to get back.

He wanted to kiss you again.

In no time the group made it to the place that shouldn’t exist. A smear in the balance of the world, and it loomed with a darkness indescribable to man. If only these humans knew what they were walking into, a trap designed to feed on and corrupt all the hard work their protectors did for them over the years.

This place shouldn’t exist and neither should the demons here be in this plane. They disobeyed the laws of the balance and the only punishment for them was death, extermination in the cruelest fashion.

It was the only other thing bouncing around in his head.

Purifying this world from this putrid sin.

The boys landed on their meeting spot, the roof of a shopping center right across the street from the casino.

Like their typical routine, Namjoon immediately got to work constructing a small building they’d use as a base of operations for their short time here. It was about the size of their meeting room, just big enough for a table and enough chairs for them all to sit in.

“Alright everyone, phase one starts immediately. We need to handle this quickly, quietly, and I need everyone alive by the end. Just follow the plan to the tee and we should be fine with hopefully new intel for the higher ups.” Namjoon said as he took a seat at the head of the table, just like he would in H.E.A.V.E.N.

Everyone nodded. Every detail had to be perfect, missions like these were the most dangerous for teams, especially considering the scale and how many demons there were here.

Angels were far superior than most lower level demons, but while power wasn’t necessarily the issue, it was the numbers and confining to the limits of the normal plane. There were a lot of them housed here and the fact this battle needs to happen in the normal plane means H.E.A.V.E.N. can’t just send one angel to smite the place down.

In theory, that would be nice, but that kind of power in the normal plane might rip a hole in the fabric of spacetime, not to mention the amount of casualties besides the demons that would cause.

That kind of power would be enough to bring the fabled apocalypse that the humans talk about every other century. Nobody on this planet would be safe as the power of angelic light would cleanse this frame from the damned; even the universe itself might take a hit from only a microscopic amount of an angel’s full potential.

That is why it was essential that everyone acts in line and uses their abilities sparingly, just a fraction over and suddenly Las Vegas would be a crater that appeared out of nowhere.

This programming went so deep, even if an angel was getting swarmed, their last moments quickly approaching, they would still choose to die if they knew that much power would do noteable damage to the world.

“Jimin and Taehyung, go ahead and start getting ready, I’ll join you in a second. Yoongi and Jungkook please begin the perimeter sweep. Hoseok and Seokjin, get the rest of this set up. Make sure to log every detail that’s reported.” Namjoon commanded and everyone immediately sprang into action.

Jungkook saluted— it was natural for him at this point. Perfect posture, feet together standing tall and proud with his right arm horizontal and the left in front and vertical. Perfect 90 degree angles, forming the symbol of their allegiance, the cross.

With that, suddenly the door was swinging open, the breeze almost sending everything in the room flying.

“Does he have to do that every time?” Yoongi chuckled seeing everyone’s hair all over the place.

“He just likes to show off.” Seokjin rolled his eyes, before going and picking up the material Namjoon had already pulled out.

“We should tell him to come back so he can clean this up—“ Hoseok chuckled as he bent down to grab the papers, but before he could get a single sheet Namjoon clapped his hands and suddenly the room was back as it was.

“Focus. This is not a vacation, we have a job to do.” Namjoon sighed.

Everyone grimaced, noticing the leader was still tense. He was like this during the meeting earlier and he admitted the guilt of forgoing procedures and not reporting Jimin like he should have done was starting to eat away at him.

Namjoon earlier even questioned if Jimin should come on a mission like this, knowing something wasn’t right with him. It was risky either way, but he was basically forced to bring him, because the chances of the whole team being killed during this increased to astronomical amounts if Jimin wasn’t with him.

All he could hope was that Jimin could keep himself together for this mission, that he wouldn’t regret his choice.

Seeing their faces, Namjoon instantly felt bad. “I’m sorry guys— you know—“

“No we understand, this is business.” Hoseok said, grabbing onto Seokjin’s hand and guiding him to the blue, plastic chairs at the table.

The mood was tense, but they all understood where he was coming from. Things were weird these days, best to stay on high alert.

“Yoongi? Where are you?” It was Jungkook who was speaking over their channel, waiting right in front of Devil’s Night.

It was like the different channels for radios, but this one was very special. Every team had their own personal channel, said to be the exact conditions and frequency of the electromagnetic field as it vibrated right when they became seven, right before they awoke. They didn’t need radios, no technology at all, it was a channel only they could tap into— named ##7732769(43278)287, or just 287, which were the numbers that truly made it them.

“I’m sorry, I got distracted.” Yoongi chuckled lightly, trying to lighten the mood. He held out his hand and the scope of his gun fell right into it.

Yoongi walked outside and headed toward the edge of the roof that overlooked the casino.

Everyone seemed to snap out of it, once again reminding themselves they had a job to do.

Hoseok and Seokjin took out their devices, a rectangular piece of what appeared as glass, turning into a keyboard with unfamiliar characters, and a projection appeared right in front of them. Humans would only be able to see it as bright light, but any angel knew it was the line to the higher ups. They both got their hands ready on their devices as they listened intently to Jungkook and Yoongi.

Yoongi held up his scope and zoomed to where he could see Jungkook standing by the pillar right at the entrance.

People continued to walk in and out, unaware of Jungkook’s existence as sometimes they’d just phase right through him.

“Jungkook, there’s eight standing by the door.”

Yoongi saw as he held up a thumbs up in his direction before he was gone again.

Taehyung meanwhile had already set up a mirror in the corner of the room and dragged Jimin over to start trying on outfits to fit the time period.

On the way over, Tae suggested that they should trade their all white attire and go with the ‘rich club owner who has too much to spend’ look— already pulling out the suits he loved so much.

Jimin tried to focus on the channel or at least on Taehyung, who kept holding up outfits for him to try on, but there was something that was bothering him.

Not only was he missing you, but he kept thinking about his role in this mission. He hadn't done this since you both have been together, would he be able to do this successfully?

Gathering intel used to be one of his favorite things to do, but his usual method might not work considering he has you in his life.

“Fifty on the roof.” Yoongi called out as he zoomed his scope in further.

“Fifty? On the roof?” Hoseok exclaimed as he typed it out.

“Maybe they’re looking for us?” Seokjin suggested. They both giggled at the thought.

“You think they would be that dumb to think we’d come flying in from above?” Seokjin couldn’t stop the giggles, the image of the demons preparing for them as if they were an airstrike was all too amusing for some reason.

“These are demons we’re talking about.” Namjoon tried to laugh as he looked out the door to Yoongi crouching at the edge of the roof.

“Namjoon, which one?” Taehyung called out to the leader as he spun Jimin around and held up two hangers. One was a white button up, the other was black.

Taehyung held them over Jimin and switched between the two.

Namjoon hummed lightly as he weighed the two options. “What are you putting on the bottom?” He asked, trying to get a better picture.

Taehyung tossed the hanger with the white button up and as he brought it back, suddenly it was a pair of black slacks instead, with a black belt that had a golden buckle.

“Would you do that for the white one?” Namjoon asked.

“Maybe a suit instead?” Tae looked down at the outfit.

“Yeah, I’m thinking the black one then. The suit’s nice but it might be a bit too formal considering we look like twenty-somethings here in Vegas— it’s 2002 remember.” Taehyung nodded at Namjoon’s words.

“You don’t think we should go for something a little more casual? We’re trying to blend in.” Namjoon also pointed out.

“It’s part of the plan— if we look like we have a lot of money to spend, the more intel we can learn.” Taehyung tried to rationalize like he didn’t just come up with that on the spot. It’s not like he needed an excuse or anything to dress his members up in suits because he thought it’d look cool.

Their last mission sent them to 2221 BC in Egypt— he didn’t have a lot to work with for “time period appropriate.”

“Never thought about it like that— I guess you’re right.” For some reason Namjoon didn’t see any holes in his logic— not that there was any— but Taehyung beamed realizing he was going to be able to do this.

“Black works well though, I think it works with your hair.” Namjoon gestured up to Jimin’s blue locks that hung lowly in his eyes.

“I’m still trying to figure out why it’s blue.” Namjoon said, still a little perplexed at the choice.

As soon as Jimin made it back to H.E.A.V.E.N. for their meeting, everyone was shocked to see he had come back with blue hair, standing out amidst the sea of blondes.

“Luckily for Jimin, this is Vegas, so he blends right in.” Tae mentioned as he handed the hangers to Jimin as he turned to the mirror to start picking his own outfit.

“I’m seeing the garage that was spotted, three exits in the back, and fifteen standing right outside.” Jungkook reported.

Hoseok just had to laugh as he typed that down. “Things just keep getting worse.”

“There’s a skylight on the roof— we might be able to use that.” Yoongi mentioned, when one of the “guys” with black suits moved out the way.

“It seems we’re going to need all our options on the table for this one. Hoseok and Seokjin, I’m going to need you on high alert for strategies as we survey the inside. Jungkook and Yoongi, please keep us informed if you see anything.” Namjoon commanded.

Tae was about to throw the leader hangers for some ideas for the outfits he could wear, but Namjoon simply spun around and gone was his off-white trench coat. Instead, he was wearing a navy blue suit, a tucked in white button-up, a fancy watch glinted in the light, and he pushed up a pair of black glasses as his transformation was completed.

Taehyung stood there stunned because, while he looked amazing, he still wanted to play dress up for a little while…

Well, now that just left him.

“What’s our story going to be anyway?” Taehyung asked as he stood in front of the mirror, pulling out different suit combos.

That would be necessary, it would be a bit weird to say they were just tourists considering how dressed up they were.

“We can just say we came from a bachelor party— decided to test our luck on the slots for a little fun.” Namjoon said as he peered into the mirror, undoing the first two buttons of his shirt.

“Who’s the groom?” Seokjin asked suddenly.

Jimin, Namjoon, and Tae all looked at each other, but for a second everyone in the room's eyes went to Jimin.

They were all thinking it, you, you would be his bride that he was spending the night away from. Your wedding was only days away and right now you were out celebrating with your girlfriends while he was spending his time with the guys that he adorned more than anything in the world.

If anyone got too nosy, Jimin was the only one who has experienced anything close to the feelings a groom should be experiencing so close to the wedding. And you, it was all so convenient.

“I’ll do it.” Namjoon suddenly said, raising his hand.

Everyone’s eyes went to him and they all nodded knowing that was best considering the way things have been.

They all thought he was dealing with withdrawals or a breakup of some sort, because they trusted he had listened and wasn’t seeing you anymore. Namjoon volunteered, thinking that it would reopen the wound too soon after they had the meeting.

If only they knew.

Jimin’s mind drifted back to you. He wondered what you were doing, if you were missing him as much as he was missing you right now.

It only made him more excited to get back to you.

They just had to burn.

“Anyway Taehyung, hurry up. Everyone, prepare to proceed to the next stage.” Namjoon called out sensing the growing tension in the room.

They had work to do anyway.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Phase #1.5 (Information)

They made a promise and never in all the eons they’ve been a team had it ever been broken. It was never even something anyone entertained or played with. It was a promise that they all adhered too no matter the temptation.

Except in certain situations.

Taehyung especially had this method of doing whatever it takes to get information from people. Jimin operated the same way beforehand, not to such lengths, he couldn’t bring himself to do something so impure, but Taehyung had no care.

Mission success whatever it takes, he’d always say.

Taehyung always thrived during this stage of the operation. He was good, sometimes too good, his charisma would be able to have them like putty in his hands as he subtly pried them for information.

It was crazy to watch considering what he was like with the team.

The famed “heartbreaker” they would sometimes tease him with the nickname. Some might have called it cruel, but a few broken hearts for the sake of the fate of the planet, the universe really is worth sacrificing, he would say.

They agreed.

“They’re only humans.” He’d smirk before getting ready to ruin someone’s life.

It didn’t help the effect they had on humans whenever they went into the normal plane. On the outside, it was like watching bugs swarm around a porch light, just sad and desperate creatures. They never knew what they were in store for whenever they got too close.

Angels have such a tremendous effect on the world around them and all celestial creatures are immune to this, it was always so amusing seeing the heads turn whenever they’d step into a room.

Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jimin flew down the street from the casino, quickly transferred to the normal plane, and started making their way inside.

The casino was nothing spectacular, Jimin had practically been to every one that’s existed in history at this point. The place smelled strongly of smoke and it was decorated with golds and velvety reds, everything having a certain shine to it that seemed to wow guests as they all walked in.

It was something out of a movie as everyone’s eyes lingered on the three as they weaved through the slot machines and they all just knew how much they were wanted.

It was always so easy.

The boys quickly split up knowing it was always better for them to be seen apart and they had more chances of getting more information. Taking a deep breath, they put on the smiles, the charm that would have the humans practically eating out their hands.

Namjoon made his way to the poker table. It was always so simple— one glance at his watch and he’d already have their eyes. A couple of wins was all it took for people to gather around the table. Two girls had their arms wrapped around him despite mentioning the fact he had a fiancé and all the guys would toast anytime he would pull his newly collected chips in.

All he really needed to do was make light conversation.

People were busy conversing all around him. Chelsey, the girl to his right, was talking to the guy who stood behind her— who clearly was more interested in her than his poker game. Veronica was the girl to his left and she seemed more keen on making sure he ruined his fake engagement tonight.

Veronica it was then.

He took the opportunity of Chelsey being distracted to whisper in her ear.

“And who has you?” He smirked down at her.

The question visibly confused her at first, but the hand he had on her thigh was enough to keep her attention. His thumb lightly rubbed along the exposed skin her short, black dress allowed– he didn’t have to be “all-knowing” to see how much she was enjoying it.

So simple.

“I know you know sweetheart. It’s alright, you can tell me.” His soft smile would always do the trick as she stared down at his lips.

“Gorgo.” She whispered mindlessly, like she had no idea what she was saying.

It was sad, so sad honestly. They had no clue what was going on, they didn't even realize they were here.

Taehyung had skipped the games altogether and had taken a seat at the bar. It didn’t take long for a crowd to form around him, and instead of fraternizing Taehyung had taken a more radical approach as he always did.

She was the first girl that came up to him, mentioned something about liking his outfit and how handsome he looked. The pinstripe suit he’d decided on with a white shirt underneath that hardly covered any of his chest and the gold jewelry he wore made him stand out for all the right reasons.

It didn’t matter to him, but she’d stayed by his side as he tried to decide who was the best in getting the most information from. To be honest, he got bored trying to choose and she just wouldn’t let go.

She seemed desperate.

It was more of a favor, but he’d lured her to a more private section of the casino and used his tongue for getting more information.

Jimin normally would have been in Namjoon’s spot, pushing the limits, but not as far as Taehyung always did.

But anytime someone would approach him, he’d always think about you and how much he missed you.

Jimin had spent a little time at the bar and he wished he had got himself drunk enough to be able to do his job, but alas another downside to being “all-powerful.” Simple, earthly, human drinks didn’t work.

He thought back to the time when he’d been by your side in the apartment, the week you cared for him. If he wasn’t so sick, a drink would have been nice to have, maybe in that state alcohol would finally be able to do something.

He only really drinks it for the taste. His normal order, if they served it, was a drink called Hell’s Fury oddly enough— it was a drink that relied on equal amounts of Fireball, 151 proof rum, Everclear, and black absinthe, with an added habanero pepper at the base of the shot glass to give it even more of an intense flavor. It would always get a few concerning glances sent his way as he’d easily down shot after shot and wouldn’t react at all.

Of course Devil’s Night served it, this place was meant to have everything anyone could desire– Eden on Earth was their slogan.

Yet even their concoctions couldn’t give him the desired effect.

Some fucking Eden…

The drinks were useless, but sitting at the bar watching the humans pass by, Jimin couldn’t stop thinking about earlier– playing the groom. Wouldn’t it have been so interesting? Spending the night with the people he’s closest with and you– you were his bride and you were going to his soon in just a few short days.

He wouldn’t see this as his last night of freedom, but a celebration because he’s just so happy.

Happy? What did that feel like?

The mindless humans around him all knew, yet someone who was “all-knowing” couldn’t know the blissful feeling of happiness? It was strange, a strange world they lived in.

You were his only comfort these days.

He just missed you so much…

Pathetic.

It truly was.

Jimin had made up the excuse that he just wasn’t in the mood to do that type of probing, instead he’d taken Namjoon’s usual role in just casual chatting to those who’d pass his way, but more importantly, using this as an opportunity to survey the inside of the building.

They had absolutely no access on the outside, their usual “all-knowingness in the moment” just didn’t work with demon lairs. And to make matters more complicated it’s not like they could just send Jungkook in to do a quick run through of the building.

It’s why there were so many guards inside and all around the building; they knew they were being hunted.

Before switching to the normal plane, they diminished their “angelic presence” to a degree that remained undetectable to all their sensors. It’s why they didn’t get jumped as soon as they walked in the casino.

Even at higher planes, sending Jungkook in would have made them aware that they were here even though they couldn’t do anything, ruining that sweet element of surprise that always seemed to get them.

In order to collect the vital information they needed for this mission’s success, they had to do this the old fashioned way— going undercover.

Their angelic presence was diminished as low as they could get it, almost as low as it normally would be whenever they were given breaks. It was just enough that they would have some type of power if things went left for some reason.

It was still to the point though that humans were irresistibly drawn to them, always claiming they just seemed to almost sparkle in the light. They never saw it, and luckily the demons couldn’t either.

They were just three hot friends who were enjoying the last few hours of a bachelors party and who also had some amazing luck.

Jimin had been everywhere that night– the slot machines, bars, the game tables, the lounges, and even the mysterious VIP section he quickly learned existed. He surveyed, chatted, and probed for as much information as he could considering he was just walking around having casual conversations.

In the end he walked away with $10,627 dollars in earnings, 3.5 grams of coke, 4 sticks of gum, 12 hotel keys, invitations to a wedding, birthday party, and a cookout, and more importantly, some interesting new information to share with his team.

Apparently a conversation and a little bit of wagering was all it took to get what he wanted.

There were approximately 1000 demons here under the same roof— most of them resided in the basement but there were about 150 here on the main floor. The number nearly made him keel over and he heard Hoseok nearly choke over the channel.

“They should have sent a bigger team.” Seokjin groaned, they all did because this was ridiculous.

They were only seven, and while yes, they were one of the best P2 angel teams currently active, it would have been better to send a team with more members to handle this.

It was an overwhelming amount— how they were going to come out of this alive was beyond them at this point.

Some of the demons were refugees, those who’d escaped prior to Abigor’s legion. They had come from different points in time, slowly but surely they felt the presence of a new demonic lair and knowing they were stronger in numbers, crossed time just to be here. According to the demons that Taehyung and Namjoon managed to identify, they only accounted for a small majority of the demons speculated to reside in the building.

How this many managed to escape was beyond him, and honestly Jimin, all the boys really, had a few things they wanted to say to the P3 angels put in charge of watching over them.

Jimin also managed to do a bit of snooping to get a better feel of the floor plan. Not as much as he would have liked, but there were so many demons everywhere he turned, he just couldn’t wander like he hoped.

It was only through a bit of conversing that he learned where the door to the lower floors was— a secret elevator apparently that could lead someone down to the five lower floors.

See, the humans have no clue where they are right now, the darkness being ultimately what lures them inside, and if they get too close they get “sucked in” truly like a black hole. Demons feed off of human darkness— a casino was the perfect place for that to accumulate. A human betting their life savings for the chance to turn it into millions and ultimately losing all of it, was like a buffet to them.

Normally there was always a specific demon that put the human in this sort of trance like state, it was usually how they tracked how many demons were at the location, knowing a majority of them were always hidden.

The trance also gave the human a bit of access to the demon’s mind which is also why angel teams prioritized them whenever they were sent on this type of mission. They were just so out of it, they never had any idea what was going on.

In the end, they got as much information as they could— maybe Jimin could have gotten more if he used his tongue like Taehyung, or maybe even a flirtatious touch like Namjoon would have earned him that extra bit of detail to help increase the success of their mission.

But he couldn’t kiss them, he couldn’t touch them, not when he had you in his heart. You were his now and he was yours. You were the only human who made him want to do any of those things.

Jimin relished in the fact that he had an excuse this time, but what about the next? Would he just have to tell them?

And then what?

They will understand.

They will not.

They will.

And if not?

I’ll make them understand.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Phase #2 (Hellfire)

03:00 was the time they decided on. Devil’s Night officially closed at 2, but they gave it an extra hour because there always seemed to be stragglers at places like these for some reason or another.

There was always a guy begging for another chance because he’d just lost all his money and he was so sure that one more chance would be all it took to win the money back and then some.

Demons also had no issues intermingling with humans even when they knew they were being hunted down. All night Jimin would pass by the guards hanging around the walls talking with the humans, their intentions clearly less than pure as they easily touched, grabbed, and kissed the simple, entranced creatures.

Much like Taehyung, but they had no issues taking things to the next level. Apparently one of the first few floors in the basement held rooms just for this purpose. Taehyung only did it for information, but no one knew why they did.

Did it provide them more opportunity to feed? This was one of the leading theories, demons had a horrible tendency to go after humans in committed relationships as their prey for the night. Others guessed they might just enjoy it which was strange.

They had no connections to humans like the P2 angels, for them to have that urge was odd but Jimin wouldn’t be surprised. An impure being wishing to commit an impure act made all the sense to him.

They staked out the building all day following Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jimin’s field survey, analyzing, trying their best to come up with a plan that would somehow have them coming out alive.

Unfortunately the chances were slim, and growing slimmer by the hour as Yoongi would identify a new demon walking into the casino seemingly each hour. They considered giving themselves another day in order to do more observation, but they knew things were just going to get worse the more they waited.

Namjoon and the rest of the boys had been seated at their table in their makeshift base, reviewing and reanalyzing their plan, making sure it was the best possible option. In the end, it was almost three and they had to get ready.

“I don’t care how this looks on paper, I need to see everyone of you back here after we’ve managed to contain the situation. Every single one of you. Got it?” Namjoon looked them all down, making sure they understood.

He couldn’t lose a single one of them.

“Affirmative.” The rest of them said in unison with an honorary salute. It was important, for the sake of the balance but also for each other.

They couldn’t go on with anyone missing. Literally.

Taehyung and Yoongi were up first in the plan while the rest of them began to move in and start the process of containment.

This was extremely important. Celestial matters do not belong in the human world and the risk of getting caught would cause unnecessary drama that they did not need. It also made things easier for as soon as the place was cleared to begin the cleansing process— a building disappearing into thin air again was not something they needed on their hands.

Jungkook used the device specifically designed for this purpose, it almost looked like a white, glowing stick and as he pointed it down to the ground it created a glowing line that set up the base for Namjoon. Normally most teams have another device but with Namjoon’s control, he can create a barrier all on his own. Namjoon ran his hand along the wall that Jungkook created and a white shine would appear before eventually fading as he flew by, showing it had truly been blessed. By the end the lines were gone and the barrier was invisible to everyone and blocked out all perception from any nosy humans.

It made it so they were still able to fight in the normal plane, without the prying eyes of humans to complicate the issue.

They only had a small window before someone would take notice of the barrier, so as soon as Namjoon had sealed it, it was on for Taehyung and Yoongi.

“Everyone in positions?” Namjoon said over the channel.

They all confirmed and with Namjoon’s signal, it was time to begin.

Taehyung and Yoongi had maintained their positions on the roof of the shopping center, giving them the right amount of cover and distance for this first stage of the attack.

Taehyung took a deep breath, stood up, and drew his bow back, a bright white light shining and taking the shape of an arrow. Taehyung squinted one eye as he always did as he aimed it toward the sky, the tip of the arrow setting ablaze before letting go.

The guards standing outside were hardly paying any attention, the whole patrolling thing getting a little exhausting. They were just talking to each other, trying to do anything to make the time pass by when suddenly a swift zip sound flew right past one of their heads.

They all turned and were shocked to see a flaming arrow pierced into the wall, one made of angelic light at that. It had not missed by even an inch to the guy standing on the far end.

They were here.

They quickly looked around, trying to see where that arrow came from but one glance up and they saw another one heading their way.

What was going on?

Another zip sound filled the air, this time much faster, their attention all still on the arrow flying in from above when a thump finally pulled them away.

To their horror, the guy who was on the opposing far end was lying on the floor, and right in the center of his head was a glowing bullet hole as black tar slowly oozed out from it. They all just stared at the way his eyes were still wide like he was permanently stuck staring at what would ultimately be his demise. They were absolutely taken aback at what just happened as they continued to watch his body flake into ash.

There was only one thing that could do this. No mortal weapon could do them any harm, especially to so mercilessly slaughter one of their kind.

Yoongi smiled at the sight in his scope as he pulled back the bolt handle with astounding speed. He enjoyed the satisfying, fast paced click while he found their immediate panic and shock at the sight of his doing being far too satisfying.

“Beautiful.” He said to himself as he moved his scope to focus on the guy standing closest to the door. This will be oh so glorious, a day of reckoning that he and his team would gladly deliver.

With a steady hand, as soon as Yoongi had a clear path, he pulled the trigger again with no hesitation. Yoongi laughed at the sight. The guy fell so easily, they always do.

They really started to scramble, Yoongi watched as they headed for the door, but just as easily as the first two, he smote them down before they could make it to their sanctuary.

“Are you having fun?” Yoongi heard Joon chuckle on the channel.

“Mhmmm— Taehyung, you can go ahead and start with the ones on the roof.” Yoongi said hastily as he took out three more that were by the entrance. Through the scope though he saw one of them likely calling for backup, that was only a second before he became another one of the bodies beginning to line the perimeter.

“I also think our brief moment of stealth is about up so prepare for stage two.” Yoongi called out as four more bodies hit the pavement.

Once Taehyung heard the needed confirmations, he pulled his bow back once again, this time the arrow making a faint sizzling sound.

He let go and he watched earnestly as the arrow zipped through the sky, landing exactly where he wanted it to, the furthest point of the roof of the casino. It was only a second later when an explosion of white hot flames of purification erupted, consuming everyone in the near vicinity.

Even from where Taehyung and Yoongi were standing, they could hear the screams of their sins being purified.

“Now this is truly beautiful.” Taehyung beamed.

“Fun’s over. This is where things get serious. Take care of the perimeter as soon as possible so you can join the rest of us inside.” Namjoon commanded, getting a little more stern.

“Rodger captain.” Yoongi flashed them a thumbs up where they could see from where the rest of the members had been standing, right by the edge of the boundary they had drawn.

With a majority of forces handled on the outside it was time to begin the brave journey of getting to Abigor, the head and ultimately why they’re here in the first place.

Abigor was a famous leader in H.E.L.L. leading rebellion after rebellion, always spewing nonsense about ‘the hellfire that will rain from above,’ that the P3 angels continuously had to put down. He was more annoying and hard to deal with than actually dangerous.

Still though, he had managed to convince a legion of demons to follow him and there were so many to face up ahead.

Namjoon, Jungkook, Hoseok, Seokjin, and Jimin finally shifted to the normal plane and made a beeline straight to the door.

This, this would be when things truly got intense.

Things outside were chaotic; all of the demons trying to locate where the shots were coming from made slipping inside easier than ever.

Gone was the glitz and glamor that lured in all the passersby, instead Devil’s Night revealed its true state, the mask it put up for all the mortals nowhere in sight. The casino was uncanny, an unnatural dark haze clouded the halls and that same putrid black ooze slowly seeped from the walls.

Besides the horrific sight, it was easy to feel something was off about this place. 900+ demons or so were meant to fill the halls, yet it was uncomfortably silent. As they all entered, like it was some horror movie, the doors slowly closed behind them.

For some reason they all knew the only way out of here would be to kill every last one of them.

Namjoon turned behind him to confirm his team was still, in fact, behind him; sometimes these places liked to make things more complicated and instantly separate them. No worries, they would always find each other.

But to his relief, he saw their concentrated faces likely trying to think of the next procedure.

“There shouldn’t be too many on this floor right now. I want this floor cleared entirely along with the confirmation from Taehyung and Yoongi that the outside is clear before proceeding. The last thing we need is enemies coming down from above. I want this handled quickly, we reviewed the floorplan for this floor, there should be no reason for any mistakes or hesitation. Affirmative?”

“Roger.” They all said in unison like the perfect obedient soldiers that they are.

All weapons were taken out, and for a second they just looked at each other. From here on out, things were going to be so chaotic. The chances of this mission going smoothly were not in their favor, but when had that ever stopped them? Still though, it was nice to have this one final image before they got too busy to realize who was even right beside them.

They did this every time, and with that out of the way the fun could finally begin.

Jungkook, with his SMGs in hand, twirled them around his fingers before he zipped past them first into the darkness.

Seeing his faint glow disappear into the despair, moments like these made Jimin remember when they had first awoken. His terrified eyes staring up at him and Joon as they clung to each other in such a terrifying and confusing world. So much time has passed since then, Jungkook has grown so much since then, and he has changed.

Time was such a made up construct, especially to a being who never truly got to experience it fully. None of them aged, they didn't look a day older than the first moment they opened their eyes. Time stopped for them so long ago, and yet they weren't the same people who Atara and Celine first gazed upon.

If time hasn’t changed them, what has?

Dragging Jimin out of his thoughts was the signal they needed. Jungkook’s whistle echoed in this chamber of silence, its power making his glow finally pierce through the haze. It was terrifying, it was as if their set clock stopped entirely as the image of Jungkook standing there in the middle of the fog, with deformed humans all trying to leap at him from all directions, blackness oozing from where their eyes and mouths should be.

It was a split second, but Jungkook was faster as he flew above the herd, the window into the fog quickly closing, but that was all they needed.

Jimin, Seokjin, and Hoseok were next.

Seokjin charged in quickly, his sword made from angelic light easily causing the lead of screams that sounded through the fog. He was skilled, easily out beating the best swordsman humanity would ever see as he effortlessly sliced through their flimsy, squishy bodies. Seokjin’s technique was deadly in the way he used the powerful momentum of his wings to sink his already more than lethal weapon at speeds so great, it was as easy as cutting paper.

He always used flight as an advantage to easily dip and dodge their attacks. They had weapons, far less powerful, but their dark bullets or blades certainly could kill them if they were struck too many times or a knife was sunk too deep. They also had the added advantage of that ooze seeping from seemingly every one of their orifices. Too much can lead to the speedy corruption of an angel. Not lethal by any means, but that would immediately turn the boys’ attention from the demons to their own comrade.

A corrupted angel simply can not exist.

Seokjin was careful and despite his weapon not being a speedy bullet, he was quickly able to kill before they even had any time to fire.

Hoseok took a different approach.

He simply flew into the fog but planted his feet in the ground as soon as he was deep enough in.

Almost immediately the demons started trying to leap at him as well, but Hoseok’s quick wielding of his pike was faster. The pointed tip easily pierced through the fake flesh that housed the darkness within. Hoseok moved like water, a dance almost as he toyed with them. He’d spent an incomprehensible amount of time learning to make the most of less.

Jimin could never forget how many times he’d walk into their training room, seeing Hoseok trying to practice his technique, something Celine and Atara said was essential for handling a weapon like his.

For a while, the perfection that H.E.A.V.E.N. demanded seemed impossible to achieve, but Hoseok would always say the key was just thinking about it like he actually was dancing, that he was on a stage and this was all some elaborate performance.

It was strange, Jimin never got it, but apparently that mindset flipped some kind of switch in him. Despite him usually fighting on the ground, he was sometimes more lethal than all the rest of them in the way he’d ‘perform’ with the enemies. It was graceful and incredibly beautiful as all the ‘performances’ would conclude with their screams as his angelic light pierced through their bodies entirely.

“Maybe I used to be a dancer.” Hoseok would always joke around anytime they’d be cleansing a scene and the amount of bodies he’d created on his own was hauntingly beautiful, sometimes more than those with faster weapons.

Jimin always wondered, surely one of the lives he lived he had to be the greatest dancer that ever lived, because the way he moved topped even the most majestic sights.

Jungkook’s fighting style was a little more similar to Seokjin. He relied on speed and pretty much speed alone. He was fast, the fastest out of the team actually. Back during their training days, Jungkook came first place in all the races they’d do pretty much all the time. It was clear to Celine and Atara that he was to be their head scout, able to dip and dive enemies in case of emergencies easily.

His guns were also seemingly chosen with that fact in mind. The small guns shot fast, but only allowed him to fire so much at a time before reloading. It kept his mind prioritizing his movement in order to confuse the enemy before dealing a quick final blow.

From where Namjoon was standing, Jungkook almost seemed to blink, his light in the fog quickly disappearing before reappearing faster than it left. For brief moments in time you could see the demon's horrid faces stand around trying to find where he was before suddenly Jungkook’s light would barely illuminate the fact that they were beginning to pile on the floor.

Jimin was trained to be the master of all trades. His handle allowed for versatile weapon usage unlike his teammates, but the dials on the handle made switching in the middle of battle slightly difficult. He’d been trained to use nearly every weapon his handle could create and the combinations exceeded the thousands. His training took the longest, but Jimin's efforts then created the killing machine he is today.

He plowed through enemies with the light beam configuration, the handle now split into two with thick beams of light coming out from each end.

Namjoon could see Jimin was fighting slightly differently today.

Normally this was just business, albeit inconvenient business considering they were busy as it is with their guardian duties, but this was their jobs as warriors for maintaining the balance of the universe.

As Namjoon watched, he was slightly stunned at the power Jimin would fly around with. It was with the same ferocity that he would sometimes encounter when watching over humans. Whatever it was, it was good.

Despite where Jimin entered having far more of the vile creatures, Jimin nearly beat Jungkook in clearing his side.

If only he knew Jimin was thinking of you. You were his fuel to the fire, he wanted to see you, he needed to see you and this filthy scum was getting in the way of that.

Namjoon smelling the burning of purification in the air and the fog filled with ash, he began his trek to the elevator Jimin found.

He entered the fog as he would a midday stroll, something he often enjoyed doing with the human he’s watching over currently. Most of the demonic creatures were more so focused on taking out the four who were actively fighting their legion, but some did notice him.

They ran up to him, their guns blazing in order to stop him, but they were nearly all but useless.

Namjoon’s angelic glow was powerful enough to practically melt any bullets that traveled too close or slow them down enough they simply fell to the floor as Namjoon kept moving.

Some of them tried to run up on him, but his blessed hands, now back to being wrapped in the necessary protective bandages, were more than enough to purify the enemy with a single touch.

Namjoon’s presence alone was enough to create a near permanent path through the fog leading straight to the secret elevator’s entrance.

When he made it, he simply turned around and watched as his team members slaughtered the last of the unlucky demons that were on this floor at the time.

It was a symphony of perfect chaos, the rumbling of explosives from Taehyung and terrified screams of those who noticed “there's a sniper on the roof!” They’d cry out but Yoongi was faster. Then the battle on the inside as his team began the cleansing of the building that should not exist, the stain on humanity that they must fix no matter the cost.

They cleared the entire floor in a matter of minutes. The battle was unfair, it usually was.

It also wasn’t long before Taehyung and Yoongi gave the confirmation that the perimeter had been cleared and would be heading inside soon.

The bodies that filled the halls it was nearly impossible to walk with how lumpy the floors were now, bodies and goop not the easiest to stand on. Jungkook, Seokjin, and Jimin quickly flew over top of it all and met Namjoon by the elevator.

“Alright, we’re about to head down to the first basement level. Taehyung and Yoongi, have this mess cleaned up before we finish dealing with the first level. Join us as soon as you can and we can all regroup and do the clean up together.” Namjoon said over the channel despite talking to the three in front of him.

“Roger!” They saluted, perfect line, perfect posture like they’ve done this a million times.

Certainly more than that by now right?

With confirmation from the two outside, they proceeded inside the elevator, deeper into the belly of the beast.

Purification was necessary, unlike sins, it was a little harder to purify demons enough to deal with them. Quick blows from weapons weren't enough to cleanse the scene, instead they needed to taste the flames in order to truly be purified.

It was a grueling, nasty job that no one really wanted to deal with. Over the years though, Taehyung and Yoongi, normally being the ones responsible for being the “clean up crew,” had perfected their system to be the most efficient.

Burn them all.

Simple, yet it always proved to be the most effective.

Yoongi and Taehyung would take up the task of flying around, collecting all the scattered body parts into one large pile— this time they chose to bring it all outside, right to the edge of where the barrier extended. They were quick despite how many casualties there were just in this one area, their keen eyes great at spotting even the smallest chunk.

The most horrific sight awaited them at the end of their efforts, bodies stacked high enough to nearly surpass the height of the casino itself.

It was glorious.

Taehyung got out of his bow and, much like the first shot he fired out earlier, the arrow lit ablaze before he fired. The white flames easily consumed the pile, their sins being a great conductor for making the fire grow in an astonishing amount in a short amount of time.

The air smelled of burning flesh, and the black ooze that covered the bodies produced a unique scent that all the boys have grown to love despite its unpleasantness. This was purification, cleansing the world of sin like they had promised to do in a life they can’t even remember anymore.

This was their duty and seeing it in this pure form would never not bring a smile to their faces.

Yoongi took up the job of cleaning up the ooze that painted every surface in the casino. It was hard to believe this was the same place Jimin, Taehyung, and Namjoon walked into yesterday. The place reeked of death, and the doom and gloom weighed down the atmosphere.

With an arrow Yoongi borrowed from Taehyung, Yoongi used its flaming tip as he flew around setting ablaze to any ooze that remained.

The battle that took place had the place covered in it, the shiny gold floors, the elaborate chandlers, the slot machines, roulette and poker tables, everywhere their sin had continued to drip. Quickly, the place was consumed entirely with flames.

Luckily for them, the flames of purification couldn't hurt anything unless they’ve been tainted with sin, something these damned creatures practically swam in.

They were quick, meticulous, and by the time they were done, the flames of purification had nearly returned the place to its former glory— well, as nice as it could be before they burned it all down.

They headed to the elevator only minutes after their counterparts, and down they went to the first floor of the basement their team had gone down to. The minute the doors opened, Yoongi and Taehyung were delighted to hear the immediate screams from the demons and it seemed like their teammates were nearly done clearing the floor.

Namjoon was standing back, closer toward the elevator watching Jungkook, Seokjin, Hoseok, and Jimin go through each of the rooms and slaughter any demon they saw.

“Are things going well so far?” Yoongi asked, walking up to Namjoon.

“They have to.” He put it plainly as he gazed upon the chaos. It was almost like he was in a trance, fully enamored by its haunting beauty.

Namjoon snapped himself out of it. “But yes, so far things are going to plan. Jimin today seems especially motivated making things run even smoother than I anticipated—“

Interrupting Joon was a demon that had run out of one of the rooms, the ooze just pouring, but it was clear it was running straight toward them— or maybe the elevator, but that didn’t matter.

Taehyung already brought out his bow, fired, and watched as the arrow pierced right where its eyes should be. Nevertheless, the arrow was deadly, the demon being sent flying back as it flew out from the back of its head and shooting into the wall behind it.

“Bullseye.” Taehyung smiled because there was nothing more satisfying than watching their suffering.

Namjoon gave Taehyung a commemorative nod, before turning his attention back to the overall battle at hand.

“They seem like they’re almost done.” Yoongi mentioned as the screams of horror began to quiet with each and every kill.

“Seems so, maybe we should begin cleansing this floor. The quicker we make it through this the better.” Namjoon said wanting to keep things moving as much as possible.

During these missions Namjoon always felt the most useless. The fact he didn’t have a weapon like the others meant there was no way to “filter” his angelic energy making a vast majority of his capabilities too powerful for the normal plane. He always tried to help out when he could, oftentimes cleaning up the few stray enemies or literally joining the clean up crew with Tae and Yoongi.

Soon, the rumored rooms used for purposes less than pure were bathed in the very substance of their consequences. Black, black, as far as the eye could see.

Hoseok, Jungkook, Seokjin, and Jimin were practically covered in it by now, their white clothes dripping with the black ooze. As soon as they gave the all clear Yoongi flew over to them to hand them the vials of holy water he prepared for just these types of scenarios.

Normally this ooze that came from sins would evaporate over their holy bodies soon after it landed, but demons were darker and it took extra effort in order to purify after battle.

They quickly unscrewed the caps and poured the glowing white liquid onto their skin. They immediately cried out at the burn, it wasn’t a pleasant experience, far from it actually. Holy water had to be intense to remove the filthy sin as quickly as it needed to be. The holy water reserved for battles was far stronger than the baths in H.E.A.V.E.N., working much faster than the relieving soak they would need to take occasionally.

Despite the pain, it easily washed away the black that had started to stain their skin, instead the red burn of purification left in its wake.

They also had to change their clothes, the fabric too soaked to continue on.

“Jimin, what’s up with you today?” Yoongi asked as he watched Jimin pull his new shirt over his head.

“Huh? What do you mean?” He asked, only paying attention halfway.

“You’re doing great, but wow are you making cleanup hard.” Yoongi tried to joke, but he wasn’t exaggerating. It was obvious which ones were what Jimin left behind. Hoseok, Seokjin, and Jungkook’s were those with only the necessary final blow, a few bullet wounds, stab wounds, and the occasional discarded limb, but Jimin’s were sometimes entirely dismembered, disemboweled, and Yoongi even came across one that was practically reduced to mush.

“Oh? I’m sorry.” He mumbled but this time Jimin was looking at him.

“No apologies, just save some of that energy for Abigor.” Yoongi moved in a little closer to pat him on his back.

Jimin nodded, but he didn’t let himself relax, he was chasing a high he didn’t want to lose until this was all over and he was back with you.

You, he had to get back to you no matter what.

After their brief regrouping, the group hurriedly helped Taehyung and Yoongi with the new mess they created.

As soon as everything was collected, Taehyung fired his arrow and the bodies set ablaze. Just like the floor up above, they had to set the ooze scattered all over on fire to fully purify everything.

With that done, they all headed to the elevator to continue their descent into madness.

From here on out their plan kicked into full gear. There were five floors in total to this basement— Jungkook, Jimin, Seokjin, and Hoseok were to lead the attack on the next two floors with Namjoon, Yoongi, and Taehyung helping out whenever they could.

As soon as they completed that, Namjoon and Jimin would ride with the rest to the following floor but continue straight to Abigor, interrogating, and extracting all the information they could while all of the rest of the team took care of the fourth floor.

They moved systematically while trying to navigate the insanity as they passed through each floor. Demon lairs were strange in what its connection to H.E.L.L. did to the building, this abomination, this place that shouldn’t exist. The further down they went, the more that point became abundantly clear.

This building shouldn’t exist. Its windy halls that seemed to stretch for entirety, its strange physics that shouldn’t belong in this universe, the growing heat as they went deeper, the fire that burned across the walls, not of purification but red and hot of the rightful damnation they all deserved.

Just like the sins they fought on a normal basis, everything was just never where it should be. Eyes crying in the walls, arms, legs, feet all trying to escape the tortuous flames. Scenes, as if it was stolen straight from someone else’s time period, were also stuck in the walls, sometimes entire streets were seemingly copy and pasted for no reason.

It was strange but that didn’t deter the team as they continued to plow through any demon they came across in this madness. It took forever to clear the floors because of how endless they seemed.

Luckily they were immune to the feelings of the passage of time, honestly there was no telling how long they were stuck going through the halls; years could have passed going through and killing the demons, followed by the necessary purification, and they wouldn’t have known.

And then the fact they had to clear two of these floors…

They were angels, they couldn’t get tired, but for some reason, as they finished the third floor they all felt the aches, pains, exhaustion, and mental enervation of doing this for who knows how long.

Strange… that didn’t used to happen. Maybe they really had been doing this for too long.

Riding down to the fourth floor they were covered in burns, scorched head to toe from being stuck in the flames for so long. Yoongi had tried to heal everyone but as soon as he did the burns were back with even more vigor.

To make matters worse, the temperature only increased as they rode down. Angels were immune to practically everything that existed in the normal plane, but H.E.L.L.’s flames weren’t from this plane and had the capability to do noteable damage.

It was painful, exhausting, and draining, but the worst was behind them now. It was honestly surprising they managed to make it through this, Jimin honestly at multiple points considered giving up, letting the flames embrace him, but then he’d remember you, who was still waiting on him, and then he’d brutally execute anything that was near him because he had to get back to you.

He promised.

This happened once in the middle of clearing the third floor, Jimin had nearly taken the head off his leader before he realized what he was doing. The blade had managed to graze Namjoon’s neck. They had all tried to joke and say Jimin was starting to lose his mind, but they all wanted out as soon as possible; any longer and they worried someone might do something stupid.

As the elevator doors opened, they were greeted not by flames, but total darkness instead. Like most lairs this was probably where they housed the more powerful demons. It wasn’t the best idea splitting up now, but Namjoon trusted the other five to be able to handle this without them all here.

“I know we've been at this for a while, but let’s clear this alright? Watch out for each other and you all better be alright when we get back.” Namjoon looked all of them in the eyes.

They needed each other. Seven in, seven out, there was no other way.

They all smiled, before pulling each other into a tight hug, a goodbye that shouldn’t be long but with how this mission had gone so far, one never knows.

Namjoon told them all to follow Hoseok’s lead as he’d normally be appointed second in command whenever he was away for some reason or another.

They waved at each other as the elevator doors closed and Namjoon hit the button down to floor number five of this basement.

This was a necessary move— Abigor certainly by now aware of their presence— any more time wasted gave him more opportunity to escape. They couldn’t take any chances.

The temperatures in the elevator continued to rise to astounding heights, it actually hurt just to stand on the metal, and the fact they both didn’t have any shoes didn’t help whatsoever, not like that’d help much.

As much as it hurt, they had their sights set on the very being that brought them here.

Abigor.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, Jimin ran out into the red, fiery hellscape, no care at all for the flames that practically encased the hallway. He had to get back to you.

Namjoon was a little stunned about how motivated he still seemed after all they went through, but quickly sprang into action and ran after him.

One drawback of being this far down was that it was far too hot for them to fly, losing the advantage they had fighting in the air, but being this far down meant that they had escaped the normal plane enough for Namjoon to use some of his abilities.

The demons down here had all heard that they were coming and had set up makeshift covers with the desk they had as they sprayed their demonic bullets down the hall.

A strategy that might have easily taken them down if Namjoon wasn’t here. He quickly was able to catch up to Jimin and before a majority of the bullets reached them, he was able to move in front of him. Quickly clapping his hands together, the bandages around his hands started to glow and a slightly translucent barrier formed in front of them both, easily melting any of the bullets that came anywhere near them.

Namjoon turned, ready to reprimand Jimin for his utter stupidity because he knew he was supposed to go in first, but when he did, he noticed the pained look on Jimin’s face as he was holding his right arm. A dark red trail speedily began running down his arm from the spot his hand tried to protect.

That just made him even angrier because this could have been avoided if he just stuck to the plan.

Namjoon was fuming but with a majority of his attention needing to be in front of him, he couldn’t stop worrying something worse had happened.

“Are you ok?!” Namjoon yelled over the gunfire.

“I’m fine, just a stray bullet.” Jimin grumbled as he fished out a piece of cloth from his pocket and hurriedly went to tie it around his arm. Blood and his angelic light continued to spill from the wound.

Namjoon sighed, an instant relief coming over him.

“You can still fight right?” Namjoon called out, but he wouldn’t really take no for an answer. He was still mad.

“Yes! I’m sorry, just get me a little closer.” Jimin sighed as he watched the white fabric begin to soak up the blood.

Namjoon picked up a little more speed and as soon as they got close to the tables, that was Jimin’s cue. With new found adrenaline from getting shot, Jimin whipped out his handle, turning the dials to first to split then to form two small blades.

Jimin hopped over the tables and easily cut all their throats, despite their pleas. The guys on the other side were a lot more determined to take him down.

One of the reasons Jimin was pulled from the mission upstairs was because of his insane athleticism and agility, even when fighting on the ground. He was easily able to dodge their attacks, his quick movements and flips making all their attacks basically useless as he crossed their spray of bullets and executed them just as easily as the others.

With the front line cleared, Namjoon expanded the barrier as Jimin moved to attack all the middle ranks.

Bodies upon bodies continued to hit the floor as despite Jimin trying to be as speedy as possible, some of them still ended up with their heads cut clean off.

With Jimin handling the worst of it, Namjoon hurriedly pushed forward to get to their back line, the damage he did was even worse.

He dropped the shield and with one pointed finger, he watched as they all dropped their guns and began screaming with pain. The bodies started to glow white from purification and as the light grew bright, so did their screams as well.

It was the most pleasant deafening screech for life, but as the light faded he would find no one, their bodies finally tasting the light of purity.

Smiting someone alive was not the best experience but it was what they deserve.

The entire back line was extinguished almost instantaneously. Namjoon now had clear sight lines to the door that likely led to Abigor.

He turned around and saw Jimin running over to him. The gun fires had subsided, this hall was now clear.

Before heading any further, Namjoon handed him another vital of holy water Yoongi had given him before they separated. Jimin was covered in it once again, but it was hard to tell what was the ooze and what was just burnt scorched marks.

“You ok?” Namjoon checked in once again.

“I’ll be better once we’re out. Let’s hurry.” Jimin said before sprinting straight to the door.

Namjoon followed closely behind as Jimin was easily able to burst through the door.

Inside they found two terrified demons with guns pointing straight at them and someone sitting right at a desk in the center of the room.

Namjoon saw it before they could act and as the two demons were about to shoot, he smote them down before they could even process they were here.

Now that just leaves him.

Abigor.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Phase #3 (Interrogation & Termination)

Abigor was stunned, they could tell by the look on his face on how easily they took down his two guards. He was ready to run but Jimin was quick in sprinting over, a blade to his throat ready to end him at any second.

“Don’t even try it.” Namjoon announced as he waved his hand and the blessed rope came up to tie him to the chair.

Jimin resisted the urge to laugh, hearing his screams at the burn of the ropes.

Not the time.

Abigor gritted his teeth. “What.do.you.want?” He sounded less than pleased to see them.

“As much as you can give us. Tell us why you’re here, how you escaped, or anything you think is of value.” Namjoon smiled while taking a seat on the desk.

“And why would I do that?” The demon’s eyes bore into Namjoon, different from the rest, strangely human, but just as dark and sinister as the rest.

“Because then he’ll kill you.” Namjoon motioned over to Jimin who still had the knives to his throat.

“I can make things quick for you but my friend here… I think you’d prefer I take care of things. You should see what he’s done to your colleges.” Namjoon couldn’t help but laugh, noticing the fear in his eyes for a second.

Abigor didn’t let it show for too long, instead that snarky attitude was back. “You’re both going to fucking kill me anyway. Just do it already—“ but Jimin wasn’t having it, he had been gone from you for so long, he had to get back. Jimin didn’t hesitate pushing his knives deeper into his throat. The burn of the purity from his blades was quick to get a reaction, they always did.

His screams were music to their ears.

“I’d try that again. Jimin knows exactly how to cut you in ways to ensure you’re still alive as long as possible. Talk and I’ll give you the death I’m sure you’ll crave soon enough.” Namjoon smiled.

What they didn’t expect was for Abigor’s eyes to light up for some reason.

“You’re… Jimin?” His eyes were wide, eccentric almost.

Namjoon and Jimin both were incredibly confused because there should be no way for Abigor to be familiar with the name. They’ve never met before, Jimin hardly knew who this was.

Abigor continued to stare into Jimin’s eyes, the darkness unnerving and Jimin had to resist every tendency he had to stop himself from sinking his knives further into his throat.

His smile was too wide for someone who was tied up with blessed rope, the smell of his flesh burning filling the office, and blades were literally piercing into his skin. Why the fuck was he laughing?

A sick and twisted laugh filled the eerie silence of all the death through the halls.

“And hell will rain from above, our days of glory are upon us!” Abigor shouted, his smile growing more unnerving. He also started to struggle, seemingly all of a sudden not caring at all about the ropes or Jimin’s knives sinking even deeper into his throat.

Jimin tried to stop him, but nothing he did seemed to work.

“Permission to just end it sir?” Jimin asked just wanting to be done with this madness already. This one was insane, no other way to put it. It was a common occurrence from demons and even P3 angels occasionally, the conditions there were so extreme in H.E.L.L. it was easy to lose your sense of self in it all.

Namjoon was stuck on the desk extremely perplexed. This wasn’t what he expected, everything in his plans suggested at this point he’d either sick Jimin loose or he’d have already started talking and he would be just a pile of ash on the floor soon.

Maybe he should have heeded the P3’s warnings a little more about how erratic Abigor was, or maybe there was something worthwhile here.

Namjoon hopped off the desk and walked towards Abigor.

“Permission denied. If he wants to die on this hill then so be it, but we’re going to draw it as long as possible.” Namjoon looked down at this pathetic man.

“HELL WILL RAIN FROM ABOVE!” Abigor laughed maniacally, but Joon’s hand came up to cup his jaw. His laughs turned to tortured screams as Namjoon’s bandaged fingers started burning his flesh even more than the ropes or the graze of the blades.

He was screaming but Namjoon still saw that crazed look in his eyes.

“We got time, the others will probably take a little while to clear the floor up above so take your time Jimin. Try and get as much out of him as you can.” Namjoon said coldly, going back to his spot on the desk.

Jimin smiled. That was something he could work with.

He removed his blades from his neck.

Jimin turned the dials on his handles to get more appropriate tools.

To be honest he didn’t care if he talked, this was one of his favorite parts during these missions.

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He didn’t talk. Throughout the whole session, Abigor just kept screaming about “hell raining from above,” whatever that means.

Namjoon challenged him, wondering if he was going to die on that hill and apparently he was, to his dying breath it was the very last thing he screamed.

They could have kept prying for information but they both heard Hoseok’s winded voice over the channel reporting they had slain the last demon and was about to start purifying the floor.

Time was up unfortunately and they hadn’t really learned anything new. This is usually how most of these missions went, demons were really tight-lipped, the most they ever got was an occasional name they could report to the P3 angels to keep an eye out for.

It didn’t matter, their main mission was to cleanse this place and that’s exactly what they did. Any new information was simply an added bonus.

After Jimin’s efforts, Abigor’s neck had practically been reduced to just black mush that covered the ground all around him. Only Jimin could have kept him alive that long, by his final moments, he had carved away so much of his neck it was a miracle his head was staying up in the first place.

How Abigor was alive was an even bigger question.

The miracle of what Jimin could do with intricately placed wires, a dull blade, and an incomprehensible amount of time and experience dealing with sharp objects– he could pull off the impossible.

The scene had been particularly brutal to watch even as Namjoon tried to focus on interrogating Abigor, watching his teammate work was almost sickening.

This instance Jimin had used the wires to assist holding Abigor’s head up– not vertically but the hooks pierced his flesh on the sides of his face horizontally to keep his head in place while his neck could still bear the excruciating weight of his head. Jimin had pulled up a chair and ever so meticulously sliced, hacked, and cut away at the flimsy flesh as more and more of Namjoon’s questions went unanswered.

With how precise his bladework was, it was obvious this wasn’t his first time doing this. Far, far from it actually. This was Jimin’s role in the group after all– deemed the executioner for his vast array of weapons and how skilled he was at using every single one. He was deadly, extremely, exactly the type of person who’d be great at extracting information from even the toughest of captives using whatever means necessary.

Demon’s are notorious for not giving up information even in the face of death, yet many younger teams looked up to him in the fact he was one of the most successful in getting them to talk whenever they were sent out on missions like this.

Not everyday can be a win though. Despite his effort and elaborate setup, it all proved to be pointless. They learned nothing.

As soon as they got the message from Hoseok, Jimin had turned his trusty tool and turned the dials of his handle for a longer, sharper blade and finally cut his head from that pathetic stalk, ending that pitiful creature’s suffering.

And with that, the last demon was gone.

They honestly could have collapsed from exhaustion and heat alone could have taken them out, but they had bigger priorities, now was not the time to rest.

Namjoon handed Jimin another holy water vial to clean up with once again.

This building that shouldn’t exist still existed and they needed to fix that.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Phase #4 (Purification)

After Namjoon and Jimin finished cleaning up the rest of the bodies and purifying it from that horrendous black ooze, they were finally able to leave the vexatious flames of the bottom level and finally start heading up once again.

Even on the journey back up to the fourth floor, the heat difference was so great, it felt like the sun on a hot summer day compared to the literal hellscape a floor down.

As soon as the doors opened, they were greeted by the rest of their teammates. Namjoon instinctively did a headcount, more than relieved to see, including himself, they were seven once again.

They all looked even more exhausted, their skin still scorched from the heat, but with red burns sprinkled in between, likely from the holy water, and they were practically covered in blood.

They didn’t say much, they didn’t need to, anything of importance could be discussed later. Instead they all hugged once again as they rode up the casino floor.

The fog had cleared, by now it just seemed like any other closed down casino. The sun was peeking in through the windows, a peaceful silence in the air.

It was strange, it felt like so long since they’ve seen the sun. It felt like years since they saw its blissful rays.

Also now that they were back up here, they finally knew what day it was again.

Hardly any time had passed up here, time being a funny thing like that. It was the morning after they began their planned attack, the sun now up and a few early bird Vegas residents already walking the strip.

From inside the building, because of the barrier Namjoon put up, passersby would start at one end, disappear, and then reappear at the other end of the casino. To them, they saw a casino that was still closed, but they were completely unaware of the horrors that happened inside these walls in just a few short hours for them.

Such simple creatures.

Sometimes Jimin couldn’t help but wish he was as blissfully unaware of things like they were. It would be so much easier that way.

They all helped each other hobble over to the entrance. It was a task trying to fly up to the shopping center, that short distance up was hard for most of them to do, Namjoon and Jimin had to fly all of the others up to the roof.

As soon as they all made it, they all just laid down with a sigh and stared up at the sky beginning to erupt with color as the sun continued to rise.

“You think we can convince the higher ups to give us a whole decade off after this?” Seokjin let out a pained laugh.

“Right… we have to go straight back to being guardians…” Taehyung frowned.

“Why are we so tired?” Jungkook whined, hating the feeling. It was strange, but none of them thought too much about it, they had really been fighting for a long time and with so many enemies.

“We must be getting old…” Yoongi sighed and they all laughed.

If only.

The moment was nice but they still had one more task left. Namjoon tapped Taehyung and after a little bit of complaining he finally got up to deliver the final blow.

Taehyung brought his bow back out and drew it for the last time. Another arrow appeared over the line with the tip blazing with flames, instead of white this time, a vigorous blue blazed over the tip.

He let go and the arrow whizzed through the air before landing somewhere on the roof. A blue flame slowly began to grow in its place.

This step usually takes a while.

As soon as this was done, Namjoon would be able to swoop in and finally put the last piece back in place.

Devil’s Night never should have existed and everyone who thought it did would forget about it, the world going back to the way it should be. The balance restored, time itself restored, in the end, while it may not have been the most satisfactory ending, it still was a mission success.

Yoongi finally had enough energy to begin healing everyone, first tending to any serious injuries that had caused the pool of red to collect underneath them, then soothing their burns from either the flames or the holy water, and finally making his way over to Jimin and tending to the bullet hole that had gone straight through his arm.

It sucked, but getting shot on missions like these wasn’t something new, so he was used to the sting of Yoongi trying to patch up the hole that was seeping both blood and his angelic energy. The rag he’d tied around the wound was soaked with blood and the bright white light of the true beast that was within glowed brightly as soon as Yoongi took it off.

Despite all the injuries being fixed, they still felt exhausted for some reason. Instead of heading straight back to H.E.A.V.E.N. after watching Devil’s Night burn down, they decided a quick break at a restaurant would hopefully boost their spirits.

Food wouldn’t work like it might for humans, but the environment was nice to lose yourself in, making the stress and exhaustion go away even if it was just the slightest.

It took awhile for the casino to burn down, despite the flames quickly overtaking everything in sight, it was as if the building itself was fighting till the very end. The boys all watched from the roof of the shopping center as the bright blue flames consumed it whole. Eventually all things must come to an end, and instead of the magnificent casino that easily lured in guests, the casino sitting right in front of them was no more, instead a giant hole in its place.

Namjoon then came in and as he removed the barrier they had set up earlier he individually removed Devil’s Night from everyone who had memories of it. A process only Namjoon could do so fast and on such a large scale.

The walls came down and the gaping hole in the ground was instead replaced with the abandoned building that was meant to be there. It looked exactly like the casino did, albeit in a more pathetic state than the flashy lights, golden floors, and the red velvety accents, but it started to make a lot more sense how they were able to set up so quickly.

With that done, this was officially it.

Mission success indeed.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Namjoon shifted up to the higher plane where their base resided and destroyed everything inside. He was back quickly and they all changed into more casual clothes that fit the time period, tshirts, shorts, hats, sunglasses.

Nobody would ever guess they weren’t just a group of friends who decided to hit up the strip early. Perfect.

They flew down from the roof as inconspicuously as they could, heading down in an alleyway, before emerging where the rest of everyone walked.

They enjoyed their time sightseeing, despite being more aware of all the sights than any of the baffled tourists they passed, they still had a little fun while they searched for a place everyone wanted to eat at.

The problem was that most places were closed since it was so early, in the end they decided to do breakfast instead. It was a cute place, themed around an old fifties diner.

“So did Abigor end up telling you anything?” Hoseok asked as he stared at the mountainous stack of pancakes the waitress had just given him. They all had a surplus helping of the meals they ordered, apparently complements of the chefs, who all shyly waved once they noticed their eyes.

“Nope, just the same shit the P3 angels said about him.” Namjoon sighed, taking a bite of all the bacon they had sitting on the plate. His attention turned to Jimin right as he said that.

“When we first got there though he acted as if he knew Jimin for some reason when I mentioned his name.” Namjoon said, adding that little bit of detail.

All the boys who weren’t there looked around a little confused.

“Why…?” Taehyung looked extremely confused, they all were honestly.

“I’m not sure, he was pretty crazy though, so I don’t think it’s something to worry about.” Namjoon tried to reason but he couldn’t get it out of his head how things were fine until Abigor heard his name.

“Do you think maybe the P3 angels were talking about us and he heard about Jimin?” Jungkook suggested.

It was no doubt they were one of the most infamous P2 teams currently active, the idea of a P3 angel mentioning their name and Abigor happened to be listening wasn’t that outlandish.

“That has to be it if anything, I think it’s worth mentioning in our reports but I think the higher ups will probably write it off too. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter anymore, he’s gone.” Namjoon put it plainly.

Jimin was only halfway listening. He mindlessly used his fork to push around the overload of scrambled eggs on his plate, he was too focused on wishing you were here with them.

You would have sat right beside him because he could easily put his arm around you. You would have been a little shy about it, but Jimin would have been smiling ear to ear, happy to have you here with his teammates.

He had to get back to you.

Despite how tired he was, he was the only one who just wanted to head back so they could hurriedly start on those reports they had to get done before he could get back to you.

It’s been too long since he’s seen you last.

Luckily the boys knew to move speedily, they were expected to return soon, so as much as the others wanted to take their time and enjoy themselves after the literal hell they’ve been put through, they still had a job to do.

Despite the surplus of food, all of the plates were clean by the time they asked for the check. Even the waitress looked surprised as she came over. It was one of the only advantages of not having a stomach, you could enjoy food to your heart's content and there were absolutely no consequences.

As much as most of them didn’t want to leave, once they left the diner, they headed behind one of the buildings on the strip to quickly return to their higher plane. They quickly ditched their casual 2002 attire for the white, silky fabrics they were used to.

Now invisible to everyone except each other, they moved back into the open. A shiny, golden ring appeared above Namjoon’s head and he jumped up to grab it.

He tossed it into the air and the ring quickly began to spin before a black void appeared right in its center.

With one last passing glance over the strip, the boys all flew through, the blackness only momentary before they flew right up to the landing bay in their headquarters.

It was similar to the larger one used in H.E.A.V.E.N. but this one was the one for their own personal HQ. It was the same place they first awoke, the same place Celine and Atara trained them, the same place they’ve used to plan all their missions, and the same place they met every month while on guardian duty. It always molded and expanded to their every need.

They all stretched their tired limbs but immediately went to work on getting those reports done. They were always long and tedious and this one especially was going to be difficult to get done. They had to make note of everything that happened in the most explicit detail, even down to the names of every demon they located and killed.

It was hard work and Jimin didn’t know how long it took them, it was impossible to know here anyway, but they eventually got it done.

Finally they could put this behind them.

But the grind never stopped, they all still had humans to go back to look after.

Namjoon volunteered to be the one to turn in their reports, tell the higher ups to start the final cleansing (Namjoon whipped everyone’s memory in 2002 of Devil’s Night but for those who weren’t around at the time, they still died with the memory— something that can’t happen) and inform the watchers of their return, but at this point they all said their goodbyes, a commemorative group hug being the last thing they did before they started heading their separate ways.

The set clocks returned back to their synchronicity. June 6th, 7:34pm, all in their respective years, but he was going to 2021.

Jimin couldn’t be more happy as he started making his way back.

He just missed you so much.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

You went to bed a little excited today.

Your nights had been way too peaceful– there was no Jimin, no field, no date, it was just nothing. You found yourself in absolute darkness till the morning, something you found you weren’t used to anymore.

Was it embarrassing to say you hated it? Yes, and maybe even more so that you were actually counting down the days till Sunday. It was only three days after your last meeting, but after the next night proved to be dreamless, as weird as it was, you still found yourself growing eager for the end of the weekend for the first time ever.

As soon as it got late, your excitement got the best of you, and so to speed up the process, you finally turned on that documentary about penguins that you would always fall asleep to.

You would be out like a light every time.

Your excitement let you get past the opening credits, a rare occurrence unfortunately, and you even finally heard the narrator speak for the first time. It was by far the longest you lasted, but those peaceful, nature sounds and the soothing voice of the narrator didn’t let you get any farther than the introduction to their migration patterns.

Before you knew it, you opened your eyes to the clear blue sky, and the leaves of the infamous tree rustling in the wind.

Realizing you were finally back, you sat up quickly trying to find where Jimin was, only to be shocked to see his smiling face next to you, staring up, as you both laid out on this picnic blanket.

Part of you was honestly surprised that he was really here on the day he said he was going to be. How was this possible?

How was any of this possible? It didn’t make any sense whatsoever, but in the moment, it didn’t matter because Jimin was right here with you once again.

If things couldn’t get any more embarrassing your eyes started welling up as you quickly leaped on top of him.

Jimin laughed as he felt your tight embrace, but just the feeling of having you in his arms again, if he could cry, he would have been bawling his eyes out right now.

“I missed you more…” His voice was soft as he gently rubbed your back.

“Not possible.” You choked, trying your best to hold it together, but you were miserably failing.

Jimin wanted to say no, it actually was very much so possible. It had been years since he’d seen you, the three days apart was nothing like it was on his end, but he let you have this one.

You eventually pulled yourself away from his shoulder, still surprised to see he was here, you were here, that this was happening.

Your position had accidentally turned a bit promiscuous as you sat up. You were sitting right on his lap, your white sundress dangerously kept inching up your thigh with every movement you made.

Jimin realized this quite quickly and that word on his wrist that had healed back to gold, began to set a blaze at the dangerous thoughts bouncing around his head.

No. Don’t do this.

“You kept your promise.” You smiled down at him as you wiped your eyes.

“Of course I would~” He chuckled, his hands coming up to rest on your waist.

Oh this position.

Jimin knew you could see his eyes drifting down to where your bodies connected.

“Mmm, we seem to be in a similar position to how our first date ended.” You smirked thinking back to it.

Jimin just laughed nervously because you were right, this is exactly how your first date— well, the second attempt ended, you were right on top of him like this.

You leaned forward so you were a little closer, this new position making it so easy for him to stare down your dress. You knew what you were doing.

“I know you know what I’m thinking, you always like to be in my head so much. Don’t you know how much I missed you?” Your voice was so sultry as you leaned in to start peppering kisses along his cheek.

He knew, he knew exactly how much you missed him. You let him see it, see what you did late at night to soothe the ache that he left behind the last time you saw each other.

A pained whine left his lips as you drew closer, the image so clear, your fingers working so well to please yourself at the thought of him.

Of him.

Him!

You smiled at him before kissing him ever so gently, like you were oh so innocent, your lips, your soft lips against his.

Oh no.

Almost immediately taking you out of the moment was the sound of plates clinking together and the soft murmur of voices.

Confused, you broke away and you were a little stunned to see no longer were you by the tree in the beautiful meadow, but instead you and Jimin were on the floor of a restaurant.

You quickly looked down at Jimin and he looked like he’d just seen a ghost.

“Date! I wanted to take you out today.” Jimin sounded nervous as he looked around.

He ushered you off of him and into the booth you were laid out beside.

Trying to stop the embarrassment from rising at the fact you started to see others in the booths, you looked around hoping that would be a good distraction but you found yourself even more confused. It looked like one of those fifties diners you would see whenever you watched old American movies. You’d certainly never been here before.

“Jimin, what’s going on?” You asked, a little scared. This was weird, this was the first time other people had been in your dream besides the two of you.

“I wanted to take you out, I hope you don’t mind.” Jimin tried to smile to reassure you.

The same waitress he’d seen before his team left Vegas walked up to you both and asked for your order.

“This place is amazing!” Jimin boosted and ordered the “special” which here just meant the same thing he and his group got when they visited. Was it far too much, certainly, especially for just the two of you, but he wanted to give you the experience.

The lady— Laura was the name on her badge— smiled at you both.

“Y’all make such a pretty couple.” Laura cheesed as she finished writing down the order.

Jimin blushed before thanking her.

If you weren’t confused before, things got weirder in the fact you understood everything she was saying despite you not exactly being fluent in English.

Maybe you were better than you thought, but…?

As Laura walked away, Jimin’s attention was fully on you. He knew you wanted to ask what just happened, he reassured you once again this was just a date like he always takes you on and you started to relax a little when Laura brought out the surplus of food, which you definitely wouldn’t have been able to eat all of it.

It got you to smile as plate after plate kept coming out and managed to take your mind off of the awkwardness earlier.

As you started to dive into your breakfast, you asked him what he did over the three days he was gone.

Jimin reiterated once again that he left to take down bad guys, to which you playfully rolled your eyes and asked for more detail.

“Can’t tell you silly~” Jimin chuckled.

“Why?” You pouted.

“Confidential.” It wasn’t really in all technicality because you shouldn’t even be in a position to ask him this question.

“Confidential? This is my head Jimin.” You laughed, baffled that this man was trying to keep secrets in your own mind.

You let it go though after he at least told you his mission had been successful. He knew you had more questions, but didn’t address it. It was not like he could anyway.

You both laughed as you ate your breakfast, breakfast for dinner…? What time was it? Was this actually breakfast or was the night still young as that penguin documentary continued to play with you passed out on the couch?

It didn’t matter because Jimin was here right now as you enjoyed your spread of pancakes, waffles, eggs, bacon, French toast, and assortment of fruits. Jimin assured you, you didn’t need to eat it all, but you had fun trying all the different foods.

The date was nice, something he pictured you would have had if you had been with him in Las Vegas back in 2002.

All was right, he was with you again, it should be as simple as that but it never seemed to be just that simple.

As innocent as your conversations were, your mind was a broken record for what happened earlier under the tree. Not just that, but what happened when he was gone, or all the multitude of ways your mind seemed to come up with as you spoke like nothing was wrong.

And to make matters worse, you weren’t doing it intentionally this time. Maybe Jimin had searched in your mind to find where your desires continued to play out, if he did, he didn’t mean to, but it was too late to go back.

It was pissing him off.

You were pissing him off, because while you had the luxury of fooling around with whoever you pleased, he couldn’t— it was a sin for him.

A horrendous sin and a promise he made to the people he was closest to.

There was no way he could break their trust, to fall that low into temptation.

Why were you doing this to him?

Why wasn’t he stronger than this?

Jimin tried to pay attention to your rant about why you kept trying to watch that penguin documentary when you’re sleepy instead of in the afternoon or something, but your mind was filthy and it was so distracting.

The more he tried to push away, the more he wished he never made this date happen. He wished right now you both were still alone and underneath that tree as he let you touch him. He wanted you to touch him and he wanted to touch you even more.

Jimin hated the way his body felt, this unnerving flame that continued to grow brighter. He felt hot, hotter than the hell he was put through for his mission. His eyes encapsulated by your beauty was a dangerous fuel to the fire, it had just been so long, and your smile while you tried to recount how much you actually learned from that penguin documentary, it took so little for you to do this to him.

Just one human, one, to make him feel like this? Was he really that weak to sin?

Jimin knew he must have started to look strange, but he didn’t even realize you had stopped talking all together noticing his expression grow more… pained? There was a weird, scary look in his eyes.

“Jimin, you ok?” You asked worriedly.

As quickly as you noticed, your voice was enough to get him snap out of it… slightly.

Jimin didn’t say anything, instead choosing to beckon you over to sit with him.

You were still confused, but followed his request, moving over to his side of the booth.

“Soooo, what’s up?” You tried again. There was a notable distance between you two and his eyes weren’t on you but towards the window.

“It’s a nice day, isn’t it?” He smiled. Your attention turned to the window.

“I mean… I guess. Jimin, what’s go—“ Jimin didn’t let you finish before he pulled the most classic trick in the book, the comical stretch into the arm over the shoulder. Jimin giggled as he pulled you close so you were cuddled up next to each other.

“Was that cheesy?” He laughed as he saw the look on your face.

“Very but I’ll give you a pass this time.” Your cheeks were flushed, you probably had a stupid look on your face, but the more you felt his warmth, you made yourself cozy.

Jimin smiled knowing that you loved it.

Your gazes both trailed outside the window as you settled on the growing business of the Las Vegas strip. You couldn’t help but wonder how all of this was in your head.

Jimin invited you to his game of people watching, the strip infamous for bringing out a lot of interesting characters. It was peaceful, but you had more fun just having Jimin this close to you.

The playfulness faded into something more tender anytime you’d see a couple walk past hand in hand. You’d hold on to Jimin a little tighter and smile, it was a bittersweet feeling knowing you’d never get to do that with him.

You distracted yourself with the memories you did manage to create together, the months you’ve shared meeting in your dreams every night.

Unfortunately those memories also included your first encounter, how forward you were despite that being so unlike you. It included your date to Saturn’s rings, how it ended with Jimin on top of you, confessing his worries about this relationship and how you told him you didn’t care. And how could you forget what transpired only moments ago, a position so similar to the first time you met but this time you were able to kiss him, touch him slightly. If only you could have—

Taking you out of your thoughts was Jimin’s fingers coming up to lift your chin so you were looking up at him.

“Behave.” His voice was dark, barely above a whisper.

Suddenly it got very quiet in the diner.

Jimin leaned forward, his lips trailing up your jaw. “You know I know what you’re thinking. You’re doing this on purpose aren’t you?” His voice was shaky, yet he was being assertive. It almost seemed like he was genuinely mad.

“What if I was…” Your words were dangerous, you were dangerous.

You were making things even worse, so dangerous as you purposefully focused on what happened under the tree earlier.

“Your mind is so filthy…” Jimin groaned, trying so hard to keep it together. He wanted to punish you for doing this, spread out over this table, show you exactly that there were consequences to your actions.

“Mmmm, it’s your fault.” You smiled, climbing into his lap.

You were right, the diner really was empty now, if you turned behind you, the Vegas strip was deserted as well.

Jimin would have cried if he could, it hurt so fucking much.

“Y/n… you don’t know what you’re doing.” He sighed as you kissed his cheek, his grip on your waist probably way too tight.

“I think I do… I want you to fuck me.” Your tone could have ended an entire legion at how easily you whispered that into his ear.

Your hands ran up his toned chest, to settle around his neck, beautiful whines of pleasure escaping his lips no matter how much he tried to stop them.

You gazed into his eyes, that strange look returned to them, but you didn’t mind it and pushed on, kissing him like you’ve wanted to all night.

The moment only seemed to last for a second before you felt you were falling and then the feeling of the soft blades of grass against your back made you open your eyes.

Like when this dream first started you were back underneath the big tree, staring up at the bright blue sky. This time with Jimin on top, his silver necklace with the cross on it falling out of his shirt and dangling in between you two.

He pressed himself into you and quickly kissed you in the soft breeze.

“I’m trying so hard…” This time it was clear, he truly did sound pained as he hurriedly reached down to hick up your dress so it was bunched around your waist.

“I’m trying so hard, I promise.” Then his lips were on your neck, kissing, sucking, as his hands ran up your sides.

“Why won’t you just fucking behave like I told you to—“ It came out as a mangled sob, but he truly was angry with you.

You just wouldn’t listen, if anything, you were just more turned on, choosing to hurriedly run your hands up and down his back to somehow try and get his shirt off.

But you were just making things harder as you moved from his lips, to plant needy kisses down his neck.

Jimin had his hand tangled in the grass as you let him feel all these new sensations, ones he’d never been on the receiving end of.

It was too much.

He wanted to make you feel good, but, but…

Jimin buried himself in your neck as his hips bucked into your heat, his grip on the grass growing too tight, the roots themselves started popping out.

Your moans, what he would have given to hear them more.

He was making you feel so good but just like what happened on the rings of Saturn, right as things were getting too spicy you found your eyes shooting open to your darkened living room, once again alone.

And you truly were alone this time. Jimin had flown out the window as soon as you got back.

He couldn’t be in that room, instead not even a minute later he was flying off to that forest, merging to the normal plane before diving into a random lake.

He’d hoped the splash would have quelled the burning of sin he felt from within, but as he started sinking to the bottom, he knew nothing would work.

He’d nearly lost it right there with you. He had been so close to giving up everything, a promise older than anything of existence, just for a few minutes with a human.

His wrist hurt, the letters blackened out once again and he hadn’t been back for long.

How, how was this relationship going to work?

He’d resist the temptation, he had to, no question about it, but it fucking hurt so much. The human that he once was, was haunting him even though they were long gone.

Jimin's eyes fixated on the full moon that continued to shine brightly through the waters.

What are you going to do?

I’ll just have to resist it.

You nearly gave in already.

I’ll resist, nothing will jeopardize that.

You’ve already compromised so much for that human, is this a promise that’ll last forever?

It has to.

No questions, no matter how much temptation might try to lure him into sin, he will prevail.

Removing her from your life would make things easier to manage.

But she is now, and that was not going to change.

He would figure this out, no matter how much it might hurt, he’ll make it work.

Maybe if it hurt more, the reminder of the path he’s straying down because of the sins he has committed that were marked all over his body– maybe then he would be put back in his place.

If this kept going Jimin feared he might grow too used to it.

What then?

He had to make it hurt.

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helloitisiafellowgay · 1 year ago

Text

another part of my Steve gets Vecna’d AU, where i provide very little context lmaoo sorry

i’ve been working on this for OVER A YEAR and still have a few scenes to finish 😭 my draft rn is almost 19k so I’ll hopefully get it out before like November at this rate :)

vague context: this is the night before The Big Fight TM and people like JUST found out that steves possessed and eddie is cleaning steve’s demobat wounds

other post

——————

“Do you—“ the drug dealer looks conflicted, debating whether to poke at a neglected bruise. “Why didn’t anyone notice?”

There’s a knot in his throat, a tightening of his larynx. “What do you mean?”

”That you were hallucinating? Having nightmares?” Before, Eddie wouldn’t meet his gaze. Now, he won’t let Steve look away, slowly regaining his certainty, his intensity. “Why was I the only one to even consider anything was wrong? You’re not that great of an actor— you aren’t, don’t look at me like that— and they’ve known you so much longer than I have.”

And isn’t that the question he’d been shoving out of his own mind since the beginning of this whole mess? That small seed of doubt, pushing forward and flourishing now that someone else had stopped to water it.

He knows, he knows— they don’t care about him as much as he cares about them. Sees it in the way the kids dismiss him as soon as they arrive at their destination, only call on him when they want something; the way he gives it every single time regardless.

Each girl in his bed, driving him like a crash-test car; the excuse to leave, the cold sheets in the morning. A freezing bathroom at a party, the echo of bullshit refracting off the cold tile.

The crack of ceramic against his skull, the fist in his sternum, the stifling ash in his lungs in a buried tunnel. Interrogation tactics, missing fingernails, drugged out of his mind; flesh monster, the loss of the one male adult he could actually depend on.

And before it all, the steel door, the silhouette, the—

No.

No, Steve knows that he is, at his core, what he has always been: unloveable.

After the reactivity, the intentional cruelty of his youth, he expects nothing other than a warning label.

Danger: do not interact. Prone to violence.

Steve is his father’s son, after all. They share the same ruthless ferocity, the same scarred knuckles.

He has spent so long convincing the world that anything can be turned into a weapon, and he started with his hands; if he squints long enough, blood pools itself into the crevices of his palms, fingernails curving into sharp edges and the remnants of whiskey bottles.

A product of his environment, no doubt; the weight of his family name, absent parents, superficial friends.

King Steve with a hollow crown, sat in his pristine castle with everything a teen could ask for except anyone to make him feel worth following. Like something other than a cheap toy, a pretty face, a chore to be put off until a more convenient time.

It’s fact of his life, something he felt no reason to doubt when people keep proving it to him, over and over and over.

He’s useful— for rides to the arcade, for a place to hangout when everywhere else has been vetoed, to wield a baseball bat studded with nails, the last line of defense, the one who can be counted on to take the hit— but not their friend. Not wanted, not valuable, and certainly not lovable.

So how can he possibly justify this unwavering loyalty, his propensity to follow them around like a stray dog waiting on table scraps? Why he keeps coming back, offering every part of himself when none of them would do the same for him?

Steve shrugs. “They all have their own shit going on, they can’t help it. I didn’t want to make things complicated.”

The drug dealer frowns, already shaking his head in disagreement. “That’s not— not good enough. They’re not too busy, they just don’t…”

Care.

They just don’t care.

Steve catches the moment that the other boy sees the bundle of scars peeking just over the hem of his boxers. Tears his own focus away from those small, circular burns; old enough to be suspicious, obvious enough that even a ten-year-old could come to the correct conclusion about their origin without much effort.

A kid with cigarette burns— not common, but definitely not rare.

A rich kid with cigarette burns? That just doesn’t happen.

“Doesn’t Vecna go after people with trauma? It’s not like Steve—”

His stomach roils, a distant nausea working its way up his esophagus. The younger teen holds his breath and waits, but Eddie doesn’t ask, just furrows his brow and grazes over the puckered skin with a single, calloused thumb.

Steve shivers, bites his lip, fights the urge to dislodge the soft touch and flee the room. He doesn’t.

Eddie goes back to taping the raw edges of his wounds closed.

A sick, twisted heat takes root in his stomach; invasive and insatiable, it chokes out his heart until it has nowhere left to go except up into his throat, and flourishes in the abandoned cavity left behind.

“Do you think when he chose me… do you think he knew?” Steve’s a conglomeration of dull apathy and the underlying static of panic; he feels like he’s back under the water, suspended in time and trying desperately not to drown. “That I wouldn’t say anything? Wouldn’t want to tell them, you, about… That… that they don’t…?”

The musician pulls out a roll of gauze, presses one end to his rib cage with more care than anyone has shown him in a long time.

“I think that you hide so much from everyone, more than anyone thinks that you do. And I think that, to someone like him, it’s easy to mistake that for shame.”

Oh.

“And what if I am?” Steve clenches his jaw, flattens his lips to disguise their infernal trembling. “Ashamed… of being known? Afraid that people will hate what they find, if I were to let people in— share those parts of myself?”

The last of the sunset dissipates from the sky, leaves the world outside of the window cast in a deep indigo.

A murmur, almost subconsciously, from his healer: “Isn’t everyone?”

He is some sort of wretched thing— must be, to warrant this raw, gnawing ache in his core. The withering, the erosion at the fringes of his being, exposing the live-wire at the heart of him.

Pressure, as the dressing is applied to his wounds. The light brush of skin against skin.

“You aren’t an inconvenience, you know.” Eddie wraps the last of the bandage around his abdomen, secures it in place. “You are allowed to ask for help. And other people want to help, if you let them.”

The babysitter hums, a non-answer, omitted confirmation. Can do little else, lest he wilt under the force of this personification of a star.

“I might not know why none of the kids said anything, but...“ Off to the side, the discarded towel is depositing water on the floor. When Eddie reaches for it, there’s a damp patch on his jeans that the babysitter stares at while his hands are taken, dabbed at with damp cotton. “Robin, Nancy, and I literally followed you into hell. You’re not taking anything from us that we wouldn’t freely give.”

The older boy’s gaze is wild, reverent. From where he is crouched in front of Steve, it must look like he’s kneeling before a monarch, a King.

What a resolute act of devotion: tending to the wounds of a martyr, washing the blood from each finger as if every millimeter of exposed skin is something worth defending.

Steve doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve such absolution; this exoneration from all of the sin coating his fingers and dripping from his teeth. He is nothing more than a child devouring overripe berries in another family’s garden, filling his vacant stomach with sweet crimson nectar that he will never be able to justify aching for.

He is no deity, no patron saint or messiah. He’s barely a king. ”I’m not worth—“

He has never been religious— or, at least definitely not after the monsters came into the picture. But he knew then, knows now— there is no heavenly father, no almighty God, that could give him back that purity, that holy golden ichor.

Whenever Steve had plead to this creator, prayed for help while pinned to the ground under the malicious intent of another— there was no response. Just the echo of his faith, his questions, being tossed back at him, neglected and unanswered.

”You’re worth everything, Steve Harrington.” Eddie’s intensity, his conviction, makes Steve’s heart lurch somewhere in his chest. “There is nothing you could ask from us that you haven’t deserved a hundred times over.”

The cloth, damp and abrasive against his palms, collects strawberry residue within its woven fibers.

His crown must be less hollow than he thought.

There is no god that can restore his virtue, slip the innocence back into his pockets, baptize him in the light of unconditional love— but Eddie… Eddie is just a man.

Just a man, who wiped each of his fingers clean; dressed his wounds with such gentle hands. Just a man, who kissed each bruise, each old scar, without the intent to hurt.

Just a man who held him, who pulled him back when his whole body was on the edge of a precipice.

Who answered his questions without judgement— without stripping him of his divinity, casting him down from the heavenly throne and into the sulphuric pits of eternal damnation.

Just this boy, who looks at him like he is worth more here, in this moment, than he ever would be nailed to a cross.

What god has ever done that for him?

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie stranger things #steve stranger things #steve harrington has bad parents #steve gets vecna’d so that’s fun #got that religious trauma core #is it too obvious lmaoo #steve is very much In Love and making their relationship into more than what it is #which is a whole mood #like bro u just started hanging out like four days ago #chill tf out #don’t worry tho eddie also likes him but DAMN #fanfic #wip

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themculibrary · 14 days ago

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Angels Masterlist

Better the Devil you know (ao3) - Kalee60 steve/bucky E, 19k

Summary: Attending work conferences was never Bucky’s idea of a ‘good time’ - especially when the rival company was Heaven and he happened to be a demon from Hell. Even more unbearable, he’d been tasked to present a seminar (against his will) - Bucky was more about doling out punishments, less about educating his peers.

So of course, while Bucky is already down, Steve Rogers turns up, an angel Bucky had been trying desperately to forget for the last millenia… for an array of reasons.

Bucky now finds himself in close quarters with his feathery nemesis, and after living multiple lifetimes, was maybe finally learning that there really was a fine line between hate and lust, and an even finer one tethering it all to love?

Catechism (ao3) - manic_intent steve/tony E, 40k

Summary: Inspired by fanart seen on tumblr, this is an End of Days story, with all the Avengers as Archangels. Tony had always known that he was a special snowflake. He just hadn't realized exactly how special.

Cupid's Error (ao3) - Liron T, 1k

Summary: Natasha is an angel waiting to meet her true love so that she can become a Cupid. But when a Cupid's arrow finally hits her, things go different than expected.

Dancing in the Water (ao3) - StellaFleuret namor of talokan/shuri M, 6k

Summary: Once upon a time, a demon (king) fell in love with the huntress pursuing him. It ends the way you expect.

evensong (ao3) - MCU_Dagger, Palmarion loki/sylvie T, 7k

Summary: Loki is an angel. Sylvie is a demon.

They come together in fits and starts.

Everyday Angel (ao3) - Marv_with_a_v matt/foggy T, 3k

Summary: Disaster angel Foggy is tasked with watching over the human, Matt Murdock. It's not nearly as easy as he hoped it would be, but Matt needs him. There's no denying that.

Falling Like Ashes (ao3) - Kellyscams steve/bucky E, 11k

Summary: Steve is an Angel. An Angel with a very specific duty.

Bucky in a Demon. A Demon with a very specific duty.

They’re not meant to be.

Maybe someone should explain the rules to them a little better.

Gentle Sins (ao3) - firefly_flickers matt/foggy E, 1k

Summary: Foggy’s a high ranking Angel. Matt’s a demon. Neither likes to stay on their side of the divide.

Gifted (ao3) - MercuryCeleste steve/tony T, 25k

Summary: Every year, Angels and Demons compete for the fate of 'chosen’, the human beings that are destined for rebirth. Whoever wins seals the fate of the future angel or demon. Steve has signed his name up for years, only to be turned down but this year proves different. Tony is a successful demon who has to face his calling but finds that’s not as terrible as he thought.

horns & halos (ao3) - hawksonfire bucky/clint/steve T, 1k

Summary: In which Steve is a demon, Bucky is an angel, and Clint is a tease.

Keep Thee In All Thy Ways (ao3) - ElisabethMonroe sam/bucky M, 2k

Summary: Bucky was just about thrumming out of his skin. Not entirely figuratively.

Sam, beside him, was much more composed. But there was a ready grin on his mouth that he usually kept a little more hidden. All the promises in that grin were not helping Bucky keep himself contained. They sought these events out like a challenge, chances to be their true selves without attracting too much attention. Or, at least, the bad kind of attention. Krampus celebrations and monster conventions and horror movie events all kept them sated throughout the year, but Halloween and haunted houses were easiest. And parties like these were Bucky’s favorite.

“Can we?” he asked.

Sam nodded his permission.

The Devil is in the Details (ao3) - SilverRowan_Ivy630951 steve/bucky T, 6k

Summary: Bucky got captured coming out of a HYDRA base after killing everyone in it. He was given a quick trial and imprisoned for what he’d done after escaping HYDRA’s control. But Bucky had secrets to protect. So, he summoned a demon to protect that which was closest to his heart: his children.

to be good for you (would be the end of me) (ao3) - sambambucky sam/bucky T, 5k

Summary: Bucky tempts Steve Rogers and his friends to act with selfishness and fear, impulsivity and anger, and it’s easy, satisfying work. Then the punk finds himself a guardian angel.

Toxic Love (ao3) - orphan_account erik/t'challa E, 1k

Summary: Nah baby, who do you belong to?" The demon spoke low into the now fallen angel's ear. T'Challa gasped, blinking tears, all he could do was moan.

"The devil."

Weighing of the Heart (ao3) - scifigrl47 steve/tony M, 46k

Summary: Steve Rogers hasn't really had a particularly easy life. He's struggled along, he's proud of himself, he's self-sufficient and capable and he works damn hard. He has friends and a purpose and he's only a few semesters from graduating college. He's managed, but his life has been far from easy.

That's mostly because of a slight filing error.

The last thing that Steve needed was someone to watch over him. The only thing that his Guardian Angel needs is a second chance to make a first impression.

When I Run Out of Road, You Bring Me Home (ao3) - Summer_Sunflower steve/bucky T, 3k

Summary: It's a pain in his back that refuses to go away, no matter what he does or tries. He doesn't think he can handle it much longer.

Bucky thinks he should have come earlier.

When Your Arms Are Too Weary (ao3) - poisonivory matt/foggy T, 15k

Summary: “What,” Foggy says.

His parents exchange glances. “You’re an angel. Literally,” his mother says.

Wing Me Back (ao3) - buckybarnesdeservestobehappy (hutchabelle) steve/bucky T, 3k

Summary: Steve Rogers has always looked like a member of the heavenly host, while Bucky Barnes is firmly earthbound. Despite being opposites, they’re best friends, two men who love and protect each other at all costs. As far as he’s concerned, Steve’s an angel, but Bucky wrestles with demons every day. At night, he’s haunted. Thankfully, the flutter of wings soothes his soul and keeps him safe.

You Will Not Be Icarus (ao3) - OhWoahThere pepper/tony T, 1k

Summary: Angel AU! \\ Winged AU

Little one shot about Tony being an extremely worried dad about his son. Peter does everything in his power to stress his dad out.

Needed some Iron dad fluff with a touch of precious Peter Parker.

#themculibrary #marvel #mcu #masterlists #angels #angels masterlist #au #halloween #demons #wingfic

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fogsrollingin · 1 year ago

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Good Omens Fanfic Recs

Season 2 was fantastic. It ended in a way that had me diving for the fanfic.

i'd like for you and i to go romancing by dollsome. Ineffable Husbands, 6k words, rated Teen. Summary: In which people keep mistaking Crowley and Aziraphale for a couple, and Aziraphale starts to wonder if there might be something to it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19055863

Realistic - I could totally see this fic playing out in canon and in the best way at that. It wasn't too sweet or too comically awkward. I like when the author takes them seriously enough to have them in love in a deep, even intense way. This wasn't that deep or intense but it scratched it, it took a little dip in that pool, which I really appreciated!

on one wounded wing by shoebox_addict. Ineffable husbands, 6k words, rated Teen. Summary: "I'm done with Heaven," said Aziraphale, with conviction. He’d had a long time to think this through, he knew where he stood now. "I'm on our side."

"You've said that before."

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49206883

Oooo I adored this story. I see myself reading this fic over and over again. The idea of Crowley curling into Aziraphale, into the crook of his neck, letting out a sob because Aziraphale holds the back of his head like something precious. I CAN'T. I loved this. This was exactly what I needed.

tales from a bookshop by Rizandace. Ineffable husbands, 19k, rated Teen. Summary: Post-season-two. Crowley's moping, Aziraphale wants to fix things, and turns out, there's enough blame to go around.

"You’re being ridiculous."

Crowley very nearly falls over.

Like, actually. He very nearly loses balance for no reason at all and tumbles to the sidewalk next to his car. He’s been playing Aziraphale’s voice in his head for weeks, he’s been trying very hard to drown out the sound of it, in fact, and now suddenly, abruptly-

"What are you doing here," is all he can think to say. He whirls around, and there he is. on Crowley’s right, standing there like he’d never left. Where he belongs, Crowley’s mind helpfully supplies. He wishes he could punch himself in the brain, knock the thoughts right on out of there.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49085161

I appreciated how the author had Aziraphale's back in this one, how they explained Aziraphale's moral compass and reasoning to be so essentially *him* when he decided to leave for Heaven. Reading how much it shattered Crowley, but how he still hung on to the hope of reuniting with Aziraphale was heart wrenching but so good for the happy ending we get. Also I'm loving the trend in GO fic of Aziraphale wanting to see Crowley's eyes. Depicted brilliantly in this one!

And No Birds Sing by anti-kate. Explicit, 24k, ineffable husbands. Summary: There was something in the shadows. Something coiled there, the light gleaming on dark scales. Something misbegotten and monstrous.

No, not a monster. Crowley.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23136616

I adored how monstrous and feral Crowley was in this, and how in turn Aziraphale never stopped being gentle and loving in the ((grotesque)) face of him. Features a charming epilogue referencing the end of S2. Also I just gotta say the sex scenes were soooo good in this fic - I loved them. Monster sex is the best sex. No leaving space for jesus in this fic yaaaaas

#my fic recs #moonlight readings #good omens #aziraphale #crowley (good omens)#crowley #ineffable husbands #monster fuckers

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bridenore · 2 years ago

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HD reverse bang 2022 recs

Here are some of my favorite fics from HD reverse bang 2022. Listed in alphabetical order.

Beneath the Cloak by @avenueofesc [31k]

Footsteps echo through the corridor, though they seem to hesitate, slowing until they stop directly in front of him. Draco can practically feel the presence of this other at his side. He groans, using all of his strength to raise his head and open his eyes, to see…

Nothing.

Death Comes for Us All by @lumosatnight [5k]

Burying his face in Draco’s hair, he can smell the smoke from the cigarette, can taste the ashes lingering in his mouth. Harry finds it comforting, a reminder that Draco has seen his worst and still chooses to stay.

In Bad Faith by @fencer-x [62k]

Draco Malfoy just can’t catch a break. Between the magical curse upon his bloodline, his hair misbehaving, and that strange pit full of demons in his basement that he had absolutely nothing to do with, it just hasn’t been a banner year for him. Luckily, Harry Potter is here to make things ten times worse.

Monster by shushu_yaoi_lj [71k]

“Hmm,” Hermione hums, tapping her index finger against her bottom lip and then smiling at Harry. “A broken music box, you say…”

“A cursed one,” Harry corrects her.

“Well, it’s still a music box that is not working properly,” Hermione points out with a very intent grin. “That will give you a chance to see him.”

She wiggles her eyebrows, making him snort.

As if Harry hadn’t thought about it straight away. As if Harry’s mind hadn’t immediately wandered to Draco Malfoy the moment Zabini mentioned a music box.

so bitter. so sweet. by @nerdherderette [19k]

It's bad enough that Draco is admitted to St Mungo's. Discovering the identity of the Healer assigned to his case makes it ten times worse.

"How are you feeling?" Harry asks. His voice is closer to ear level now, and Draco realises he must have pulled over a chair to sit.

Draco turns his head so he's not being entirely rude, but he still can't bring himself to look directly at Harry. "Are you talking about right now, or…?" Draco hesitates; six years' worth of unresolved feelings is a lot to unpack.

Statues Crumble by @xanthippe74 [13k]

Between one war and the next, Draco has lost his parents, his home, and his menial Ministry job. All he has left is the secret (and anonymous) work he does to help Harry Potter overthrow another government—oh, and that statue he stole from the Ministry Atrium.

The Unspeakable by @the-sinking-ship [24k]

Healer Draco Malfoy took the job at the International Department of Mysteries for the paycheck and the prestige.

But what he got was Unspeakable Harry Potter and the most fascinating curse he’d ever seen.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

#my recs #drarry #drarry recs #drarry fest #hd reverse bang

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lady-lunaaa · 2 years ago

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Part II: We Carry On (because we have to)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue

Pairing: Porco Galliard x fem!reader

Rating: MATURE, minors dni

Warnings: death stranding au, female reader, post-apocalyptic, description of injury, a little blood, reader trusts no one/porco is an idiot, nightmares, mention of minor character death, grief, slow burn, skinny dipping and eventual violence (but only a smidgen)

WC: 19.2k

Masterlist🕊️

a/n: uhhhh it took a while and you can see why. 19k? I don't know what happened. The plot kinda follows canonverse in game, they're on parallel tracks put it that way, but it's just a little mention - not super important to our endgame here. Also ik the medics in game wear red buuuuut I cannot get the idea out of my head of Porco wearing the green paramedic uniform that we have in the UK so...that's what I chose (also it's the same colour as his canonverse jacket and you can't deny, our boi looks good in green). I have to give a huge thank you to my besties and beta's @dabilove27 and @gixxie, you are both incredible for reading through this monster for me. I adore you and wouldn't be me without you 💙💙 and with that, go forth, and (hopefully) enjoy yourselves.

🎶

“What do we have here?” A mocking voice rings out beside you. The sound is too loud in the now silent forest, nature deathly quiet after the encounter with the BTs, as if the very wind itself is scared to show its face.

You turn your head towards the source of the noise, broken hood crunching underneath you and hindering your movement. Your vision is blurry, only roughly making out the figure standing over you; messy caramel hair, porter suit, wide smile. You groan and raise a shaky hand to your face, fingers grazing over the bloody slash across your temple and your breath hitching at the sharpness that shoots through you at the touch. Your senses dull as pain takes over, your body highlighting all the areas that have been battered, scraped and bruised.

Your saviour holds out a tanned hand and waits for you to grab onto it weakly with your own, “So, whose ass did I just save?” The words reach your ears slowly, as if swimming through treacle to get there, his voice tinny and far off. You search through the fog inside your brain, looking for the answer to his question, as he hauls you to your feet.

You manage to answer at last and speak your name, but the voice doesn’t sound as if it belongs to you. You try to frown as your vision tunnels, black static obscuring your sight as you pitch forwards. The last thing you feel are strong arms holding you upright before consciousness swims away from you into the inky blackness.

You open your eyes to blinding white and immediately throw an arm over your face to shield you from the worst of it, eyelids fluttering rapidly as you adjust to the light and head pounding. You gradually lower your arm as your pupils dilate and scan your surroundings. You are in a pod of sorts, strips of LEDs running around the circumference of the floor and ceiling. Every surface is a stark white, throwing the light around the room.

In front of you, one wall is covered in glass, encasing porter suits of varying colours and designs. The whole display is lit up, and that is where most of the harsh light in the room comes from, spilling across the floor and over your form. To your left is a floor-to-ceiling glass shower stall and to your right a small, rounded table and chairs. You move to sit up and the makeshift bed you are lying on squeaks and crinkles underneath you. It is a hard surface covered in padded plastic, and it does nothing to soothe your aching muscles and tender skin. A thin woollen blanket has been thrown over your legs and your head is resting on a singular soft pillow, probably the most comforting thing in the whole room. But you’ve seen enough to deduce that you are at a Waystation rest stop.

It’s then that you sense the presence beside you, feel the slight temperature change at your side as a body gives off heat, hear the soft breathing of a person asleep. You snap your head to the side and scramble to your knees, the blanket falling around you, as you stare at your bed fellow.

That caramel-blonde head of hair was familiar...this was the man who saved you? Which means he brought you here after you passed out. You shriek in shock and scoot away from him to stand at the edge of the bed; it’s more of a platform, hung from the wall with metal hooks and steel cable. Your noise startles him awake and he sits bolt upright with a gasp, eyes searching for the source. When they land on you, his shoulders relax, and he runs a hand through his bangs; pushing them back away from his forehead. A few strands fall loose around his face again anyway, and he huffs, before offering you a muted smile and a two-fingered salute.

You stare at him for a few moments before you repeat the action, albeit awkwardly and not at all enthusiastically. The silence stretches on a little too long and your eyes dart from him to the bed and back again, he follows your gaze and his eyes widen in understanding.

“Oh, right! You passed out on me back there, so I hauled you and your stuff to the nearest Waystation. Figured you were heading here anyway.” When you only nod in response, he continues, “I delivered your cargo with mine and then brought you here to rest.”

You nod again, too stunned to really come up with words, your head still aching terribly and notice that his hair is damp. It’s the only reason it is staying semi-slicked back to his scalp. You realise he actually has an undercut that you didn’t see before and he looks clean, fresh tank top sculpting his body, and not leaving much to the imagination. His muscled arms are on display and you can see his broad chest and the faint outline of his abs where the fabric is clinging to his skin. He wears a strange cuff-like bracelet on one wrist and for a moment you wonder if they are actually handcuffs, before you dismiss the idea. A quick glance downwards reveals that he’s only wearing a thin pair of sleep shorts.

You glance away just as quickly, face heating up, and fidget on your feet. That’s when it dawns on you that you are no longer wearing your own suit, you are stripped down to your underthings; shirt and panties. Your leggings are gone, your legs bare, and you shiver. Not from the cold, but from the exposure. Your temperature rises to nuclear proportions and you snap your gaze up to his face again.

“Why the fuck am I half naked?” You demand in an accusatory tone, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt at modesty. That finally sparks fear in his eyes, eyes that are a stunning mix of hazel and olive, you note. Your lips downturn at the thought, and that only causes him to look more panicked, his cheeks flushing a dark red.

“Woah, hey! It’s not like that, your suit was ruined, and your leggings were- uhhh,” he looks away from you sheepishly, words tapering off lamely and hanging in the air. He lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck awkwardly, eyes flicking to yours and away again. Your face morphs from anger to horror as the realisation dawns on you -- you pissed yourself.

“Oh my god,” you half-shout, “Oh my god!” You cover your face with your hands, pressing your palms into your eyeballs, as if that will make the situation undo itself. The poor guy is babbling at this point, and you would very much like for the floor to swallow you whole.

“So anyway, yeah- and I couldn’t exactly remove your underwear- so I just left them and placed the blanket over you, that’s it. I swear.”

“Please, stop talking!” You fume, your embarrassment palpable and hanging heavy in the air. You fumble for the blanket on the bed and snatch it up, throwing it around your waist in a fruitless effort to gain back some dignity.

“Hey, listen. You were chased by invisible monsters and almost drowned in their spooky plasma shit, that would have made anyone piss themselves.” He attempts a hand at humour, tone light and his earlier panic pushed aside. You are still thoroughly mortified, but you appreciate his effort to not judge you, or completely rip the shit out of you for it. You don’t think to tell him you can actually see BTs, you barely know the guy, why tell him anything about yourself.

Speaking of, you are at a disadvantage, not even knowing the man’s name. You vaguely remember telling him yours before passing out earlier. A vague flicker of embarrassment licks at your skin before you push it down, and choosing to ignore his statement, you ask boldly, “And you are?”

He swings his legs over the edge of the bed as he responds, “Ah yeah, you passed out before I could introduce myself.” He stands in a fluid motion, rocking onto his tippy-toes, and stretching his arms above his head. You watch a little too closely as the hem of his shirt rises a few inches, giving you a flash of toned stomach. He holds the stretch until an audible crack resounds through the room, and then he relaxes with a sigh.

“The name’s Porco,” he offers with a grunt, and you nod your head again, in acknowledgement.

You both stand there in your underwear for a disgustingly awkward pause, before he comments, “It’s pretty cramped in here...only made for one, and to be honest, you’re stinking up the place. Might wanna take a shower.” He walks around the bed and past you, his arm brushing against your own. You sputter and turn your head to glare at him as he squats and starts rummaging through the cupboards lining the wall behind you.

You decide not to fight the insensitive comment too hard seeing as he did you a solid earlier and you are still standing in your pissy underwear (not to mention he is also correct, you reek). So, you settle for an “Ass,” mumbled to yourself while you march to the shower, holding the blanket around you in a bunched fist. You hear him scoff, but swear there is a chuckle hidden beneath it, at the same time you remember that the shower is completely see-through. There’s a small strip of textured glass running around the middle, but it’s not enough privacy for your liking, and your new acquaintance has seen quite enough of you already.

“I’m gonna get in the shower now,” you call hesitantly to him.

“Cool, thanks for the announcement,” comes the reply, followed shortly by a string of curses as several boxes come tumbling out of the cupboard and spill their contents onto the floor.

“I meant,” you enunciate with a bite to your tone, “I’m getting in the shower so yaknow, don’t turn around.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” his head is now deep inside the cabinet, appearing to look for something, and his muffled tone is laced with irritation.

You bite on your lip to stop from laughing when he bangs his head on the edge of a shelf and sits up rubbing the spot with a scowl. In his arm, sitting in the crook of an elbow, are a couple of cans and some plastic packets, although you can’t make out what exactly.

“You sure? Don’t want to remove the rest of my clothes? Or can I do that myself?” You can't help the snark that creeps into your voice as you stand there, still unsure about the shower situation.

“Why, that an offer?” He turns his gaze to you, with a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, and you pull the blanket from around you to whip it at his head. He ducks deftly and catches it mid-air, still smiling as he adds, “Relax. Just a joke. I’ll sit facing away from you the whole time, promise.”

Your eyes narrow at him slightly as you try to gauge how much you should trust this stranger.

“You’ll be able to see me, so you’ll know if I peek. Which I won’t.” He reassures you and pulls out the chair from under the table with a screech, before plopping down into it, facing away from you. As promised.

You sigh and start to undress, watching him closely, as you pull your tank top over your head and step out of your panties. You quickly unbind your chest, whipping the fabric round yourself until it falls to the floor, breasts achingly heavy now they are freed from their confines. You always wrap your chest before you set out on a job, keeps your boobs exactly where you need them, out of the way. You stand in front of the curved glass, checking behind you to make sure he’s staying true to his word, and will the mechanism to hurry up. The sensors eventually detect you and the glass parts to the side with a soft whoosh. You hop in immediately and press the button, stepping under the hot spray and sighing as the warmth smoothes out the knots in your muscles – instant relief. You pump soap into your palms from the dispenser on the wall, and begin gingerly massaging your skin, careful not to press too hard over the bruises littering your body.

You wince as you clean out the cuts and scrapes along your arms and neck, the sting setting your teeth on edge. It’s not until you start lathering the soap into your hair, that you notice Porco has moved. You start, and try to squint through the glass and steam to find him – he’s in another storage cupboard. Whatever he finds, he bundles into his arms. You notice with amusement that he walks backwards and moves in a side-to-side shuffle around the room to avoid catching a glimpse of you in the shower. You decide not to stress over what the heck he’s doing, and instead focus on showering as quickly as possible, rinsing out your hair thoroughly.

When you stand in front of the curved glass again, it parts smoothly just as before, steam rushing out of the cubicle and into the cool air of the room. It mists and curls around your body as you step onto the smooth, cold flooring. You take note of the fact that your soiled clothes are missing and nowhere to be seen and that Porco is back in his seat hunched down and still facing away from you. You can tell his arms are crossed over his chest and can only imagine the look of impatience painting his features.

Your own arms are crossed over your chest as you shiver, a trail of water marking your walk from the shower to the bed. There is a small and fluffy white towel with a pair of basic underclothes perched on top, all folded neatly waiting for you. You waste no time in wrapping yourself in the towel the best you can, and rigorously drying your body.

You let out a content sigh once you pull the fresh long-sleeved shirt over your head, yanking the hem down and straightening it out. Porco managed to find another pair of leggings similar to your previous ones and you quickly pull them on over your fresh cotton underwear. The fabric smells new and feels heavenly against your clean skin.

Your feet stick slightly to the floor as you pad over to the table and pull out the chair across from your new companion. His arms are indeed crossed, his dimpled chin resting on his chest, eyes closed. You can tell he isn’t asleep by his breathing, and the way his eyes twitch underneath his lids as he tracks your movement. You pull at the crease of your shirt and smile thinly, “So, this is why you were scurrying around the place backwards.”

He cracks one hazel eye open and flicks it up and down your frame briefly, “You’re welcome.” The response was short and clipped, but held an amused tone, as if laughing at your obvious reluctance to thank him.

You sniff, narrowing your eyes at him, and instead turn your attention to the items scattered across the tabletop; four tall cans of energy drink and an assortment of protein bars and crackers. You can’t help the smile that fights to spread across your face at the exact moment your stomach decides to rumble, “We’ve got a feast.”

You chance a glance at Porco, who has straightened at your tone, and reach across the table eagerly for a protein bar. He hums, “Bit bland but beats munchin’ on Cryptobiotes,'' you grimace at the word, stuffing your mouth with the snack unceremoniously. Cryptobiotes are small life forms found out in the wild that are rife with protein and nutrients; they supposedly replenish red blood cells at a faster rate and are a steady component of your diet when you are above ground and have run out of food rations, but you can’t say much for the taste.

Porco snatches his own bar, flipping the packet up and back into his hand, before grabbing a can of energy drink and popping it open with a thumb. You unwrap the crackers, packet rustling loudly as you rip it almost down the middle and grab a handful. Porco sputters into his first sip of drink and is quick to comment on your messy eating habits. You only give him the finger before shovelling several into your mouth at once, chewing loudly.

Finally, you can eat, and it tastes better than it should. You finish eating in relative silence, Porco only breaking it to throw a jab your way, huffing dramatically as he cleans up the crumbs and wrappers. You grab the last few and follow him to the small pedal bin by the bed which he holds open for you with a foot so you can drop your mess in.

But apparently that isn't the only cleaning up he had in store because you soon find yourself sitting on the edge of the bed while Porco sits on the stool seat in front of you, first aid kit spilling its contents onto the bedspread as he rifles through it with one hand. He washed his hands a moment ago and donned the powder blue gloves he found in the cabinet when he was looking for the first aid kit. He leans slightly towards you as he tries to find what he’s looking for, and you tense at the sudden closeness. You feel his breath puff across your skin as he grumbles and groans to himself, his almost-dry hair starting to fall around his face again, framing those rounded cheekbones and sharp jawline. You flick your eyes down to notice that his button nose has a slight upturn to it, cute.

You quickly shake the thought away and clear your throat before speaking, “You know I really can do this myself, there’s a mirror over there.” You glance at it with longing, hoping the man before you will retreat and leave you to your space.

“Not willing to let the dashingly handsome stranger clean your wounds?” He jests as he upends the first aid bag completely and continues rummaging.

“Yeah, well the last stranger I ran into didn’t treat me so kindly.” You reply dryly, gripping your fingers tightly in your lap. You catch the concerned look he throws your way, but ultimately, he decides to gloss over it.

“Damn, do you ever relax? You act like I took you hostage.”

“Didn’t you?” You counter with a glare.

He ignores you, “I get it, there are some really shitty people out there. But lemme ask you this -- have I treated you unkindly?” He stops his searching to look up at you earnestly, neat eyebrows arching ever so slightly, as his eyes meet yours. This close you can see every swirl of colour in his eyes, the golds and browns flecked with varying shades of green.

You shift under his gaze, eyes flicking away from his own and back again, trying your hardest not to flush under his honest scrutiny. “Well, you could take some lessons in tact,” you mutter pointedly, pulling a snort from him, “but...no.” You finish begrudgingly.

He laughs, “Hey, I don’t sugar-coat it.”

“Now that, we can both agree on.” Your lips twitch upwards and when you look at him this time you force yourself to keep your eyes on his. He looks back at you, smile faltering slightly as he takes you in. His gaze dips lower, lingering on your mouth, and he swallow. You find yourself mirroring the action, throat suddenly dry. You realise that he is a lot closer than you initially thought, and although you hold your breath unconsciously, you aren't quite as tense. A little more confident that he isn't likely to lunge and attack.

He blinks, and suddenly he’s leaning back and away from you, as he begins to appraise the slash on your forehead as if nothing happened.

“Anyway-” you clear your throat, the sound too loud in the quiet room, a thread of tension shimmering in the atmosphere, “-just because you haven’t treated me unkindly yet, doesn’t mean you won’t.”

Porco lines up the items he needs: a bottle of saline solution, gauze swabs and some wound cleansing wipes as you speak. He tears open an individual sachet and pulls out the small, damp cloth before holding it up in front of your face, “You’re right-“ he grins, “-guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

You frown at him. You can’t work him out and that makes you apprehensive, but you have questions and you need them answered.

“I can’t trust you because I don’t know you,” you respond, “why did you save me?” The question comes out in a rush, and you clamp your lips together in embarrassment.

He looks at you, bewildered, “Do you make a habit of leaving fellow humans to get eaten? Remind me not to rely on you if I’m ever in a pickle.” You give him a wicked look, and he rolls his eyes and carries on, “plus I’d die from the resulting Voidout. So yeah, I saved you.” Right. Stupid question.

“That better?” he asks, and you furrow your brows in confusion.

“I need to have a self-serving reason for saving you? That makes you believe me more?” You lock up, his words hitting a little too close to your chest, and you look off to the side, determined not to let him get under your skin. But God, is he really sinking those hooks in.

He scoffs and holds up the gloved hand that is still clutching the wipe, “You gonna let me clean that wound before it festers?” He uses a softer tone this time and you eye him warily before nodding once, back ramrod straight as he leans in to dab at the crusted blood around the knife wound. “You rinsed most of the blood off in the shower, but there’s some stubborn spots here and there, so I’m just gonna clean it up, ok?” You breathe out a quiet “okay” and try not to squirm, letting him clean the area so he can see the extent of the damage. He’s surprisingly gentle with you and you find yourself relaxing a little as he focuses on the task. You stay silent for a while, enjoying the quiet, even if it is a little awkward as you think of the next question you want to ask him.

There’s so much you want to know, curious nature always getting the better of you, but it’s weird to probe into a stranger’s affairs. Instead, you settle on asking what concerns you, the obvious question.

“How did you get rid of the BTs?” Porco takes a beat to finish his task of wiping your forehead before he throws the bloodied wipes into the bin at his feet and finally looks at you.

“A blood grenade, would you believe it? Some hotshot Porter that works for Bridges supposedly has special blood that can kill them, he’s a Repatriate.” You perk up at the name, eyes widening and following Porco’s movements as his deft fingers undo the cap on the bottle of solution. He takes a gauze pad out of the box and places it over the opening of the bottle before upending it. You can’t believe he’s so casual about this. Repatriates are rare, you’ve never met one or known anyone who has (coming back from the dead is hardly an ability many possess), and if his blood can kill BTs? This is huge.

“A Repatriate?” You echo eagerly, sitting up a little straighter and shuffling forward on the mattress. Porco flicks his olive eyes to yours in amusement before humming in confirmation. He holds the soaked gauze out and raises his eyebrows at you, a silent request. You nod quickly before getting back to the topic at hand, “And?”

“And what?” He asks as he delicately begins to dab at the slice above your brows. You roll your eyes at him impatiently; he really enjoys pushing your buttons it seems. You are hardly in the mood for it, but you want to get answers from him so playing nice is your best bet.

“Tell me about the Repatriate,” you comment carefully, masking some of your earlier excitement. He tries to hide a smile but fails and you wince as he prods your sore flesh a little too hard.

“Shit, sorry!” he curses, and discards the pad for a fresh one. He sighs as he busies himself with the saline again, “we weren’t told much really, so I’m assuming that means the higher ups know fuck all about why he’s so special. They rounded up a bunch of us higher-ranking Porters, handed us a couple grenades each and told us to go crazy, see if they worked effectively on BTs.”

You look him in the face as he dabs the last of the liquid onto your sliced skin, the sting bringing tears to your lower lash line and sending a wicked throbbing through your skull. Everything is starting to catch up with you, exhaustion settling in your bones and aches returning to your limbs. You set your teeth as you breathe through the pain and blink away the tears, a few escaping from your lashes and falling down your cheeks. Porco absentmindedly reaches out to wipe them away with a thumb, and after the initial shock, you realise you oddly appreciate the gesture. It doesn't stop you from flinching at the contact. He pats the wounded area dry with a clean pad before pushing away from the bed and standing up.

He crosses the short space to the wall by the shower, and the sink unit automatically pops out to greet him, the mirror lighting up his profile. It’s as he is peeling off the gloves and washing his hands that you realise something.

“So, you didn’t know if those grenades would work?” you ask, voice a little too high-pitched.

He chuckles and shoots you a look across the room, hair falling over his eyes, and you watch incredulously as he runs a hand through it once more, pushing it back and away from his face as he says, “Lucky for us both, they did.”

You contemplate arguing his nonchalant behaviour, but you are too spent, and suspect that your berating wouldn’t change much anyways. They worked, and you both lived to survive another day, so that is that.

“And that’s what you were doing when you found me, hunting BTs?” You gingerly roll your neck from side to side, pushing through the nausea that surfaces from the persistent and near agonising ache in your skull.

“Amongst other things, don’t get up-,” he warns as you move to slide off the bed, “-gotta wrap ya up.”

You freeze mid-action and shuffle backwards again. He appears at your side once more and reaches for a roll of bandages. He quickly presses a pad to your now clean cut and asks you a question in turn.

“So, what’s your story? Pretty nasty injuries you’ve got, wicked bump on the back of your head.” You don’t even bother to avoid the question and redirect the conversation, you just don’t answer, and he frowns.

He unrolls the bandages and mumbles a short, “Can I?”, waiting for your answering nod before he begins to dress your wound, winding the material around your head. He secures it at the back and you feel all at once a little better. The material isn’t too tight but holds firm, it feels like it’s holding you together, keeping your head from fracturing in two.

“The stranger,” he starts, and you must look confused because he continues, “the stranger who didn’t treat you too kindly. Was this courtesy of them?” His words are quiet, unobtrusive, a tone tinged with mild curiosity. You feel at the back of your head with soft fingers, skimming over the lump there and clamping down on a whimper at the pain.

“Yeah.” You don’t elaborate, and he doesn’t ask you to. You are starting to lose focus, thoughts fragmenting and wandering, limbs heavy. He must notice your eyelids drooping because he places a hand on your shoulder, grip warm and firm, “Come on, you need to rest, you’re lucky you don’t have a concussion.”

You yawn wide as you lean your weight onto your arms and lift your feet onto the platform, shuffling back towards the wall. You lay down gently and settle on your side to avoid any sore spots, curling into a foetal position. Porco grabs the blanket that’s off to the side and flicks it out and over you. As you pull the material up to your chin, seeking warmth, Porco settles beside you with his back to the wall. He rests his elbows against his knees, the muscles of his arms rippling as he does so, and his broad shoulders hunch forwards to curl around his frame.

He’s still in sleep shorts and a tank, and vaguely, your syrupy thoughts wonder if he’s cold. He taps a cuff attached to his wrist and a holographic screen is thrown upwards, showing some sort of map. You realise it isn’t a bracelet at all, and remind yourself to ask him about it later. You make a conscious effort to keep your eyes open and mutter out two words around a fresh yawn.

“Huh?” He questions, head turning to look at your face peeking over the top of the blanket.

“Thank you,” you say, louder this time. He cocks his head to the side a little, thick neck on display, his eyebrows raised in alarm.

“For what?” His smile is all too teasing, and you wish you had the energy to roll your eyes at him.

“For everything, just. Thank you.” Your voice sounds thick, exhaustion evident, and your blinks become slower, last longer. He smiles then, a genuine smile that lights up his face, so different from the teasing grin or the near-permanent frown that you have been given up till now. His cheeks bunch adorably, apples even rounder with the movement, and you note that he has dimples. His teeth flash at you, neat and white, plump lips stretched around them. His smile curves up higher on one side, barely, but you catch it. You dislike the thought crossing your mind that he is handsome, it swims around your brain and you think you smile back at him, his easygoing nature a little infectious.

“It’s nothin', now sleep.” You are all too happy to oblige, but not before you pull the blanket over to his side a little and offer up a corner, your way of making nice. You can hardly leave him cold all night after everything he’s done for you. He takes the material offered to him and slides a little closer to your form, laying his legs flat and wrapping the blanket around his waist. You let the rest drop between you and snuggle into your half. Sleep claims you quickly.

The next few days pass in a haze of boredom, each day bleeding into the next as you heal from your encounter with the MULEs. Porco makes you rest more than you would like, and you find yourself leaning into his easy personality and letting your guard slip.

At first, it was merely something to do, to wile away the hours cooped up in this tiny room; but after the first 24 hours, you find yourself looking forward to his witty remarks and teasing nature, finding particular enjoyment in the little crease between his brows when he sports a frown. You especially like being the cause of said frown when you bite back at his blunt delivery or whine extra loud about his choice to keep you inside for longer than necessary – to “make sure you recuperate fully”.

“What would have been the point in saving you, if I let you wander off half delirious and fainting all over the place?”

You object to that phrasing because you only fainted once since the attack and you aren’t as weak and hopeless as he makes out. You have, and probably will, survive worse. He makes it seem like you are a burden, a gigantic pain in his ass, and you almost wish it was true (and not more of his teasing) so that you can just get out of here. But another part of you, a much bigger part than you want to admit- and what mostly makes you stay seeing as you could leave if you really wanted to- needs this house arrest to last just a little longer, despite the obvious cabin fever.

You hate being below ground, it is the main reason you took up the occupation of Porter, so that you could spend your dwindling days out in the fresh air. You feel most centred, most yourself, out in nature and the inherent risks are worth it in your opinion. Worth it to feel the sun on your skin, the wind in your hair, to remind yourself there is a world out there waiting to be explored, ripe for the taking.

Sometimes, it is the only thing that gets you up in the morning and you can’t understand the individuals who are content with being stuck in the underground cities. To you, it is a prison sentence. That being said, you are lonely. The profession you chose and the path you took in this life isolates you from humanity, which in the past was just fine by you, preferred even. But you quickly realised that loneliness consumed one from the inside out and having someone to talk to meant more than you ever thought it would. It keeps one sane.

Especially someone who understands the difficulties of what you do every day. And that is how you also found yourself realising that you enjoy Porco’s company, are grateful for it even. His reminders to eat and exercise keep you grounded and the menial tasks he throws your way (despite your resentment at the order) gives you something to focus your mind on and do, besides sleeping.

What was initially reluctance at his commands turns into a begrudging gratefulness as you sort through the supplies in the room and pick out anything useful for travel. You make two piles, one for yourself and a near identical one for your current roommate. The supplies include food rations, water, clothing, mini first-aid kits and back-up items such as spare lights and rope. You also found some boots in the display cabinet housing the new and shiny Bridge’s suits, one of which you already have your eye on. It is of similar design to your old one but far fancier, state of the art technology and materials used with a myriad of adjustments that will make travel more comfortable than you are used to.

Porco told you, the day after you met him, that he has a contract with Bridges, he works for them not just with them as a freelance Porter. That’s what the clunky cuff on his wrist is, a way to connect each one of the Bridges staff, a communication link as well as a handy tool. He patiently showed you how it functions and let you play around with it and ask questions. You were surprised to find that he could be serious when he wanted to be and was a pretty good teacher. Not that it lasted for very long before he was back to his usual insults and cocky smirk.

You have come up with a nickname of sorts for Porco in the time you’ve spent with him. It was your third day at the Waystation when you had voiced the idea.

“You need a nickname,” you had spoken the thought aloud, and it hung heavy in the quiet of the room, as you sat cross legged on the floor sorting through more clothes.

“No, I don’t,” had come the near instantaneous reply.

“Yes, you do,” you retaliated immediately, indifferent to his rebuttal.

“And why’s that?” you heard a sigh in his voice that he tried to mask under feigned interest, but you picked up on it, nonetheless. You have learnt the tells that indicate his annoyance and what is merely teasing pretty quickly since you have nothing better to do than sit around and analyse the man.

You know that being stuck with you in this room for three days straight has not been easy for him -- you whine and moan and blame the situation on him and you are reluctant to offer any information about yourself while demanding answers from him. In your defence, he has left the four walls of this room, and you have not. You are bound to be a little stir crazy and cranky, entitled to it really.

“So, I don’t laugh every time I use your real name,” you smiled to yourself from your position across the room. He had been leaning against the opposite wall marking a route on his map using the cuff. He spent most days when he wasn’t out on deliveries (only local since he had to “keep an eye on you”) mapping a route to what you assumed was his next destination. Although you weren’t sure what delivery route could require such time and attention.

His seething silence and the muscle you just knew was jumping in his jaw, was evidence enough that he had not been in the mood that day, and so you had relented with a cheery tone.

“I’ll keep you posted.”

He ended that conversation with a grunt.

It isn’t until today that you speak up about it as he saunters over to you.

“Pock!” you exclaim, neatly folding undergarments into a small bag.

“Umm, sorry?” He stops just in front of your seated form at the table, and you look up at his arched brows and cocked head.

“You’re real cute when you’re clueless,” you coo at him, and he meets it with a scowl, but you notice a pink hue to his complexion. “Have you forgotten already? It’s your nickname,” you smile big as you focus on your folding again, expecting him to argue the point. To your surprise he laughs.

“I was expecting a lot worse,” he plops down into the seat across from you, “I can work with Pock.”

“Well good, better start getting used to it,” you finish your folding and lay your head on your arms atop the table. You hear the squeak of steel against plastic as he leans back in his chair.

“You’re doing well,” he comments. You crack open an eye to peek at him over the top of your arm.

“It’s just folding laundry; you could do it too yaknow.” You watch as he presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek to stop a grin from splitting across his face.

“Funny. I meant your injuries,” he crosses his arms over his front, forearms flexing in a delicious distraction, drawing your attention from his mouth to his chest, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

His eyes follow your gaze and there is a flicker of amusement and...pride? in them when they return to your face. You groan and close your eyes, burying your face into the crook of your elbow.

“You don’t seem to have any lasting effects from the head injury and your cuts and scrapes are healing nicely.”

“Nice observation skills, detective, I could have told you that” you mumble into your skin, deflecting your earlier embarrassment of being caught staring into humour, your tone dry.

He ignores the remark and continues, “I think tomorrow’s as good a day as any.”

You perk up at that. “For what?” you ask eagerly, lifting your head to meet his hazel eyes.

“To leave, can’t stay here forever, I know it must be tempting for you when you’ve got all this to look at,” he gestures at himself with a smug smile, “but I’ve got places to be.”

He is in casual wear again today; wearing loose fit joggers (that have become his usual since he found them in the clothes bin) slung low on his hips, the waistband snug against his pelvic bones and the light grey fabric hugging the curve of his thigh muscles. Paired with those too-small white tanks he favours little is left to the imagination, although your brain tries anyway, filling your head with unwanted images of him sprawled out beneath you.

Being cooped up is turning you into a pervert; it is an effort to look away when he showers, to look anywhere but the glistening drops of water that roll off his abs whenever he steps out of the cubicle, fluffy towel wrapped loosely about his waist and accentuating that delicious V that disappears beneath the material. You swear he does it on purpose, just to see the struggle as you attempt to keep your eyes locked on his and do your best to keep a clear head, spitting out some half-hearted lie about how he doesn’t look as good as he thinks he does.

“Oh, so you have been looking, then?” He always catches you out, always. It’s what fuels your snarky attitude and ill attempts at insults, purely because you know that he is having more of an effect on you than you want. You figure it’s probably the Stockholm Syndrome talking (a fact you teasingly remind him of every time he suggests that you are warming up to him), although that body doesn’t hurt either, and chalk it up to basic human desire at being stuck in such close quarters.

You break out of your reverie when he waves a hand in front of your face, “Hellooooo! It’s only been three days; you can’t have lost your mind already.”

“Tomorrow?” you repeat slowly, dawning excitement bubbling in your chest. Outside. You will be outside in less than 24 hours.

“Yeah, you almost done with those bags?” he nods to the small packs you’ve been preparing.

“Just gotta pack away the rest of the spare clothes,” you answer.

“Good,” he comments, “So we should talk about what’s next,” his tone is firm and his stance immediately changes. His arms tighten across his chest as his spine straightens, casual demeanour immediately morphing into that serious ‘this means business’ face, that you have to admit he wears well.

“Who’s this we you keep throwing around?” You challenge.

“Alright, I won’t beat around the bush- “

“Do you ever?” You mutter, interrupting him mid-sentence. He gives you a look and you back down with your hands raised in mock defeat, “-given your circumstances, I think you should come with me. We can travel together.”

You stare at him for a few seconds to ascertain whether he is joking or not, but his face is more serious than it has ever been, and you think back to an earlier conversation you had a day or so ago.

He had been cleaning your wounds and checking the lump on the back of your head when you had finally spoken up about what had happened on that fateful day on the mountain with the ambusher…with Zeke.

His face had transformed at that name drop, from deep concern to something resembling fear, it was the first time you had seen it on him and it sparked something animal in you, a fight or flight instinct that made your skin crawl and heart rate quicken.

He had shakily dropped the roll of gauze in his hand and sat back with a deep exhale. It felt like the silence between you had stretched on for an eternity, the atmosphere roiling with tension, before he had spoken two words. Two words you hadn’t wanted to hear.

“We’re fucked.”

Needless to say, it did little to ease your nerves. After a drink and some mild coaxing on your part, Pock had revealed what he knew about the man and his motley crew. It turns out that Zeke is a psychopath, not really a surprise, but something you had hoped was a stretch on your part after your short encounter.

He told you that he knew of the Yeager’s, many people around these parts did, apparently they were not only thugs but kidnappers, taking women they came across that caught Zeke’s fancy.

“He’s bad news, and I mean the worst kind, he’s obsessive and has made it his hobby to collect people…women,” you shuddered at the revelation and thanked the universe that you had gotten away that day, but Porco made it clear that you weren’t out of hot water just yet.

“Don’t look so relieved,” he spoke sharply enough that your heart had dropped, “he will stop at nothing to get what he wants…I’ve seen it first-hand,“ he lapsed into a grim silence after that. Your stomach rolled, chest heaving at the thought of what befell those women, of who Porco had lost to that disgusting monster.

“What happened to her?” you uttered the question quietly, not wanting to pry or upset him, but needing to know the answer.

“Nothing good,” he grunted, and the air left your lungs in a painful whoosh, as if he punched it right out of you. When he spoke again, you startled so badly that you knocked the first aid kit off the bed, contents spilling across the floor.

“My brother went after her, but-“ the sentence had been cut short by a pained crack in his throat, eyes swimming with a haunted look.

You grabbed his hand that day, and he had grabbed yours back. You hadn’t said a word, hadn’t even looked at each other, only gripped the others hand like a lifeline; his warm palm pressed against your own, rough fingertips squeezing yours, his touch indented into your flesh long after he let go. A memory that lingered on your skin.

It was the first time you touched him since you took his hand the day he found you, the first time you had willingly gotten closer to him without hesitation. You hadn’t been able to help it when you saw the look in his eyes; the grief, the loss...the despair. You knew it all too well, it was mirrored in your own gaze, something impossible to hide from those who felt it too, despite how desperately one tried. Neither of you had brought up the topic again, until now.

And as you look into those eyes of green and gold now, turbulent with unspoken emotion, you think that you maybe understand his motivation for the question he asked. And you realise that you were strangers, but not anymore, he knows you even if only a little. And what if, maybe he too, is fed up with being alone. Maybe he has grown to appreciate your company as much as you have his.

But it isn’t just that, things have changed after your conversation about Zeke. Pock had known someone who had been in your position, who he couldn’t help, who wasn’t saved before it was too late. And maybe him finding you in the wilderness was an odd twist of fate, a chance for him to right the wrongs of his past, to deal with it head on and heal from it.

And who are you to stand in the way of fate, to reject help when it is so willingly offered in a time of crisis, in a time of loneliness? But all of that reaching is a smokescreen for your true desires on the matter, for the thought you had as soon as the words fell from his lips -- you want to go with him.

But that’s not what you say.

“Wait, what? You want to travel together? Travel where? Everywhere is a wasteland plagued by dead souls, not exactly prime sightseeing locations.” You frown at him, your voice laced with sarcasm. Is he pulling your leg? What does he even mean? You come from different compounds, have established lives completely separate from one another, and porters aren't known for travelling in groups. It's a lonesome job that rarely requires more than one pair of hands.

“Listen, I’ve got a plan. Sort of,” his face scrunches in contemplation, “I’m leaving here, leaving this island. I’m heading to Lake Knot and from there I’ll catch a boat to greener pastures, and then I’m gone.” Greener pastures, you process the two words in disgust, not quite believing or understanding what he’s saying. This is an insane journey he's proposing, and certainly not one you spring on a person you've known for all of four days.

“Are you crazy? There are no greener pastures,” your voice rises in pitch as you lean forward in your seat and stare at him incredulously across the table, “and you want me to leave my home, the only place I’ve ever known, and go on some wild goose chase with a stranger across the sea…for a pipe dream?”

Porco frowns at you, any playfulness still in his posture gone now. “We’re hardly strangers,” he says as he shoots you a grim look, “and why not? What’s tying you to this place? Do you even have anyone to stick around for?” He means well, you know he doesn’t mean to hurt you with those words, but he does anyway.

You don’t have anyone to stick around for, but he doesn’t know that, and it isn’t the point. You know he understands that emptiness all too well, the loneliness, that he is only offering you a way out.

But you can’t stop the anger that bubbles up inside you at his insensitive words and blunt delivery, at the spike of pain and flash of memories that threaten to overtake you. You never had been good at controlling your anger, “You don’t fucking know anything about me, so don’t you dare pretend that you do,” you seethe, spitting out the words like venom.

“Yeah?” His eyes flash, and now you know he’s pissed, “Well, whose fault is that?” He jerks his head at you, and you bristle, but he continues before you can interrupt, “It’s dangerous out there, you know that as well as I do. If we stick together, we can have each other’s backs, sounds a hell of a lot better to me than going it alone.” He drops his forearms onto the table with a thump and goes to push away from the table, effectively ending your little spat, but you are determined to have the last word.

“So, that’s what this is about,” You comment, and it stops him in his tracks, his eyes darting to your face, “You think I need protecting? I’m not her, Pock, and you aren’t your brother. This isn't something you need to do, for me or yourself. I’ve survived just fine on my own my whole life and you know what? I’ll continue to survive on my own. I don’t need you to swoop in and save the damsel in distress!” Your words are a shout now, emotion bleeding from each ragged breath you take, heart slamming against your chest. You hate confrontation, it makes you sick. Yet here you are starting it, acidic words rising in your throat like bile and spilling from your mouth, a mouth twisted with cruelty.

You hate the bitter words in your mouth, the metallic tang they leave on your taste buds. You went too far, and you can’t take those words back, can’t take back the look on Porco’s face, back stiff and teeth clenching together so hard you half-expect them to crack. Those eyes that have only ever been kind aren’t shining anymore, the sparkle gone from them, only white-hot rage remains. He stands up abruptly, knocking his chair over, the clatter resounding through the room and making you jump.

“S’not what it looked like when I found you screaming and pissing yourself a few days ago.” His voice is low, so unlike your loud and explosive anger. It’s a quiet rage that simmers beneath the surface; his body taut, every muscle straining against his skin, as if he is using all his strength to rein it in.

“If I remember correctly, I saved you. Why are you so fucking determined to push people away, so scared of connecting with someone? You ever think that you’re on your own because you made it that way?” His words are justified, you deserve them, hell they’re the truth. But they sting anyway, pricking at your eyes, and you stare resolutely ahead to keep the tears at bay. You are shaking, with frustration or guilt, you don’t know. Maybe both.

You look down at the table and mumble, “And this is why I work alone.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, all traces of anger swept away with the slump of your shoulders, your admittance of defeat.

You hear Porco shift on his feet, a step toward you, and then he halts. You can almost see the words in the forefront of his mind, tripping over his tongue trying to rearrange themselves, to come out right. But they never come, as if he realises there is no right thing to say.

You hear the scrape of his chair as he rights it and his footsteps as he turns to walk away, but he stops one last time, and speaks so quietly you almost don't catch it all. "You're wrong. Maybe I don't need to do this for you, but I do need to for myself."

You suck in a stuttered breath, air catching in your throat, and chest aching. Fuck, why did you have to open your big mouth and ruin everything. He throws one last line over his shoulder before he leaves the room, “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” Dismissive. Final.

You sigh, a shaky exhale of built-up emotion, and the first few tears of many finally fall and spatter against the plastic beneath you. You look up, to make sure you see him leave, a small punishment for yourself. You hate staring at his back as he walks away from you, knowing that you crossed a line and hurt him, in doing so.

You know he will leave you alone as best he can for the rest of the day so that you can stew in your own juices, maybe see some reason. You also know that come tomorrow, should you reject him again, he will let you leave. Even if the guilt of doing so tears him up inside. You hate that the look of absolute devastation that flashed across his face when you mentioned his brother, still lingers in your mind when you shut your eyes. But most of all, you hate you, and your inability to be honest with yourself and with him.

He still isn’t back after an hour; you’ve spent the time alternating between sitting at the table chewing on your nails and pacing back and forth in front of the glass display wall. You are tired from all the crying you let out as soon as he left the compound, and your toe hurts where you kicked it against the chair in another fit of rage shortly after that. You crawl onto the bed and curl up on your side, burying your face in Pock's pillow and inhaling the scent of soap and him. You've exhausted thoughts of what happened and how you could have handled it differently, spent far too long picking apart each word between you and him, obsessing over every little detail and what he could be up to right now. You squeeze your tired and puffy eyes shut, letting the negative thoughts spiral out into the darkness behind your closed lids, becoming less coherent and fuzzy at the edges. Your breathing deepens as your consciousness slowly slips away from you, the last thing your mind summons up is a face twisted with hurt, and a pair of sad, hazel eyes.

Your dreams are disjointed flashes of memories, some far too old for you to possibly remember, perhaps just nightmares conjured up to haunt you. Others depict apocalyptic events spelling the downfall of humanity, nothing concrete, just blood and death and ash. You see the faces of people, some you know and others you don't, but each one slowly fades out into a haze of red – their lives wiped off the board one by one.

Leaving only a few remaining…and this is the only time you've seen something that wasn't in the past, that hasn't already happened, a chilling omen that cuts you bone deep. It's Pock; he's standing in front of you bruised and battered, tears shining in his eyes. He's attempting to mouth something to you, something you can't make out. Your hands stretch out into empty space, reaching for him…but they never connect.

You scream and cry out, but there's no sound here, everything is fuzzy and quickly fading into red. Not again. It's your fault, all your fault. Another life on your shoulders, more blood on your hands. You can't leave him alone to die, you won't, but no matter how much you struggle the image disintegrates into the background. The last thing you see is a wave of heat and light rushing towards him before the image shatters.

There's someone else here.

And suddenly you are struggling against a firm grip, harsh fingers digging into your flesh cruelly, and when you manage to turn… you are met with a blank face with soulless pits for eyes. The only discernible feature is a pair of silver-rimmed glasses perched atop a long nose. Checkmate.

Porco paces back and forth outside the Waypoint obsessively, pulling at his hair and debating whether he should go back in there and apologise, talk it out with you. But he decides you both need some time to cool off and so he takes a short trip into the valley beyond the forest you currently reside in. He searches around the rocks, checking every nook and cranny, before he finds some lost cargo in a shallow river. Fortunately, it is labelled for delivery to the Waypoint you are currently stationed at. So he straps the cargo to his gear, going through the motions methodically and with a practiced ease, before he lugs it all back to base for delivery.

The exercise took his mind off your fight, kept the bitter words and guilt at bay long enough for his head to clear. When he returns to your shared capsule, you are asleep, curled up in the middle of the bed with your face in his pillow. It sends a pang through his chest seeing the closest object to you with his smell and imprint on wrapped in your arms. He likes the idea that even in his absence he somehow brought you comfort.

He watches the rise and fall of your form for several minutes before shucking off his suit and then sliding onto the cot next to you, sacrificing his section of the blanket so he can wrap it around you carefully. You lay atop most of it but there is enough to keep you covered. He doesn't mind, he's hot after his trek back anyway.

He didn't realise he'd fallen asleep until your screams woke him with a start. Porco isn't usually too alarmed with your night terrors, it's something everyone with DOOMs has to suffer through and also something he's become accustomed to while sharing a bed with you, but tonight is different…

Your screams are piercing, your sobs shredding through his sleep-riddled brain as you chant his name over and over, practically begging. A sick feeling worms its way into his gut as panic takes hold, you are twisting yourself up in the sheets and thrashing around wildly, arms striking him in the process.

He grabs your hands as they swing for him, restricting your movement so that you don't hurt yourself, and then calls your name over your yelling. A few more yells and a hand at your face and you jerk awake, eyes flying open in panic. You strain against his hold, leaning away from him and panting with fright, clearly terrified by whatever you saw. It takes you a few seconds to realise that he is the one beside you, that you are now awake, and not trapped in an endless nightmare.

Your thrashing has slowed, wide eyes crinkling as you take in his appearance, your fingers clutching at his biceps frantically.

"I- I thought…I saw-" You take a shuddering breath, and then the dam breaks, tears flowing down your cheeks as you gasp out your sobs. Porco pulls you into his chest without a thought, your sweat-damp hair sticking to his bare skin. He startles when you wrap your arms around his neck without hesitation, tucking your face into his neck to muffle your cries. Now, that's unexpected. Usually you apologise for waking him, grab a drink, and then roll over again. Maybe it's because this one was particularly nasty, maybe it's because of your fight earlier...

He holds you gently, hand rubbing up and down your back as he recites calmly and firmly into your ear, "You're okay, hey, you're safe. Just need you to breathe for me, okay?"

You nod your head, sniffling into his skin as you take deep stuttering breaths in, and then out. He focuses on that since it seems to be working and breathes with you, coaching you through it until your tears have stopped and you are breathing evenly. You stay wrapped in eachothers arms in the quiet, only the eerie glow of the display wall lighting the room. He's afraid that if he moves you'll pull away and shut down, so he keeps still, and continues brushing his fingertips over the bare skin of your shoulders.

You've taken to wearing just a bandage around your chest at night, you run hot and can't sleep in the heat. Great solution for you, a huge pain in the ass for him. He tries his best to be a decent human being around you but fuck, do you make it difficult, swanning around in minimal clothing with that little smirk playing on your lips as you insult him. And the way you look at him sometimes…if he didn't know better, he'd say that you felt the same urges he does.

You stay quiet while his mind wanders, clearly contemplating how to break the silence, what to tell him and what not to tell him. He lets you think it out until eventually you clear your throat awkwardly.

"My answer is yes." Your voice is hoarse and dry from all the screaming, and sounds oddly loud in the silence.

"What's that now?" He tucks his chin to look down at you with surprise and a little amusement. You always keep him on his toes, that's for sure.

You look up at him with an exasperated sigh, puffy, red eyes narrowed at him.

"You heard me. I said yes, I'll come with you." You look away quickly after speaking, probably realising how close you are to one another, it hasn't escaped his attention either. But now is definitely not the time to address it.

"One little nightmare changed your mind? Realised you can't live without me?" You sit up at his words, slowly extricating from his embrace, and wiping an arm over your dewy forehead.

Your answering wince makes him feel guilty for teasing, you seemed pretty distraught only moments ago. But then you cock an eyebrow at him wryly and he knows you appreciate the olive branch of normalcy he extended.

"Never," you chirp airily, "but, and I say this begrudgingly, you are right. I could do with someone watching my back." He smiles lazily at you, it's a rare day you compliment him, let alone admit he's right about anything.

"Don't go getting a big head," you warn him, stretching your arms above your head with a face-splitting yawn, "ahhhhh…besides, I'd feel guilty if you died out there with no one to protect you."

He snorts and gives you a look, one that suggests the idea of you protecting him is absurd considering how you met, but you both know he doesn't mean it. Not really. You've survived this far on your own out there, and if your lean build and the swell of muscles beneath your soft skin are anything to go by, you can take care of yourself.

You scowl at him, and shove him away from you roughly, face glowing with delight when he nearly falls off the bed with the action.

"Are you ever gonna let that go?" You demand, folding your hands in front of your bandaged chest with that unrelenting, headstrong attitude of yours. Porco finds it amusing that you can now tell exactly what he's thinking depending on his behaviour, the forced proximity has wrought a sense of familiarity in you both.

"Probably not." His cocky response does nothing to assuage your fire, and he holds up his hands to ward off any further attacks, watching you amusedly as you give him a withering look.

"Don't make me change my mind already."

"I'll be quiet as a mouse." He acts out the motion of zipping his lips shut and you roll your eyes before sliding off the bed and checking the digital clock on the table you use for dining. Perhaps dining is too generous a word for the meals you eat.

"No point in going back to bed, we'll have to be leaving in a few hours anyways," you force the words out around another yawn, the dark circles under your eyes more prominent than usual, and head for the shower.

He can't blame you for your urgency, you are probably itching to set foot outside. He wouldn't have survived these past few days without his little trips above ground each day. He gives you credit for not losing your marbles entirely.

"With how long you take in the shower? Reckon I can get a couple winks in."

He laughs, as you raise a hand above your head and give him the finger, not even bothering to turn around to pin him with a glare. He collapses onto the bed with a huff as you begin to undress, the steel cables creaking with the weight, and closes his eyes. Any excuse to prove himself correct and hear you say those three, magic words again.

☾☆ ☽ ☆ ☾

You had set off early to mid-morning after you had showered and suited up, the day grey with cloud cover. You would have thought it the height of summer and not post-apocalypse with the way you frolicked and beamed in the brisk air. You were just happy to be alive, for once.

That was over a week ago now, and the mild weather has long since passed. The sun beating down on your backs is harsh and unforgiving, your damn bodysuits keeping in the heat and acting as your own portable sauna. You are exhausted, Porco has been riding you hard to keep up the pace all week, improving your chances of out-running Zeke and his goons. You understand the urgency, but boy is this a bitch.

The day you left the wind farm Waypoint, Pock spent the first few hours explaining his grand plan and everything he knew thus far, answering your many questions and concerns as you picked your way through the dense woodland. The short of it was that this special grade Porter, known only as Sam, was travelling the wasteland to connect Knot Cities to something called the Chiral Network. You honestly stopped listening during that part, you knew enough about chiralium and how it shaped this new world, but a lot of the heavier stuff went over your head.

The UCA government hoped that this would bring about order and communication between Knot Cities and act as a catalyst to revive civilisation. Porco wanted to be a part of that change, said he was sick of sitting on his ass between delivering packages, and he hoped that getting on a boat and leaving would put enough distance between you and Zeke Yeager.

So here you are, heading to Lake Knot to travel across the water to "greener pastures". You suppose you shouldn't complain, besides the gruelling physical aspect, it's been quite pleasant travelling with Pock. He always has a teasing remark or some stupid joke to throw your way whenever you think you are too exhausted to continue, a little distraction to keep your mind off the aches and pains. He always has a helping hand at the ready when you slip or struggle, and without his drive and determination you're not sure you would have made it this far, in all honesty.

You've noticed that your smiles and laughter come easier now, you no longer try to hide them or shy away from his familiarity and kindness. You've also noticed the changes in physical intimacy since the night you woke up crying for him…He's always finding some way to touch you, always keeping you close. It was subtle at first, a hand hovering at your back while you trekked up a cliff face, the light brush of his fingers as he passed you a spare snack from his rucksack.

You can't remember when the touches became more frequent, when you started to respond to them in kind. But now rest stops consist of the two of you slumped against one another under the shade of a pine, your head lolling on his shoulder as you nap idly. And your evenings now look like a scene out of a domestic romcom, your legs sprawled over his lap while you read whatever book/magazine they have in the rest pod, and he fusses around with his Bridges cuff plotting your next course.

It's alarming how quickly this development has arisen, and yet, you can't bring yourself to mind it. It feels good to have someone, to not be alone anymore. You hope it brings the same sense of comfort to him as well.

Currently, you are sprawled out over the rock-strewn grass, bodysuit open at the chest, as you lean back against the pack strapped to your shoulders, achieving a semi-upright position with your legs thrown out in front of you. As soon as you had happened upon the small clearing in the forest, and Porco had suggested taking a lunch break here, you clumsily stumbled over to the body of water further ahead and collapsed to the ground without a word.

The sun is high in the sky and you have been hiking all morning without a break. You are covered in a light sheen of sweat underneath your suit, but you are too exhausted to pull your arms out of the material and tie it at your waist, instead choosing to be content with it just unzipped at the front. The rush of fresh air against your damp skin is heavenly and you dangle your head backwards, no longer able to keep the weight of it upright, and watch the wispy clouds shift and move across the blue canvas above you. The waterfall that feeds into the lake next to you provides a calming static, white noise to your drowsy mind.

You think you might doze off, until Porco drops down across from you, his pack hitting the earth with a crunch. You startle a little at the sound, closer than you expected, and groan at the ache in your back and legs. You hear the crinkle of a packet and roll your head up a little to peer over a shoulder. Porco is already munching on a protein bar and wiggles the item at you teasingly when he catches you staring.

You groan once more and drop your head backwards again, not caring about the uncomfortable stretch in your neck at the sudden strain. Your stomach decides to rumble, as if hinting at you to move your ass and feed it.

“If you don’t move, you can’t eat.”

You ignore the amused tone in his voice and huff, closing your eyes in defeat, tiredness taking over your senses. You don’t know how long you remain like that, probably crushing half the contents in your bag, as you drift in and out of consciousness. It’s not until something is thrown at you, hitting your chest and dropping into your lap, that you sit up with the intention to eat. Porco has finished his lunch and is stripping his own bodysuit off his shoulders, letting it dangle at his waist. He begins to stretch as you focus on shrugging off your pack and opening up the protein bar, eager to fill your empty stomach.

You’re about halfway through the bar when you notice that Pock is pulling his suit down further, peeling it over his toned legs and yanking his feet out of his boots before stepping out of it. You swallow your mouthful before clearing your throat and speaking up.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Gonna take a dip,” he responds as his shirt is removed next. You fix your gaze elsewhere, eyes betraying you with a flick to the side, to catch a peek of those abs you’ve grown so fond of.

“I’m sorry, what?” You are dumbfounded. Surely, he’s kidding around? You’re in the middle of nowhere surrounded by human-eating monsters and rain that can age anything it touches. It’s hardly safe to let your guard down here. Is he insane? Not to mention that water is going to be freezing. But his shorts are next to go.

“Oh, come on-“ he laughs at your incredulous look, “-we deserve a proper break, besides I need to wash off all this sweat.” You stutter over a response to his absurdity, and without warning, he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and pulls them down over his ass cheeks.

“Jesus christ!” You yell, wildly scrambling to cover your eyes and dropping the last piece of your lunch in the process. You catch a grin from him before he’s gone, leaping into the water and disappearing under the surface with a splash. You lower your hands and think about the flash you got, the supple curve of his ass. Great, now that image will be seared into your mind whenever you look at him, that bastard knows what he is doing all too well.

You can't help but laugh when he pops back up, breaching the surface, a wide grin on his face and wet hair sticking to his forehead. He uses a hand to smooth back his hair, an action so familiar to you by now after all these weeks together, and watch as a droplet of water rolls from his elbow down the curve of his bicep.

“You’re mental,” you call to him, and he shrugs in response, treading water slowly.

“Isn’t it cold?” you ask, cocking a brow.

“Refreshing!” He calls back, and uses a hand to splash water at you from afar, as if to prove his statement.

You shriek and cower back, “You ass! Don’t get my clothes wet!” You seethe at him as you shake the droplets from your suit and brush the front of your shirt. You have spare clothes to change into but nowhere to put damp clothing if they get wet.

“Wouldn’t get wet if you weren’t wearing any,” comes his sly response, he has moved to the edge of the bank, peering over the earth as he sinks a little deeper into the water.

You narrow your eyes at him, “You want me to get in there? Naked?” You punctuate your words with a stab of your finger, first at yourself, and then in his general direction.

He shrugs again and gives a short answer, “Up to you,” before he twists his body up and around and pushes away from the edge, cutting through the water as he swims away from you. Up to you.

You hate him. You do. You’re not sure if he’s expecting you to fall prey to his teasing or if he’s teasing because he thinks you won’t actually do it. Either way, you figure, you have to do this. Just to see the look on his face. So before you can overthink it, you remove your heavy boots and thick socks and stand up, hastily stepping out of your suit as you step closer to the water's edge.

You remove your leggings slowly as you watch Pock, he’s swimming laps, powerful arms driving him through the lake. Water ripples out from his frame as you watch the muscles of his shoulders and back flex with every stroke. It’s a mesmerising sight, oddly relaxing, and you almost don’t want to look away. But you do anyway, to pull your shirt over your head, and discard it behind you. Now you are standing in just your panties and chest wrap, the cool air licking at your skin and sending goosebumps scattering over your flesh.

You dip a toe into the water and suck in a large breath, oh it’s cold alright. But it’s nice against your feverish and sweaty skin. You take another deep breath for courage and unwrap your chest with practiced fingers before sliding your panties over your thighs and letting them drop to the ground.

Porco has finished his lap now, and before he gets an eyeful of your exposed body hovering awkwardly by the bank, you jump towards the blue-black surface with a small scream.

Porco watches out of the corner of his eye (unbeknownst to you), as you dip a toe into the lake, obviously debating whether to get in or not. In all honesty, he didn't expect you to take his bait and actually do it, it was more of a desperate hope. One that is quickly blooming into anticipation as he watches you quickly unwind the bandages around your chest with expert fingers.

When you let the billowing fabric drop to the earth, he thinks that maybe he should look away, but fuck do your tits look good; heavy now they are supporting their own weight and nipples pebbling in the cool air. He watches in a kind of trance, still side-eyeing you surreptitiously, as you slowly pull your panties down your thighs and let the material join the bandages on the floor, stepping out of them daintily.

The brief thought that you might be executing this little show on purpose, for him, flashes through his mind before he dismisses it entirely. The way your head turns to him with squinted eyes indicates that you were not aware of his lustful gaze. He quickly wipes his face with a hand to act as if he hadn’t just been staring shamelessly.

When he is sure that you aren’t looking his way anymore, his eyes flick back to you, seeking out your familiar silhouette framed in the golden glow of the sun. He sees the hesitation, as you stand at the bank shivering, and staring into the waters below you. He sees the deep breath of air that you fill your lungs with before you launch yourself away from the edge.

Time seems to stand still as he watches you reach the peak of your jump, suspended in mid air, mouth open in shock (perhaps at the disbelief that you actually took this leap of faith). Your skin seems to glitter in the light, catching the sun's rays, and your hair is wild around your head. He smiles when you plunge into the lake with a yell and an uncoordinated flail of limbs. He definitely looked cooler when he jumped.

You come up sputtering and choking, no doubt having taken a lungful of lake water with the way your mouth had been hanging open like a fish. He slowly paddles over to you, trying not to laugh aloud at the curses spilling from your lips as you wipe water from your eyes, blinking rapidly. As he approaches you he stops to tread water, his movements light and slow; at odds with your fast, aggressive flailing as you continue to scrape at your face with a hand while trying to remain afloat.

Eventually, you calm down and acknowledge his presence, pinning him with an impressive glare that would have sent him scattering if he were not used to your temperament already.

“Wipe that stupid grin off your face,” you warn him, with an edge to your voice.

“What grin?” he counters, smiling impishly at you, doing his best to keep his eyes on your face.

“That one,” you splash a hand at his face, spraying him with water, and he manages to close his eyes at the last second.

“Feel better?” he asks, opening one eye to peek at you, ready for another attack.

“A little,” you respond with a pout, teeth chattering as you bob in the water, looking pathetic and ready to start complaining.

“Nuh uh, you’re not being miserable right now.”

“But-“

“Nope. We are relaxing, no pouting, no whining. You deserve a little fun, I think.”

You frown at him, but he sees a slight smile tug at the corners of your lips, and he continues.

“And I deserve a lot for putting up with your-“ you cut him off with another wave of brackish water to his face. He sputters in your direction, spitting the water that you got in his mouth at your face, before taking off towards the other end of the lake when he sees the look on your face. You howl in anger at his retreating back and throw a particularly filthy curse his way that has him chuckling.

“Catch me, if you can!” he yells over a shoulder, and you do your darnedest.

You both swim laps for a few minutes, exhaustion dampened by a second wind, a combination of the biting cold of the water and the thrill of your little lake sojourn. The murky water provides a shoddy semblance of modesty, both of you fully aware of each other's nakedness below the surface.

Porco has seen you undressed before, many times in fact, but always in your underwear or wrapped up in a towel. It is an awkward acceptance that you are both forced to wear given the situation.

But this is different, he has seen you fully now…everything bare to him. You took off your clothing, not because you had to, but because you chose to. Chose to be naked and vulnerable, to let slip the careful guard you had spent all this time frantically holding up – to let him in, if only an inch. You are trusting him at this moment.

He knows that the dynamic between you is changing, morphing into...something different. And it changed irrevocably the moment he stripped naked and goaded you like a child, and you joined him, taking that leap of faith into the unknown.

And he feels it now, that shift, as he looks at you; leaning against an outcrop of rock next to him, chest heaving from the race you just barely lost, the swell of your breasts breaching the water. Your shoulders are relaxed, slumped against the rock, and keeping you upright. There is a ledge of rock sitting below the surface that juts out from the formation, and you are both using it as a makeshift footrest, heels dug into the hard surface.

Damp wisps of baby hair are curling around your forehead, water or sweat or maybe both, dripping from your hairline and sliding down your temples. Stray drops drip from your lashes and hit your full cheeks when you blink. They look like tears when they fall and Porco finds himself reaching towards you on instinct. He uses the pad of his thumb to wipe at the soft skin under your eye, brushing the droplets away.

Your head turns toward him, eyes blinking up at him in alarm as his thumb traces the path of water down your cheek, stopping at the plump of your bottom lip. His touch ghosts over the flesh there. He notices your wide eyes glance down to his mouth unconsciously, before they flick back up to his eyes quickly. The moment stills for a heartbeat, the world falling away, as his touch lingers and your gazes meet.

It isn’t until he pulls away and clears his throat that sound returns, the waterfall behind you crashing into the lake and creating a buzz in his ears. The treeline surrounding the clearing you sit in the middle of provides a soft susurration of the wind through the leaves. Birds chirp and chatter as they pass through the clearing, flying low, their beaks kissing the ground as they pluck bugs from the earth. It feels almost normal, in this little pocket of tranquillity, where flora and fauna thrive. There is no rain nor dark cloud in sight, no monstrosities sucking the warmth and life from the air, no current reminder that this life is an apocalyptic wasteland; a waiting room for the stranded souls of the dead.

Porco leans back against the rock, mirroring you, and lets out a content sigh. His eyes fluttering shut as he pretends to act casually, but his heart is racing, and he’s sure you can see the blood that has rushed to his cheeks. Even with his eyes closed, he can see your pretty face. Your eyes boring into his own, searching for the hidden meaning in the gentle touches he bestows upon you, almost as if he can’t help himself. And he can’t.

He’s tried, God knows he has. He knows you find it hard to trust, he supposes everyone nowadays are the same. He knows you aren’t fully comfortable with unannounced touching, even with the simplest and most innocent of acts. That much is apparent from the way you jump at a hand on your arm, or flinch at his fingers examining the many injuries you seem to attract. It's what has driven him to do better, to prove to you that you can trust him.

And every time you accept his teasing and poking, or actively seek out his hand in the dark, clutching onto it to drive the nightmares away; it’s all the sweeter to him because he has earned it. And he finds himself wanting to earn more, to be privy to every part of yourself, to have you offer yourself up in the palm of a hand.

He groans inwardly. He is acting a fool, there are more important things at stake, but this world is cruel and unforgiving. Real connections are rare, friendship and intimacy few and far between. Even if you feel nothing for him, beyond this sense of circumstantial camaraderie, even if everything stays the same as it is now – he wants to hold onto this connection. A bond like this he hasn’t felt since Marcel-

His brother. He’s been trying to keep his face, the memories, out of his mind since your conversation about the Yeager’s all those days ago. He almost opened up, almost spilled his guts to a near complete stranger in a moment of weakness. It seems you have that effect on him, and he tells himself it is only fair since he seeks the same from you. He knows he can’t avoid the topic forever, can’t run from his past, from the reality that Marcel is gone. But fuck it, does he try most days.

You must sense the internal struggle raging inside him, for you speak up, breaking the tense silence between you. You ask in a hushed and tired voice, “Do you think there’s a future for us?”

His eyes dart to your face and notice the nervous squirming of your body, arms crossing over your ample chest in sudden bashfulness, as you realise the implication of your words.

He chuckles lightly and looks out toward the treeline, scanning your surroundings, ever the lookout. If you are caught unawares out here, then you’ll wind up dead. He thinks over your question seriously, “Us, as in humanity?”

He senses you nod beside him and continues, “Sure there is...humanity always prevails, holds on tight to life, kicking and screaming,” he smiles wanly, not at all amused by his own words. He feels you shiver beside him, the tinkle of water reaching his ears as you disturb the stillness around you. It’s not from the cold, you both adjusted to the water’s temperature long ago.

“Sorry. Yeah, I think there’s a future for us,” he smiles genuinely this time, at your chosen phrasing. “If I didn’t, then we wouldn’t be here right now.”

There’s a pause as you mull over his words, and then you ask quietly, “Do you think we will see that future? Something better than this?” So quietly, that he almost doesn’t hear over the rush of the waterfall, and this time he knows the ‘we’ is intended. You mean him and you, as individuals.

“Probably not,” he answers earnestly, in a tone a little too cheery for the grim reality of the situation. He side-eyes you, head still lazing back against the rock behind him, and catches your look of incredulity and slight distaste.

“Hey, I told ya, I don’t sugar-coat it,” you snort loudly at that, “but we can help carve out that future for the generations to come.” You turn your body slightly to face him at those words, features softening, some indiscernible emotion flickering in your eyes.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. When you look at him it’s as if you’re seeing him differently, looking through him, to what’s underneath. It sends a thrill shooting up his spine, a weight settling over his chest. You look at him as if you want to say something in particular, but you must decide against it because instead you mumble, “Yeah, yeah we can.”

The conversation lulls again, the both of you thinking over your discussion and the days to come, side by side in a comfortable quiet. Eventually, he decides to break the silence this time with his own question.

“So, in an ideal world, no Death Stranding,” you hum in acknowledgement and shift in the water to face him properly, “what would you wanna be? Besides a glorified delivery person,” he smiles at you knowingly.

Your brow wrinkles at his question and Porco thinks it adorable, “What would I wanna be?” you echo lamely.

He nods encouragingly. “Hmm, I guess I’ve never really thought about it.”

He laughs in disbelief, “No way, really?” He scans your face, looking for something, any indication as to what is causing the strange look of despair on your face. What are you thinking?

“Well yeah,” you respond a little awkwardly, “I mean, I didn’t really see the point, it’s never going to happen.” You poke your finger into a hole in the rock that’s been worn smooth as you talk.

“And I guess,” you hesitate, your words caught on your tongue, mind whirring away behind your eyes, as if finding the best way to phrase your thoughts, “I haven’t really felt all that inspired by life, considering we’re surrounded by death. It’s a little depressing, if you hadn’t noticed,” you tack on the last remark with a wry smile tossed his way, finger still working it’s way in the hole, a nervous habit he realises. You always find something to do with your hands when you’re uncomfortable, worrying at your clothes or twisting your fingers together.

His heart aches, because he knows that look on your face, he’s been there. Still is there sometimes. It was especially bad after he lost Marcel. He wants to hold you, comfort you somehow, but he instead chooses his next words carefully, as you had yours.

“Yeah, I get that,” he nods at you and you look up from the rock finally, assessing his features, perhaps to ascertain whether he really meant what he said. “It can be hard to see a point in living when life is...well, like this,” he gestures at your surroundings as a whole.

“But, we carry on,” he says lightly, studying your expression; the sad curve of your lips and the line of your nose, the set of your brows and the melancholy shining in those beautiful eyes.

“But why?” you whisper, searching his face, as if he holds all the answers to your uncertainty and pain.

“Because we have to,” he shrugs nonchalantly, despite the weight of his words, and the severity in his tone.

And then you surprise him, you always seem to, because you smile at him. It’s a small, wretched smile, and he thinks such a tiny action has never held so much understanding, so much emotion. Before he can think of a way to change that hopeless look painted across your delicate features, you speak again.

“I need some time to think about it, you go.” The worry and emotion has bled from your features, your careful facade back in place and tone casual again, but your voice laced with a tiredness that reaches bone deep. It’s that weariness that cemented his decision to rest here for longer than usual, it’s all you can afford if you want to stay ahead of anyone potentially trailing you. By tonight you will be inside in a real bed, sharing each other’s body heat, and the world won't seem so large and daunting.

“Okay, okay,” he starts, “I would study medicine, properly. I was always interested in it as a kid because of my brother but…wasn’t meant to be, I guess,” his voice falters slightly under your scrutinising gaze, suddenly very aware of the innermost parts of him laid bare for you to see. Your ability to make him nervous is really outstanding and becoming quite troublesome for him to hide.

He carries on in a rush, “I wouldn’t be a doctor, like Marcel was, but maybe a paramedic or even ju-“ you interrupt his anxiety babble with thoughts of your own, and he finds himself grateful for it.

“Hey, I didn’t say anything, that’s a noble dream,” You hum low in your throat, “I wasn’t expecting that answer from you, yaknow?” You ask of him with a crooked smile.

There is not a huge need for emergency response units in the underground Knot Cities, and above ground is too dangerous to risk sending out experienced medics, so he can understand your point. They exist, sure, and it's far more rewarding than delivering cargo but….that dream of his died along with Marcel.

The initial explosions marking the era of the dead wiped out a vast majority of the human population, and there aren’t enough qualified hands as it is, most medical professionals cover multiple areas of expertise these days to make up for their decrease in numbers. Something that Pock is sure he couldn’t do; he could resuscitate a patient, sure, stabilise them and assess the damage…but a surgeon he is not.

Of course, his brother could and did, always willing to go that extra mile for his people. The most Marcel had done on a day-to-day basis was wipe the scraped knees of snotty toddlers, sometimes set a broken bone of one of the older kids, and generally keep everyone’s health monitored; prescribing routine medication to the elderly and those with health conditions. He would let Porco help him during those easier days, showing him basic first aid and enlisting his help with keeping track of all the medication they had in storage.

It varied depending on the needs of the people, sometimes Marcel was called away further than usual, to fill in where a particular skill set he boasted was needed. When he was called in for surgery, those were the real tough moments, certain equipment and medicines were in short supply underground; and given the risks of a patient dying on the table, it was an immense pressure to bear.

A pressure that Pock knew well, the weight of it had been evident in the set of Marcel’s shoulders, in the flash of his eyes after a particularly difficult day. It was yet another reason he trained hard and got in shape to be eligible for a Porter position; so he could bring back those all-important items that could potentially not only save one life, but hundreds.

“That’s me, ever a mystery; tall, dark and handsome,” he jests lightly, trying not to let those bitter memories bleed into the lines of his features. He relishes in the way your eyes light up with mirth.

“Oh sure, you’re a real enigma,” you roll your eyes at him playfully, “but you’re 5”10, at best, and also blonde.” He pretends to be hurt at your words, recoiling back as if stung. You laugh, a melodious sound that carries over the water and echoes back at him in the small clearing.

You then pin him with a curious look, “But it suits you, the more I think about it,” you trail your hand over the uneven rock between you as you think, absent-minded fingertips skimming over the dips and bumps, and stopping just before you meet the curve of his upper arm. The proximity makes his skin prickle, and a shudder works its way up his spine involuntarily.

“You’re good in high stress situations, nothing seems to phase you,” his mind flashes to the first moment he saw you; struggling in a pit of black tar and screaming like a warrior on the battlefield as you fought tooth and nail against the ghostly hands imprisoning you. If only you knew how rattled he had really been, how close he was to turning tail and running, you wouldn’t give him any credit now.

But still you go on, “You’re firm, but kind, intelligent and resourceful.”

Porco is taken aback at your praise, it’s probably the only time you’ve voiced a positive thing about him with such sincere intention. He would never say it aloud, but he is touched at your sincere appraisal of him. Marcel sparked his interest in the medical field, and he often has this feeling of yearning that pursuing the same career path and walking in the same steps he did, would make him feel closer to the man again. Give him back a little piece of his brother’s soul, some physical connection to Marcel, something more than just the memories they shared.

But he had always hated being stuck underground. Day in and day out, and that only worsened after Marcel died, he couldn't stand to be cooped up around the people who knew, couldn’t stand their pitying stares and faux concern. It didn’t take long for them to move on and forget Marcel anyway, leaving his family lost and broken, never quite whole from that day forth.

He figured finding himself and his own sense of purpose out in the world, above ground, might bring him some sense of acceptance about what happened. And at the time, anything that reminded him of Marcel, was too painful to pursue. If he is being completely honest, at first, he hoped he might not survive long in the BT-ridden landscape; hoped he would at least be free of his grief. But after stepping out into the world, he realised there is no longer any peace for those who passed on, not in the Death Stranding.

Besides, Marcel would have been disappointed to see Porco like that, so hopeless and defeated. So, he carried on and fought hard to work his way up the Porter ranks, in the hopes he could one day make some sort of difference for humanity; no matter how small. And as he returns to the moment, shrinking away from those painful memories once more, he doesn’t regret his choices, because it brought him to you; perhaps the only person who has ever tried to understand him and see past the brash exterior.

“Plus, there’s the uniform,” you look up at him with a new shine in your eyes, drawing his attention away from his thoughts, and back to your beauty.

He laughs at that, your ability to lighten the mood always surprising him, “Oh yeah? You like thinking about me in uniform?” He attempts to nudge you with an arm, and you push away from the rock to evade the elbow in the ribs, water now up to your chin as you tread water.

“Anything but that bulky monstrosity,” you jerk your head towards the grass where your suits lay abandoned. “But a medic? Yeah, I think you’d look good in green.” Your voice is low, and he thinks he imagines the breathless quality to it, as you move through the water a little. He straightens involuntarily, pulse quickening at the shift in the atmosphere.

“You never answered the question,” he practically whispers, as you drift closer still. He feels himself leaning towards you instinctively, drawn to you as if by a magnetic pull he can no longer resist, rushing through his veins. The comfortable atmosphere that has grown between you from days and nights in each other’s presence has slowly morphed into something deeper, and he feels it now more than ever; thick and heavy, almost stifling in its tangibility.

You hover in front of him, so close and yet still so far, your legs kicking his as you remain afloat. Your gaze flicks up from his mouth to his eyes as you finally answer, “I’d want to be happy.”

The words fall from your lips in a murmur, eyes hazy as you look up at him through lowered lashes, and then your mouth is on his.

Through this whole exchange you find yourself unable to think about anything other than the small space between you and Pock, the translucent blue barely concealing the outline of his waist from you. That glimpse of his naked flesh beneath the surface, so close to your own, has your thoughts spiralling. And none of them are safe for work.

You can hardly keep up with the nuanced conversation between the two of you, let alone keep your eyes to yourself, his damp skin shimmers so enticingly in the weak sunlight that filters into the little pocket of space you both occupy. You catch yourself glancing at the lean muscle of his arms and chest more than once. And now with him so close you see the flush of his cheeks, the light dusting of pink across his nose, those plump lips practically begging to be kissed. You aren’t sure when you instinctively began drawing closer to him, cannot pinpoint the moment you decided the hell with it.

But now you’re so close that when he whispers to you, you see the bob of his Adams apple, thick neck flexing and hazel eyes scanning your face before they settle on your mouth. You kick out in the water to push yourself up, and your legs collide with his, at the same moment you finally mumble a response to his question.

Within seconds your legs are tangled up in his own, your upper body breaching the surface and your hands pressing against the hard plains of his chest as your lips meet his, flesh against flesh.

Despite the urgency in both your movements; the push of your feet against jagged stone to reach his face, his rough hands that grip your elbows in a steadying embrace as he meets you halfway, the kiss is a gentle caress. It is hesitant at first, lips slotting awkwardly and noses bumping together, but slowly your mouths melt into one another; your skin moulding to fit his like liquid shifting to fit its container. It feels right, as natural as existing, and that scares the small part of your brain that is still coherent.

Neither of you dare move from your embrace, neither of you dare breathe even, for fear of breaking this sudden fragile intimacy between you. You lose yourself in the sensation of him, his heated skin and searing touch, the surprising softness of him despite all the muscle and hands hardened by work. The smell of damp and dirt and iron and sweat tugs at your consciousness, reminding you of where exactly you are.

It’s only when his tongue swipes against your bottom lip in a whisper, do your lips part in obedience, your mind hardly aware of your actions, letting your body talk for once instead of your mouth. As your tongues meet in a slow waltz, you taste the faint artificial sweetness of berries on his breath.

Your hands ever so slowly creep up and over his chest until you are resting your elbows on his broad shoulders, arms automatically winding around his neck. Your bare front is pressed to his own, and you find no time to care about the innate intimacy, no time to find your own insecurity. His own hands drift over you, slipping from your arms down to the curve of your back, fingertips pressing into your skin.

You play with the shaggy hair of his undercut with wet fingertips, it has grown out quickly, and you make a mental note to sit him down later and cut it. Your nails scratch against his scalp with urgent care; a silent plea for more, a desperate attempt to stay grounded in reality, a small release of the pent-up desire in your veins, thick and molten. You battle with the urge to devour him whole, and the voice inside your mind that tells you to quit while you’re ahead, to focus on the mission. On survival.

But the small gasp that catches in his throat at your hardened nipples against his chest, at your fingernails scratching at his skin and the low moan that follows, tears through your composure and last shred of rational thought. You press into him firmly, willing your body to eradicate any and all space between your two bodies, your hips canting forward into his own. It’s then that you feel his hardened length against you, the curve of him pressing into your flesh just above your belly button, and the growing pit in your core drops; the feverish want that licked at the edges of your sanity shooting straight between your legs and eliciting a breathless sound from the back of your throat.

Pock’s arms tighten around you before he slides his hands to your hips and pushes gently. Your lips leave his reluctantly with an embarrassingly loud noise, and you both breathe heavily into the new space separating you. Pock leans his forehead against your own on an exhale and you rub your nose against his own before you fully realise the affectionate nature to the gesture.

You shut your eyes for a few seconds and focus on your breathing, suddenly aware of your proximity now the bubble of desire has popped. Suddenly feeling very exposed and self conscious, but too reluctant to move. Fuck. What have you done? What a way to keep it professional, this just made things a lot more complicated.

Your spiralling thoughts are interrupted by Porco, his voice gruffer than before, the low timbre sending a shiver through you, “Well...”

“Don’t.” You warn, but there is no real conviction behind the word.

“I thought you didn’t like me,”

“I don’t,” you reply, scrunching your eyes tighter, trying to will the image of that damned smirk of his out of your mind.

“Thought you found me annoying,” he pushes.

“I do,” you are being a brat intentionally, both answers are a lie (well maybe just the first one), and he knows it as well as you do. You sigh, as if you are troubled by the current events, and pull your head away from his own. But your arms stay wound around his neck, tethering you to him in a way that feels all too comfortable.

“Huh, that was some kiss for someone who claims to dislike me,” he smiles at you wide, full lips curving so prettily over white teeth, a dimple set into one cheek. Your heart speeds up as you do your best to give him a cool look.

“I thought it might shut you up for awhile, but I was wrong, my bad,” you tug at the short hair by his nape with a flippant smile.

“That so?” His grin widens and he licks at his bottom lip, eyes darting back down to your mouth. “Guess you’ll have to try again,” he attempts to sound innocent despite his ‘cat that got the cream’ expression. You set him up for that one.

“But later,” he adds, his smile dropping and those soft features hardening. The familiar frown he so loves to sport works it’s way onto his face as he scans your surroundings; you think that he probably doesn’t even notice he’s doing it, or how cute he looks, but that’s neither here nor there.

You stiffen at his serious tone and watch him carefully, “Something wrong?” You flick your eyes to the left and then the right, scanning for danger.

“No, but we’re vulnerable out here,” he shifts in the water, tucking you to his side slightly.

“I don’t wanna say we’ve wasted time,” he gives you a side glance with a sparkle of mischief in his eye, “as productive as we’ve been, we have to move on.”

You sigh and nod, you really had let time get away from you, not a smart choice. Now, you will be making up for lost time and you are sure Porco will not go easy on you. You both swim to the opposite side of the lake where the water is shallowest and drag yourselves onto the bank, you a little less gracefully than Pock, but thankfully he says nothing on the matter.

Despite your earlier intimacy, you are both careful to look away as you trudge back to your suits and packs, giving the other as much privacy as you can afford given the situation. Pock allows you first dibs of the small towel you are now glad you packed (just in case) and you quickly pat your skin dry before handing it to him wordlessly.

You dress swiftly and don your suits again; you barely have your pack over your shoulders before Pock is making a beeline for the trees, his hand brushing your elbow as he guides you along.

The grind begins again, and you do your best to keep up with Porco’s hurried strides. Try as you might, the memory of your skinny dip in the lake doesn’t leave your thoughts, and you let them wander aimlessly as you trek along; the feel of his lips a phantom against your own.

It takes about an hour for you to leave the lake and surrounding forest behind, clearing the mountains completely and dipping into the valley below. The change of scenery is welcome, but there is too much open space, and Pock insists you stick to the edge of the valley. Keeping the sloping mountains to one side means one less direction for enemies to approach from, and the lumps of jagged rock keep you semi-hidden as you continue your trek.

You are lagging behind, your energy and patience running thin, but you're so close…a few more miles and you'll hit your last Waypoint before you reach Lake Knot. Every time Porco looks back to hurry you along, you grumble at him under your breath. A heavy-footed step sends a small pebble skittering from under your boot, and you stumble, dangerously close to eating shit. You curse foully into the humid air.

You're not sure how much more of this you can take…you've just got to think of other things, like a cool shower and clean clothes, that's exactly what the doctor ordered. You hear the quiet thrum of white noise, but in your exhausted, daydreaming state you fail to acknowledge it. And when you finally realise the noise isn't a figment of your imagination, when you hear the scattering of pebbles and the splash of the stream, it's already too late.

The bike comes zooming past before you have the chance to cry out, your voice lost in sudden shock. But you recognise the rider's shaggy hair immediately, and you see exactly what (or who), he is racing for. Your vocal chords finally catch up to your brain as you scream out a warning.

Your heart sinks in your chest as you watch the scene unfold in slow motion, watch as Porco turns at your panicked voice, only for his eyes to widen as he spots Zeke hurtling for him. It all plays out within seconds, despite your slowed perception, and when you hear the sickening crack of the stick against the back of Porco's kneecaps the world resumes in real time. You break out into a sprint, the surge of adrenaline aiding you and pushing you past the hurdle of fatigue.

Porco drops to his knees with a pained roar, falling forwards onto his hands, his body spasming as the electric current frazzles his nerves. Zeke is laughing, loud and confident, and full of glee. He throws the bike into a u-turn, curving back on himself in an arc of dust and debris, before heading straight for you. You flinch, but pick up the speed anyway, racing towards Pock with a determination that surprises even yourself.

Your lungs are fit to burst and your heart is hammering so wildly it's a wonder it doesn't beat right out of your chest. But Zeke has other ideas, and he cuts you off before you can reach Porco, bike skidding in the dirt mere inches from you. You halt so abruptly that the force sends you sprawling to the ground, skinning your palms in the process. Thank biology for miss adrenaline, otherwise that would fucking hurt right about now.

You pant against the earth, eyes watering at the harsh sting, choking on the dust trying to clog your lungs. You push yourself onto all fours with trembling arms, blood smearing the grass and dirt beneath you, but you don't care. You only have eyes for the piece of shit before you, blocking your view completely from Porco, as he regards you with mild interest. Like you're an insect he's noticed on the ground while out on a leisurely stroll, not a human being he's hunted for his own sport.

He pushes his glasses up his nose before he speaks, "Hey, sweetheart."

You spit into the dirt at his feet with enough force that you hope he gets the message, fuck you asshole, as several more electric bikes halt around you – caging you in.

Zeke's face transforms into a sadistic grin as he leers down at you, and somehow, you know the word that is going to leave his mouth before it does, "Checkmate."

page divider by @/firefly-graphics

Thank you for reading! 💙

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oviids · 4 years ago

Note

pls share some of your spn fic recs 🥺🥺

ok, a few things first:

followers and mutuals who do not have supernatural brainworms, kindly avert your eyes

i don’t normally rec or even read much fanfic any more but this is a CRISIS ok (cont.)

there is so. much. content for deancas out there and i have incredibly high standards, several ancient ao3 bookmarks, can speedread, and want to spare you guys the experience of wading through it all.

i also have a section for spn femslash since I was pretty into that back in the day (sadly a lot less fan content for this :/)

I don’t really like au’s or pure smut (I honestly usually just skim or skip those scenes) so if you’re mainly looking for that kind of thing this probably won’t be very helpful to you. jsyk.

i’m not great at describing stuff but i’ll do my best, i’ll also try and add tw’s when neccesary.

i wil try and keep updating this with any other decent fics i find, feel free to rec stuff too since i’m like 7 years behind.(edit 1/25/21) this is getting looooong so i’m going to start making another list on my spn blog rather than update this one

(edit 1/3/21) since this has gotten pretty long i’ve added rating/approximate word counts and marked my particular favorites with an asterisk.

Dean/Cas fic:

So Says The Sword*** - explicit/85k. FUCK its good...au/time travel where dean is not pulled out of hell by cas and says yes to becoming the michael sword. honestly could serve as an alternative to actually watching the show, if you want to get into dean/cas without actually doing that to yourself.

Fata morgana.* - teen/6k, pst s9 finale. very bela centric and i love it, she finds cas looking for dean in hell.

Redemption Road -misc/600+k. an incredibly long fic from a collaborative writing group back in the day. canon divergent from the end of s6 on, has a cool take on godstiel and the leviathans, as well as the lovecratian mythos connection. ngl when i reread it i only made it about 28% in but imo the casual reader can actually stop around there, the rest concerns a lovecraftian apocalypse that is still good (i think i don’t remember it very well) but not required to enjoy the first half. if you prefer i have an ebook version i can send you on gdrive.

Someone Who's Feeling For Me* - mature/45k, s12. they run into lisa braeden and dean thinks cas is into her while cas thinks dean still likes her. treats lisa way better than the show ever did and the miscommunication is pretty funny rather than annoying.

a turn of the earth - mature/95k. time travel fic where cas from s10 keeps showing up in deans life from a few years before s1 to right before the hellhounds take his soul. slow burn, good character study, and at one point cas punches the dad in the face and it rules.

On the Wings of War - teen/85k, canon divergent s5. dean accidentally becomes the Horseman of War. plays fun, fast and loose with biblical lore, michael has some rights.

Named - mature/95k, alternate s5. EXTREMELY blasphemous in a fun sexy way. manages to predict metatron almost to a T. there’s one major character death and its literally jesus christ, everyone is very sad about it and it sets the rest of the story rolling. an alternate interpretation of cas’ mission to raise dean from hell which had me on the floor. ngl its kind of misogynistic at points, but its from 2010 and tracks with late oughts-2010 spn (sorry anna the author did you dirty here:/).

The Girlfriend Experience - explicit/15k. uhhh i don’t normally rec or even read smutty stuff unless someone i know is specifically asking for it but this has stuff like sam trying to be a good ally and dean thinking holding hands with cas is ‘kinda gay :/’ minutes after having gay sex with him.

i crippled your heart a hundred times - explicit/19k, s8. cas confesses his feelings and dean spends a long time getting his head out of his ass about it. truly hits different after the actual confession, despite being written six years early it feels like its actually what could have gone down more or less if the writers weren’t talentless demons who hate us.

My Roots Take Flight** - mature/125k. reverse au where cas is a hunter and dean’s an angel...OR IS IT???? an alternate retelling of s4. tw for briefly being set in a psychiatric hospital/the hospital being mentioned somewhat frequently throughout the fic, plus more references to torture in hell and heaven than usual.

The One Thing You Can't Lose* - teen/4k.you know those posts about how cas is a super-strong super-tough ancient warrior but he just lets dean tug him around because he likes it? thats it thats the fic.

Hands, From Which All Things Are Built - teen/14k, post s8′s ‘goodbye stranger.’ cas is on the run with the angel tablet but keeps in touch with sam and dean by text, he and dean still manage to be terrible at Actual communication.

Autrement, Danger - or, The Account of an Exceedingly Long Day - mature/30k, post s11. a monster that takes the appearance of your soulmate leads to some wild miscommunications and dealing with years of repression, also dean gets to see cas’ true form which is always cool. tw for non-graphic mentions of underage sexual assault/sex work.

Down to Agincourt - mature/explicit/900++++k, endverse continuation. endverse!cas survives his encounter with lucifer and discovers another time-displaced dean from s7. i’ve only read the two of four parts but its really good, veeeeery slow burn, has a lot of fun oc’s and takes a rather surprising but (imo) entertaining and intriguing turn into Hellenic history and mythology. usual tw’s for endverse/endverse!cas but nothing graphic, it’s actually pretty light-hearted (relatively speaking of course).

Nothing Equals the Splendor** - explicit/8k, THEE finale fix it fic you’ve been waiting for! posits that the entire final episode was just a (very bad and lame) djinn’s vision.

like moses and batman and james dean - explicit/31k, post s8. explores dean’s trauma and internalized homophoba from his technically canon experience with sex work and its impact on his relationship with cas. the sex work itself isn’t really shown in any detail but it’s still a relatively heavy fic.

Crazy Diamonds - explicit/25k, s4/alternate s14. fresh-out-of-hell dean and dean from 10 years in the future are displaced from time and sent to each other’s present.

where the weeds take root - explicit/30k. au where the men of letters kick them out of the bunker and they accidentally move out into the country, get over their codependence and semi retire. featuring chicken coop building, sam volunteering at a dog shelter, gardening, and blissfully mundane domesticity.

No Resting Place - teen/6k. djinn dream fic, switches back and forth between cas’ dream of being married to dean and retired from hunting to the aftermath when he wakes up. tw for brief mention of suicide since, y’know, djinn dream.

any port in a storm - mature/52k. post s8 finale. cas and dean have to pose as a couple going through a rough patch for a case and actually deal with their emotional baggage, cas struggles with being human and metatron is up to stuff.

all this and heaven too* - explicit/7k. in the author’s own words ‘...a love letter to every trans person who ever projected onto Dean Winchester.’ absolutely unzipped me emotionally and theologically, its just. so good. tw for very brief mentions of internalized transphobia/dysphoria.

Because it is* - mature/6k, finale fix it. killing chuck does not bring back anyone back and the winchesters spend a very long time dealing with what they’ve lost, cas and dean SOMEHOW still manage to have signifigant communication issues even after the confession. tw for suicidal thoughts/brief attempt.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit* - teen/4k, s6. when cas fell for dean it automatically soulbonded/angel married them, shenanigans ensue when dean finds out during the angel’s civil war. funny and actually written back when s6 was airing so cas is still (or at least pretending to be) kind of an OP asshole which is fun.

Rinse, Repeat - teen/3k, s8. angsty character study of cas as he’s reprogrammed and trained to kill dean. not really dean/cas since its just cas’ pov of canon events but its beautifully written and ends with him snapping out of it through the power of love (also now a canon event!).

Emergence - explicit/59k, canon divergent after s11. dean meets a hunter he only recognizes as their friend claire novak’s missing father, but soon realizes he might be the answer behind the mysterious void in his memories and feelings (aka everyone’s memories of cas are completely wiped away for three years).

Cuckoo And Nest - explicit/10k, early established relationship/character study, cas tries to figure out how he fits into dean’s life and space in the bunker.

Build a Home* - teen/20k, canon divergent s12. sam and eileen are cute and turn the bunker into men of letters/hunters hq and everyone but cas moves in, mutual miscommunication issues and pining ensues.

Down in the River - teen/5k, early s8, cas prays to dean in purgatory while sam and dean try to figure out a way to get him out.

Teaching Poetry to Fish* - mature/52k, ?? BC through the entire series/canon divergent s14 and 15. retelling of crucial scenes throughout the shows timeline from cas’ pov, feat. actual fish and poetry.

the minor fall, the major lift - gen/4k, post confession/finale fixit. dean goes into the empty to save cas and runs into several old friends (and enemies).

With the Kisses of His Mouth* - teen/3k, gen later seasons. dean and cas keep kissing by accident.

Remaining Grace - explicit/109k, alternate s6. au where cas asks dean for help with raphael and dean, of course, does. tw for temporary major character death/semi-graphic depictions of alcohol withdrawal.

The face of heaven.* - teen/10k, au, dean is a regular guy and cas is a fallen star (think ‘stardust’, kinda).

Stories Are Made of Mistakes* - teen/5k. newly human cas has trouble getting used to a human body and humanity in general, but still figures out that he and dean are A Thing before dean does.

Hurry Up And Wait - mature/21k, canon divergent s12. a fairyland and quite possibly LOTR related case comes up and dean goes full fanboy, mary is introduced to the wonders of the peter jackson adaptions, many references and comparisons (including between cas and dean’s ‘friendship’ and arwen/aragon). also charle is still alive and has just been doing fairy stuff this whole time.

There Are Many Things - explicit/28k, s9. cas is extremely lonely/touch-starved and trying to figure out this whole human thing, as well as where he and dean stand after being kicked out of the bunker.

It's A Long Life to Always Be Longing - teen/40k, post s11 finale. amara helps dean by putting him in a magical coma so he can finally get some much needed rest and show him possible futures for him, sam and cas. meanwhile sam and cas go on a roadtrip (or several) to find componets for a spell to wake dean up. really good sam and cas friendship, they actually talk about their shared lucifer trauma and stuff.

Non-Photo Blue - gen/2k, s4/5/alternate s5. fifty moments from cas’ memories of dean.

Tall Grass - explicit/57k, canon divergent post series. cas becomes the ultimate plant dad. feat the wayward sisters gang, cathartic character growth, fun oc’s, domesticity, and lots of actual botanical info-dumping.

on vessels - no rating/gen/2k. established dean/cas, cas tells dean about how he used to imagine what it would be like to have him as his vessel.

search for tomorrow on every shore* - teen/11k, post-finale (extremely derogatory). some angels in jack’s new heaven act out and dean gets temporarily resurrected in 2003 and runs into his younger self.

Architecture of the Minotaur’s Heart - explicit/45k, very canon divergent post s1. dean’s new house seems to have a life and mind of its own, while in his dreams he sees glimpses of a world and apocalypse that never came to be and an angel that looks strangely like his mysterious neighbor, cas. loosely inspired by the book house of leaves (which i highly recommend for fans of weird horror).

The Distance Of The Setting Sun - explicit/17k, post s5. established dean/cas relationship, team free will finally takes advantage of cas’ abilities to go on vacation around the world.

diamond star halo - teen/5k, s11. dean lets cas use him as a temporary vessel while he recovers from rowena’s spell, sam is a long-suffering third-wheel.

Make Known** - teen/16k, s6/7. dean struggles to understand how cas could have become his enemy and whether he ever truly knew him in the first place.

blunt little instrument* - mature/1.4k, post finale. dean finally confronts his father in heaven, very cathartic.

my heart a compass*** - teen/10k, post confession. the empty forces cas to re-experience his most regretted moments while dean tries to snap him out of it and bring him home.

A Crash Course in Someone Else's History - teen/11k, s6. cas from the very start of s4 is brought forward in time by s6!cas to distract the brothers from his and crowley’s plans.

The Cuckoo Father - mature/8k, s7 au. the woman who found cas in the river post-leviathans does not marry him bc he was sent to her by god or whatever, but actually identifies him as jimmy novak and sends him back to claire and amelia.

The Dead Dean Clause* - teen/5k, post alt s5 ending. team free will celebrates surviving taking down lucifer by getting blitzed, cas lies to a cop and gets an impromptu driving lesson. title/description sound dark i know but it’s actually very funny and light.

Suck It, Judy Garland - mature/20k, s12 (after the ‘i love you...i love all of you’ episode). cas and sam have to pretend to be a couple for a case and dean is NOT happy about it.

By Daylight and In Dream - teen/16k, s5. pre-dean/cas, dean invites cas to use his dreams to hide from the other angels. tw for very brief mention of a memory/dream of alastair sexually assaulting dean.

The Five People You Meet in Heaven - mature/22k, post-canon. an actually happy (if sometimes bittersweet) heaven endgame written several years ago, though some details are rather eerily similar to the show’s ending.

heaven is a place on earth* - teen/2k. dean’s pov of some of the times cas left him behind throughout the show, and one alternate ending where he finally gets to stay.

I Cleanse The Mirror - teen/20k, alternate s6. dean’s body is stolen by an ancient elemental and his soul has to hitch a ride in cas’ vessel.

an exploration of gender; angelic*** - mature/4k. *oscar isaac voice* lets get into angel gender politics!! aka cas is trans.

Zenith - explicit/33k, s9. after 9x06 an angry witch curses cas with the ability to see supernatural beings and human souls.

La cucina. - gen/3k, alt s9. dean goes wild helping a newly-human cas find out what kinds of food he likes, or the early s9 domesticity we deserved!

Dean Winchester, Cocksucker at Rest***** - teen/7k, post-finale. john and mary finally come over for dinner and john reacts to dean/cas in a rather predictable fashion. SOOOOOOOOO good omg, its so funny and a little sad and very very cathartic. part of a series that has a few other really good short fics.

The Way You Didn't Go - teen/5k, s15. coda to 15.09, dean has nightmares about the moc!cas timeline.

On Drowning - teen/28k. dean saves cas after he nearly drowns, they both try and deal with the physical/mental fallout (aka the fic where thee iconic “you only touch me when you think I’m dead or dying” originates). tw for realistic depictions of drowning/triage/misc medical information.

The Thirty-Six Questions That Lead to Love* - mature/13k. claire has dean and cas pretend to be her gay dads for a case and they play the titular 36 question game, get mistaken for swingers, and birdwatch, among other things.

Assorted F/F stuff:

Deep Breaths* - mary/ellen, au where mary said no to azazel’s deal and let john stay dead, still becomes a milf.

Like Rebel Diamonds - krissy/claire, they become hunter gf’s on the hunt for cas to kick his ass for taking jimmy. not-so-stealth dean/cas as well.

To Ash and Bone - anna/ruby, same author as the previous fic (p much all of her stuff is good from what i recall). au where ruby is a witch and helps anna when she’s cursed.

Holy Clockwork Angels - jo/ruby, STEAMPUNK au with very cool worldbuiilding.

At Day's End - jo/anna (my fucking KINGDOM for more jo/anna content, the dean/cas parallels are allllll there), au where they are both at the camp in the endverse and gfs.

these posts - ok so not actually a fic but i’m now obsessed with this hannah/meg dynamic.

Tagelied - mary/ellen, the true story of how ellen got into hunting before angels interfered.

Hell's Bells** - meg/abaddon, alternate s8/9 where meg survives crowley’s attack with sam’s help and teams up with abaddon (who she has a sk year old crush on) to take back hell.

The Ecstasy of the Rose - anna/ruby, anna travels back in time to escape heaven and becomes a signifigant part of ruby’s old human life.

Angel Underground - anna/jo, kind of an urban fantasy au with a very intriguing premise (sadly its very short, i’d love to see more if this ‘verse).

Clover, Flame - billie/mary, billie was always the reaper that showed up to take mary after her death(s) over the years.

Drag Me To Heaven - anna/ruby, a variant on the ‘last night on earth’ thing with dean.

Come Home* - jo/anna, canon-divergent au where anna is the new waitress at the roadhouse and helps jo set up a (probably not really) haunted house for halloween.

#if you told me i'd be doing this in 2020 three weeks ago i'd have laughed in your face :/#deancas #supernatural #fic recs #spn femslash #destiel #fic #the alie tag #spn posting

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morifinwes · 4 years ago

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wangxian fic rec list!

aka in which i read fics, write some recs down for aamna and share them!! they're all wangxian fics and uhh @yibobibo i hope you'll like them!!

modern

wolf devours playboy bunny by @greenteafiend (5K, werewolf!lwj, getting together, idk if anyone needs to know that but there's nudity just not uhh explicit)

Lan Zhan has wanted Wei Ying as long as he has known him, and the worst part is that he thinks Wei Ying could want him back.

Too bad he could never in good conscience let himself go there—Wei Ying has a debilitating fear of all things canine, and once a month, Lan Zhan is the exact, precise thing that Wei Ying’s nightmares are made of.

Aka, Lan Zhan is a werewolf.

between the lines by @jywait (19K gaming au!!!, i'm always down for a good gaming au, lwj is the best aksks he's such a good boy)

☆yilingpatriarch☆: pls...give me some face, help me fight these monsters...I'm gonna die

Bluetooth: no.

"You have died." The screen said, and Wei Wuxian threw his hands up in frustration.

resonant frequencies by chinxe (15K, college au, fake dating au, tw mention of cheating but it's brief and no one was cheated on i promise)

In which Wei Wuxian decides that the best way to deal with being in love with Lan Wangji is to pretend to date him for three weeks.

It goes about as well as can be expected.

drift compatible by windoworwhatever (5K, poetry, fluff, drunkji, getting together, college au)

"It was just a fact of life. The sky was blue, university stipends for graduate students working in TA positions barely covered rent, bisexuals cuffed their jeans, Lan Wangji had a massive crush on Wei Wuxian, and spent his time pining and writing research papers about gay subtexts in ancient poetry."

Lan Wangji is in love with Wei Wuxian, and everybody knows, except Wei Wuxian.

the bunny next door by detailsinthefabric (43K, this is mostly fluff and very light angst, and they were neighbors!!!, rabbits!!, aka wangxian's bunny children, this is... so cute i just have to rec it)

Lan Wangji did not know what he was doing. He did not know what he was going to say. He was frozen in place, puzzling over the situation. Maybe he had made the man uncomfortable, which is why he wanted to leave? But his tone had still been so friendly—maybe…

“Would…” he paused, swallowed, forced the last words to come out of his suddenly parched mouth, “would you let me pet him?”

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

Lan Wangji, who doesn't know how to socialize and whose icy demeanor scares everyone away, lets down all his defenses when he meets the bunny next door...oh, and also its owner, Wei Wuxian.

leading tone by silencemostofall (32K, everyone is a music student? or something like that akskk, curse fic, tw panic attacks, tw child abuse, small scene of drunkji, wwx has low self esteem, bro this was so painful to read)

The first time you touch someone you're fated to love, you leave a mark on their skin. If they will love you in return, they'll mark you where you touched them. The deeper the color, the deeper the connection.

Wei Ying has no marks at all.

public places, private thoughts by leahelisabeth (for the love of camelot) ( 8K, cherry magic au, getting together with like... immediate upgrade to fiance status, the author is wrong i crave good wangxian cherry magic aus even tho i haven't even watched cherry magic)

Wei Wuxian had heard the story of course. It had made its rounds through his high school and followed him into his college days. He didn’t think there was any possibility it was true. Virginity was a social construct, invented by creepy old men to exercise dominance over women. The idea that a simple lack of sexual activity before the age of thirty could give one magical powers was absolutely ludicrous.

Wei Wuxian believed this until the morning of his thirtieth birthday.

AKA the Wangxian Cherry Magic AU that absolutely nobody asked for.

i'd be all right (if i could see you) by @thirtysixsavefiles (16K, this was nice, i read this at 6am but it was cute, (while writing this post i must admit i don't remember anything but 6am-me said it's good))

The younger Lan brother is something of an enigma on campus; while Lan Xichen can sometimes be seen in the company of other graduate students or conducting a seminar, Lan Wangji appears to spend all his time in class or in the library. He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t smoke. He doesn’t attend social events. He doesn’t do anything for fun, as far as Wei Wuxian can tell, and it’s driving Wei Wuxian just a little bit up the wall.

Or, Wei Wuxian convinces Lan Wangji to come to a house party, and then they're assigned to the same group project. Wei Wuxian tries his best, but he is not in possession of all the facts.

axe on leg by itszero (4K, i still don't get why wwx did that but it was nice seeing him jealous for once, jealous!wwx, lwj i love you....)

Wei Wuxian pressed his face into his pillow and screamed. He paused to take a few deep breaths, partially hindered by the pillow, and listened to the sounds of Nie Huaisang slurping his iced coffee, from his seat on Wei Wuxian's desk chair.

Having caught his breath, he resumed his screaming and did not stop at the sound of his dorm room door opening.

"What's wrong with him?" He heard his brother, Jiang Cheng, ask.

The slurping stopped. "He's an idiot."

"He's always been an idiot. Why is he bothered about it now?"

"He forced Lan Wangji to go on a date," Nie Huaisang replied, shaking the ice cubes in his drink.

"Okay and…?"

"With someone else." The slurping resumed.

Wei Wuxian, in all his glorious dumbassery, convinces his boyfriend to go on a date with someone else.

these two most powerful by @stiltonbasket (4K, amnesia, wangxian with children!!!, aksksk this was adorable, dadji!!)

When Lan Wangji went to bed last night, he was alone in a tiny guest room with nothing but the howling of the wind in the mountains and his own lonely thoughts for company.

But when he opened his eyes in the morning, Wei Ying was asleep beside him.

(In which Lan Wangji loses twenty years' worth of memories after a night-hunt gone wrong, and his life as a doting father and husband continues without a hitch somehow.)

good things come to those who wait [but i ain't in a patient phase] by @cerlunas (4K, getting together, pining lwj)

Lan Wangji can't take it anymore.

“I love you”, he says, and god, it feels terrifying. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

“Lan Zhan…” Wei Wuxian starts, but Lan Wangji doesn’t want to hear it.

He grabs his cup and drinks everything. He doesn’t know what face Wei Wuxian is making at him right now, and it’s okay.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian repeats louder, but it’s too late. He is already falling asleep.

Or, even after 13 years, Lan Wangji is still in love with his best friend. Maybe it's time to open up.

wei ying, will you marry m- oh my god he swallowed the ring! by selene210 (2K, marriage proposals, crack, marriage proposals but.. they go wrong)

“A ring?”

And indeed it was. The ring Lan Wangji was going to propose to Wei Ying with. That the man had now choked on.

“You swallowed it.”

“It was in my soufflé! Why did you put a ring in my soufflé Lan Zhan- oh. oh”

of glittery valentine's cards by @soft-fics (3K, valentine's day, this was adorable aksk, a-yuan best boy!!)

Lan Zhan didn't want to know what his best friend had planned for Valentine's Day; his heart would simply not be able to handle it. When his son tells him that he made Wei Ying a Valentine's Day card, though, Lan Zhan decided to bring it over anyway.

of coffee and white tea by @soft-fics (9K, fluff, lwj doesn't like coffee, wwx buys him coffee, then they switch drinks, again and again and again, the staff ships it lmao, tbh jc shouldn't have done that like wtf)

For the fourth time this week a stranger orders him a cup of coffee. Lan Wangji wonders how exactly to tell this man to stop ordering him coffee he doesn't even like. Turns out, buying the other white tea and switching drinks is not the best way to go about it

canon setting

on the importance of restraint (or lack thereof) by nixthothou (4K, in which sizhui snaps, i love that boy, no like seriously he's the best boy)

Lan Sizhui does not usually find himself in the company of Sect Leader Jiang.

Suffice to say, Lan Sizhui's feelings toward him are conflicted.

lan wangji is wei wuxian's baby by lilycs (3K, i was craving fluff while reading this, lwj my beloved, drunk!lwj)

Lan Wangji gets drunk from barely a cup of alcohol, becoming a whiny baby and asking his husband for cuddles.

one of our own by glitteringmoonlight (8K, wei wuxian & lan sect, 5+1 things, in which they learn to love him, they're all part of the wwx protection squad lead by lwj, wangxian isn't the focus but !!! THIS)

Times change, but some people remain the same.

The Lans are nothing, if not aware of this.

For one of their own, they will stand against the world.

Or, 5 times the Lans defended Wei Wuxian, and the 1 time he was there to see it happen.

so why not crack your skull when the mind swells by @greenteafiend (13K, love curse, post cql canon, curses, getting together, fluff, so much fluff, lwj tries to talk about his emotions!, lwj pov)

Lan Wangji detects the curse trying to curl through his heart meridians like smoke. A love curse, then. It must have been cast remotely somehow to have found him in his bed in Cloud Recesses. No matter. Lan Wangji crushes it easily, enveloping it in his spiritual energy, and then squeezing. Curse averted, Lan Wangji closes his eyes and goes back to sleep. He thinks no more of it.

Two days later, Wei Wuxian arrives in Cloud Recesses.

Or, Wei Wuxian is cursed to feel terrible pain when he and Lan Wangji aren’t touching.

i started from the bottom / now i'm rich by x_los (57K, time travel, fix it, jealous lwj, crack treated serious, god this is so good tho, wwx/wrh & wwx/jgs but like as a joke and it doesn't really happen, but it has its purpose!!)

“First, you get the money. Then you get the power, respect - hos come last.”

Wen Qing traps Wei Wuxian in the Demon Slaughtering Cave, but Wei Wuxian isn’t interested in being the beneficiary of the Wen Remnants’ noble sacrifice. His efforts to free himself accidentally send him back to the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. Coreless but armed with demonic cultivation, knowledge of the future and his wits, Wei Wuxian takes advantage of this opportunity to come out on top of both the war and its aftermath—before either has a chance to happen—by marrying and swiftly burying the cultivation world’s worst men.

Lan Wangji is confused, hurt, and uncomfortably aroused by Wei Wuxian’s improbably elaborate series of Sect-themed bridal negligees.

lead me on through by mrsronweasley (55K, they're in love your honor, arranged marriage but they don't know to whom, basically wwx & lwj want to practice kissing which then goes beyond kissing but not the whole way y'know, lxc the best wingman tho)

"Who do you think your betrothed is?" Wei Wuxian asks, sprawling out in front of Lan Zhan and enjoying the prim thinning of his lips at the question. He shouldn't be sprawling—they're in the library, for one, and Lan Zhan is studying, for another—but he can't help himself. Wei Wuxian is a sprawler.

"I do not believe this to be of importance," Lan Zhan responds, without turning his gaze away from his book.

"What!" Wei Wuxian sits up. "How can you say that? Of course it's important! This is the person you'll be with for the rest of your life, Lan Zhan."

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dearvitya · 3 years ago

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YOI Fic Recs (Part 2)

Look through part 1 here!

Unsinkable (29k): Victor is a wealthy heir with a lonely soul. Yuuri is a poor dancer with a tender heart. The deck of the Titanic might be a very romantic place to meet your one true love, but it's not exactly a fortuitous one. [Titanic AU]

all the wrong turns (48k): After his disastrous Grand Prix Final, Katsuki Yuuri decides to try to be the first skater to land a quad axel in competition. It’s a secret from everyone, except the mysterious text correspondent who appeared in his phone contacts as “Poodle” following the Sochi GPF.

when pain is over, the remembrance of it often becomes pleasure (19k): Yuuri felt his body grow cold at the name; he had known a Mr. Nikiforov, once upon a time.

Five years after the implosion of their acquaintance, Mr. Viktor Nikiforov returns to —shire society, bringing in tow a young cousin. Mr. Katsuki must navigate these once-familiar waters without giving further offense, all while keeping his own heart firmly protected. [A Persuasion AU]

Love in Exile (99k): Once a well know ballet dancer in St. Petersburg, Victor Nikiforov finds himself exiled to Sakhalin Island as a political convict in 1881. As a man sentenced to katorga he will never return to European Russia or his life on the stage. Known as the "Edge of the World," his life on Sakhalin could not be further from the life he once knew. Strange circumstances lead his path to cross that of a young Japanese man, one of the very few still living on the island. Katsuki Yuuri leads a life of exile of a different kind, one that is largely self-imposed. Drawn to each other, despite their differences, something slowly begins to grow between them. When a narrowly avoided tragedy leaves them stranded together for a long, cold Sakhalin winter, they are challenged to face what their relationship really means, and what future it could possibly have.

Smooth Runs the Waters (3k): Inspector Yuuri Katsuki comes to Hillsborough Hall to investigate a murder most foul and its two primary suspects: newly widowed Victor Nikiforov and his younger brother Yuri Plisetsky.

The Other Side of Sunset (325k): 1874, Wyoming Territory: Yuuri Katsuki Taylor has got his future planned…mostly. Learn how to manage his adoptive parents’ ranch, and inherit it when he’s older. Get married and have kids (someday – not now). And most of all, carry on riding his horse with Phichit and the other ranch hands on the open range and in the mountains. But when he meets Victor Nikiforov, the striking and talented new master horseman at the neighboring ranch – and is treated to a show of his Cossack-style trick riding – his world will never be the same again…

A tale of love, loss, grief, redemption, and second (and third) chances, set in the Old West. [Cowboys AU]

Like a River to the Sea (41k): Gifts from the gods can come in strange wrappings. They can also be mixed blessings, as Victor will discover in time.Living alone on the island of Fleves, near Athens, the last thing Victor expects as he combs the beach one morning is a peculiar treasure that appears seemingly from nowhere in the shape of a handsome young dark-haired man... [Greek mythology AU]

pick lilacs for the passing time (68k): A spark flares up inside him, the vestige of some part of himself he thought long buried now resurfacing to—what, haunt him? And then he realizes. I want to dance with him, Yuuri thinks.

In which the outlandish prodigy Victor Nikiforov hits Yuuri’s life like a whirlwind after he transfers to a prestigious ballet conservatory in Moscow, two grumpy teenagers learn to be friends, and Mila’s Straight Girl CrushTM might not be so straight after all.

for better, for worse (18k): Yakov quirks an eyebrow. “Vitya, we are not having some grand ceremony."

“It doesn’t have to be grand! But the registration office? Signing some papers? Where is the romance in that?”

or: The Trials and Tribulations of Viktor Nikiforov, Six-Time World Champion and Wedding Planner Extraordinaire.

in the woods somewhere (32k): One evening in late autumn, Yuuri goes out to collect firewood. He returns with a man instead. (Viktor, Yuuri, and the end of isolation.)

The Death of Koschei the Deathless (39k): They tell tale of heroes, of men that slay monsters, and defy fate itself. Yuuri Katsuki is no hero. He's just a failed wizard trying to keep his shop afloat. This is the story of how Yuuri Katsuki fell in love with Viktor Nikiforov, and in doing so conquered death.

For the Record (10k): FOR THE RECORD by Viktor Nikiforov

What it takes to craft an Olympic Champion, and what it takes to be one.

Or: Viktor Nikiforov, sports journalist and retired figure skater, interviews Olympic Champion Yuuri Katsuki for an exclusive piece.

Happiness Writes White (37k): Yuuri falls asleep after his first day in St. Petersburg and wakes up in a strange hospital room. To his dismay, the last year of skating has all been a dream simulation designed to wake him from a long coma. Viktor Nikiforov is, in fact, not a figure skater at all, but the creator of the program, and this real world Viktor is nothing like the one he knows.

and you knew what it was (he is in love) (204k): Here's what's normal for Katsuki Yuuri: playing Quidditch, practicing spells, keeping to himself.

Here's what's not normal for Katsuki Yuuri: transferring to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in his fourth year and getting to know his idol, International Quidditch Star Viktor Nikiforov.

But maybe there's a reason they say love is the greatest magic of all. [Harry Potter AU]

All Our Yesterdays (1M): York, England, 2120: Yuuri Katsuki is a dime-a-dozen techie, spending his days doing routine repairs at the university. He hangs out with his friend Phichit, goes for a drink, watches holograms. It’s an existence – but is it a life?

Crowood Castle, Yorkshire, 1392: As the son of a baron, Sir Victor Nikiforov makes judgements where lives hang in the balance. As a knight, he must sometimes end them. It’s what he was born to do – but what of the heavy burden on his soul? Death is all too commonplace, while life and love remain elusive.

When a brilliant scientist goes rogue, journeying to the Middle Ages with the world’s first time machine, Yuuri is stunned to be called on as the last hope of preventing her from changing history. After an abrupt departure, he lands at Crowood Castle disguised as an enemy of the Nikiforovs, Sir Justin le Savage – and will need to act the part if he is to survive. It’s a tall order for someone who can barely tell the back end of a horse from the front. But if Ailis, in her own disguise, discovers who he is, his mission will end in a blaze of laser-gun fire. He must not give his real identity away, even to the beguiling knight he’s falling in love with…

#yuri on ice #yoi #victuuri #victuri #anime #victor nikiforov #katsuki yuuri #katsuki yuri #viktor nikiforov #yuri plisetsky #sports anime #fics #fic recs #yoi fanfic #fanfiction #.txt

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neowinestainedress · 2 years ago

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LONG FICS

under summer sky ; 10k — poly johnjaetaeyu [s] — a stressful week of work leads johnny, yuta, taeyong and their girlfriend to have some fun. But Jaehyun doesn’t like to be left out at all, especially when he had been working all day, so when he finds out what happened a hot night of passion takes place under the summer sky of London.

wrapped in red ; 15k — poly johnjaetaeyu ficmas [s] [f] — Johnny and Jaehyun have been far from home for a month now. And the distance starts to feel unbearable when they announce to the others that they won’t make it home before Christmas Eve. But little do they know that to make up for the lost time, a lot of unexpected gifts are waiting for them at home. They’re probably not going to make them end up on the good list, but they’re surely going to give them a good time.

la dolce vita ; 16k — poly johnjaetaeyu sub!jaehyun [s] [f] — Jaehyun had a plan; a romantic night together during their romantic summer trip to Procida… but the night took a wild, unexpected, turn. Or where Jade’s dream finally comes true.

State of grace ; 12k — part of the “loving him was red” series — Happy endings are only for the heroes of stories, the brokenhearted. Heartbreakers rarely find happiness in the last pages of their book. But life’s unexpected, and it happens that sinners and heartbreakers might get their happy endings. She never expected to find love, she never tried to make it happen, especially with the person she could barely stand, but when Johnny came around and her armor fell, there was nothing else she could do.

can you handle it? ; 12k — johnjaenomin fivesome part 2 [s] — Johnny drags her wildest fantasies out of her mouth, or to be more precise, out of her phone. But can she handle it?

into the woods ; 11k — inferno event | werewolves (feat kun, jaehyun, jeno, yangyang) [s] — ‘don’t go in the woods, past the first two rows of trees.’ It’s a simple rule, planted in every kid’s mind in the village since they are born. Nobody knows why, but nobody dares to question why. But pride leads to do dangerous things and what’s supposed to be a silly bet to prove something, gets you lost a bit too far into the scary forest. And those who seem to be polite strangers turn out to be something they’re not.

any time, any place ; 9k — poly johnjaetaeyu smutmas | free use [s] — the hectic rhythm before the holidays is stressful, but nothing that a lot of sex can’t fix.

push and pull ; 5k — poly johnjaetaeyu smutmas | power play [s] — fighting for dominance with johnny is not a smart idea, jade knows, but she doesn’t seem to care.

between us ; 16k — mxfxf [s] — you find yourself tangled in the life of the Suhs after Mr. Suh starts working as an English professor at your father’s university. You don’t understand why they float around you so much, but soon enough, you can’t get enough of that secret, dirty game anymore.

SERIES

all’s well that ends well to end up with you (you don't need to read this to read the other poly johnjaetaeyou one shots) ixora , 27k — jaehyun + johnny [s] [f] [a] — it was supposed to be just a fun night together. It was never supposed to end like this. daffodil ; 33k — jaehyun + johnny + taeyong [s] [f] [a] — sometimes it takes a miracle to bring light into somebody’s life, but other times it only takes three amazing strangers to show that love is not as terrifying as it seems and that somewhere on earth there’s a place to call home. And surprisingly, home can be found in the arms of the people you never expected to fall in love with. anemone ; 39k — jaehyun + johnny + taeyong + yuta [s] [f] [a] — good things start coming, new starts, new possibilities, and it looks like the sun never shined so much in the sky. But the sun sets even in paradise. tulip ; 65k — jaehyun + johnny + taeyong + yuta [s] [f] [a] — putting back what’s broken is not easy, but with time, love and patience, you can mend the wounds, and find out that no night is too dark if you have your stars shining on you. After everything, all’s well that ends well.

DRABBLES

size kink — requested | x reader [s]

subspace — requested | x reader [s]

car sex — requested | x reader [s]

BLURBS / HARD HOURS

₊‧.°.⋆˚₊‧⋆. fireplace ashes ₊‧.°.⋆˚₊‧⋆.

#nct fanfiction #johnny masterlist #johnny smut #johnny fluff #johnny angst

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purplekiwis · 3 years ago

Text

XII - The Portrait* (Where secrecy or mystery begins, vice or roguery is not far off)

Listen to the Damaged Goods Spotify Playlist: Here Series Masterlist: Here Genre: Enemies to Lovers | College AU Warnings: Smut*, Cursing, Alcohol & Drug Use, Borderline Abusive Behavior Wordcount: 19K (Madness has fallen upon me, I am so sorry)

You were still lying on Harry’s bed. In fact, you had hardly moved since the last time… Okay, that is not entirely true because you had been kissing loads and chatting nonstop about random stuff the whole time… From school stuff, to sharing your weirdest kids play-fantasies, to scheming a whole detailed plan together on how to commit the perfect murder crime... Yes, that escalated quickly. But conversation topics always seemed to flow easily when you were together. To put it short and sweet, that was how you ended up watching an episode of Unsolved Mysteries on Netflix during your skin on skin, post-sex cuddling session.

You managed to watch half of it... before Harry's hand started fondling your bum underneath the sheets and your lips started venturing up his neck. Long story short, your attention on the mysterious dead body that seemed to have summoned itself to the hotel conference room quickly exchanged to the warm and lively one laying right next to you. You had sex again. This time on your sides, With Harry's hand slowly circling your clit the whole time his dick was pushing lazily inside you. Your orgasm was just as exceptional as the ones before. And that got you to where you were now…

Harry had just gotten up for a quick trip to the bathroom when your nasal mucus glands decided to start acting up a bit...

You began feeling a little stuffed-up. So you sat up and stared at the ceiling. Furiously wiping your nose upwards and sniffing back to keep the yuck bottled up your skull for the time being... until Harry came back so that you could ask him for a tissue. But unfortunately this wasn't proving to be very helpful in controlling the ooze that kept on flowing like whitewater rapids. You desperately needed to blow your nose. At the earliest! Because Harry would be coming back any moment now, and if he were to find you sitting in his bed with snot dribbling down your upper lip that would surely not be a very comely sight, would it? You looked around the room… There were no tissue packs or wipes in sight. You looked at his wastepaper basket. There were some used tissues in there... You thought about it. No! No fucking chance! That would be way too gross!

Okay, quick, think: If you wanted to keep your jizz mopping tissues away from your mom’s sight whilst still keeping them somewhere close to where you’re most likely to need them, where would that be? Bedside table drawer. Easy! Only when you opened the drawer, there weren’t any tissues… There was a… drawing? A beautiful charcoal sketch of loose curls and a detailed backside; A familiar one - Who was currently marked with streaks from your nails. In the bottom right corner, was the author’s complicated and honestly quite pretentious, signature: Was it… Ruby? … Raelyn? Riley!

Now, you weren’t usually a jealous person… but keeping the pinches of jealously closely controlled when it came to Harry always seemed a bit harder… And this time you were feeling them quite deeply. Not only towards Harry, but the artist’s talent as well… You could not see yourself ever being able to capture his essence in such a delicate way. Not in a million years. Not even if you had the most inspiring studio to your disposition and Gustave Courbet as a painting advisor… And yet someone else had done it. In such a fleeting, unvarnished way that you could not help envying. You hadn't meant to question Harry on the drawing, but as it turns out, the green-eyed monster you'd been feeding while he was in the bathroom kept you distracted enough not to hear him flush the toilet and flick the light off on his way out. So, before you could shove the thing back in its place, get your tissue and pretend nothing had happened, he was walking in on you crossed legged over the bedding cradling his sketch portrait in between your hands. You were going to have to own up to it now.

“So... who’s Riley?” You asked, trying to save your ass by playing it cool. Harry seemed dismayed at your question. You could swear his skin tone paled just a little as he froze in place, wide-eyed and uneasy. His expression dulled even more once his eyes fell on the item you were holding with both your hands.

You barely had time to read his expression. Because in the blink of an eye he was standing in front of you and yanking the frame from your hold. You could not help but to wince as he shoved it back inside the drawer, closing it with a loud bang. “Don’t go snooping through my shit ever again, do you hear me?” His words were pressing. Sterner and angrier than ever before. “Answer me!” “I’m sorry… I- I didn’t mean to-” Your words rippled around themselves, with uncertainty of what exactly you should be saying to ease the knifelike gleam in his eyes. Harry had never truly made you feel fearful before. Not like this. Not with his whole body language letting you know that there was a very thick fluorescent line with warning signs all around it, and you’d just crossed it. “But you fucking did, didn’t ya?” He blared. “Fuck’s sake. Can’t leave you alone to go for a piss that you’re already nosing around my shit.” “I didn’t think you’d mind if-” You tried to explain yourself, but your words were immediately rebuffed by him, what had your lips shutting back in a hard line. “You didn’t think I’d mind? What hole did you crawl out of, Y/N?” He was walking circles around the room in his underwear, cradling his own face as if trying to keep his skull from exploding. “You don't just start going through people's houses opening shit when they didn't say you could. You don’t do that when my mom’s here… and then what? You thought just because we fucked you could go and make yourself at home?” You felt your eyes watering, threatening to send a flux of tears down your downcast cheeks. Your head dropped to your lap, as overwhelming feelings of shame took over your chest. Maybe Harry was right, maybe it was a meddling attitude. But you did not do it with a bad type of intention.

Maybe if he stopped spouting hotheaded words in favor of listening to what you had to say, he would understand that. “Can I talk, or are you just going to keep interrupting me?” “No, you can’t! 'Cause I don't want to hear it!” He shouted again, only this time he was staring right at you. His mouth was wrenched with rage, showcasing his teeth. His chest was swollen from exasperation, and so were the veins on his neck.

Your palms clenched tightly around the covers. “Stop!” Your nostrils flared in alarm as the warning came out of your mouth. “Stop screaming at me!” It was fearful and low... like a mewl.

You wanted to get up and front him, but your brain was hyper-aware of the fact that his frame was taller, stronger and currently on edge.

Realization fell upon his features then. You were scared. He was making you scared. Your body had dragged itself more towards the center of the bed, and it was currently trembling. Whether from fear, rage or simply the way your fingers were harshly gripping at his sheets, Harry couldn’t tell… and neither could you.

“I think…” His voice cracked due to its sudden shift to a softer tone. “I need to clear out a bit.” He reasoned, cementing his eyes on your face until he saw you look back and nod. “You get dressed. I'm driving us back to campus after.” He still added, as he shut the door on his way out.

From the moment the door closed, your face had been washed in tears. Why? Well, you weren't quite sure how to answer the question… It wasn’t as simple as you being sensitive, and Harry’s words getting to you harder. It had more to do with that you’d just watched your fantasy being ripped to shreds... again. After such a wonderful turn of events, you had started to place confidence and hope that maybe things were going to work out for the two of you. That maybe, after all, you would get the happy ending that you had been wishing so badly for… You should have known better. Because witnessing Harry going off the deep end over something you'd done, whilst your clothes were still dressing his bedroom floor was only cementing the fact that he really was not the one for you. And there was no use in chasing after what was not meant for you. You swallowed your sniffles once you heard a gentle knock on the door. Wiping your face briskly and busying yourself with putting your shoes on, that were the only thing missing. Harry shut the door lightly on his way inside. The pads of his feet being so gentle that you could have almost missed his presence, had you not heard him place a water glass on top of the bedside table as he sat.

You felt his weight push down into the mattress as he crawled his way around the bed to you. Allowing for the quiet to install itself for a moment before you felt his nose begin to softly brush against your shoulder. “I’m sorry…” He murmured quietly.

You chose to ignore him… and the touch of his scruff that was now moving around your upper arm, but the spasm that erupted right below your ribs betrayed you. “No… hey, look at me.” He prompted once he noticed you covering your face with your hands to muffle the tears you could no longer fight. “Y/N, look at me. It’s just me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

You shook your head at the request, and immediately felt your trembly fingers getting cradled by his, that tried to pull your hands away from your face. You yanked them back. “Can I touch you?” You didn’t answer. But did nothing to push away as he draped his arms around your body for a hug. You didn’t know what you wanted. His touch was making the emotions inside your chest bubble more intensely, but it felt as comforting as it always did.

“I wasn’t snooping! I had a runny nose and was looking for a tissue!” You said in between cries. “Thought you might have some in your drawer. That was the only reason why I opened it, because I didn't want you to see my snot...” You said, wiping your drippy nose upwards with your palm. “... and look where that got me!”

“Did you get your tissue?”

“No!”

Harry reached for the drawer under the one you had opened and pulled out a box of Kleenex, handing it over to you. “Here…” You took two. Placing one over your lap and taking the other to your nose to blow it. “I'm sorry about that earlier... I overreacted. I should have never spoken to you like that.” He carried on as his hand came up to wipe the tears from your eyes. “It truly had no reason to be. I’m not upset. I’m... sorry. I never meant to make you cry.” You reached for another tissue. “Don't worry, I’m not going to pry on your secrets any further… but I think it's my right to know if you’re seeing somebody else...” You sniffled. “Even if it’s just for health-related reasons, 'cause I'm not willing to risk getting an STD by giving you unprotected blowies when you’re out there getting with other girls.”

“I’m not.” Harry scorned, as if the insinuation alone had unsettled him. “I haven’t been with anyone else from the moment I started seeing you. As an option. Because I don’t want to.” His lips parted as if he still had something to add to that, but if he did, he didn't say it. “And forget about Riley, okay? It’s nothing important.”

“If it’s not important then why can’t you tell me?” Your question was instant, like you’d already been expecting him to say that. Which you were.

“Because it’s complicated.” His answer was just as quick. Again, like he could somehow predict you’d ask that. A sigh puffed out of his chest at the way you narrowed your eyes. “Look, I know it seems sus but it’s really not what you’re thinking…”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“Because I know how your mind works.” He ignored your grumble of “No, you don't” and proceeded to clear his throat, taking some time to collect his thoughts before talking again. “Maybe I'll tell you eventually... but I can't right now. And that’s final.” “Why can you tell me later and not now?” “I said it’s final, Y/N. That means no more questions.” Your expression soured. “Now if you want to go and keep overthinking things and making a big deal out of something that is really none of your case, I guess there’s nothing I can do to stop you, is there?” Each word he spoke twisted the knife previously dormant inside your heart a little harder.

'I thought you were my case' was the first comeback that crossed your mind. But really, was he? Just because he claimed he "liked" you, and you happened to like him too, that still didn't put him under the obligation to keep you updated on everything going on in his life.

Besides, what did "liking" someone even mean? You liked lots of people. Your roommate, your parents, your classmates... it still didn't mean you trusted all the same when it came to sharing your life's happenings. So yes, maybe Harry did like you... he just didn't like you enough, or in the same way you liked him.

And that was fine.

Because again, you weren't his girlfriend. He wasn't your boyfriend. You just desperately needed to lodge that idea inside your head once and for all. So you swallowed the heartache and denied yourself from speaking your emotions out loud one more time. “Just take me home, Harry.” The salty droplet running down your cheek as you fixed your bag over your shoulder proved it still stung, though. To get thrown back into your irrelevant place in his life that left you feeling all sorts of unconnected, unimportant and unworthy.

Sleep couldn't find you breezily as you laid in bed that night. With ringlets of charcoal and a faceless Riley floating on your mind.

You didn't get much time to dwell on things. Which was both a blessing and curse…

Your whole week had been mandatory rehearsals after rehearsals for the goddamned Praxis parade, that was taking place next Thursday.

If you weren't at the rehearsals, you were either asleep or trying not to sleep by wedging your face on your palm and avoiding letting your eyes fall shut from exhaustion... since the stealthy sips you, along with Charlotte and Sophia, had been stealing from Oliver's fancy, jumbo sized coffees had stopped doing much after the third day straight of waking up at 8am and getting home at 2am.

The first few times Oliver still kvetched for you to "get your own damn coffee" but luckily by the end of the week he’d grown to accept his duty as a supplier and had even stopped complaining... apart from the occasional wince as he watched the girls take turns sipping on his straw like they were sharing popcorn in between taking class notes. You also didn’t have the time or the energy to form some sort of grudge towards Harry... because he was always there, literally always in front of your eyeballs. Not that he was talking to you... apart from the times he was talking (screaming) at all the freshmen in general, making everyone do push-ups or making repairs in more of a decent manner when he was making rounds around the different rehearsing groups. But even those were never directed at you, but your group as a whole... Now that you were thinking about it, you weren't even sure if you were on talking terms with each other or not, since all the other interactions you'd had been silent. For instance, on the first night the Commission had settled on forcing freshmen to drink licorice root tea (always bitter and verging on cold) to prevent sore throats and hoarseness from long practices. You couldn't pinpoint when it had happened, but you knew that sometime during the night Harry figured you didn't like the tea... because from a certain point on, whenever it was his turn to serve the drink, he always tried to under fill your cup without anyone noticing. Oh! And, although you have no evidence of this, you also have a great suspicion that Harry is behind the highly convenient appearance of a chocolate bar inside your bag on the day you’d overslept during a nap and had to skip dinner in order to make it to the rehearsal on time. You had grumbled to your friends about being hungry all night, so the possibly that Harry could have heard wasn’t so unreasonable. Besides, who else could have known which one of the backpacks on the floor was yours? All in all, the only time you felt some sort of enraging emotion that week, was on Thursday when Declan accidentally nipped your skin whilst putting on your costume. You were already a little upset that day because after parading down Golden Hills's streets in your silly little garment, screaming the songs you'd been endlessly rehearsing for the past weeks on the top of your lungs, you still hadn’t managed to say hello to your family. Who had insisted on coming to watch the parade even though you had sworn to them time and time again that it was only a half-assed school play that wasn’t worth the drive. But alas, they still wanted to play supportive for their daughter, so they had decided to come anyway.

The reason why you hadn't had time to see your family was that you ended up leaving late, due to the student playing the main character of your play having some sort of last minute panic attack. But thankfully, after many words of motivation and pats on the back, the Commission members got to convince him that it was all going to be fine. The play was inspired by one of Bram Stoker's tales.

A story of a boy name Malcolm, who moves to a low population village, looking to escape the frantic life of the big city. The play started with Malcolm stepping out of a train at the station, with his travel trunk in hand and a blissful smile on his face. He walked across the scene and made his way inside the local inn, where he stayed for the night. You remember seeing the inn's front scenery whilst it was still in the making. And you must admit that it turned out much better than you'd been expecting with the painting. It had rooftop windows, a top floor balcony and even an awning at the front.

In cue with the appearance of a boy dressed as a moon, the train station scenery swiftly changed into one with a big house. It was old, slim and tall, with heavy frames and ivy-clad windows. The moon boy vanished, giving room to a girl in a sun costume. Signaling that it was the next day.

Malcom left the inn to go for a walk around the city. He was dressed as the typical tourist, what brought a smile to the faces of the local audience who recognized the stereotypical white socks and sandals, the vintage camera hanging from the neck and the city map stuck underneath the armpit that they were more than used to seeing around their hometown. Malcolm frolicked around for a while, circling the various street objects on his way. You were one of them - a fountain. Dressed in gray from head to toe, with three foamy circles stuck to your frame. One around your waist, the other around your knees and one over your head, like a hat. Over that one, they'd even glued blue threads to simulate a water stream.

You looked fucking stupid.

And more like a tier dessert stand than a fountain, if you were allowed an opinion. But you guessed you had no right to complain, since it was you who asked for a speechless role. But anyway, after walking around you for a while, Malcolm stopped by the old house. He was taken by its unusual, intriguing presence. And after realizing it was not inhabited, he decided to rent it for himself. At that, the inn's scenery was swapped by a real estate office one. Where Malcolm headed next, to meet with a real estate agent - Mr. Andersen.

The estate agent and Malcolm talked for a moment. He expressed his happiness to find that Malcolm was interested in the property, explaining that since it had been inhabited for so long, there were starting to be rumors that it is haunted.

Malcolm paid the information no mind. However, once he was back at the inn tidying things up for his move, Ameena's character, a hostess by the name of Miss Wilson, shared her concerns regarding the old house. Going into more detail about the house's supposed haunting. The hostess informed Malcolm that the old house used to belong to a cruel judge, known for his heinous sentences and his lack of empathy during higher courts. And that, after the judge's death, no buyer ever lasted there for longer than a night. According to Miss Wilson, the property was pestered with rats and roaches, and strange happenings were often reported. Doors that creaked shut by themselves, rooftop tiles that dropped loose, and furniture that shifted places in the middle of the night were common occurrences inside the judge's old house. The hostess finished off her take by leaning closer to Malcolm, and whisper yelling “There’s a ghost in that house, sir.”

Despite Miss Wilson's concerns, Malcolm, ever so confident, dismisses her worriment by using the catchphrase "I ain't afraid of no ghost." Leading to the start of the play's first musical number. A rendition of the Ghostbusters' movie theme song.

The song was vocally performed mostly by Ameena and the boy playing Malcolm, but you and the rest of the students on stage with them still had to participate by doing your stupid little dance routine, that included screaming the dreadful "Ghostbusters!" part from your place in the background.

Whilst the public was distracted by the singing and dancing, the surrounding scenery changed again. Morphing into the dining room of the judge's house. Once the song ended, the side characters ran off the scene, leaving Malcolm to stand alone in his brand-new home. With a big, contented sigh, Malcolm moved to sit on the couch, who was actually another student on all fours, and picked out a prop book from the decoration table next to him. It was a ridiculously big book. Made out from the same material as the circles in your costume… the ones you had torn off your body as soon as you could.

As you did that, you recalled that the concern that the book cover might not be readable from the benches had been risen sometime last week, but once you heard a fit of chortles coming from the crowd, you realized the joke had landed. Unfortunately, because let’s face it, depicting a young man reading a book called “Vaginal Studies” had no sense of humor aside from shock value, but humans are immature and a big part of them still cough a laugh when they see tiny willies on statues, let alone the word "vaginal". That was when the haunting scene happened. Malcolm got up in a jump once the drawers start opening and closing, and white gloved hands crawled from the walls. There were ghosts popping from everywhere, with Thriller playing in the background. They did the second dance number, that was a little more entertaining than the one you had been in… at least it seemed so from where you were watching from behind one of the structure’s posts. You would admit that the production had exceeded your expectations. It made you understand why the Commission had been constantly shouting at the freshmen about "Coordination, coordination, coordination!" and comparing you to a running flock of chicken during the first weeks of rehearsals. Despite the holes for the hands being obvious, and the nylon thread tied to the drawer handles being noticeable when the light hit it from certain angles, the sceneries looked great, and so did the costumes. The improvement was notorious, and the audience seemed to be enjoying your performance. Your mind wandered what your family could be thinking of it, so you squinted your eyes at the benches and tried to locate their familiar faces among the pile of heads. Your heart squeezed a little when you didn't spot them. You wondered if it could be that they had left out of boredom whilst you were performing... or worse, for being embarrassed about your idiotic behavior.

You pulled your phone from your pocket, with the intent to write a text to your sister asking on their whereabouts. But as you were about to hit ‘send’, there was a call for your name coming from behind you. You could not muster the gut to turn as an unsettling feeling zigzagged its way around your body before whamming straight down to your stomach at the sound of approaching steps.

"You know... I thought we were past the whole awkwardly avoiding each other sorta deal." Harry said, half-smiling. "I didn't hear you." It was a shit excuse, but you hoped it would stick as you pretended your focus was still on observing the benches.

"If you didn't hear me, then why did you jump when I spoke?" He asked as he mirrored your position, crossing his arms and leaning against the opposite side of the pole. You remained quiet, and pretended to be indifferent to Harry's presence next to you. Regardless of your silence, he didn't leave. Instead, alike you, he stayed leaned over the post that separated you. It was hard not muse over the irony of the situation. What was this other than an excellent analogy for your current situation? Together. So close. With an impenetrable break between you. Why had he come to you? Boredom didn't seem like a valid bet, since there were booths for drinks, food and games. His friends couldn't be too far away either… you had seen them when you arrived at the venue. The naivest part of you whispered that maybe, maybe he missed your company as you did his. Even if he wasn’t ready to tear down the barrier yet. Despite your best attempts not to look his way, you still found yourself stealthily admiring his profile once he started fiddling with his phone.

“I wanted to show you something…” He said as if he’d sensed your attention.

It was a picture.

A picture of him, dressed as a caveman, in that same Pavilion. His hair was longer than in the polaroid you had seen at the Yellow Door, but not enough to reach his shoulders like it did now. He had a fake beard half on, half off and a smock dress that left his thighs a little too exposed for your liking.

“Last year?” You asked. Harry nodded. “You looked great.” You said with a straight face and little enthusiasm, handing him the phone back without another look.

“My stepmom hated the whole deal…” Shamefully, intrigue washed over your features at his words. A stepmom? That was new... and why was he telling you this all of a sudden? Could this be his way of showing some sort of effort to be more open? - “... asked if I was trying to ruin the name of the family.” He sighed in retrospection. “She's a stuck up, anyway.”

“Your family has a name?” Your teeth still pinched your tongue, but it was too late. The question had already come out.

“No, but she really believes so…” He sighed before continuing. “My dad and her have a wine business that's kind of well-known in the area.” Your eyebrows rose beyond your knowledge. “The thing is, no one cares about that stuff… only Miss Corktaint thinks they do.” “Don’t call your mom that,” You didn't know why you were censuring him. You didn’t even know what the term meant, but it sounded rude coming from his mouth like that. “…whatever it means...” You added, upon realizing that you had been a bit brash. “Stepmom.” Harry corrected you. “It’s a term for when wine spoils. It makes it smell all moldy and... a bit like a wet dog.” He smiled. “It’s been her secret nickname for ages between me and my sister. All in good fun, of course...” “When you say their business’s well known, it’s not like... Oxbow's Winery, is it?”

“Did you legit just guess that or...?” You watched him shake his bewilderment away. “There's no way you would just guess... Did you google search my name?”

"Come off it... do you think I have nothing better to do?" You replied, scoffing as you did. "I did a project on local wine resorts for my class, and that brand kept popping up. It was just a guess... Nothing more, nothing less."

“What did you find on it?” He was simply curious, you could tell.

“I didn't get into the brand, just saw it in pictures.” You turned to stare at the play again, but there was something else going around your mind as you watched Malcolm fist fight the ghost of the judge. “So... Secretly a first level sommelier, are you? Must be nice… I heard girls love a guy who knows his wines.” Your own words left a sour tang on your tongue. “Oh, I wouldn’t know. I’m pretty shit at wine tasting.” You squinted, wondering if he was being real or if that was his way of dodging an unpleasant topic. Any which way, it was an annoyingly nice save. “And since when do you know wine terms?!” “You’d be surprised, but design work comes with the burden of learning lots of irrelevant things about completely random lines of business.” You looked him up with a smug smile on your lips. “Like, that each grape vine produces about 10 wine bottles… or that people who drink red with moderation have a lower chance of developing type 2 diabetes.” “You know what?” Harry smiles easily, sloping his head against the pole you were both still reclining against. “That made it feel like I was 14 again… At one of those events, getting taught by dad's snooty friends what glasses should go with what wines… so thanks. I hate it.”

"There's more than two types of wine glasses?"

"There's a whole range of them!” Harry fussed, like their simple existence upsets him dearly. “And then everyone likes to pretend the shape of the glass makes a huge difference. Because supposedly each shape directs the wine to different key spots on the tongue. Bullshit it does! Tastes all the same to me." "Hm… Those must be kind of shitty." You said, only a second later realizing how it must have come off. "I mean, I'm not saying that your dad's wines are shitty... I'm just saying the events, and the people..."

"No, I know. But even if you thought the wine was shit, I still wouldn't care. It has nothing to do with me."

"Not planning on following daddy’s footsteps, then?" It was a jab, but your smile made up for it.

"No, fuck no.” Harry chuckled, before his expression twitched back into a more serious one. “I know he would like me to… you know, go to business school for management or economics, follow with a nice internship at the company, yada yada... But neither me nor Gemma wanted to. So much for keeping secret blends in the family, right?” “What does she do? Your sister.” “Oh, she’s very zen. She does like massage therapy and teaches yoga classes. I think you would like her… Being around Gemma is like… weirdly good for the soul, you know? It just keeps you in a good mood.” You hummed in acknowledgement of his words. “I take it you don’t see her often, then?” “Not really, no.” Harry replied cheerlessly. “Definitely not as much as I’d like to...” The solemn look his face sported after made you wish there were a way to take your question right back. Rip them straight off his mind like a band-aid. “I’m sorry. That was a really shitty thing to ask.” “No, you're fine. It's the truth...” Harry said, but your chest still felt heavy as you looked down at your feet. “Christmas is just a month away anyway. She’s coming home for that, so... that will be nice.” That was when it happened. You couldn't point out exactly when or why it happened, but your hand seized for Harry's... and held back once your pinkies touch lightly. Shamefaced, you pulled it away immediately after. However, contrary to what you were expecting, Harry’s hand came after your touch, brushing your knuckles together. You looked down, noticing both his and your fingers are already curling upwards like they’re anticipating to entwine. Regardless of the stalemate in your touch, Harry's hand didn't show any intention to pull away from the predicament, and neither did yours... Until your selective ear begins to descry a couple of mumbling voices at the distance. “No Lucy! We will not interrupt your sister…” “But why? She’s literally just standing there.” Your hand jumped back like a flash, slapping against the pole in the process. Ouch! You turned around to face them, not having to look to know it was your mother talking. You knew her scolding all too well... Seriously? Now? Now they decided to show up?

"No one's interrupting anything..." You chirped with a bit of a forced a smile. “I was just about to go look for you, anyway.”

They were all smiles as they watch you stroll over… But it didn't take long for you to realize that the focus of their attention is not just on you. You glanced behind, noticing Harry’s eyes had followed you as you left.

Judging by the look on his face, you were assuming that he had accidentally made eye contact with your mother as he turned and was now feeling compelled not to turn his back to her out of politeness. "That’s my mentor." You put it bluntly, hoping that would help ease their curiosity. “You know, from those Praxis crazy matters that I've told you about.” You tried contextualizing, although your whole face felt like it was set ablaze, and the tone of your voice came out slightly pitchy as you spoke. You are so caught up in your own embarrassment that you didn't even realize that Harry had walked over… not until you noticed a tall, covered in black, physique verging upon your side view.

"Hello, I'm Harry." He greeted your family warmly by the hand. “It's nice to meet you." Once he got to Lucy, he stopped and squinted, staring between you and her. "Very strong genes from both mom and dad with these two, I see." Lucy winced. You winced. Your parents seemed delighted by the compliment. The worst bit? You could tell your mom was taking a liking to Harry. He was making eye contact with her, smiling, asking if they've made a nice trip, if they were liking the ceremony so far... And well, your sister was definitely taking a liking to him as well… The kind of liking that makes you want to slap her forehead and tell her to go play with her crayons. Bless her heart, she’s just a hormone ravaged teenager, but she needed to calm down with the ogling. Eventually, their conversation got interrupted by Declan. Who was walking around the Pavilion like a dizzy cockroach, trying to gather as many people as he could to come help load the play's props to be taken back to school.

You kept your family company watching the other schools’ plays as much as you could, until they told you to let them be and go have fun with your friends. You did, but you shouldn't have, because once you met them again at the end of the ceremony to say goodbye, Lucy giddily informed you that Harry had come by again and offered them free waters. The teenage sprout seriously needed to start learning how to keep her emotions in check... and you desperately needed to stop getting heart flutters over water bottles.

“Who’s it that we’re meeting with again?” You asked Ameena, halfway through dusting off some powder on your cheeks, as the two of you stood over the sink in Sophia's bathroom.

A few days before, the group had settled on coming to her apartment for a quick chicken wraps and chips type of dinner after the parade. And mostly, to scrub the day sweat and body paint away from your body and exchange your attire for more suitable party outfits before returning to the venue to continue the celebrations throughout the rest of the night.

Sophia had two bathrooms. A renewed one, with a modern bathtub and a nice long vanity where she, Charlotte and Oliver were getting ready. Or rather, laughing like hyenas as they tried to accompany Doja Cat in the rap of "Boss Bitch".

And then, there was the one you and Ameena had been sorted with…

A cubicle crammed with shaking bathroom fixtures and a blueish light that washed directly over your features, enhancing your skin's flaws and making it appear more like you were on your way to the morgue than to a party of black robes, sweat glowing faces and boozy drinks.

“We’re meeting with Oliver's new friend.” Ameena finally replied to your question. Her answer had your eyes twisting to share a knowing look with her.

You had been through this story before. Boy meets boy in a dating app. The guy is sweet and wonderful. Oliver gets his hopes up. They meet at his house to watch whatever indie queer movie both have not yet seen before. They have sex, and just like that, the stud is gone and never replies to his texts again.

When you ask about it next, Oliver pretends it was only a meaningless fuck and that he was not that into them. One too many drinks later, you find yourself sitting in a ditch, wiping your friend's tear stained cheeks because “Why do they always leave Y/N? Why am I never good enough to be more than a hookup?”

You wish you knew that answer yourself.

“I know, but he says it’s different this time...” Ameena said, as she thickened the layer of mascara over her eyelashes. “It's not just some guy from Grindr... it's one of the Erasmus students that arrived last week.” Her voice stranded as she opened her eyes wider, trying to keep still to not stick the brush in her eyelid. “He said he has cute straight friends that will be there too.”

You grunted a noise. “He can keep them for all I care.”

“You haven't even seen them yet...” She sighed, leaning even closer to the mirror. “What about that other situation?”

You hummed, knowing she was referring to the Riley situation that you had told her about over dinner the same night it all happened.

You had figured a second opinion could do you well… especially since Ameena’s brain was more rational and didn’t usually jump to ill-considered conclusions like yours did. You had been secretly hoping she would look at things with a rational eye and come up with a different perspective that somehow made Harry's secrecy justifiable. Unfortunately, after several ruminative minutes of thinking over chow mein takeaway, she’d come up with the same verdict you had.

"That cheating prick is two-timing you, and we are going to find out who it is with..."

“Have you searched through his social media yet?” Ameena asked, pulling you back into the present moment. She was dressed really lovely that night. With a plaid shirt dress that flaunted the bralette X-crossing her neckline. Under her influence, you had also decided to show off your curves a little… By wearing a knitted sweater, wedged under a mini skirt. The sweater had a wide neckline, so you decided to put on a velvet choker too. And since you were feeling particularly put together, the pair of black pantyhose you slipped on were sheerer than the ones you usually went for on a daily basis.

"Yes." You admitted with a huff. “I found nothing… and still managed to make myself known by accidentally liking a picture from 42 weeks ago.” You cringed at the memory of you sitting on the toilet repeatedly tapping your phone screen and muttering “Shit! shit! shit!” out loud after your thumb did a double click instead of swiping. So yes. One could say you were a bit of a shit stalker... in more than one way, really.

“You had one job, detective Holmes.” Ameena said through a breathy laugh, making a face as she rubbed at her eyelid where the mascara had eventually smudged. “You’re supposed to be the headmaster of the investigation. I’m just helping you along the way.”

“Don’t call it an investigation! Makes us sound like proper creeps…” She rolled her eyes at you. “Like we’re tracking down his movements without him knowing or something…”

It would be one thing if you were peeping out of sheer curiosity… or because you were missing his cute little smiley dimples that made you pout that you weren't kissing them every time. All of which you’d done before, near guiltlessly… There was a different type of guilt that came with knowing you were legitimately snooping for information on something (or someone) he’d explicitly asked you to keep away from. You felt like an unwelcomed lurker going through his likes and follows, but you still couldn’t stop yourself from doing it.

“See, that’s what is annoying me the most… You’re feeling guilty for wanting answers when he is the one who should be the one eating his heart out for keeping secrets.”

“What’s the point of getting answers if I can’t confront him about it afterwards?” You sighed, fumblingly fixing your hair before collecting your make-up bag from the countertop. “Besides, it was just a drawing. Not a body in his basement.” You pretended to feel more indifferent than you did. “Which is why I'm officially calling this investigation as suspended, until further notice.”

Call you a fool, but you weren't convinced that this was just a case of there being another girl. You had never agreed on exclusivity, so why would Harry go crackers over you finding out he was seeing other people? Technically, he had no faults to answer for... apart from having led you into believing the prospect of a relationship that could never be. But even that was more a doing of your silly love bugs…

You didn’t tell Ameena about what happened earlier at the venue... nor that Harry had met your parents, and that you'd answered a text he’d sent you later on, asking if your dad always had such a strong handshake or if he should be scared.

Because you knew that if you did, she would be all up in your ear about it for the rest of the night… rightfully so! Because it was dumb. It was so dumb. How was it that you could have such little respect for yourself that a few empty words from his part after shouting and calling you a meddler, followed by almost a week of agonizing silence, were enough to have you reaching for his hand in the middle of a ceremony? You should just get a wig, a red nose and contact Cirque du Soleil to ask if they have any jobs available. It would be better than acting like a clown for free.

You seriously needed to sort your shit out... and vodka sodas. You needed a lot of those.

“I thought this wasn’t an investigation?” Ameena bit back jokingly, zipping up her own bag after one last glance at her reflection in the mirror. “What about his hometown? He went to high school there, right? Perhaps it will be a good starting point for when the non-investigation reopens.”

If it reopens, you thought to yourself.

“Mhm... that could be an idea.” You smiled, reaching for the doorknob of Sophia’s bathroom.

Maybe you were a tiny bit drunk. Because this party wasn't being bad at all.

You were floating around that happy middle-ground stage of drunkenness. The one where you can still walk without toppling anything or anyone who is in your way, although your limbs feel a bit like jelly with a mind of their own. The liquor going in your system had been keeping you warm throughout the night, and taking that burden off your shoulders that was your overly-conscious sober brain, constantly holding you back from having a good time with the worriment that there might be people watching and making fun of your lack of rhythm.

The company was also not so bad… The friends of Oliver’s new sweetheart were not only remarkably friendly, but also great dancers who refused to let anyone fall into boredom or spend more than a minute looking at their phone screens. They were always pulling the lot of you to dance and buying rounds of drinks for the group... which you knew you shouldn't take because you didn't know these people, but your tipsy brain convinced you that the only reason why they were offering was because they're getting a better deal out of buying "group packs" instead of "single drink" tickets... therefore it was safe and definitely nothing like accepting a drink from a creepy stranger at a bar. But there was one friend in particular... Luca, that was his name. He just looked so big and warm… that would be the best way to describe him. His tan was unlike any other you had seen. It was like he had spent the last 6 months doing nothing but sunbathing at Copacabana Beach, sipping coconut waters and eating açai bowls.

His jawline was strong, his hair thick and dark like the eyebrows that shadowed his irises and made them look almost black. And he even had a beard! Of the kind that isn’t too full or scratchy, and that you can tell would feel good and soft if you were to kiss him.

Which you weren’t going to do…

Probably. It was what you should do! He was hot. You were single. He had spent the night flirting with you and judging by the way he could sway his hips on the dance floor, you would surely be signing up for a wonderful time if you chose to leave this party with him.

You had been counting on the more you drank, the more happy-go-lucky you would feel. Meaning, the more eager you would be to go and get your rocks off with some nice-smelling, handsome guy you had just met. But no... of course not... because it could never be that simple, could it? Because there was Harry. And the occasional glimpses you were getting of him who were sparking your nonsensical devotion to life. And then in reality, the more you drank, the more he lodged in your mind... and the more you danced, the more the fragrance of Luca's perfume made you sick.

Because it wasn't Luca you wanted to be touching, and it wasn't his face you wanted to feel resting on your shoulder while dancing. And the more you thought about it, the more you wanted to come running into Harry's arms and ask him to get you out of here. But you couldn't do that. So you resolved to the only other option left. Drowning your demons with something stronger and more bitter than what was in your cup. “Do you want to come take a shot with me?” You asked Ameena, for no reason other than her being the one who looked most like she could pass the chance of being there too. She accepted your invitation, extending her hand for you to take her wherever you wanted. You chose one of the busiest drink stalls, mostly because you wanted to take some time away from Luca to see if you could decide what to do with your night once and for all. Only you never get to make it to the stall, because Ameena stopped you halfway. “Oh, look! Vincent’s over there! Do you mind if we walk over just to say hi? I barely got to see him at the parade…” She asked, stretching her neck just so that she could have a better look. “Actually... never mind.” You gave her a funny look, guessing that she had mistaken someone else for her boyfriend. You were about to give her the piss for being so in love that she saw Vincent everywhere, but her next words stopped you. “The cheating mop head is there with them, so we’re definitely not getting any closer...” That was where she was wrong, because that moment was the perfect opportunity you had been waiting for all night. “Oh. That's fine. It's nothing I can’t handle...” You said, averting your eyes just so your eagerness didn’t seem too obvious. “It’s not like I don’t see him every day, is it?” “I know, but still… I don’t want to put you through that shit.” Your roommate fretted, shaking her head a little. “Especially when we are having such a fun night.” “I'm fine... seriously, don’t worry about it.” You insisted, getting a little impatient with her persistence in being such a kind, unselfish friend. I was actually dying to see him up close anyway - Those were the words you thought but didn't dare speak. “I appreciate you, I really do… but let’s be real, they’re besties, we’re besties. It will be impossible to avoid forever. I don’t know about you, but my brain is thinking: fuck it, might as well go now that I’m in a good mood.” Ameena was nibbling on her bottom lip as she pondered… a sign of success. “Are you sure? Like, for real? I don’t mind going back and coming by later on my own… We really don’t have t-” She was still blabbering her uncertainties as you dragged her across the crowd of drunken students. Once you got there, you were greeted by Everlee first, who blurted out an excited “Long time no see!” upon spotting you walking over. She launched her arm up to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you in for a side hug. “How’s my dance partner doing?”

“Terrific!” You chirped, resting your head on her shoulder.

“Is it just me, or have you got one too many to drink tonight?” She asked once she noticed you staring at her bleary-eyed and smiling dopey. “How are you feeling? Alive?”

“Like a G6.” You mumbled in her ear.

“Yup. Completely besotted.”

You groaned at that, nuzzling closer and wrapping your arms around her for a hug. She was warm under her cape, she smelled nice, and you were too out of it to give a crap about acting weirdly affectionate towards someone you didn’t know that well. Plus, since you couldn't be hugging Harry like you wanted to, at least you could hug someone and stare at him... It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. And on top of that, Lee didn’t seem to mind it. She even cooed at it. “H, you better watch out before I steal your freshman...” She teased jokingly, as she cradled your hair and hugged you back.

He snorted a laugh. “Watch it. That's mine. Has my name all over.”

The heart wasn’t your only body part that clenched at Harry's choice of words, but regardless of that, you still partially felt like you should contradict him. But his look down at the badge hanging from your neck reminded you that you couldn’t. He was right… at least talking mentor/freshman discourse. You were his freshman.

He must have noticed your vexed expression at the realization, though... given the way he was staring. “Everything okay?” He asked once your eyes met his. You guessed his question was referring to your state of insobriety, so you flashed him a thumbs up… and then proceed to hug Everlee tighter whilst staring at him with longing eyes.

“Oh boy, I think Luca is searching for us.” Ameena hissed upon spotting a tall set of brown curls moving over the crowd. “Jesus! The boy really is tall… and dying to jump your bones, Y/N.”

The group laughed, but Harry didn't. Not at first. His expression dropped, before he finally got around to fake a smile. It wasn't a good one, taken that even in your inebriated state you could tell his smile wasn't natural, just compulsive. On top of that, his eyes betrayed him when they sought yours, and then Everlee's, that alike yours were also fixed on him. That was when you picked up on the fact that her body had also turned a little steely. Had he told her about you?

Harry’s eyes darted at you again, but averted away once they met your inquiring ones. He took his drink to his mouth. "Who's that?" The question slipped past his lips before they reached the cup.

“Oh, it’s an Erasmus guy we just met.” Ameena told, as she jokingly took her hands to Vincent's ears to stop him from hearing her next words. He shook her hands away. “Real hot stuff. Tall... tanned... fiery... amazing hip moves.” She counted on her fingers as she spoke. “Oh, and isn’t his accent just the sexiest? Especially when he mixes up his languages and starts saying things we don’t understand.” She rolled her eyes in a faint-like manner. “He sounds like a song. His voice is just... sweet and sugary and- a dream.”

“Woah, Vincent. Your lady’s relentless!” Harry’s tone was playful... and teeming with indifference that you hoped he didn’t actually feel. “I’m sorry, mate. I really am...”

And just like that, your mind was in a turmoil. What was he doing? Why was he turning the conversation upside down? No, no, no... You should be worried, you idiot! Not your friend! You!

Vincent laughed at their exchange, but Ameena didn't seem entirely too fond of Harry's insinuation. “Just because I’m in a relationship, doesn’t mean I can’t tell a hot guy when I see one...” She stood up for herself… and then, in classic Ameena fashion, went straight for his jugular. “Besides, like I said... his interest is somewhere else. ”

Harry followed her pointing hand, despite knowing it would bound him to face you again. As he did, you noticed something shadowy corrupting the usual greenery of his gaze… but it drifted away before you got the chance to scrutinize further. You really needed that shot now...

And the toilet. You've needed to go for a while, but had been ignoring your bladder's pressing requests because the portable restrooms were at the other side of the venue and there was always a line.

You still waited until Ameena had finished the conversation she was having before telling her you had to go. And as expected, she offered to come with.

On the way over, you drunkenly tried to give her a piece of your mind over mentioning Luca in front of Harry, but the only thing you got from it was a scold back, where she told you that Harry needed to reminded that he wasn't all that and that there were others putting in twice the effort to get a chance with you. She followed her scolding by reminding you that you were “A wonderful person that deserves to be treated like one. And since you are too much of a wuss to push Harry to the wall and call him out on his bullshit, I will do it for you!” “That’s not true.” You rebuffed her statement with a longing glance. “I would push him to the wall.”

“Okay, that’s enough!" She chastised as she dragged you towards the trailers before you could venture any deeper into your drunken cravings. "To the loo. Up you go!” The toilets raked of piss. What was already making you regret coming there instead of settling for emptying your bladder beside a car like any legendary party girl would. To make things better, the lock on the door was broken. Completely blown off to the point where you could not even keep a hold on it from the inside to pull the door shut. Great! Just what you needed...

But going somewhere else now wasn't an option. Your bladder was ready to go and couldn't wait a single more minute - Not after seeing a toilet, anyway. So, you clasped your hand around the door frame and held it closed, making use of the other to pull your thighs and knickers down... The small open breach your fingers left made you a little nervous, but you figured the chances of someone poking their eye in there just to watch some girl do her business as being unlikely, …verging on impossible even. And at least there was paper! You pulled some off in anticipation, thanking the stars because going to the bathroom standing is always a shit experience, but urinating down your leg by accident and not having anything to clean yourself is even worse. You tried to relax. Pressing your eyes shut, taking a deep breath and ignoring the discomforting ache in your bent legs. It worked! The floods had opened and it was all coming out! You were amidst wiping yourself when it happened. It was all too quick. There was a heavy tug on the door, a quick glimpse of a startled face, along with a flustered "Oh shit, Sorry!" They were gone in the next moment, casting back your privacy by abruptly slamming the toilet door shut... With your fingers still clasped in there. The impact hurt a bitch, sending a spike of energy up your arm like an electric shock that had you pulling your hand back.

But it was nothing compared to the horrible throbbing pain that set in after...

As much as you wanted to avoid crying, you couldn't. Your lips began to tremble… your eyes filled with tears… as you let out a loud sob unlike any you had ever heard yourself make outside the bedsheets.

“What happened? Why is she crying?” Harry had asked in between heavy breaths. You don't know why he came or where he came from, but it didn't take more than a couple minutes of crying in front of the toilets accompanied by your friends, whom Ameena had called as soon as she got the reason of your tearful face, for him to turn up sprinting over as well.

“We’re still trying to figure it out… but, from what we’ve gathered, we think someone pushed her toilet stall’s door while she was peeing and nipped her hand really hard.”

He spared a quick acknowledging glance to Oliver before leaning closer to you, extending his hand just so that you place yours over his palm. “Let me see.” You shake your head, pushing your arm behind your back, trying to hide your sore from him. Harry’s eyebrows irk at your stubbornness. “Give me your hand.” He insists.

You can tell his brain is fuming with worriment. “It looks bad.” You say as a justification for not wanting to show. It’s true, your fingers are swollen and there's a nasty mark where the door slammed.

“I don’t care.” He grabs your forearm and pulls it against your will, hissing a little when he sees the skin around it is already swelling black. “Did you see who did this to you?”

“I- It was an accident; I don’t think they noticed.”

“But how? How can anyone do this and not-” He sighs, agitated. “Not even fucking stay to see if you were all right? Bloody fucking pricks…” You're still sniffling from pain while listening to his upset grousing. “Can you move your knuckles? Is the pain getting worse?” You try flexing your fingers. They move, although shaky from soreness. “It really hurts a lot.” You howl, as a new set of tears start running down your face. A natural response to the unrelenting pain that just keeps on giving.

"For fuck’s sake, just come here already." He urged you into his arms by swaddling your body into a hug, placing a kiss atop of your hair as he did so. Something that your needy, intoxicated brain somehow assumed as a green light for showcasing all your underlying affection... by getting on the tips of your toes and proceeding to smooch all over Harry’s cheek, leaving behind an unintentional trail of smudges as proof of your assault.

Someone behind you audibly gasped at the happening. “Y/N!” Oliver jumped on the scene, reaching for your back to pull you away from what to him, and the rest of the group besides Ameena seemed like an unreasonable alcohol-driven mating attempt from your part to a hot superior who was just trying to help. “Let go of Sir Harry!” He preached, widening his eyes at you.

But Harry was suspiciously too okay with this... He even held you tighter to his chest once he felt your body getting tugged away from him by the tail of your jacket. Courtesy of Charlotte and Sophia. Your guardian angel's heart goes to them for still having your back, even after you had peevishly shoved their hands away. “It’s okay… I don’t mind it.” He eased them off. The sobering part of you reckoned over the possibility of his willingness having something to do with Luca’s presence right behind you… or the fact that you still found comfort in his hugs, despite everything going on lately… but then the drunk part of you took over again and you resumed back to your kissing.

Until something brings you to a stop. A hand, coming down like a rock against Harry’s shoulder and bringing his attention to the boy standing behind him. “Drop it dude! She’s just drunk. She doesn’t want this.” Says Luca. His tone is harsh, but the honeyed tones in his pronunciation are still there. His claim makes your face perk up and slightly scrunch as you stare between his compressed face and his large hand still settled on Harry’s shoulder. First of all, what the hell? Second of all… why is Luca butting in on this like he’s known you for longer than 4 hours tops?

Your eyes dart up to Harry’s face.

Oh shit...

Your stomach twists as your heart stammers inside your chest in fear of what might be about to happen. Call it post toxic-relationship trauma, but the truth is that once you spot that menacing gleam looming up Harry's irises your mind cannot help but to wonder back to Ayden and his twisted kick for swinging his fist at whoever he'd felt had stepped his boundaries. Whether it was some jerk who arguably could deserve it or just a clumsy guy who bumped into him at the school's cafeteria and accidentally flipped his lunch tray.

Harry was not Ayden though.

So, instead of shoving you to the side on behalf of puffing up his chest like your ex-boyfriend would have done, he only put on his deep-rooted frown and gave Luca a high sign, in the form of a 'who the hell are you and why the fuck are you touching me?' once over. Once he spoke though, his words came out steely and piercing like daggers. “If anyone here is gonna drop anything, sure won't me… dude. You can start by the attitude or that hand on my shoulder. Speaking of which, you should probably start considering keeping your grabbers in check, or you think I didn’t notice the way you’ve been groping my-” He manages to cut himself off before his tongue betrays him any further. “…friend.” Luca turns to you then. “Do you even know this guy? Are you okay with him?” “Course I know him.” You grumble. From where you had your head draped over Harry's shoulder, you made eye contact with Ameena. She had her arms crossed, face scrunched and was shaking her head at you in a disapproving way. “It's like, I'm Dory and he’s my Squishy.”

You ended up going back to the frat house with Harry. Your friends had wanted to take you to the hospital and see if anything was broken. But you kept refusing to. Yes, your hand still hurt, but it was not that unbearable anymore... So, dragging them for a trip to the ER in the middle of a party felt nothing like unnecessary trouble to everyone. They'd still insisted that you needed to at least apply some ice for the swelling… And that was when Harry had made the proposition of taking you home. You'd accepted obviously, but your friends were still a bit reluctant in letting you go off with him. As all good friends should… “I promise I don't have any ulterior motives.” He had sworn to them. “I can take her to the dorms, but I won't leave her there alone. You can take her too, but in all honesty… you know how stubborn she is so good luck keeping her in the room when she has her focus elsewhere.” He was right, and they knew it. Because the only thing you seemed to want to do since the 'accident' was to be glued to Harry's chest, practically sleeping while he kept you upright with his arms around your waist. Thus, after a lot of discussion they let you leave with him, once you started talking more and they realized you were getting more sober... What also meant that the atmosphere was soon about to get heavy again between you and Harry.

Once you started to remember Riley, and the things he had said to you again…

The air inside the car carried a heaviness to it. Ruptured only by the voices of the radio station's hosts and their guest for the night, in an interview that was running for far too long, in your opinion. Any other day you would have reached over to change the station, but this time neither you nor Harry dared to move from your seats.

You kept thinking about saying something. The words building and rebuilding at the tip of your tongue anytime you caught his stare through the rearview mirror, but you couldn’t find the strength to speak them.

Attempting to make trivial conversation seemed worse than remaining quiet and pretending to listen to the broadcasted chitchat.

You didn’t want to speak.

Because you knew your voice would break in a cry, and you didn’t want Harry knowing the torments you were under behind the dozing expression you portrayed... so you nuzzled your head against the glass and pretended to be asleep until he was parking in front of the house.

When inside, Harry insisted on stopping by the kitchen on your way upstairs to grab some ice from the freezer. He loosed up 4 cubes from a tray onto a dish towel, wrapping it up with a twist to prevent you from getting frostbite. "Let's go upstairs." He said as soon as he handed you the towel.

Once you made it to Harry's room, he urged you to sit at his desk and hold the towel to your hand. You would’ve been careful not to wrinkle the pile of clothes in its back as you sat, but in your tipsy state, you couldn't find the will to care.

"I'll come help in a little, just gotta fix the bed first." Harry spoke when he noticed the face you’d pulled once you saw him walk away to the other end of the room. “Don't fall asleep… and keep moving the towel around, don't want your friends giving me a hard time tomorrow for letting you freeze your hand off.”

You tried your best, but kept getting distracted watching him make his turns around the bed, smoothing, tucking and folding until it looked like a bed again, rather than a blankets nest.

Before you knew it, he was standing in front of you - and twisting his hair into a half-assed bun as he kneeled by your feet.

You could not help letting your brain wonder to a dirty-minded place. One where he was ripping your tights apart and ducking his face beneath your skirt.

You tried to avoid his gaze, that set on your face a moment before falling to your lap, where your hand was resting. “May I?” He asked, but is hand was already reaching for the wrapping, undoing the twist and plucking one of the ice cubes out.

You hissed at the piercing cold once you felt it applied directly over your skin, but once Harry started massaging it around over the tender spot, you practically had to hold out a moan, it felt so bloody relieving. Cool, numbing and soothing…

If only you could do that to your heart sometimes...

Just like it happened in the car, the atmosphere felt a little heavy… with the silence being filled only by the sound of your breaths, and the occasional plop of a droplet hitting the floor beneath you. Or so to say... since there was a group of noisy frats downstairs playing video games, and someone was most definitely up there engaging into some heavy petting just a couple of doors down Harry's room.

But the jangle outside wasn’t what was keeping you on the edge of your seat.

Nor the reason why the words faltered in your throat, once Harry asked if you needed help putting on the shirt he had provided you with for bedtime.

It was Harley Davidson t-shirt. One that was conveniently big enough to cover your underwear. You accepted his help, since your legs were still a little wobbly and removing several layers of clothing with just one hand seemed like a shit ton of work for your post-vodka self to process right then.

"Aren't you going to take my bra off?" You asked when you realized he was about to push the shirt over your head with it still on.

His eyebrows dipped inwardly. "Why do you want it off?"

"It's underwired." Your shoulders slumped, but Harry was still looking at you like he had no clue what you meant. "It's uncomfortable to sleep in."

He seemed a little taken aback over your request, but ended up asking you to turn around so that your back was facing him.

You were suddenly very aware of the presence of his hands on you, fiddling with the hooks of your bra. Squeezing and releasing the fabric between his digits to undo the cord.

Once it came loose, he gently helped the straps off your shoulders and down your arms, until the garment fell from your body to the floor with a flat clack. “Could you do my choker too, please?" You asked before he could turn away.

You were pushing your luck, you knew... but you noticed the piece had captured Harry's eye earlier... what you also noticed was that after realizing that you had caught him looking, he’d tried to cover it by clearing his throat and sending you for a wee before bed.

Which must've been code for busted in his book, you had figured as much.

“Are you going to sleep… there?” You had asked as Harry crawled into bed beside you. And by “beside” you mean as far away from you as possible. To the point of making you sneak your nose under the collar of your shirt to see if you had forgotten to put on deodorant after showering. You hadn't. And you had also just finger brushed your teeth and used his mouthwash, so it shouldn't be bad breath either…

“Well, I don’t have a spare mattress and I don’t feel like sleeping on the floor mat.” He replied as he adjusted the covers over himself.

You mumbled a dry "Okay, then." in response, turning your back at the realization that your ‘come closer’ overture had flung straight past his head. You pressed your eyes shut tight and tried to focus on the tiredness of your body instead of the sly aching of your hand and the inviting warmth pouring from the body behind you. The second was proving to be far harder to ignore…

So you gave in. Jerking backwards until the short distance separating your back from his front was no longer there. A pleased smile took over your features once a throaty sound escaped his mouth, right as your bottom nuzzled against his middle. You supposed that was the reason for his moaning… well, that was until he commented that your legs were freezing.

“Oh, sorry.” You grunted, wiggling away and settling for wrapping your own arms around yourself instead. You squeezed your eyes shut again, and silently cursed the insensitive creature laying beside you for refusing to share his body heat with you.

Your brief trade of words came to a standstill for a moment, where you just laid side by side. “Are you cold?” You were, but Harry's question hit you like a glacier. Erecting a fresh wave of bumps all over your flesh.

“Yes.” You replied, reaching backwards for his wrist and tugging his arm over your body before he could even think to get up to fetch you a blanket.

You huffed when he didn’t react, ready to roll away and call it a night. But then, just as you were about to, he settled his arm around your waist and pulled you closer. Cocooning you in his warmth and amazing smell and oh my, it was making you a little hot underneath the surface… You squirmed a little under his hold, nuzzling your bum against his front. You weren’t trying anything… just doing a bit of snugly adjusting, but as you got a little closer, you felt a presence poking against your panties. Harry's hips shuffled in place, as if he was trying to prevent you from identifying what it was you had felt. But it was too late... you had felt it, identified it, and it was now all that you could think about. You held the hand he had falling over your front and guided it under your shirt, hopeful that he might get the hint that you were just as down and ready. “You're still cold?” His whisper on the back of your neck made your eyes jump open.

“I just… can’t sleep.” You admitted.

“You can’t?” Harry's thumb petted your belly lightly, and you practically crooned a moan at his touch. Was it the alcohol speaking? Were you ovulating? Or was this a case of too many hormones coexisting in such a tight space? In either way, you were champing at the bit underneath your clothes. “Why not?" “I don't know.” You huffed. “Cause I can feel you… and your stupid boner... and my body is reacting to it.”

“Not much I can do about that, I reckon…” You thought differently. In fact, your brain was full of ideas. “It’s killing me too, you know? Having you in my bed and not touching you how I want... especially after tonight.”

Your brows irked as you rolled in bed to face him. “What’s there with tonight?”

Although you couldn’t see past the dark silhouette of his face, you could feel his slow breaths fanning over yours. “Do you have any idea how much it pissed me off to watch you with that bloke all night? Knowing exactly what he was thinking anytime he gave you those eyes?” You tilted your head more towards him, pursuing the puffs that felt particularly appealing over the flesh of your lips. For a while you remained quiet, engaging into the tensity pause in conversation, but then Harry spoke again. “I’m not saying I’m the best to you. I know I’m not. But at least I look you in the face while you’re talking to me, you know? It’s the least he could do if he actually wanted to get a feel for your personality.”

Your forehead wrinkled. The words he’d spoken still churning around in your mind, seconds before the realization of what was happening finally settled. You swallowed, and licked your lips before finally spitting out the question currently housing on the forefront of your brain. “Did you get jealous?”

With a sigh, Harry turned to face the ceiling. He went quiet, and it made you wonder if your question had transgressed one of his invisible safeguarding markers. Had you just stepped on a grenade?

Your eyes narrowed as you tried to make sense of his expression, cloaked under the cover of darkness. He seemed calm, yet cautious. Was he about to lash out on you again? Your mind was so busy running in circles and conjuring all sorts of possibilities of what could be about to happen that you almost missed his answer. “I did.” He said quietly. “I’m not expecting you to care, though… I know I don’t own you.”

God, the idiot really got petty when he was jealous… You’d figured he would be, based on that time he’d possessively locked you in one of the bathrooms of that same frat house to keep you from jumping on another guy's dick. Good times.

It being half predictable didn’t make the whole situation any less annoying though, because you still couldn’t wrap your head around the whys and wherefores of it. If he cared so much, why didn't he just make you his something once and for all? You weren't too choosy. You just wanted things to be clearer, instead of the nerve-wracking fog of feelings and assumptions making you more insecure with every step taken forward.

Why couldn’t you just ask? It would make life so much easier, not having to spend at least three quarters of your day wondering if you were closer to being boyfriend and girlfriend or just friends with a little something on the side.

Because misunderstandings hurt. But a lot can change over a question…

And you were far too emotionally invested to risk having to dig a grave for your hopes just yet. Even if that meant you would have to carry on dancing around the unspoken truth for God knows how much longer. How could he be so open about silly little things like this whilst completely shutting you out from other, more important, you’re guessing, deals in his life? Why couldn’t he just tell you? You could already predict another collective of sleepless nights mulling over the topic. Unfortunately, you couldn't deny that the possessiveness over you was, for lack of better words, kind of hot. Especially coming from the guy who was always playing it cool, pushing and pulling buttons as he pleased and leaving you to guess his feelings, or the lack of thereof. (save for the times you accidentally uncover his bedside table secrets, of course.)

You also couldn’t deny that that new piece of information unleashed something absolutely guttural, and borderline animalistic within you. Add the small dosing of alcohol running through your veins, and the neediness overshadowing the little self-respect you still had left, and all your inhibitions were thrown out the window... as you jumped over the bridge that separated your mouths.

As you did, a sea of emotions rose inside your chest. Oozing through every single pore. You felt as if, in case you opened your eyes, there would be an ultraviolet light bursting out of your body and bathing the entire room in hues of blue and purple. Only when you opened your eyes, there were not any lights or hues. It was just a startled-eyed Harry staring back at you through the dark.

You managed to hold out a gasp as you pulled away, albeit your hands remained clasped over his cheeks. “Shit. That was stupid, wasn't it?” You didn’t really give him time to answer. “No, yeah. That was definitely stupid. That was so stupid. I’m sorry… I-” “That was really fucking stupid.” Harry agreed, what made all the hairs in your nape irk. “Want to know why?” Your mouth parted, but no words came out. “Because we won't be able to fucking stop now, will we?” He asked, just before his lips came together with yours again, trapping your lower one in between his and sucking lightly. “My mind was so set, Y/N. I wasn't going to do a thing. But you had to go and stir everything up like you always do, didn't you?”

“Yes.” You mumbled, slightly aghast. "Yes, I did."

“You always know just get your way, don't you?” Harry's question sent a shot of fire up your belly. “Just hope you can take it hard, 'cause I don't feel like going soft on you tonight.” He said, right before leaning over and bringing his lips down to yours again.

The kiss that started out as a relatively harmless blue sparkle was rapidly flaring into a blazing hot sea of red flames, as Harry’s hands initiated their endeavor under the t-shirt you were wearing. Eager moans spilled from your lips as he gently groped at the flesh of your breasts with his tongue still inside your mouth. A well-known restless excitement came over your bodies, whirling and twisting underneath the sheets to try to get the other one out of breath first. “Undress me.” You pleaded against his lips, whist your good hand got busy poking beneath his shirt to pull it off. He sat up and did it for you, sweeping the shirt off his body in a short movement. As he did, you crawled up to him, resting your legs on either side of his calves as you tugged at the hem of his underwear, aiming to remove them. Harry stopped you before you could. "Are you sure you want to do this?" His face looked serious. “We don’t have to go all the way just because, I’m okay with just kissing or if you want, I’ll be more than happy to get you off with my hands or my tongue just so you can sleep better. You don’t have to do anything back...” "I can assure you we wouldn't be in this position if I wasn't sure." With that, you finally felt Harry’s hands diving under the hem of your shirt and pulling it off. “How many drinks have you had?" He asked.

“I'm not drunk anymore.” You said promptly. “I'm a little tipsy, but I know very well what I'm doing and who I'm doing with it.” You assured. “What about you? I saw you drinking too…”

“I'm fine.” Your eyes pressed shut, struggling to focus on anything besides Harry’s lips kissing up a pulsing spot in your neck.

You settled for just kissing for a little longer, but as your hands came to feel each other’s body up, your composure quickly faded on behalf of the loony craving to touch and be touched.

Your hand flew to the back of his neck, to draw his mouth closer to your chest. His tongue poked out to gloss one of your nipples before he supped it fully into his mouth and sucked hard. "Oh!" Your nails bore firmly onto his shoulder, and only dag at the skin there harder once he moved to your other side. His mouth nipped and plucked at the raised bumps until you were letting out soft cries at the feeling of his tongue alone. "I love when you're a bit rough like that..."

"You think that's rough?" You could feel him smiling against your chest before he moved up and practically growled into your ear. "You're lucky your hand is hurt. If it weren't for that, by now I'd have you pined down against the mattress while I pounded into you from behind. You wouldn't walk straight for a week."

The mental image alone made all the hairs in your body stand up to the tips. "Harry..." As you crawled further into his lap, Harry's arm slung around your waist, giving it a harsh tug closer. "Fuck, I-" A hissed curse escaped you as your spit-kissed, sensitive nipples clashed against the hot skin of his chest. "I need you. I need you so bad."

Harry's hand came down. His fingers skimming up your inner thigh towards your warmest spot. "Already sound a bit desperate, don't you?" He hummed against your jaw, kissing and sucking at it lightly as he dipped two digits in between your panties, collecting the wetness pouring from your hole and spreading it towards your clit. "But a bit just won't do... I want you begging, and I want this cunt dripping for me." He cooed as he started to rub around your clit, in goal-oriented loops and stirs.

He carried his movements until he felt your legs start to tremble atop of his. It didn't take long, mostly because he'd been puckering your face with kisses and getting you all worked up by telling you how pretty you sounded and how bad he wanted to make you cum. It was overwhelming. The rasp of his voice against your skin, where his lips and tongue were also venturing over. All whilst his fingers were stuck to your pussy, swirling around your sensitive bud harder and faster by the minute. "Shit, I'm gonna cum." You whimpered, before engulfing his body in a tight hug. You pressed your eyes closed and buried your mouth in his shoulder to muffle your moans. Your ass instinctively perked up from his lap just so your hips could roll against his hand. Electricity was twinkling in your veins... You were so, so, so close that you could practically taste it. You could tell it is going to be one of the good ones - the kind that would leave you light-headed and seeing blotchy white spots for a minute or two.

Only right as you were about to tip that blissful edge, Harry pulled his hand back and slapped it over your clit. Your body bounced with surprise at the act, that had just sent a wave of intense pleasure through your body, whilst also completely ruining your orgasm. "No, you're not." There was an evil smirk on his face as he gave your pussy a few more light slaps, and despite the denial being as frustrating as it was, part of it was also incredibly arousing.

"That was mean!" You complained in an annoyed pitch.

"I know baby, I'm sorry..." He said, although he didn't seem sorry at all with the way he was chuckling at your state. "But didn't you just say you liked me mean?"

Your skin is prickling. "I said rough, not mean! There's a big difference."

"Oh..." Harry clicked his tongue deceivingly. “But it’s not like you really wanted to cum on my fingers, is it?" He asked as he began to rub you again. It helped sooth part of the ache, but it was still doing much too little to help with your need to be stuffed with his cock, whose outline you could feel through his briefs once your hand reached for them again. "What do you want?"

“I want you.” “Just me?" He smirked, looking down at where your hand was massaging over his boxers. "What's that you’re grabbing at, then?”

“It's... your cock.” You reply a little shyly. “Yeah, it is.” He practically hummed. “Are you trying to hop on it? Is that it?” “Yes, I want to ride you.” You said eagerly, as you watched his fingers dip inside the hem of his briefs to tug them off. You took the chance to wiggle out of your panties as well, tossing them to the side. Harry sat straighter on the bed, against the headboard. “Sit here, facing me. I want to stretch you out first.” He said, patting the free spot in between his open legs. “Spread your legs over mine. Yeah, like that… now come a bit closer.” With your legs outstretched over his, you wiggled forwards. Your breath caught in your throat once you felt the pads of his fingers flick over your clit again. “Do you want a hand job? While you do that...” You asked, finding it hard to resist the temptation of reaching out for what you wanted when it was right in front of you. “I mean...” His lips parted into a chuckle, “That's always a given, isn't it?”

He groaned once he felt your hand curl around the base of his dick, giving it a relieving tug upwards. Right off the bat, he felt heavy and sleek in your palm... and things only intensified once you added a gob of spit to the mix and started rubbing your hand up and down on him. “Is it good like this?” You questioned, howbeit you did not have to. You knew damn well that was how he liked it - tight and sloppy.

“'S perfect...” Harry's answer was quiet, and almost completely overpowered by the noise you made once he slid 2 fingers, knuckle-deep, inside your pussy. They went in easily, since you were nicely slick, but your body still skewed some once he started massaging them upwards, looking to stimulate that sensitive spot that would hopefully make you cum once you had him inside you. “Do you think we can fit one more?”

Had it been your fingers you were talking about; you would not have shied away from an affirmative answer. But Harry's fingers were broader and quite far-reaching in comparison to the ones you were most familiar with. “Uh... I'm not sure, but you can try if you want.” You felt his fingers adjust inside of you, spreading around the best they could. “Let me know if it stops feeling good... and that goes for everything, not just what we're doing now.” Harry said, before slowly wedging a third one in. Your walls squeezed tightly at the insertion. Not because it hurt... but because it felt so goddamn good - and it only got so much better once he started moving, sliding his fingers slow and deep enough to make your toes involuntarily curl. “Fuck... I wish you could see yourself right now.” He is grinning bemusedly at you, basking on the small moans you’re letting out for him. “Is it good? Tell me. Tell me you like my fingers stretching you open.”

“I love your fingers... and your hands. They're so hot, and big and pretty... make me so wet and full when they're inside me.” Your high state of arousal had you blabbering out nonsensical thoughts. Just as silly as they were real. “But I love your cock even more. I love your cock so much... and all I can think about is you, Harry. You're all I can ever think about.”

“You take it. It’s yours. I'm yours... And you're mine, yeah? You're my girl...” He gave his fingers a quick suck as he pulled them out. An absolute filthy, messy suck that you would surely be replaying countlessly in your head next time you were tossing yourself off. With a smile stretching across his face, like he knew what is going on inside your head, Harry reached for your hips and dragged you closer into his lap, just so he could kiss you again. “Put me in.” He mumbled against your lips. “Need you... need to feel you...”

“Don't even think about it.” You scolded, tossing his shoulder. “Are you trying to become an early dad or what? I'm not on birth control.”

"Mm, you're so hot when you scold me like a sex educator..." He teased, in a tone that was derisive just as much as it is approving. You shoved his shoulder again, making him chuckle even more. "Just so you know, I was about to reach for a condom... but actually, maybe it's easier if you get it. First drawer. It's a bit of a mess, but they're there somewhere..." Are you sure you want me to? Better check out if there are any confidential matters hidden between your socks first… You were biting back the remark, but you were able to disguise any traces of vexation before Harry had a chance to spot them as he flicked the bedside table light on for you. When your hand found what it was looking for without much effort, you ignored the little voice in your skull that wanted to debate whether it was just a coincidence, or a sign that he had them at hand because he needed them often. You forced yourself not to think, in favor of making mental notice of what brand and kind he liked, since you usually went for the basic, most common ones. “I bought those for you.” Harry confessed, when you flashed him an inquisitive smirk upon noticing that the variety you were holding was of the 'ribbed & dotted for her pleasure' kind. “Not that I was assuming you would need them, but I figured they could be nice.” He shrugged. “The cashier lady gave me a bit of a wink of approval when I asked, so I am guessing they must be cool.” “That was so nice, Harry…” You poked your bottom lip at him, before leaning forward to pamper his mouth with appreciative kisses. “But you didn’t have to. Regular does me just fine... or you do. It's all you, really.” God, the bloody idiot could be sweet sometimes… Or maybe he was lying and got them for somebody else who needed it more. You sent that thought away through a mental flushing toilet. “I know, but since there was an option that could give you more pleasure, why wouldn't I go for it?” He smiled once you cocked an eyebrow at him. “Sides, when I got them we hadn’t had sex like that yet… so I could never know my dick on its own would have you proper gagging like that.” You smacked his chest lightly. “Wipe that smile off your face, braggart!” You uttered, but that only made it grow twice the size. “And put this thing on already,” You commanded, chucking the wrapper to his chest. He gnawed it open with an impish smile still glued to his face. You felt a little breathless as you watched him put the rubber on. Completely engaged in the way Harry squeezed and groped at his member thoroughly, like he was flat out milking it. Your eyes didn’t know where to focus, up on his face or down where he was working his cock so beautifully. “You’re so naughty,” He taunted when he caught you practically drooling at the sight. “Always staring when I’m doing this bit.” “Sorry.” You apologized a little sheepishly, diverting your gaze away. “I didn't mean to stare... it's just because it's interesting. I didn't know it made you uncomfortable.” “It doesn't make me uncomfortable. Quite the opposite, I like to see you looking.” His lips parted around a thick breath, sucking in air as he ran his fingers up and down himself for a little while longer than necessary. He was already as stiff as a board. There was no need to keep teasing and stroking… but he was still making a show of himself for your prying eyes, rollicking on the way you were chewing your lip raw with anticipation. “Do you want to try and hop on?” He asked, at last. “Let's take it slow, okay? If it gets too much, we'll stop and try something else.”

“Okay, that sounds good.” You agreed as you climbed on top of him, positioning yourself correctly. “Fair warning. There is a chance I'll get a bit weary, so I hope that’s not like... a major turn-off for you.” “What? No, of course not. That's what I'm here for…” Harry’s arms covered your waist, pulling you into a hug that sparked a stirring of emotions right in between the cage of your rib cage. “Or did you think I would let you do all the work yourself?” “Well, that’s kind of the whole point of me being in control.” You grumbled as you reached downwards and positioned his length at the opening between your legs. “And you’re going to sit still and let me do it. No funny business like last time!” His hips twitched once he felt you push the crown of his dick past your hole. “Sorry. Got excited... it felt good.”

“Stay still.”

“I know, I know. I will, I promise.” You were both looking down, focused on where your bodies were on the edge of joining. “That's it... slow and easy. You're doing really well.” Harry tried cheering you on as you slowly started sinking on him.

“Yeah, I know. It's not my first time doing this, okay? I guess I'm just... lacking practice these days...” You huffed in response to his encouragements, even though you knew he didn't mean them as condescending.

“Mhm... that last bit I can tell.” Harry teased you back, what had you squinting at him before you decided to drag things even longer by holding him snug between your folds and slowly rocking your hips forward to get him jumpy. “No baby, please… don't.” Harry whined.

He looked and sounded too pretty for you to ignore, so you cut the teasing and finally dropped your flank over his lap. “Holy fuck, Harry...” You yelped at the feeling of fullness he was giving you.

It was probably halfway in, which was a great achievement, taken the fact that Harry was a big boy and it was your first time taking him like this. And truly, once past the first seconds of "oh my god, there's a literal rocket being launched inside my pussy” mild panic, just as you slowly started grinding your hips forward, it felt amazing. Bloody marvelous even. – It was like he was everywhere. All up in your senses simultaneously. Inside and out. Your palm pressed against his chest, keeping Harry pushed against the headboard, whilst his hands held firmly onto the side of your hips, keeping you close once your mouths smeared together again. Sucking and pecking while you’re still figuring out your rhythm. He was being nothing but patient with you, caressing all up your back at the same time he lulled you in compliments and praises that were just as dirty as they were honey sweet. “You're fucking me so well… taking all you need from me, aren’t you?” He murmured against your mouth as he kneaded on the flesh of your ass. Aiding you on and off his dick once you started mounting him at a faster pace. “Feel so tucked up inside you. Bet it feels fucking good for you, doesn’t it?”

You didn't know why he was asking, really… Because not only were you all bent out of shape over his cock and letting out moans that could put a porn star to shame, but the noises your bodies were making together sounded as wet as riding a slip n’ slide did. You were able to keep a steady pace for about 10 minutes until your thighs started burning from all the jumping you were doing. Truth be told, you were already feeling rather weary 5 minutes before, but every time your eyes started to flutter from tiredness, the idea of another girl in your place came to mind and gave you all the energy you needed to keep going. Yes, it’s ridiculously petty, and you shouldn’t be getting off on spite, but since you couldn’t be his only one, you were determined on being his favorite. Besides, it’s not like that was even the thought in the forefront of your brain 99% of the time. That was all Harry, and the way he was making you feel. Especially when he noticed your faintness and started bucking up into you, thrusting himself fully into your pussy. His grip on your hips was bruising, balls slapping harshly against your bum as he fucked you just right. “Cum for me.” Your legs were attempting to close, your hips rising beyond your control, withdrawing and squirming from a pleasure that was puncturing, stark, and oh, so intense. “Come on.” He had to hold you even tighter to keep your bum settled down. “Come on baby.... been riding my cock so well... and now you're going to be my good girl and let me fuck you until you're done, aren't you? Gonna feel you coming all over me.” The assertiveness in his words, paired with the unyielding way he's firing up his hips did you for good. The crackling you had been feeling in your lower abdomen twisted into a revelry of throbbing heat that outstretched through your whole body. You were squeezing and releasing around Harry in fast little pulses. Something he was surely getting a sweet kick out of, judging by the way he was groaning at the feeling.

You could practically feel his stomach poaching with need for release. The skin there twisted ruddy and glowed, as that familiar warm sensation flared up in his abdomen, making his hips arch briskly against your ass. "Are you close?" You asked, lifting your face from where you’d buried it in the crease of his neck.

"I'm so close..." His eyes came up from where they were fixed watching his prick sliding in and out of you. “I know you're tired... ‘s just a little more, I promise.”

"No, it’s not that. I want you in my mouth... wanna taste you."

Harry momentarily forgot how to speak, far too lost in the liquid heat starting to flow around the depths of his belly at the prospect of what was about to happen. "You want me to finish in your mouth?"

"Mhm." Without further ado, you hopped off his lap and kneeled in between his legs. Carefully removing the condom before bringing his cock into your mouth to rub against your tongue. He was so ready to burst... stiff, hot like an oven and damp with mouthwatering salty pre-cum. “I want to swallow, is that okay?” “That would be just- oh baby, that would be so good.” He moaned once you started circling your tongue around his tip, slurping a little before pushing it fully into your mouth. “It’s probably going to be a lot though, so you don’t have to-” You pulled out for a moment, looking up with a smirk. “The more you cum, the more I’ll like it.” “Good god, you're too much...” Harry muttered to himself as he reached for a handgrip of your hair. His groaning was loud and tireless. As if he wasn't even slightly worried that his housemates could potentially hear him... and you absolutely loved it. It made you feel wanted and appreciated, and so overall powerful… As well as it being perfect fuel for your filthy mind to bask on later, since it was truly freaking hot to witness.

"Gonna cum..." Harry murmured once you started working your good hand into meeting the movements of your mouth. You nodded briefly, just so he knew you had heard him. "No swallowing 'til I say so, right.” He said it like a question, but it wasn't one. It was a requirement. “I wanna see it first." God, he was fucking dirty... You nodded once again before finally granting him the tight, sloppy sucking he didn't know he needed until then. His body trembled. His hand clutched around your hair, keeping your head down on him while his own tilted back against the headboard.

Warm spurts fell along your tongue. You flinched a little at the overwhelming kick spreading around your mouth, but you didn’t pull away. Keeping him snug in between your cheeks whilst his dick is still twitching and spurting. Once he stilled and your eyes perked up, you found Harry leering at you. "Open up, let me see that tongue." He asked, his breathing still heavy, and voice rough under the post orgasmic stress.

You obeyed his request by flashing him your tongue. All coated with an outflow of cloudy white thickness. "Shit… that was a big load, wasn't it?" A bit dribbled down your chin, but Harry's thumb came down to collect it before it landed on the bedding. He pushed it past your lips again. "Think you can down it all? Are you going to be my good girl and swallow all my cum?" You nodded eagerly, gulping it all down before flashing him your freshly clean tongue. The proud look in Harry's face was so lustful and gratifying that if you weren't so sleepy from taking his cock, you would be climbing all over him for round two. “Come here.” He said as he laid back in bed and lifted the covers for you to come cuddle up next to him. As soon as he had you within reach, he cradled your face and smashed his mouth on yours. And apparently, his version of goodnight kissing was far from being the innocent little trade of pecks you were expecting because in what felt like a heartbeat he had your lips hung open and your tongues smearing together. You could tell he was having a good time tasting himself on your tongue, and you were just as equally delighted in getting devoured by him. "It's good, hm? Tastes like you." You said through a smile once he broke the kiss.

Harry shook his head, also smiling. "Tastes like us." Chapter XIII taglist: @just-vm @gracexelizzabeth @happydays @littlesoldierelleora @duh-dobrik (i hope i didn't forget anyone, if i did please lmk. same if you want to be added! ;D)

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