#this was just the second chapter (it'll get worse)

[gyubby99]

@disneyanddisneyships second chapter 😃

Trigger warning: Domestic abuse

~ill-fated reality~

Chapter 2 - A butterfly!

{Two years earlier..}

[Damian]

Marianne.

Princess Marianne.

She'd been smarter than I thought she was. And here I thought her mother taught her to be an air-headed princess who was only there to sit still and entertain the guests with her "charm".

I see the disgust on her face one last time before making her way to the front.

I saw it. And I loathed it. Just who does she think she is?! Ofcourse, a gorgeous princess with fine riches from the kingdom's alliances, but that's no matter. I am on the same highly royal position as her yet she thinks she's always five steps ahead of me. That's how I've always known her. She thinks too highly of herself to even care about genuinely being with her people. She's an item for queen Catherine to show off whenever she wanted to mock my father and my kingdom. She's no good.

I shake her away from my thoughts as every moment passes it disgusted me. Her seemingly-angelic face hid something wicked inside, and she's walking around in a facade-- damn it, Damian!

Scratch that. She's never any good. If I can get another chance to get here, I will be sure to prove her wrong, and that she was the fraud.

I glare at nothingness, until I spotted Jake being dragged away as well, giving me a look that told me he was disgruntled, and that princess Elizabeth was never going to find him approachable seeing he was an enemy.

Ofcourse. It was my stupid idea to sneak in with disguises I never considered the princess. That damn princess. No woman has ever infuriated me like this before.

Alright, she wants to play a little smarter, then I'll--

"Damian!" Jake snapped me out of my thoughts, waving his hand as we got onto the ship. "Hello??"

"Jake." I blurted out. "Let's get going." I say, sitting on one of the chairs as the pint of mead tempted me. I guess after all I was still a man.

"Go ahead. Just don't get too drunk." Jake gestured to the pint of mead. After everything that's happened he still refuses to look at me. I sat with him in complete silence as I drink a small portion.

"Look, I told you this wasn't a great idea and you insisted we go!" Jake started to play the blame game, as I just sat here glaring at the kingdom that was, as seconds go by, getting far out of sight as we sail off.

"If your father finds out about this, I'm not doing anything to help you!" He scolded like I'd been a kid misbehaving. I gave him a small scoff. "Since when have you done anything to help me?"

Jake was taken aback, and from what it seemed like, he was extremely offended by my statement of fact. The last time he's ever helped me was when he got dragged into a mess that was partly his fault. And it was one time.

"Oh, you know that one time-"

"-one time that lying has benefitted you." I stood up and walked towards the window, not hearing any more of his whining. If anything, I would rather have some measely little princess boasting to me about her make-believe laws and restrictions. Atleast she wouldn't be stupid enough to have the intelectual capacity of Jake.

Why was I even thinking of her anyway? I hate that she got into me fast, and no one's ever been like that to me. Not only my knowledge has been trampled upon, but she had the nerve to call the guards on me and humiliate me in front of everyone. And everyone, meant everyone. Which means, my father is most definitely going to hear about this when we get home.

Dear Gods.. for once in my life, let me run away from the consequences of my actions. I will solemnly swear not to complain about going to church and being one of the offerors. I beseech you.

"Deep thought, huh?" Jake had almost mocked me. No, he was definitely mocking me, given the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes I could sense even if he was far behind me. Every word he says must have a trace of sarcasm and pure mockery, especially in times like these.

"You have no idea." I say monotonely, crossing my arms. I sigh, rubbing my temples. If there was one person whose fury I should never tempt, it was my father. Seeing him in a state where he could almost pull his sword out and tell me to run twenty paces in a field or else there'd be consequences is something I'd never imagine.

Something suddenly struck my nerve as I started fiddling through my pockets. My heart started racing as my eyes widen in panic when I sensed nothing inside of it.

Jake gave my shoulder a pat and laughed. He held up something, something that resembled a butterfly accessory in the palm of his hand. "Oh, you should have seen your face!"

Just.. how could he think this was hilarious? Maybe I don't understand it well enough. My thoughts were almost heading to a self-deprecating note as I think about what might happen once we step foot in my kingdom.. and yet he took the only solace I could find at the moment.

I glare at him and snatched it from his hand. "Give it back!" I almost yelled at him in my anger. He was taken aback as he never thought it had been such a big deal to me. After all, when does he ever care? He never did.

"Come on! It's just a butterfly pin!" Jake tried to reason, but I kept quiet. I traced the surface of the old accessory, the colors of orange, gold and black meting my eyes and giving me a sense of relief nothing else has ever given me. I take a breath like I always did, caressing the cold hard metal like I've known it my whole life.

Well, I did.

"Let's just- get home. How many hours til' we get there?" I tried to change the subject. For someone as incapable of emotional maturity as Jake, he would fall for it.

"Um.. In an hour or so.."

Ha! He did.

I give him a small chuckle, heading down to my room before I nod to the captain. "Then I guess we better get a rest when we're here." I say to him, heading upstairs to my chamber. Father picked it out just for me, which is probably why it was full of swords and a dark aura, not many books which I find deeply upsetting. I often get tired reading the same books all over again, but this one in particular..

The Forest Beast - Alastair

It was a children's book, peculiar for me to read at my grown age. But something about it is just a lot more intriguing than any other ones I've read as a child.

It was a woman named Stella, wandering around the woods.. rescuing a hurt beast. Yet no matter how foul it looked like, she never judged by the sight of its face.. or the sharp fangs and claws.. she decided that she'd be helping anyone no matter what they looked like. They've found great friendship along their journey, and she learned that these creatures were no different than any other being.. they can adore.. and they can feel. I guess it was a metaphorical thing how someone can be deemed as a beast to society.. yet inside lies the opposite of what vile accusations they may have gotten from others. This may just be a typical fantasy story yet it feels realistic. There was no great curse.. or an enchantress appearing in the end. It was simply the friendship of a beast and a human, conquering the world through their adventures, furthermore proving that being different is no curse. It was truly heartwarming.. and I would have loved reading this as a child..

But reading wasn't a plan of mine for the evening. Just a rest to prepare for tonight.. when I finally get there, and what my father would have thought of. What I think he would think, if he knew me sneaking into the enemy's lair. Without his permission. Rumors only grow, and when it does, heaven forbit it gets to him.

I sigh and put the pin back in my pocket, and I laid down hoping to dream of something... something that wasn't very obnoxious or terrifying. Just.. just a normal dream. Just for an hour.

~~~~~

"Damian!" A sweet voice called out to me, its tenderness giving me a sense of joy and adrenaline just enough for me to run to that person.

"Mama!" I call out, and I was engulfed in a warm embrace. I nuzzled my face into her clothing, smelling the scent of the perfume she's wearing today. She lets out a soft laugh, as I can feel her hands reaching for my hair, running her fingers through it. "My love.." she murmurs onto the top of my head.

I look up to her with a cheeky smile, admiring her flashing green eyes and her sweet smile. Both identical to mine. I giggle as she tapped my nose with her pointer finger, and her embrace felt so warm it was an unexplainable abyss of happiness.

"How's my little boy?" She ran her fingers through my hair as she asked me.

"I'm good!" I respond, almost imitating a bird's happy chirp. I gasp softly at the sight of her hair pin. It was a beautiful creature.. a tiny one with magnificent wings, said to be a symbol of a lost loved as some poets and storybooks have said. What was the name..

"A butterfly!" I pointed at the pin, looking up to her face for an approval.

"That's right!" There it was! The response had made me feel like I could capture a bunch of them.

"Mama.. is it true that butterflies can't see their wings? I've read that once.." I wondered aloud, and she leaned into a tree, not letting go of me as I sit on her lap.

She seems to think about it for a moment, before responding. "That's not true. They can! They have compound eyes which gives them a wide field of vision!"

"Hm.. so books can lie." I tap my chin, thinking about it.

"A lot of things can lie. You can fall for it just once, but once you discover the truth, it can be hard to comprehend why the lie has to be there in the first place. Maybe storybooks misinterpret things a lot! Maybe it's still a running lie many people believe." She responds.

"Mama.. why do people lie?" I ask her.

She looked up at the sky, and as she gets into a pensive mood she responds. "Because most of the time, it hurts to say the truth, so they ease that by coming up with a lie. The truth is often very hurtful, but it's the one thing that can set you free, as the poets say!"  She said. "Though, sometimes.. the truth can be a threat to others as it can ruin something someone protects dearly.. like.. their reputation. That's why famous people keep secrets!"

I giggle at her. She has always loved reading books, and she would read to me often, in this tree, or in my room.. she admires poetry. She said if she wasn't a queen, she would become a philosopher.. or a writer! She has a lot of great ideas to come up with, and she never puts down an ink-filled quill!

Someone with creativity in both writing and arts.. is someone I truly admire.

"Mary!" I hear my father call out. Mother took a deep breath, and I feel her illusion-like grip tightening around my wrist for a split second before putting me down and going to him. I watch as her figure fades away from my sight, leaving me alone under the shade of a tree that grew cold by the moment passes.

~~~~~

"Damian." I felt Jake's hands snapping me into reality. I flutter my eyes open, rubbing the right one as I get up with a small grunt. "We're almost there." He spoke once again. I give him a small nod.

I peered through the window, seeing the familiar lights of my kingdom flash through my eyes, and my brain was still giving itself time to process what happened between dreaming, waking up, and looking out the town.

I got up as the captain signaled we were nearing the docks. I looked at the table and picked up the book that sat there for a long time, untouched and seemingly-brand new. I grabbed it before heading out of the ship with Jake.

We walked down the town of Avarron, which hasn't changed much through the years. Father's reign was still running its course, and with only me as the crown prince, ofcourse I'd do what could be best for my people. It was my one duty in my life that's been written in stars. And I'll die beside the woman I marry, preferably chosen to marry for love.

"Son."

A voice made us stop in our tracks, and I could feel Jake's gaze fixing onto me.

I try to speak. "Father-"

"A word."

Jake attempted to leave, but father stopped him also. "You too, boy." He said, as though he was ordering some hound. Jake stayed with me, in put and tense. I can imagine the most gruesome ways he could strangle me or bury me alive in his head.

Don't worry, I'm thinking the same, my friend.

He signaled us to follow him, and like the good little hounds we were, we did. I put my hands in my pockets, gazing into my sword with the look of horror. I take deep, shaky breaths as I follow him, and the light of the kingdom fades out like a strong wind breeze blowing the fire out.

We got inside, the crisp air fading out in warm embers, and I look at my father with the intent of wanting to get out of here as soon as I possibly could.

"We need to talk about the rumors that went on.. and the talk in a certain kingdom.." I gulped as he begins to speak, my eyes dancing around the room switching from corner to corner.

"Damian insisted on the idea."

My heart dropped to my stomach. The last thing I wanted in this world was to get myself into trouble where I know Jake could get the upper hand in everything. Blame was the game I started, and he was winning.

"Son?"

He calls out to me, but my head moved elsewhere..

"Damian."

All I could think of was how I'm going to talk my way out. He never gave me rules growing up and I was a free man. If I could persuade him this time--

"Damian." He abruptly grabbed my face, making me grunt in sudden pain at his roughness. He squeezed my cheeks together, and to his fury's satisfaction, I looked him in the eye. "You look at me when I say you look at me.."

He let go of me, like pushing me down the ground. I brushed it off, swallowing a lump in my throat as I finally looked at him.

"Did you insist on going there?" He once again asked. Due to his fury, he was impatient, and so he would not waste any time of silence as he cut me off before I could speak. "Answer me, boy!"

"Yes."

He simply gave me a nod, walking towards me. "I simply told you not to sail off to Elona. Yet what happened? Do you think the queen will be happy to hear this? Do you think she won't come barging into my throne room accusing me of something you did?"

I never responded. I couldn't process any thoughts. It was empty and numb inside, instilled with nothing but fear.

Father grabs my arm, and in all of this my so-called "friend" had been watching. It made some sense he would stay silent, but couldn't he atleast try?

"This doesn't end without a moral lesson to be taught." He grips my arm tightly, I had to look away and wince. He could've crushed my bones if he wanted to, but he aimed for something even higher this night.

Like he always did, he pulled the sword out from my side.

He grunted as he pulled the sleeve of my shirt, and I tried to pull my arm back. My eyes shifted from him, to my arm, and Jake..

He was crossing his arms, looking away from the scene. My heart raced as father kept pulling my arm back. One thing was for sure, I needed to get out of here.

I just wanted to encourage Jake to follow his heart despite the walls surrounding the kingdoms, and I was stupid enough to expect he would help me in a situation like this. I was a fool who thought he'd win anything.

"Father- agh!" I shouted through the castle halls as he sliced a scar on my forearm, a deep one that would take some time to heal. I whimper in pain as the blood dropped onto the floor. It hurt.. it hurt like hell.. I've expected this yet it still hurt. I tried to breathe, and I tried to regain my composure like a man, but it seemed like I was the inferior one in this situation..

Scratch that. I was always inferior.

"Father.." I cried out weakly. And as he deeply pressed his thumb onto the very wound itself, I groaned, my lips quivering from the pain. My hand was shaking, feeling like he just drained the blood out of it. I couldn't move it, and I couldn't make out the words to make it stop.

"Look at you. You've made a mess." He spoke, but it never mattered. His words were a blur compared to the sharp sting of my new wound, that would soon turn into a scar like it always did.

He lifted my face up again, a glare in his eyes directed onto the pain in mine. He took a sharo breath of fury. "Everytime. All I see is that woman pampering and spoiling you. Everytime I do what's right to make you behave.. I see her eyes everytime. Maybe you're no good after all.." he dropped me onto the ground, along with my severely bleeding arm.

"You know you're our only hope, Damian. You should've known better." It felt like he stood over me, mocking me and talking me down. "Clean yourself up. Jake, follow me." He ordered, and as the good little hound Jake was, he followed.

As they left, I was left alone.

I breathed in heavily, my entire being still intensely shaken by what happened. It was getting hard, and I couldn't move an inch. I was expected to walk towards my room and fix things, but I didn't have the energy for that.

Sudden voices clouded my mind.

"Frederick, he's a child!"

"What am I supposed to do with that? Baby him? He's a man, Mary!"

"A man?! He's five!"

"He will figure things out on his own! He doesn't need to be carried around all the time!"

"We're parents! We're supposed to raise--"

A thud.

"I do whatever damn thing I wanna do with the kid, alright? If you wanna spoil him, he'll never learn.."

.....

"Damian.. please never forget how much Mama loves you.. my little prince.."

"Mama, what's going on?"

"Shh.. nothing's going on. Mama's just going for a very long trip."

"When will you be back?"

"I don't know, darling.. but it's going to be fine.."

"Ofcourse! As long as you'll be back!"

"Yes.. Yes I will.."

.....

"No one has to know about the execution of the queen."

.....

"Mama? Where do people go when they die?"

"Well.. I like to believe that when people die, their presence will be found in something they cherish the most.. or their favorite things.."

"What if you die and I'm still here?"

"...then you will have to look for me in something I cherish greatly."

.....

"Damn it, child!"

"I want my mommy!"

"She's gone, Damian! She died on a trip, remember?"

"I want mama!!"

.....

"King Frederic--"

"I want her dead! I want it over with, finished!"

"..yes, Your Majesty."

.....

"Papa? When is mama coming back? ...papa?"

"She's gone, kid."

.....

I scorched through my pocket, and the butterfly pin inside it made itself known in the palm of my hand.. I clutched it in my hands, holding it close to me. It was the only thing that gave me a sense of solace. A sense of comfort admist the darkness and emptiness of the castle I call my home.

This was the object my mother cherished her entire life.. and though I've grown up, I still look for her presence..

If she's still here..

"I want my mama!!"

If somehow.. she was still here..

"Damian.."

Then I know where she would be.

[delirious-donna]

The Mistakes We Make [Part Eight]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: Kento has come to some startling conclusions and works to put his decisions into practice. Finding the apartment empty whilst a storm rages outside tests his restraint to the limit. It'll be fine, right?

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: angst, emotionally charged argument, take the title as it's own warning cause I don't want to spoil everything

Part Seven | Series Masterlist | Part Nine

The following morning was overcast. Heavy grey rain clouds dominated the sky, threatening to burst at a moment’s notice. A breezy wind blew through the city, buffeting off the panoramic windows and carrying debris from the streets so far below up to whip against the glass. Despite the gloomy conditions, your mood was surprisingly bright and dare you say, positive.  

Sipping your coffee, the miserable weather was the furthest thing from your mind. Instead, your head was full of possibilities and thoughts of the immediate future. The second you woke up to find yourself tucked up in bed, still fully dressed but snuggled beneath the duvet, you knew exactly how you must have ended up here. Kento carried you to bed.  

Kento Nanami put you to bed with care. He didn’t leave you to sleep in an awkward position out on the couch, no. That man—that annoyingly endearing man—had lifted you carefully enough not to even disturb your slumber and carried you to bed. Someone who didn’t care wouldn’t do that, it wouldn’t make any sense.  

He likes you. You like him. It was obvious, and if the realistic snapshots of your dreams held any authenticity, maybe he had kissed your head and murmured soft sentiments to you. That part was wishful thinking but not outside the realms of plausibility given how real the dream-like moments felt when you examined them closely.  

It made you smile into your mug, lost in thoughts of what to say or do when Kento finally appeared from his room. You glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall and frowned. It was later than you expected and there was still no sign of the man that was always up bright and early. Maybe he had decided to sleep in for once, and of course, he would pick the day that you wanted to see him most to indulge in more hours of sleep.  

By noon you were worried. The apartment had long fallen silent, the music you had played earlier turned off so you could try to listen for signs of life from your host. There were none to speak of. Closer and closer you crept to his closed door until your ear was pressed against the solid oak. You couldn’t hear any movement, no rustling of sheets or footsteps to suggest he was getting dressed. No sounds of faint snoring or the distant noise of a running shower.  

“What the fuck is going on?”  

You knocked once, quietly.  

There was no answer. So, you knocked again, this time far louder and you followed it up by calling out loudly. “Kento, are you in there? Is…” you searched for the right words. “Is everything alright? I’m starting to worry.”  

Again, there was no reply. This was getting ridiculous, and your annoyance at not knowing what was going on got the better of you. The door opened whilst you kept your eyes firmly fixed on the floor just in case you were about to walk in on him half-dressed or worse… naked. However, the bedroom was empty.  

The bed was neatly made, nothing appeared out of place from the time when you had last nosed about in here. It felt like forever ago but in reality, it wasn’t that long. You stuck your head around the corner, glancing into the walk-in closet and finding it equally empty. The bathroom was next, and once again you knocked before entering to find it empty and like it hadn’t been used in at least a few hours.  

Had he left before you even woke up? It was the only thing you could think of since a thorough search of the entire apartment turned up no missing blond man. You weren’t sure why it bothered you as much as it did. He was a grown-up, he could come and go as he pleased. Yet, you expected that he might have left a note or something to let you know where he was and when he would be back, or was that assuming too much?  

In the end, you did your best not to let it sour your mood. Kento was a free man, perhaps he had errands to run, and he would be right back with groceries in hand, you simply didn’t know. You had your own agenda today, and one you were excited to get to. It had been on your mind for several days now, knowing that your time here with Kento was ending, you wanted to buy him a gift to show your gratitude for his allowing you to stay here when he didn’t have to.  

A few ideas were running through your mind as to what would be most appreciated, and the sooner you hit the stores, the sooner you hoped to come to a final decision. You wanted it to be special, something that he wouldn’t think to buy for himself. Were you putting a lot of stock in this gift? Maybe… but it was how you showed your lo—appreciation. Love was too strong a sentiment, or so you tried to reason.  

You hastily scrawled a note and left it on the kitchen island. The front door locked behind you, whilst the elevator took you down to the lobby for the battle against the elements to commence.  

Gone out. Be back later! Hope you’re having a good day. X  

 ~  

Everything was silent when he returned home. Kento wasn’t sure what he expected, and what he would prefer, but somehow it wasn’t as relieving as he expected, to walk into a noiseless space. How quickly his appreciations had changed.   

He saw the note almost immediately, not bothering to pick it up since the thought made his stomach clench with anxiety. His finger did somehow find its way to touching the small flourish of a kiss, and he scowled upon realisation. He hadn’t spent the day clearing his head and mentally running through every outcome he could foresee just to return straight back to square one. His mind was made up. Giving up everything he had built for himself was pure insanity. End of discussion.  

A powerful gust of wind pounded against the windows, drawing his attention to the weather conditions he had driven through, and his frown deepened. Kento stepped towards the glass, eyes scanning the barely visible streets below and the tiny moving umbrellas which appeared like dancing circles as people navigated around each other.  

Did you have an umbrella with you?  

Were you out in the elements or tucked up somewhere safe and cozy like a small café?  

What was so important that you had ventured out on such a horrible day in the first place?  

It didn’t matter. It was none of his business, and he should stop thinking about it.  

Picking up a random book from his overstuffed shelves fit to bursting with books he wanted to read but had never had the time for, he didn’t even glance at the title before he was settling himself in the farthest part of the couch. Sure, it was the seat that let him both keep an eye on the front door and allow him a view of the worsening weather, but he refused to acknowledge that fact.  

Three hours passed and Kento could recall exactly nothing of the pages he’d dutifully turned in his book. He read the lines of text but none of them stuck no matter how many times he repeated the action. Frustration burned hotter the longer he tried until he threw it down on the arm of the couch and turned worried eyes towards the now storm raging outside. Where the hell were you?  

It had never dawned on him to exchange numbers with you, there hadn’t seemed to be a point since you were occupying the same space, but now he saw the idiocy of such a small oversight. He was halfway towards his phone on the kitchen island to call Karin and have her send through your contact info when the door suddenly burst open.  

A small puddle surrounded your feet, every inch of you soaked right through and shivering. Your hair was plastered across your face, obscuring your eyes which didn’t help you wrestle with the half-folded-down umbrella in your hand. Several of the metal spindles were broken or sticking up at odd angles from the winds and Kento reached for you before you even realised he was there.  

“Shit! You’re soaking wet. Where the hell have you been?” Kento thundered, his tone refusing to diffuse even when you squeaked in alarm and almost stumbled backwards.  

His hand wrapped around your elbow was the only thing keeping you on your feet. The umbrella was wrenched from your grasp, a startled yelp only further fuelling the snarled expression you could make out between the messy strands of your hair. You could feel the fury ripple outward from his body and into your own. What the fuck...?  

Kento disappeared. One moment you were being firmly pulled into the living area by his strong hands and the next he had let you go and rounded the corner, out of sight. Shaking from the cold that continued to penetrate your clothes, the chill all the worse now you weren’t running on the adrenaline of battling for your life on the streets far below, you were bamboozled by his demeanour. The warmth of the apartment was apparent, but until you could strip off every layer of sodden clothing and soak your bones in a warm shower or bath, your teeth would chatter, and your limbs would shudder.  

Suddenly, you remembered to check the package, which was tucked securely inside your bag, grateful for your forethought to wrap the box in several plastic bags before placing it inside. It was unscathed and you exhaled a sigh of relief. The gift was far from inexpensive, something you would never have bought yourself and yet, you happily dropped a not insufficient amount of money on the man who returned to you with a large fluffy white towel in hand and a scowl etched across his face.  

He took the bag from your grasp before you could protest, setting it on the kitchen stool and leaning back against the counter with his arms folded. With your hair now a little less wet and back into some semblance of submission, you could see how terse his expression was and it caused you to frown in reaction. What was the problem?   

“Thanks. I’m definitely going to need a hot shower after the day I’ve had,” you conceded with a chuckle. It was your attempt at an olive branch, hoping that he would drop the bad attitude he was wearing like a cloak.  

Kento scowled harder. “Why were you out in a storm in the first place?” He was trying to calm the ire that was eating him alive, unsure where the heart of his anger truly came from, or at least, not willing to admit its source.  

“Shopping.”  

“Shopping,” he parroted back. “You risked your life to go shopping? Are you that stupid?”  

You recoiled. The words landed directly against your chest. An anger of your own beginning to bubble like water brought to a rapid boil. It was funny how fast you forgot about the steady drip of water creating a large pool around your feet, nor did you feel the cold as acutely.  

“Excuse me?”  

Kento pushed off from where he was leaning, gesticulating towards the evident storm raging outside. Sheets of heavy rain blown by the howling wind lashed the glass as if to prove his point and you seethed at him, hands curling in and out fists by your sides.  

“You heard me. What could be so important that you would risk your life in conditions like these?”   

You stalked closer, fury pounding in your veins enough to make your blood sing with molten heat. “You were out in it too!” You yelled, barely drawing breath between words. “Unless you’ve got some hidden room in this apartment that I’m not aware of. At least I had the decency to leave a note.”  

He scoffed, turning from you to increase the distance between you both but you weren’t done.  

“You could have been laying sprawled out, in need of help for all I knew! I was worried that—”   

“That is different,” he countered whilst a broad hand ran roughly through his hair. The usually neatly parted blond hair was ruffled as if he had already worked his fingers through it whilst you were out. “I was safely in a car, not traipsing around the fucking city with only an umbrella for protection.”  

This man. This perfectly outrageous, infuriating man. Oh, he was doing his damnedest to push every one of your buttons. You weren’t some stupid little girl that needed protecting or coddling.   

“And what does it matter to you? You’re not my fucking brother, Kento! At the end of the day, we’re nothing to each other!”   

Shit, that hurt. The regret was immediate; tears burning behind your eyes, threatening to blur your vision and you’d be damned if you were going to let him see them fall. Withdraw. You needed space, to pull back from this stupid, meaningless argument. Except it wasn’t meaningless.  

You made to move past his hulking frame that filled the way to the hall and the solace of your room, but two strong hands shot out to prevent you from running. His grip shook, fingers curled around your shoulders as he pulled you to him. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. Kento looked downright furious; his lips curled back from his teeth with a snarl and his eyes snapped fire. The raging inferno of a wildfire—uncontrolled and dangerous—shone in those intelligent brown depths.  

“Oh no, you don’t get to walk away, not now. Do you honestly think a brother would be this worried… shit… that they would get this angry about you being in danger? I don’t think so. You’re an intelligent woman, you know this kind of reaction is reserved for something far more intimate than that.”  

His words stole the remaining air from your lungs, you were held in a vacuum with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Your eyes bounced between his, certain you hadn’t just heard what he said. It had to be all in your head, your traitorous brain implanting false declarations, but… no. He did say that. He had worried about your safety, and not because of some arbitrary sense of obligation. This man who you wanted to yell at some more. This man who you wanted to do nothing more than shut up with a kiss.  

“Wh—”  

The world stopped turning. Everything felt frozen in place as your lips found his and the relief was immediate. The starchy material of his shirt felt alien against your fingers, not that you were even sure when they had fisted into it in the first place. Kento crushed you to his chest, forcing you to step onto your tiptoes to continue the assault. His hands found your waist at the same time you curled an arm around his neck. The taste of coffee erupted on your tongue, bitter but sweetened by warm honey notes that felt indulgent.   

This moment felt forever in the making, all the missed opportunities and miscommunications seeming inconsequential now that you had him where you wanted him. You could drown in this man. The flames of your anger continued to flicker in the periphery; he wouldn’t get off this easily, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about his earlier hurled words when his tongue was pushing past the seam of your lips. He was a combination of sweet and salty, leading the dance with a gentle dominance that suited him perfectly. Kento’s hands were careful, considered in how he held you, whilst he let his tongue curl over your teeth and stroke over your own. You were kindling in his hands, soaked to the bone yet you felt not an inch of the cold penetrating your skin. Kento would set you ablaze and you’d let him.  

Your eyes hooded then finally closed, the shock of how you had both lunged in the same breath was long over and now you were simply a mass of sensations, lost to your desires and happily so. Your fingers inched towards the rough undercut at his nape only to be ripped away, shattering the cocoon of warmth in an instant. It felt like a punch to the gut, gasping like a fish out of water and you blinked in alarm.   

You could only watch whilst Kento shook his head in resignation, his face lowered so as not to look you in the eye and the scratchy feeling in your throat returned tenfold. The hands that only seconds ago tenderly explored your waist now imprisoned your wrists, preventing you from touching him any longer.  

“I can’t… we can’t do this,” he said whilst the bottom of your stomach fell out. How dare he pull you into that claim without your consent.  

“No! You mean you can’t do this. I want this, I want you, Kento. You’re the one pushing me away, holding me at arm’s length,” you half screamed back. The tears were falling fast, hot splashes against your cheeks and you hated yourself for it.  

“It won’t work. I—I’ve spent hours trying to figure out how I could make it work and I can’t.”  

Goddamn him. Didn’t he realise that it wasn’t a puzzle to solve, it wasn’t a project to manage? It should be a venture started together; he should be able to lean on you as much as you could depend on him. He was a fucking coward. The seams of your heart were being ripped open and he spoke words of reason, of logic, like those were the only things to consider. Couldn’t he see how much he was hurting you?  

“Coward.”  

He didn’t try to stop you when you pulled free, turning on your heel to snatch up a plastic-wrapped lump from your bag. You shoved it into his chest with force, resulting in a grunt of surprise at your unexpected strength.  

Kento could barely look as you barged past him to run down the hall. The door of your room slammed shut with an air of finality that churned his stomach into a mass of thorn-tipped vines. He despised the hurt that was etched across your face, the tears streaking your cheeks and the complete betrayal dulling your usually sparkling eyes. You were right; he was a coward.   

How long he stood there, staring down an empty hallway whilst the rain lashed and the winds howled, he didn’t know. Eventually, he glanced at the package in his hands and curiosity got the better of him. He pulled out a gift-wrapped box from the layers of plastic bags protecting it from the elements, a golden bow adorned it, and he smiled despite the pain. With careful fingers, the bow pulled loose, and the paper unwrapped to reveal an expensive camera.  

Kento scrubbed a palm down his face, eyes slowly shuttering at the gift he would have never considered for himself, but which was perfect. He hadn’t given you nearly enough credit, you were so wonderfully compassionate and understanding, and he had fucked everything up. He knew in his rational mind that it shouldn’t work, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t, not if you worked at it and were both willing to compromise.   

Should he…   

You needed time after what he had done. It wouldn’t be fair to either of you if he knocked on your door right now, and honestly, he wasn’t sure he had the words to make this right. Things would look better in the morning, he had to hope that there were enough remnants of what had been there before to repair the damage. Kento touched his fingertips to his lips, he could still feel yours against him and what he wouldn’t give for one more taste. One more smile. One more playful tease at his expense. One more secret glance that tightened his chest.  

“Fucking coward.”  

~  

The storm had passed by the next morning, leaving behind a beautiful cloudless sky and the dawn chorus of chirping birds. Kento woke with a start and immediately winced at the streams of sunlight filling his bedroom. He sat up with a grimace, holding his pounding head in his hands and looking down to find himself still dressed in yesterday’s clothes. A crystal-cut tumbler half-filled with amber liquor sat on his nightstand and he recalled having drunk several very full glasses to find the embrace of sleep. It had refused to come to him without the alcohol numbing his emotions and he was only glad he hadn’t done something stupid in his drunken stupor like trying to speak to you. That wouldn’t have gone over well, that much he knew.  

Speaking of you, he recounted hearing sniffling noises during the darkest part of the night, but he couldn’t tell if they were yours or if his conscience was torturing him. He wouldn’t put it past him, the midnight hours had been spent berating his stupidity and warring with the voice in the back of his head that continued to chirp that this was for the best.  

After he straightened himself out, washing his face and changing into a clean outfit, he went in search of coffee and hoped to find you in the kitchen with your morning cup. Instead, what he found was an apartment that was eerily quiet, even more so than when he returned home yesterday. Each footstep filled him with rising dread, the icy prickle of unease at his neck and no amount of scratching would relieve it.  

The whisky bottle from last night was exactly where he left it. The coffee machine was cold and unused. The camera you had gifted him lay on the couch with the golden ribbon rumpled on the floor beneath. Kento swallowed; unwilling to believe what he knew in his heart to be true. Instead of facing reality, he began his morning ritual of preparing coffee until he pulled down two mugs instead of one.   

His hand shook around the grey mug you had favoured since you burst into his world in a whirlwind of laughter and joy. The smell of French roast turned his stomach and he launched himself down the hall to confirm his suspicions. There was no answer to his insistent knocks at your door, each one another nail in his coffin until he was completely trapped.  

The room—your room—stood silent and empty.  

 Every trace that you had ever been here was gone, that was except for your scent which lingered in the air, thick with melancholy. Kento sat on the corner of your bed, his head cradled in his hands at the gravity of what he had done. Not only had he acted cowardly, but he had also caused you to run from him and that was a sucker punch to the gut.   

“You’re a fool, Nanami. A coward and a fool…”  

[astonmartingf]

YOU'VE BEEN ON MY MIND —

— co-parenting with alonso has been smooth sailing, until he starts dropping hints that he wants to be with you again

SPECIAL ★ ALES AND YNLONSO

amgf after that chapter, this is your gift ig enjoy it because it'll only get better (worse) from here 😀👍

previous ★ masterlist ★ next

ALEJANDRO ALONSO (ALES)

born on June 2019, 5 years of age

likes dinosaurs, toy cars, legos, and construction work

likes to eat ice cream, alonso's special tacos, and a specific pizza that yn makes

likes long walks on the beach with his father and mother

likes to add grass in his lego builds

currently raising a succulent with his father, they named it avi

has his own id at the hospital yn works at due to his frequency in visiting

started pre-school recently and spends most of his time in school

his favorite places are the aston martin office and anywhere with his mother and father

playmates with lewis and nico's daughters

his godfather is lance, yn's cousin

YNLONSO — FORMATIVE YEARS

met through lawrence stroll back when yn was volunteering in the medical bay at a few races

alonso would fake injuries just to go to the medical bay whenever he can, and often skipped meetings just to take a few peeks at yn

alonso became extremely jealous when someone else crashed and was brought to the medical bay, so he began to pray for everyone's safety so they don't have to meet yn

when called for mandatory check ups, alonso would always look for yn and hog her for the whole day

the grid became increasingly curious about alonso's relationship with you, despite your attempts in keeping the relationship private

broke up once after a nasty crash in 2016, yn couldn't bear seeing alonso in pain especially since she was the one treating him

yn is a date to marry type, and found a future in alonso when they got engaged in 2018

their first date was in a parking lot outside the hospital when yn was still an intern for residency, and alonso surprised yn with tacos during a night shift

once, alonso planned on surprising yn but she was stuck in a long surgery, so he fell asleep waiting for her

alonso would always stop by the hospital after races and meetings just to see yn and talk to her even if it's just a few seconds

yn prefers it when alonso was in wec due to less racing schedules, also because alonso won the year she gave birth to ales

had a mutual split much to alonso's pleas after he came out from retirement in 2021

started co-parenting at the beginning of 2022 when ales and yn moved back to spain

frequently drives to each other's house and has a spare key of each other's front door and gate

alonso kept yn as his emergency contact even after their split, so she was still getting updates from alonso

yn and alonso both use lance to get updates about each other, and use him to play messenger, which lance didn't really like at the beginning, but now he's holding a lot of their secrets

their weekly routine with ales includes walking to the beach, having one lunch outing, one dinner date and a trip to the grocery

speaking of groceries, they go buy groceries together so ales has the same food in both households

it's also customary for them to invite the other for a meal when picking up ales, but really it's alonso being a mastermind to spend more time with yn

currently, alonso is trying to make it work with yn, and is contemplating on leaving after the 2023 season to be with them

★ YOU'VE BEEN ON MY MIND — @namgification @nebarious @minkyungseokie @viennakarma @lxclerc @booksandflowrs @c-losur3 @lichterfee @moonyzsworld @e-nonsense @vicurious28 @dannyriccsupremacy @thearchieves @welovediaaxx @vogueprincess @mael1pastry @khaylin27 @whydowesleepeachnight @iridescent-sol

[ghost-proofbaby]

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER THREE: ALL TOO WELL

AND I KNOW IT'S LONG GONE AND THERE WAS NOTHING ELSE I COULD DO, AND I FORGET ABOUT YOU LONG ENOUGH TO FORGET WHY I NEEDED TO.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, description of panic attack, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.7K+

☆ A/N: it'll be a short fic, i said. short and sweet and simple, i lied to myself.

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

The moment your name leaves his lips, you swear the world halts on its rotation. 

This was real. Every fear and every anxiety you had wrestled with over the last twenty four hours wasn’t for naught – he was here, sitting before you, breathing your name out like a sigh of relief when all you felt was pain. Stabbing, radiating pain. It’s even worse than looking at pictures and headlines of a stranger on a phone screen. Something about him suddenly being tangible, suddenly being real, sends you reeling. 

Lydia looks wildly between your showdown with the ghost of a man before you, “I’m sorry… Do you two- do you know each other?”

Not anymore.

“I-” you choke on your stutter. You’re frozen under his stare, going ashen as your head spins. Leave the room. Think of an excuse, get out of this room, run away. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

It’s the world’s most pathetic excuse, but the only thing you can spit out before you’re turning heel and running, just as your body had so desperately craved. You nearly bump into one of the security guards you’d just bravely had a confrontation with. 

They’d demanded your phone, you had put up a fight. You had stood your ground. Had held your chin high, dared them to push further even once they had your cell phone in their grasp, and displayed all that self-assuredness you had curated in the last two years. Only to end up scampering past them like a wounded animal mere seconds later.

Pathetic.

Lydia calls out something after you, but it reaches deaf ears as you blaze down the hallway. Your chest is squeezing, as if someone had wrapped it in shrink-wrap and sucked all of the air right out of it, swathed so tightly you could feel every pounding beat of your pulse racing. Your eyesight completely blurs, not quite from tears but rather a mere loss of focus. You nearly knock over one of the god forsaken fake plants Lydia insists as a primary form of decor, hardly being within the right mind to reach out and right the oversized bush of green plastic. 

But you don’t have to. Right as your back collides with the wall off to the side of the plant, breathing only coming in short and miserable pants, a different hand reaches out to catch the plant. A ringed hand. 

When Eddie says your name again, it’s not a sigh. It’s laced with panic as you support your full weight against white plaster and stare at where knuckles wrap around faux wooden stems. 

“Hey,” he stresses, hand leaving your line of sight as he puts a large palm on each of your shoulders. You can’t look at him, not yet, “Hey, can you breathe for me? C’mon, big breaths.” 

This close, you can smell the cologne. It’s not even the same woodsy drugstore scent that had lingered on the pillowcases he’d left you to cling to while on tour. Even that, something so miniscule as what cologne he now wore, had changed. And the new and unfamiliar scent chokes you, turns your desperate gasps for air even more futile. 

You had walked out of that apartment two years ago, without any intention of ever being this close to him again. You’d sworn to yourself you’d never be this close again. 

“You’re having a panic attack,” he squeezes your shoulders within his hold ever so slightly, as if attempting to ground you, “You need to breathe.” 

Your eyes nervously find his brown ones. For a second, you recall summer days when the sun would hit them just right, turning them into molten honey for your tasting. Soft and glowing, warming you from the inside out so effortlessly. 

But there’s not a single shred of sunlight in this hallway. The dark brown falls flat against your vision. 

“I’m fine,” you very clearly aren’t, struggling to even get the words out into the air between you two, “I’m- I’m fine.”

He doesn’t fight you when you reach up to swat away his hands. He lets you, hands falling away with ease, touch retracting as if it had never burned you. You take the chance to look over the metal now settled on his fingers, and you realize he still wears all the same ones you remember so vividly. A cross, a pig’s face, an animalistic skull. But there are new ones added to his collection, adorned on his right hand rather than the left. Unfamiliar and odd, the bulky metallic additions are more plentiful. A silver snake wrapped around his pinky, a large spider with the body of a Magic 8 ball on his pointer, a bat spread eagle on his middle. There’s a chunkier one on his thumb, thinner ones added above a few of his second knuckles, but you can’t clear the haze of your vision long enough to pick up on the designs. You choose to focus back on the familiar ones instead, old and comforting even in your panic. 

New rings, new cologne, new habits – the Eddie before you is not the Eddie you once knew. 

“Okay,” he’s whispering now. You’re not even sure what excuse he used to follow you out here without causing a scene. Maybe he did cause a scene, surely a grander one than you. He had that privilege now; he was an untouchable rockstar, he could afford to raise a ruckus. “I… Are you sure?” 

It’s hard to believe there was a time he was a familiar comfort when all that remains now is the awkward distance between the two of you.

But when he takes a step back from you, the new cologne leaves your stratosphere and the new rings leave your field of vision, and the breaths finally come just a tiny bit easier. Still not enough to satiate your lungs, but enough that the headrush begins to pass. 

“I’m sure.” 

You try to insert such finality in those two words. As if whatever had just happened would fade and never exist, as if you could walk back into that conference room and take yourself off this project. You can’t. Eddie has a sense of control, a grip on his reality and the reigns of his choices, but you don’t. If you were to demand Lydia remove you from the project, you’d be risking termination. You’d be risking everything – and it may not be much, but you’d built it brick by broken brick these last few years. You’d salvaged what you had been able to out of the ashes of what had been, but it hadn’t been enough. It had hardly been enough for a foundation. You’d built up the person that now stood before him from practical scratch.

The weight of just how much you had to lose hits suddenly – the realization that this was happening and you had no control of it. 

But Eddie did. He had to. 

“You need to go back in there,” you start, voice still shaking and eyes still averted, “And you need to demand that they reassign you guys. You… You need-” you begin to stutter and fumble to find the right words. You could have lashed out, could have tried to pour salt in a wound you weren’t even sure still existed so that Eddie made the choice on his own. But your mind is muddled and you’re desperate, “Someone else can take on the project. You need to go and demand that someone else takes on the project.” 

“What?” Not the response you wanted. Not the response you needed, “I- No.” 

Two years later, and he still found a way to do significant damage. 

Your eyes snap up, “What do you mean no?” 

“I mean no.”

“I haven’t asked anything of you. Not back then, not after everything happened, I-”

He cuts you off with a scoff. “Can’t ask for anything if you just fall off the face of the fucking earth.” 

You hadn’t noticed before, but as his walls begin to build, you realize that the prior interaction had been something vulnerable. Something where neither of you were on the defense quite yet like you’d always imagined a reunion would go. All that had mattered ten seconds ago was you being okay, him coming after you, making sure you were fine. He’d allotted you all the care and attention you had craved so terribly two years ago, nearly begged for until your knees had bled for. 

“Eddie,” you whisper, getting too distressed to think straight, “Please, for the love of God, just make them reassign the project-”

“I can’t,” he interrupts, shaking his head, “Do you think I’d put myself through this if I could help it? I fucking can’t. I have absolutely no control in there. I didn’t even-” he cuts off his sentence, looking you in your eyes, leaving more to be said. 

He didn’t even what?

“I can’t do anything about it,” he says instead of whatever had been on the tip of his tongue, “Trust me – if I could, I would. But I can’t. So why don’t you say something?” 

It’s your turn for scoffing and disbelief, “I can’t. I’m not the one with all the power and glory-”

“Is that what you think I have?”

“That’s what I know you have.” 

You both go quiet as a battlefield fills the distance between you. All anger, all regret. None of the love or care that had once existed between you two exists here in this quantum plane of sharp words and deadly jabs. 

“Just- please ask for a reassignment,” you try with one final plea, eyes hard on him, “Say that that first impression left you unimpressed, I don’t care. She won’t fire me for that.”

“Once again, no. As it turns out,” his voice is low, dangerous, unfamiliar. A tone he had never used before with you, “Even the one with all the power and all the glory can’t make miracles happen. Sorry, doll.” 

He doesn’t await your response, leaving you on your own as you stay pressed against the wall and he’s walking away. 

What is the saying? ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’? 

You were certainly feeling scorned.

You felt ripped wide open, beaten and bruised and damn scorned as he leaves a conversation you weren’t finished with. You can’t tell which limb aches the most – the shoulder where his now strange hands had held onto you, your fingers that had curled into pained fists at your side to show you were prepared for a fight, your rib cage that still struggled to expand and accommodate the air now vacant of his cologne that you needed after your panic attack, or the legs that had once carried you away from Eddie Munson only to lead you right back to him. 

There’s nothing you can do, though, beyond composing yourself. You take the same big, deep breaths that Eddie had tried to coax out of you moments before. Your fists slowly unfurl and your palms rake against the side of your jeans in an attempt to wipe away the sweat of the interaction. 

Fine. If he wouldn’t help you, you could handle this. You could manage this project, plan a goddamn party for your ex-boyfriend’s new single. You would treat it just as you did every other previous project you had excelled at, and you would avoid all unnecessary contact with him just as you had with previous clients. 

As a matter of fact, you could probably get away with avoiding all contact. 

He hadn’t hired you. His management had. And, according to him, he had no real power in this situation. If he had no say in the matters, then there would be no reason to reach out to him.

You could do this. You could handle this. 

It’s a mantra of salvation that you repeat to yourself internally as you take confident strides back to that conference room, not even stopping for the guards this time before you burst back into the room when your imminent doom awaits. 

The repetition falters a bit when all eyes land on you as you take your first steps into the room. 

Your name comes out of Lydia’s mouth like a hiss, her teeth locked into a smile that would better pass into a grimace as she asks, “How nice of you to join us again. Please, take a seat.” 

“Of course,” you can’t look her in her eyes for very long, immediately rushing to sit at the chair she’d motioned towards. You haven’t spared Eddie a single glance – you haven’t spared any of the boys you’d once known a look. Instead, you look up to direct an apology at the only face you don’t recognize before you, “I’m truly sorry.” 

The older gentleman, wrapped in a certain kindness and warmth below his professional attire, smiles. And in an instant, his face isn’t quite as unfamiliar, “No worries. When Nature calls, right? Regardless, I’m Matt. Nice to meet you.” 

You can guess which hole in Eddie’s life he’s attempting to smother, which shoes this man serves to fill. He has more hair than his predecessor, but the grin is the same. 

If you picture the man he reminds you of back in Hawkins, you’ll surely begin to ache. 

When you reply with your name, you can hear a fragment of your youth in your voice. Better days spent in Forest Hills trailer park, loitering about a trailer as Wayne Munson asks you how well of an eye you’ve been keeping on his nephew. You’d always lie, say you were keeping him in line when you knew you’d spent the day following him right into trouble, like some sort of lost puppy. Like some sort of loyal soldier. It occurs to you that that’s who you had always been; a fierce soldier over the shoulder of Eddie, ever the brave commander. You would have followed him into battle without a second of consideration, you did follow him all the way to New York without ever taking a final glance at your hometown. 

You wondered if he had tried to replace you as well. You imagine it; the new and fresh face that replaced yours in picture frames, that laid beside him at the end of each night he returned home, that heard a whisper of I love you over the line to the backtrack of a sound rehearsal. 

Were there ever any bloody wars between him and his new lovers that could compare to the battles never fought between you two? Did anyone else in this world know the wounds of his gun never fired? 

The smoke clears. You still don’t look at Eddie, afraid to only see the commander you once knew. You force a smile, putting on a soldier's bravado that doesn’t fit quite right anymore. 

Bullets never fired, triggers never pulled, but the blood stained the same.

“So, where shall we begin?”

—

Matt does most of the talking for the next hour. Sheet after sheet of paperwork is laid down in front of you, your hand beginning to cramp from signing your name so many times, and the details are discussed.

A new single, set to release in three months. A release party that needed to be grandeur and garner the type of attention that Matt feared had been waning from the band due to radio silence on their music front. The outlines of the project were clear cut, simple enough, and you had yourself fooled just well enough that this would be easy.

You kept your eyes set on the prize and never once noticed the tomfoolery occurring between the band members. The words on the tip of their tongues that Eddie keeps quiet through quick kicks to their shins beneath the table, the individual hurt reflected in each of their eyes as you treat them no better than strangers. That treatment of Eddie, they understood. But them?

They could never understand. 

“What’s the name of the single, if I may ask?” you question as you look over one of your copies of the paperwork. Lydia had been eerily silent, allowing you to take the lead. 

Despite the rough start, it was paying off. Having a switch for your emotions can be a good thing, as it turns out. 

“You may,” Matt nods before turning to the boys. It’s the first time he's looked to them for answers during the entire meeting, “Shall I do the honors, or would you boys rather do it yourselves?” 

It’s a chance for all the members of Corroded Coffin to open their mouths without silent reprimanding from Eddie beneath the table, but he beats them to it.

“Dial Tone.”

You freeze your reading. 

There’s something in the way he says it that forces you to look up. As if he’s only speaking to you, and the rest of the room is a faded mirage for him to send away for these private moments. Still a commander, even when his bravest soldier has left him. 

“Sounds… interesting,” you murmur, taking a few seconds too long to meet his gaze, unsure of what to say, “Rolls off the tongue easily.” 

“It certainly does. Which, ironic, given the situation that inspired the song.” 

“And what would that be?”

You’re both wearing masks in front of an audience half made up of people painfully aware of your history, and the rest being painfully oblivious. 

Does Matt know about you? Lydia certainly doesn’t know about Eddie. 

“Words never said. Answers never given. Phone calls missed and never… returned.”

You’re not stupid, but you wish you were. It feels a bit selfish, a bit self absorbed, to so quickly assume you’re the inspiration. 

But how could you believe anything else when Eddie is looking at you like that?

Hollow eyes, devoid of all the honey you once reveled in. Not so much of a stain of sweetness you swear you still taste on the back of your tongue. He’s looking at you with blame, well-deserved anger, and yet not an ounce of the guilt that should exist somewhere in those depths. 

“How riveting,” you play along, trying to swallow down the waves of emotions, “Sounds like it’ll really draw in your audience. Might even be relatable to a few.”

Answers never given. Like how someone could stop saying they loved someone they’d spent years planning their life with, like how he could stop calling so easily, how he could leave so easily. 

“Fingers crossed,” his forced smile in return is almost sinister, and you know it was the right choice to avoid speaking to each other until this moment.

There will be no contact. You know now that if you take on this project, which you technically have through law-binding contracts, that you won’t be able to be civil with Eddie. There is a history that can never be erased, mistakes made and wounds inflicted by both sides. Two worlds of hurt caused by opposing sets of hands that can only clash when they try to meet in the middle. 

But then Matt, sweet Matt that you had come to actually like during this meeting, has to burst your bubble.

“Right, well, the good news is the boys aren’t on tour for the time being, meaning there will be plenty of time to talk about the small details and how the single will come into play during planning,” he explains, happily and still so unaware, “As a matter of fact, I would like to emphasize just how much I would appreciate you including the boys, especially Eddie, in this ordeal. His participation would be very helpful.” 

Some silent form of communication happens between Matt and Eddie, glinting eyes and sudden frowns meeting raised eyebrows and fake smiles, but it’s not your concern. 

The last thing you want during this project is Eddie’s involvement. 

“Of course!” You need to think of an excuse, push for a way to keep him out, “But if Eddie is too busy, I’ll completely understand. I know that a single usually means an album, and that can be very time consum-”

“He won’t be too busy,” Matt interrupts, still staring at Eddie as if he’s daring him, not even questioning you singling him out as he does the exact same.

You recall what Eddie had insisted in the hallway, that his reach of control wasn’t as far as you had been assuming. 

Swallowing hard, you see another relic of Wayne Munson in this man – he wasn’t someone to argue with, “Right, of course. Eddie will be involved. Absolutely.” 

All the power and all the glory – but did it really rest in Eddie’s palms like you assumed?

“She has a point,” Eddie finally finds his voice, leaning back in his chair, trying to relax the tension from his shoulders, “I do have the album to work on.” 

“And now you have this. I’m sure you can find a way to multi-task.” 

Your comparison was accurate. It had been a while since you had seen another grown man capable of shutting Eddie down so quickly, tearing down his walls of affinity for challenging authority and reducing him to nothing more than a shell of his younger self. Matt and Wayne would have gotten along well. You doubt that they’ve met, but you know a bond would have formed between the common denominator of being able to subdue the once-rambunctious boy before you. 

Eddie pouts nearly the complete remainder of the meeting. And those foolish, bitter shards within you become determined to be the bigger person. To smile and nod along, even when you disagreed with certain terms discussed. To be agreeable, to be good, to be better. This new version of you has something to prove; that you’ve done better without Eddie, that you’ve changed into something that no longer aligns with who he is. 

It’s all for show, but you tell yourself no one can see through the cellophane disguise. 

The only remaining signatures aren’t required from you but the rest of the boys. A single contract is passed down the line, and each of them sign themselves away to the agreement. Line after line of swooping black ink locks the five of you into an entrapment, a crowded dance of newly made strangers who have no choice but to play pretend. 

Eddie makes it a deliberate point that he’s the last one to sign. Forces Grant to slide the prettily detailed paper right in front of him until it’s clear he’s making no move to pick up his pen, and the poor guy has to stretch a bit further and let Gareth take it rather than the stubborn rockstar. Only once Jeff’s own night-shade of ink has looped over one of the many lines does it return back to Eddie.

He looks you in the eyes for several seconds too long, pen crooked beside the paper on the table. You can’t take a single breath as you register how lifeless his eyes remain. 

He’s not the person you once knew, but you are no longer the girl that once saw the world in him. 

You will not drop to your knees before him, you will not worship the ground he walks on, you will not break. Certainly not first. Certainly not at all. 

There’s no final words before hands donning unfamiliar rings pick up a pen amongst the silence. Just the click of bringing the ink to life, and the soft scratch of promises that will not be kept. It’s nothing new amongst the two of you.

As a matter of fact, if the scratch of the pen could echo, it might just resemble the sound of the door on that haunted and vacant apartment closing for the final time behind you two years ago. 

—

“Do you two know each other?” 

You had been waiting for this moment. Once Matt had called for a quick break so that he could organize and make copies of all paperwork, you knew Lydia would be chasing you down. 

“What do you mean?” you question airily, topping off the small paper cup of water you had used as an excuse to dismiss yourself into the corner of the room, “Me and Matt? No, I’ve never-”

“Not you and Matt,” she moves to stand in front of you, your back to the room and the band, as she continues in an authoritative whisper, “You and the band – you and Eddie.”

“Why do you think we know each other?” 

Please don’t catch on. Please don’t notice. Please don’t make me admit it. 

Please don’t fire me. 

She retrieves her own water, moving as if she wasn’t having such an intense conversation with you at this moment. All a show for the clients, no doubt. You weren’t the only skilled actress in this room, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the way you ran out of this room when you saw him, maybe the way he ran after you without a word. Maybe the way the two of you spent a good ten minutes alone in that hallway, and how the rest of that band has been looking at you like you’re a ghost. Please don’t tell me you had a fling with Eddie before this. I really need my best person on this project, but I can’t have personal relationships interferin-”

“No, we don’t know each other,” you cut her off, ignoring the compliment and taking a sip to give your chance to formulate a better addition to the lie. It wasn’t really a lie, though, was it? “I promise it’s nothing, and it won’t interfere. I just…” I just hate him. I just miss the version of him I used to know. I just need you to take me off this project as quickly as possible for a reason that won’t make you think less of me or affect my future career here. “I don’t like the band, you know this.” 

“I knew you weren’t a fan of them, but…” she trails off and looks over your shoulder, no doubt surveying the band. When you stood up from the table, they’d all been feigning boredom as if they hadn’t been taking turns staring you down so intensely. You felt like an animal under observation. “I thought it would be a good thing. To have a neutral party take this on. Why, exactly, don’t you like them?” 

“ I don’t think he’s a good person.”

He as in Eddie. It goes as unspoken knowledge. And, technically, it isn’t a lie. Based on the headlines, based on his coolness this entire interaction, you don’t think he’s a good person. Not anymore. 

You can feel the four sets of eyes on you even now. Your exchange with Lydia has been too quiet for them to hear, but you know you’re still being watched carefully.

“You don’t have to think he’s a good person, but you do need to play nice,” Lydia reminds you. You open your mouth, prepared to argue that you had been playing nice when Lydia waves her free hand to stop you, “I know, I know. I’m not saying you haven’t been perfectly professional. You have been, aside from your… bathroom break at the beginning, but please just remember that.” 

You nod, stiff as ever. She was giving you more grace than you deserved if you tried to look at it from an outsider’s point of view. 

“Of course,” that tone of professionalism, that mask to hide the whirlwind of emotions. You could do this.

You had to do this.  

Choice is an illusion when Matt returns with the copies of paperwork, dividing the files up between himself and Lydia. Choice is an illusion as fake smiles are exchanged and pleasant goodbyes are offered. Choice is nothing but smoke and mirrors when all is said and done, and the entire group of you all stand outside the conference room, ready to part ways with a promise of next time, meaning the next meeting.

You never had a choice in any of this. Eddie did, somewhere along the line, but you didn’t. 

Lydia and you both hand over business cards to Matt’s waiting hands, a deliberate move on your part. You bypass Eddie’s expectant glare entirely. The quicker this is over with, the faster he’s exiting the building and no longer occupying the same room as you, the better. 

“We’ll be in contact,” Matt promises as he tucks the cards away carefully. 

“I look forward to it,” you assure him, as if you weren’t dreading every second of what those contracts had detailed.

Three months. You had just signed on to guarantee Eddie Munson being back in your life for three months. The thought makes you nauseous. 

Matt, ever the normal person, takes it as his queue to leave. Lydia has nodded, turned and began her short trek to her office as the band’s manager starts his journey to the elevator. Most of Corroded Coffin scampers after him, gazes on the floor as they retreat to a private space that will certainly be filled with questions. You almost wish there was a way for you to hear what will be said. The topic of conversation, undoubtedly, will be you. You and Eddie, Eddie and you. A pair of intertwined souls that had taken a sharp knife to your connection only to end up with Fate cruelly retying it on this dreadful day. 

Fate, and Eddie, it seems. 

His hand reaches out and catches your upper arm before you can escape the exchange properly. 

“Can we talk?” You stare at him blankly to hide the racing of your heart and pounding in your mind. Those hands on you, skin on skin, leaving an inevitable mark. An inevitable stain. “Go for coffee, go for lunch, just-”

“No.”

You don’t have to think about your answer. Your pause was only born out of shock. 

His eyebrows furrow, “No? What do you mean no?” 

It feels like a pathetic repeat of your interaction in the hallway, when you had begged him to save you from this doomed union. Except now, you hold the cards in your hand. The first sense of control you’ve been offered this entire time. 

“I mean no,” you repeat yourself clearly. Matt is halfway down the hall, and the boys trailing right behind him seem to fumble over their steps for a second. Jeff even goes as far as to look over his shoulder at the brewing storm appearing behind them, but clearly thinks better of intruding, “I don’t want to talk. I don’t want coffee, and I don’t want lunch.” 

End of story. 

Except, it isn’t, because Eddie’s face only twists further in pain, “We have to talk at some point-”

“Actually, we don’t. I’d prefer we didn’t. I think we can both agree it’ll be better, easier, for both of us to keep this strictly professional until we can go our separate ways again.”

He looks as if you had physically reached out and struck him. The force of your words nearly makes him rock backwards, face falling and mouth agape as he tries to grapple with the determination in your words. 

If you were a fool, you’d mistake it for a flash of disappointment. But it’s not possible – it couldn’t be disappointment, only arrogance. He had obviously been assuming you would just give in. Your change just hadn’t become clear enough to him yet. It would, in time. 

And now, the two of you seemingly had too much of it to endure. 

“Actually, I think we can both agree that’s a load of bullshit,” he crassly argues back once he’s regained composure, “You know that’s not possible.”

You shake your head, suck in a bit of the skin of your inner cheek between your molars as an internal encouragement to stand your ground, “It is. It’s not only possible, but is exactly what’s going to happen.”

“You heard Matt. We have to talk at some point, even if it’s just about this and not us.”

“And we will. We can talk about this project all you want, Eddie. But not over lunch, and not over coffee,” you swear you draw blood from your cheek as you take back on that tone of professionalism, ice cold and completely disconnected, “My preferred form of contact is email. I usually respond in a timely manner, even after hours-”

“Don’t do that,” he stops you.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m just another one of your clients.” 

The metallic flavor floods the deepest corners of your mouth, overtaking the aftertaste of a honey you once knew on the back of your tongue, “That’s exactly what you are. One of my clients.” 

Just a client, and nothing more. A boundary must be drawn, or else there will be more blood spilled than a mere drop from biting your inner cheek. And you aren’t prepared to bleed for him – not again. Never again. 

He opens his mouth, as if he has more to dig out of the grave of this conversation, when Matt’s voice calls from down the hallway, “Eddie! C’mon! There’ll be time to talk later, we’ve got a meeting with the producer across town now.” 

His stance goes rigid, annoyance rolling off him in waves, eyes still focused on you. 

Maybe the reminder of time, the three month timeline, hurts him just as much as it hurts you. Maybe, just possibly, his arm has also been twisted in carving out a space for you in his life once more, whether strictly professional or not. 

He deeply exhales through his nose, “I don’t even have your email.” 

“Matt does. He has my card.”

“Yeah, he does. I don’t. How am I supposed to reach you through your preferred form of contact without it?”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way.” 

You mean to smile at him just as you would the owner of the bakery opening on Third Street, or the mother of a bride trying to share the weight of responsibilities for a wedding. It doesn’t come off that way, though – you can feel the sadness of it tickle the corners of your mouth before he’s even slowly turning from you.

You watch the figure of Eddie Munson walk away from you, and you begin to wish he were walking out of your life rather than only out of the building for the time being.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar

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[seonghwaddict]

★ NEVER SAY NEVER. [ 001 ] over my dead body.

synopsis. something about the eight most well-known boys of your campus just didn't sit right with you, so you never gave any effort to interact with them. but after a series of... interesting incidents, they can't seem to leave you alone. pairing. college students! vampires! ot8! ateez x fem! reader. genre. fluff, angst, eventual smut, college au, vampire au. chapter warnings. suggestive comments, swearing, wooyoung being an annoying piece of shit. word count. 1.1k

　　　　　　　　chapter i // chapter ii

"The groups have already been decided and the list can be found on the bulletin outside. See you all next week." And with that, your professor walked out of the studio and left your classmates scrambling to get out of class and find the list.

All things considered, your day could have been worse. Yes, you'd gone to bed at 5 am and woken up at 7 to your housemate blasting music in the bathroom as she showered. Though, that was a daily occurrence, being mad over it just didn't make sense anymore. Yes, when you got into the shower and turned on the water without paying attention to the heat dial, you pretty much burned off your skin. Yes, on the way to the art department you had dropped one of the paintings you've been working on for over a month, getting mud all over the bottom half of the artwork.

But, nevertheless, it could've been a lot worse.

As you gathered the used paintbrushes next to your easel, you thought about who could be your partner for this collaborative project with the dance majors. Professor Yun just spent about ten minutes informing you and your peers that the art majors were to pair up with a dance major to create an artwork. The specifics—such as whether it'll be a painting or collage or other media—were completely up to the students.

You holstered your bag on your shoulder, finally leaving the art studio to see who you were paired with. Maybe it'll be Suncha, possibly the most beautiful girl you'd ever seen. You could definitely see yourself working with her. She moved with grace and would probably be the best subject you could ever wish for. Maybe Daehyun—you'd always found his face and body aesthetically pleasing.

The crowd in front of the bullet slowly dissipated and people found their partners in the crowd, already making conversation and talking about the project. With a slight sense of dread but a pinch of anticipation, you stepped up to the list and scanned it, quickly finding your name next to-

Oh you've got to be kidding me.

Nevermind, this was definitely one of the worst days you'd ever experienced. Because right next to your name, stood a name associated with one of the eight most sought-after men on your campus.

Jung Wooyoung.

They'd never done anything to you personally, but you just weren't a fan of the way they'd go from girl to girl without being ashamed or being called out. Granted, you weren't sure if all eight of them behaved like that (though this particular Jung Wooyoung did), you still disliked them (except for one of them, but you'd never admit that). Maybe it was how they were practically handed everything they needed at any given moment on a silver tray. Or how ridiculously good looking they were. Either way, something about them just felt... off.

An arm being slung over your shoulder broke you out of your thoughts of just ending your life right then and there. Without even looking at the person, you already had a suspicion of who it could be.

"Hey there, partner," He stepped in front of you, hand lingering on your shoulder for a second longer than you'd like. A mischievous smile graced his features, "I don't think I've ever talked to you. What's your name, pretty?"

"It's on the paper right behind you." You deadpanned, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

For a second, Wooyoung's eyes hardened before that playful glint returned. "I know, but I'd like to hear you say it. After all, I don't want to be pronouncing it wrong."

With a sigh, you gave him your name and he repeated it, testing the sound of it on his tongue. Seemingly satisfied, he returned to your side with a hum and once again slung his arm over your shoulders, steering you toward the exit of the arts department and practically dragging you with him.

Along the way, you passed multiple clusters of girls and boys, some of them watching Wooyoung with admiration and lust in their eyes while others simply glared at you out of jealousy. Feeling their stares, your head turned to the ground and you screwed your eyes shut, wishing it was Daehyun dragging you. Not this painfully pretty, charming man that you couldn't stand.

"So," Wooyoung started—though he never really stopped talking, "I was thinking, if you don't have any courses or stuff for the rest of the day, you can come over to my place and we can start working on whatever it is we have to do."

"I told my roommate I'd be back early to clean our apartment."

"Oh, then I can come with you, help you and then you can come to my place."

"Why not just do it at my place?"

"That's fine, too. Maybe you can show me to your bedroom?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and you had to hold back the urge to smack him right then and there.

"Over my dead body."

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not really into necrophilia."

It was then that you noticed you were walking towards the campus' parking lot. You stopped in your tracks and waited for Wooyoung to turn.

"Ok, first of all, what the fuck. But I guess I'm glad that's not your thing. Second, what are you doing? Where are you taking me?"

He blinked. Once, twice. "I'm taking you to my car...?"

"Why?"

"To take you to my place so we can work?" He looked behind him and then back to you, his dark hair bouncing around and revealing the bleached layers underneath.

"But I have stuff to do." You crossed your arms over your chest, shifting your weight to your right leg as you looked up at him. He wasn't that much taller, but because of his proximity, it was hard to look him in the eyes without craning your neck just a bit.

A chuckle (though it sounded more like a giggle) escaped him. "The dishes and vacuum can wait. I'm only available for the next two hours, after that you're free to do whatever you want."

You took a second to mull things over before dropping your head and groaning. "Fine but–"

"Great!" Wooyoung grabbed your hand and resumed pulling you across the parking lot. "Let's get going, maybe the food Seonghwa-hyung made will still be warm when we get there and–"

"Wait!" You tugged on the hand that held yours harshly, making him stop to look back at you with a raised brow. "But... no funny business. Please."

He let out another high pitched laugh. "Oh, YN, my dearest darling YN, I don't plan on doing anything like that with you. Today, at least. Though if you'd like-"

"No!" You extended a hand to stop him from finishing that sentence, cheeks blushing dark crimson. "Please just- just lead the way."

That specific mischievous grin returned to his face as he whipped around and practically skipped to his black Mercedes with tinted windows. You didn't stop to appreciate the car, getting into the passengers seat and strapping the seatbelt on.

　　[ lilo's notes ... ] hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter!! any guess as to who the ateez member is that YN likes more than the others? hint: it's not wooyoung. also, i'm basing each of the mebers' looks off of different eras. in case you couldn't tell, we will be dealing with oreo wooyoung here.

　　ଘ(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ taglist ... @atinytinaa @marievllr-abg @legohwas @moonsangie @kiss-hwa @cqndiedcherries @ateezourstars @r1kitti @sarahleighflora @kyukyustar

　　NEVER SAY NEVER　©　seonghwaddict, 2023

[novaksupremacy]

The Backseat of My Car- Casey Novak x Alex Cabot

soooo, a little Friday morning smutty treat for my loves. ❤️ I was told part 2 of This is My Office was needed and since it'll be a while before I even get to this chapter, here's a present 😜 consider it a peace offering that it may take me a few days for Chapter 7 😅 (also if someone could teach my goofy ass how to format so that things indent properly, I'll love you forever!)

"Don't beat yourself up, that was a tough case." Casey consoled her girlfriend as they walked through the parking garage, "you know there's always the possibility that a juror will be sympathetic towards one of these crackpots."

Alex was seething mad, "Langan's just lucky I don't feel like spending the rest of my life in jail or I'd have him strung up by his testicles!"

The redhead's lip curled in disgust. She stopped walking and grabbed Alex's hand. "Babe I would really rather not think about you anywhere near that man's testicles, or any man's testicles for that matter.

"Sorry," the blonde frowned, "he just makes me so mad I could spit. I can't believe I ever went on a date with that man." She went to start walking again.

The younger ADA stopped again and pulled Alex back towards her, "Okay, what? I don't know what's worse, you, talking about his nuts or the fact that you went out with him.

Alex chuckled, "It was one date, we never made it passed the bar. I really just needed info on a case."

Casey smirked, "Ah yeah because that makes it better." She giggled and pulled her closer, "Just remember who you belong to, Alexandra Cabot."

"How could I ever forget," the Bureau Chief leaned in and kissed her girlfriend.

The redhead rested her free hand against the blonde's thigh. Her eyes lit up when she realized she was still strapped from earlier. "Babe? Your windows are tinted right?"

"Darker than they should be actually, I have to put the DA placard in the window just to avoid getting ticketed. Why?" Casey shot her a look that could only be construed as mischievous.

 "Oh. OH. Backseat." Alex said excitedly.

Both women slid into the backseat of the BMW and Casey closed the door behind them. She wasted no time tossing the blue eyed beauty's glasses into the front seat and grabbing her around the neck, pulling her in to a messy, heated kiss.

Alex chuckled as she started unbuttoning her shirt.

"What's so funny?" the redhead mused, laughing if only because Alex was.

"I feel like a teenager." This was the most relaxed the Bureau Chief had been in as long as she could remember, being with Casey felt-- effortless. "In a good way that is" she said reassuringly.

"Oh yeah? Is this what Alexandra Cabot was like in high school? Riding in cars with boys?" Her girlfriend said teasingly. "I don't know about this then, I like mature, collected, no nonsense ADA Alex Cabot Bureau Chief extraordinaire."

The blonde grabbed Casey by her collar. "The only person who's going to be riding anything is you riding me in a minute and don't worry dear, I know what it is you like." She whispered as she kissed the redhead with force, she was starving for something only Casey could satiate.

"Fuck," Casey sighed. "Alex do you have to be so damn sexy constantly."

"Do you want me to stop?" She smirked as she ruined the second one of Casey's shirts today, buttons scattering to the cars floor mats.

The younger ADAs breath hitched, “No. Don’t. Stop.” She whispered playfully pausing between words as she pulled open Alex's belt and fly. She bit her lip hard, "mmm I want to try something okay? But don't think I'm weird."

Alex's blue eyes look into her hazel green ones with curiosity. "Baby if I ever thought you were weird, ever, in the time I've known you, I meant it as the highest compliment." She leaned back against the car door.

Casey put her hand against the blondes open fly and exposed the strap she was still wearing from their earlier encounter. The ginger sat up for a minute and pulled her hair back and tied it there with a ponytail holder she had around her wrist. She leaned back down and brought the strap into her mouth and began to suck.

 The golden haired adonis' eyes grew wide. "Baby that's not weird, that's hot." She whimpered as she brought her hand to the back of her lover's head pushed down lightly while she ran her other hand through her own hair. The ADA never breaking eye contact as she went to town on the toy, running her tongue up to the tip, and then taking the whole thing into her mouth.

After a minute or two she sat back up, licking her lips, and grabbed Alex by the hips pulling her flat on the backseat. "So,” the redhead blushed, “you liked that?"

"Very much so," the blonde said panting.

"Mmm, good to know." Her devilish grin plastered across her face. With a little maneuvering and a few giggles, she was able to shimmy her way out of her suit pants and on top of her girlfriend. She steadied her balance and brought herself down on top of the strap letting out a small moan, her body shuddered as she leaned down to kiss Alex. The angle making the toy hit her just right as the blonde slowly pushed her hips up, both women groaning softly.

"Fuck that feels good." Casey mewled beginning to roll her hips against Alex.

"I bet it does," the blonde cooed thrusting her hips up slow and deliberate. Copying her lover's expression as her lips parted and she let out a soft gasp of pleasure.

The redhead pushed back against the toy holding one hand to Alex's chest and the other to the window behind her head. "Alex," she whimpered, her body craving more, "I can't take much more teasing."

“Is that so? You sure you don’t want it nice and slow,” She thrust her hips slowly, holding Casey by her waist and guiding her up and down against her body, fucking her at a torturously slow pace, continuing to mimic her facial expressions has her mouth fell open and tiny gasps and moans emanated from her throat.

“Alex,” the redhead whispered, “Fuck, Alex.”

“Well obviously if you can remember my name, I haven’t tortured you nearly enough.” The blonde smirked. Casey brought her hand to her own clit, but Alex stopped her, “Ah, no cheating baby.”

The redhead whined. She started pushing herself down harder against her girlfriend, “Alex I want you to ruin me.” She moaned as she ground her hips down.

The blue eyed beauty’s pupils dilated as she took tight hold of Casey’s hips and began thrusting. She picked up her pace a little at a time until she was slamming into Casey, who was rolling her hips, leaning over Alex whimpering in her ear.

“Mmm baby, like that,” she nibbled on the blonde’s ear, causing her to sigh, “Oh Alex, Alex. Mmm, I love the way you fill me up.” She whispered with a smirk, knowing if her hot breath kept hitting her face as she did, that Alex would cum for her before she even finished.

The Bureau Chief slammed into Casey holding her hips down tight to hers and rolling them towards her. Casey cried out as Alex did this a few more times, smacking the redheads ass each time and then grabbing a fistful of supple skin and holding on.

The redhead was getting louder, “Ahh, Alex, fuck me! Just like that, don’t stop. Don’t stop baby.”

Alex spurred on by Casey’s cries also started moaning loudly. “That’s it baby, scream for me.” The blonde loved when Casey got loud and all the little noises she could get her to make as she fucked all the right spots. Alex felt her insides flutter as Casey hit a note that she was fairly sure only dogs could hear as her juices came spilling out around the toy and onto Alex again. As they both climaxed the redhead collapsed against her girlfriend leaning up just enough to stare into her crystal blue eyes. The blonde went to sit up.

“Not yet,” the ADA whimpered, “stay inside a bit longer?” Alex obliged and began stroking her girlfriends back.

“You okay darling?” she asked, checking in.

Casey nodded, “More than okay. Just trying to come back down.” Her body shook as she had another small aftershock.

“I’ve got you baby, I’ve got you.” Alex whispered bring her into a yielding, tender kiss.

They hadn’t been kissing exceedingly long when there was a knock on the window. The women looked at each other, frozen in fear, “Cops?” Casey mouthed.

“No, this lot is run by CCTV” Alex whispered, “who would’ve called it in?”

There was another knock, this time slower, more annoyed.

Casey went to press the window down much to Alex’s protest, only to find Liz looking back at her.

The Judges face was more stern than either of them had ever seen on her worst day. Alex jerked her head around, still inside Casey, both of them half naked, Casey’s shirt completely undone.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Liz said through gritted teeth. “What the fuck is wrong with the two of you?” She put her hand up in protest, “Don’t answer that. And Casey don’t get up lest I see more of you than I want to.”

Alex tried to protest and say something, but Donnelly stopped her before she could even get a single syllable out. “Alexandra, I don’t want to hear it. What is this? Some sort of midlife crisis? Can you not fuck at home? What are you afraid the cat is watching?”

“Judge Donnelly, we’re” Casey tried to apologize.

“Not another word Novak, you’re lucky this lot is not owned by the city. For God’s sake you both work SVU, you know how bad an indecent exposure charge can get! Have you both stopped taking your medication?”

“Liz why does it sound like you’re scolding teenagers?”

“Lena, I” but before Liz could say anymore Judge Petrovsky had already approached the car window, Alex and Casey staring at her from a very compromising position.

“It would seem it’s because apparently you are. Ah, Ms. Novak it appears that your reoccurring nightmare has finally come true. Charming. Ms. Cabot, make sure you put some concealer on all of that before you get to my courtroom in the morning. I’m late for poker. Goodnight Elizabeth.” She put a hand on Donnelly’s arm and walked off towards the street.

Liz looked at the two ADAs in disbelief, “I am washing my hands of the both of you. Please fuck each other’s brains out, before you get to work tomorrow? For everyone in the building’s sake?” With the click of her heel, she walked off towards her car hidden away in the far corner of the parking lot.

Casey side, “And she wonders why those kids said she had a broom up her butt.” She rolled up the car window, and gently removed Alex from inside her, trying to maneuver enough to get her pants back on.

Alex furrowed her brow, “Wait, what?”

“Elliot tells it better.”

“Elliot?” the blonde didn’t think she could be more confused, but here she was, for the second time today, covered in Casey, just having been yelled at by Judge Donnelly, how did they get to Elliot?

They both climbed into the front seat and Alex put her glasses back on and the key in the ignition.

“Did that,” Alex started, “Did that really just happen?” she chuckled even though her hands were shaking.

“I guess we need to be more discreet at work,” Casey grimaced.

“I don’t take it back, I would take a thousand censures to here you say my name like that.” Alex said, lust dripping from her words, “I just need to stop leaving the office door unlocked or answering window knocks unless they identify themselves as the police.”

Casey raised a finger.

“Police who are not Elliot.”

Casey raised her finger again.

“Or Olivia.”

“There it is.” The redhead nodded.

[forbidden-sin-bin]

By Your Side - Chapter 3

Summary: Only appearing as a mere background extra a few times, your hopes of landing a large enough role to be truly seen dwindles by the minute. In the midst of the long wait, you bury yourself in being the hardest working part-time barista the café has to offer.

Oh, and say hello to your new manager, who’s also working hard to make ends meet.

---

August 27, 1997

---

Brushing your apron smooth, you made your way to the cash register with a your usual practiced smile. "Welcome to the Tango Palace. What can I get you today?"

The welcoming expression on your face was far from the reality of your situation right now. And boy, it was bad.

Ever since the trip from New York feeling like a success, the days of receiving nothing but silence on your end slowly melted into creeping disappointment. Waiting by the phone for hours on end, all for nothing, the day wasted.

And it wasn't just the callback that you were waiting for: you had dozens of tryouts in the race against many others - improvs, scripts, interviews, singing, even a literal hand evaluation - in order to take that one and only spot of being chosen.

Though your parents were always happy whenever you landed a spot as an extra in the background of a single scene, be it movie or tv show, it did nothing to quell the shot-through nerves of wondering if the agency would ever give you an update on that callback you did.

At this point, nearing the new school year for Quinn's first year of kindergarten was the only silver lining in all of this. No doubt, you were proud, but it was bittersweet seeing them grow so fast. It seemed as if it were only yesterday that you had brought him home from the hospital, and in a blink he's walking, talking and ready to learn how to read.

In fact, you were so lost in reminiscing you nearly missed your customer's order.

Realizing you may or may not have zoned out for a second too long, you mentally slapped yourself as you quickly typed out the order. "S-sorry! Was it a regular coffee, one cream, no sugar?"

"And a quiche." Your customer sighed. "Jesus Christ..."

You nodded as you forced down your panic and irritation at the backhanded comment, giving them the total as you set the register to print out the receipt. "Alright, it'll only take a second." Whipping around, you set to work on pouring out a steaming hot cup of coffee, freshly brewed, and placing a pre-prepared veggie quiche out of the fridge and into the oven, dialing the settings to heat it just right.

Holding back your own sigh, you leaned back on the countertop as you waited. Truth be told, you weren't sure if the thought of getting fired was more stressful, or the thought of becoming a good-for-nothing that's entirely possible in the near future was worse. Either way, you couldn't lose this job.

The owners were kind enough, and business wasn't overly crowded with people, but you wanted to show them that hiring you was the best decision they could've made. Thinking about anything that isn't the job is the complete opposite of what you're trying to prove.

'Don't think of anything but what's in front of you, right now.'

---

Later that evening...

---

You tossed each letter onto the table in two separate piles; One for bills, the other for junk mail. After an uneventful day of serving customers, you returned home as always, filtering out the mail for your parents before they came home.

It wouldn't be long before the school year started, and you'd have to cut your hours in order to pick Quinn up from school, elsewise he'd be stuck in the after-care program till six, which wasn't fair for him at all.

It wasn't as if your family was poor or in debt, rather down on its luck. Your parents working at desk jobs required them to be there from at least nine to five, there was little to no time to take a break, especially now that they're not just working to keep the house afloat; If all else failed, you'd have to pick a course and go through community college just to get some degree that'll help you find a job that pays.

A part of you feared that you'd be kicked out eventually, which terrified your thoughts of not being able to take care of Quinn. And not being able to take care of Quinn means you're probably getting kicked out of the house like every other parent does to their kid that doesn't deliver.

Alright, that last part is debatable. But it’s possible, and you weren’t taking any chances.

And by not taking any chances, you sure as hell weren’t about to let the phone ring twice as you practically leaped over the kitchen table to pick it up.

"Hi! Hello?! Sorry- hello?"

"H-hello? Hi, is this-?" A stressed voice stutters out your first and last name.

Your face, initially bright with hope fell comically quick as you realized it wasn't an agency calling you for a role. Instead, a somewhat nervous voice of a young man answered. From how he sounded you could tell he was sweating bullets coming out of the other side of the phone.

"Yes, hi. That would be correct." You replied, not bothering to hide your deadpan shift in mood. This however didn't seem to phase the stranger.

"Oh, great! I saw your resume sent in to my agency, and I see you're looking for an agent to represent you in the coming years? Hopefully trying to find work?"

A few seconds of silence passed as you processed his response. 'Oh shoot, they actually remembered?' You thought with wide eyes.

"He-hello?"

"Yep, still on the line. May I ask who's calling?"

"Sean Warden. Sorry I should've introduced myself at the start but-"

You cut him off. "All good. And to answer your question: Yes. I'm in need of assistance in receiving job offers. Is that sufficient?"

"Awesome. So, the reason I'm calling you right now is because I have a proposition to offer you."

Again, silence, as if he was awaiting a reaction out of you. You however, had already begun to lose patience. "...Please continue." You held back a sigh, beginning to wonder if this is some sort of prank call or scam caller.

Still, this 'Sean' guy seemed either desperate or eager as he revealed his intention.

"I would like to represent you as your agent."

...

A few hours later...

...

"I'm going to be honest with you: This is not how I expected a potential signing of a client to look like."

Sitting inside a Tim Horton's café, coffee cups in hand, you found yourself sitting at a two-person table with a young, skittish and scrawny looking man in his mid to late twenties. Admittedly, this isn't the kind of guy you'd expect to meet.

Sharing an awkward silence, both of you holding small black coffees, neither of you had the gall to break the painful, painful silence. At least, until you've finished reading the whole entire contract that he gave you.

Given you're in the middle of the second page out of... eight, this was going to be a long evening.

Flicking your gaze at him for a brief glance away from your reading, you saw no impatience, only anxiousness, in his face. "Sorry if I'm taking up your time." You offered, figuring it'd be the least you could do for someone who hasn't been pushing your buttons.

Sean waves you off. "No need, I'm just happy you've agreed to even see me. I'll take anything, really."

You raised a brow. 'Anything, he says.' Your thoughts wandered away to making it seem as if you weren't the first option of employment, probably the last.

"O-oh, no no nonono, I didn't mean it like that!" He corrects himself, probably noticing or fearing that he might've made you reconsider signing that contract. "I mean- like-" He sighs, covering his face with a hand, filled with stress. "Don't get me wrong, I absolutely wanted to pick you as a client. I've seen your resume and everything; I can see the potential you have, I mean it."

Nodding, you resumed scanning the papers. "Continue. I'm listening, don't worry." Seeing that he hadn't missed his shot, he relaxed a little.

"I'm not trying to sell a sob story, it's just the truth. As you may know, the work I do is to find others work; Aspiring actors, music artists, the like? I'm no beginner to this, I've had many clients in the past and I haven't failed finding them jobs. But when there's older, more experienced agents... Well, you'd want to be represented by them more than me."

You hummed in acknowledgement, not taking your eyes off the contract as you flipped to page 3.

"My last three clients have all decided to move on to find a more renowned agency, meaning that as of now, I've no one to find work for, which also means my wages are little to none at the moment." Sean finished, clasping his hands together and resting them on the table, looking down as he finished. "What I'm offering you right now isn't the end all, be all. I promise you, regardless of what's going on in my personal and home life, I'll give it my all to find you what you need." It almost sounds like a plead, coming from him. "If you end up parting ways with me in the future, that's more than okay! It's just... please. Give me this chance to help you out."

Finally, you raised your head to look at him. Keeping your face neutral, you finally spoke after a few moments:

"Could you do something for me, if I do sign?"

He nodded eagerly. "Yeah, of course! What is it?"

Taking sip of your coffee first, you then reached into your bag and handed him your notebook. Well, one of many... but you knew this one had something you were looking for, and you couldn't reach it by yourself.

Flipping through to the page you wanted him to see, you slid the notebook over too him. "There's someone I know that's been looking to release an EP this year... probably this year, I don't know exactly. Problem is, you can't find their stuff here, only in Detroit. Think you could help me out?"

"Can I?" He almost laughed in relief. "Say no more." Scanning the written contact info that wasn't written in your hand, you watched as he holds the notebook closer to his face as something flickers across his expression. "Hold on a second..." First starting from genuine interest slowly melted to confusion, then familiarity.

You raised a brow. "Is everything alright?"

Suddenly, Sean's gray eyes widened in recognition, and indignation.

"OH, NOT THAT BALD-HEADED BASTARD?!"

...

....

.....

A few weeks later...

...

"OH, NOT THAT SMUG FUCKIN TWINK."

Marshall's head snapped up from writing another let of lyrics as he looked at his recently-signed agent, Paul. "The fuck you goin on about man?"

Holding the letter in his hands, Paul looked like he was glaring daggers into the paper. "Not you! It's this guy that I knew from law school, fucking annoying is what he was." Tossing the paper to his table, he sighed as he walked out of the room. "Take a look if you want, apparently his client claims to know you or something. They're waiting for your EP."

'How the hell'd they know already, this fuckin early?' Marshall picked up the paper, lazily scanning through the content that somehow got Paul pissed enough to take a hike. The signed name of the writer, Sean Warden, didn't ring any bells except the one labelled: 'white guy's name', if it wasn't obvious enough.

No one here would name their kid Sean, for fucks sake.

The name of his client however... slowly, but eventually remembering that day they met, even if it was only for a few minutes, was not forgotten on either of them, it seems.

Marshall huffed out a laugh.

"Hoooooooly fuckin shit. That bitch actually did it."

----

(End of Chapter 3)

----

A/N: HAPPY 1 YEAR AND... *checks calendar* NEARLY THREE MONTHS Y'ALL

Yep.

I think you already know I'm about to apologize again, so uhh... I'm extremely, very sorry? If any of you are still waiting I'm incredibly sorry for the long ass wait. I said previously it was all uphill from here, which was a LIE IT SEEMS

But just to make it up to you all... Chapter 4 is coming THIS WEEK. So there's something to look forward too I hope! Chapter 5 is coming a few weeks after as well. But I hope this suffices for now, thank you for your patience <3

Taglist: @eminemsorangejuice , @slimshay-castle , @jackiehollanderr , @mizzysx , @esposadomd , @dimitrampl , @hallecarey1 , @krillfromsky , @nabiiturner, @swimregulas , @olivesarenicetoeat17 , @linnottt​ , @harryswif3 , @liathelioness , @roundbrownlover​ , @crimsonincursive , @akemiixx01 , @lizzy06 , @chxe-zdechnac , @ellies-femme , @qwerrry , @born2wyn , @thefemalestorywriter , @milllieeee , @neozen-23 , @in0320

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[hollandorks]

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter fourteen

Summary: After the sudden deaths of her mother and grandmother, y/n is forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke her heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, she vows to get to the bottom of her former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what she’s expecting.

a/n: I'm back to posting semi-regularly, yay! Not sure when the next chapter will be finished because of the holidays but hopefully it'll be within the next week or so! This one is a little on the shorter side, but the next several will be longer I think! (Since I haven't actually written them--but I have plans and they're lengthy.)

Series Masterlist

word count: 2k

“Oh man,” Martinez groaned as his eyes flicked from Alfred, to her, to the picture, and back again. He gulped audibly. Next to him, Blake the security guard was white as a sheet. “Gordon’s gonna kill me.”

“Gordon’s gonna kill me,” Martinez said for the twentieth time as y/n poured him a cup of coffee to replace the one that was currently still on the foyer floor. “I was supposed to be the one paying attention. I was the one he trusted.” Which, he informed  her after maybe the fourth “Gordon’s gonna kill me,” that meant he was Gordon’s most trusted on her security team. He was one who was secretly supposed to make sure no one else was compromised. 

“Martinez,” y/n said for the nineteenth time. “No he isn’t. You were doing your job. You already said you didn’t leave, or fall asleep, or take a call. In fact, you did your job so well you ignored my offer of coffee.” She held out the new mug. 

Martinez was still nervously mangling the hat of his uniform. He was completely ignoring her reassurances. He went still after a second, then turned eyes that were twice as frightened to her. “Man, Mr. Wayne’s gonna be so mad too, isn’t he? This is his house.” 

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “I’ll handle Bruce. And besides–Alfred’s more in charge than he is, and he already agreed it wasn’t your fault.” Alfred had met Gordon downstairs a few minutes earlier. The elevator and entire lobby had been turned into a crime scene. Martinez and y/n were waiting to give their statements. 

Easing Martinez’s fears was much easier than facing her own. It was easy to focus on him and nothing else. Because in the short half hour since she’d first found the picture, each bit of new information was worse than the last. No one on the security detail had been harmed, bribed, or had even moved. The security cameras had been turned off for only ten minutes. Which all meant that someone had enough access to Wayne Tower and its security to get past everything extra that had been set up. 

They wanted her to know that they could get to her. 

And they were drawing it out. Instead of grabbing her, they were making her wait. Making her scared.

Y/n focused again on the nervous cop in front of her, who was still bemoaning the fact that everyone was going to be mad at him. 

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to be mad at you,” she snapped. There was a headache blooming between her eyes. 

Martinez quieted, looking like a kicked puppy with a mustache. “Jesus, I’m so sorry, y/n. If I can make it up to you at all–” 

“Just drink your coffee, okay? No one blames you.” Y/n took a sip of her coffee. Her hands were still shaking, and some of the liquid spilled over as she set the cup back down. Damn, she was wasting a lot of coffee in one night. 

She startled when a warm hand landed atop hers. She looked up and met Martinez’s soft gaze. He didn’t say anything else, but his presence was enough to steady her. 

“I’m so glad they didn’t shoot you,” she said after a moment. 

They shared a grin. “Hell, me too.” 

An awareness prickled along y/n’s spine.

She looked up, and there was Bruce. 

His hair was stuck to his forehead and his shirt was on inside out. Her stomach swooped. There really only seemed to be one possibility from those two clues, plus the fact that he hadn’t been home. 

Jealousy and shame spread like hot oil through her stomach. 

Bruce looked…angry. His eyes were twin blue flames where they stayed locked on Martinez’s hand atop hers. 

Martinez scrambled to his feet as if the king of fucking England had just walked in. More coffee spilled as he bumped the table. Y/n half expected him to bow for Bruce. She rolled her eyes. 

“Mr. Wayne! I’m so sorry, I swear I was paying attention, I–” 

Bruce’s eyes went cold. “And you are?” 

“Officer Martinez, we actually met back–” 

Y/n’s eyes narrowed. It was her turn to jump to her feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she said to Bruce.  

Martinez flinched. Bruce calmly glanced her way then went back to glaring at Martinez. 

“When the security of my home has been compromised due to incompetence–” Bruce said, still calm despite the obvious fury in his eyes. 

Y/n cut him off. “Oh shut up. Stop talking to him like that. It wasn’t his fault!” 

Bruce’s eyes flashed. “Well, it was certainly someone’s.” 

“Maybe it was yours, then.” The words rose within her on a tide of anger. God, her life had been threatened again, and he had the nerve to come home from fucking his girlfriend and act like a dick to her friend? “I mean, you’ve been letting the rest of the tower go to shit for years, makes sense that maybe security is a little lax. Especially if you don’t even give enough of a shit to ever be here.” 

They were almost toe to toe now, both breathing heavily. From the corner of her eye, she saw Martinez freeze in place, mouth open in shock. 

“I give too much of a shit, y/n. If your little boyfriend hadn’t been distracted–” 

Oh, y/n thought. Bruce thought Martinez was her boyfriend. And okay, maybe it looked like that, but Martinez actually had a great girlfriend who was in a group chat with them where they all sent memes to each other. She and Martinez wanted to set up a double date with her cousin and y/n.

The realization made the anger ebb, but then she was pissed off all over again. 

“What gives you the right to act like this?” she spat at Bruce. He was so much taller than her that her neck was starting to ache from glaring up at him. “After what you did, after what you said, you’re acting like you have any right to one, be involved in my personal life at all or two, be jealous!” 

Bruce flinched. Just like the first time it had happened two days ago, it didn’t feel as good as she thought it would. 

“Um,” Martinez said in the echoing silence. “We’re actually just friends and I–I’m going to go give my statement now?” 

Y/n barely noticed him leaving. 

She was so sick of being so afraid, so heartbroken, so…everything. 

“You’re going to apologize to him whether he’s just my friend or not,” she said, poking Bruce in the chest. He winced and tried to mask it by looking away. “I already told you, Bruce. I lost you three years ago. Stop acting like that didn’t fucking happen, because it did.” 

Bruce’s hands were clenched into fists at his sides. Now he wasn’t looking her in the eye at all. “I didn’t mean–” 

“Oh, shut the fuck up, yes you did.” But the words were bereft of the anger that had been present only moments before. She took a deep breath and a step backwards. “I’m just–sick of pretending things are the same, okay? I know you want to go all protective-best-friend thinking Martinez is my boyfriend or that he put me in danger but–I can’t just–Things aren’t–” Suddenly words were failing her. “It’s just not the same, okay?” 

She watched as Bruce softened, too. “Y/n, I’m sorry, I–” 

“Why did Martinez just run out of here like a bomb went off?” Gordon’s voice cut across whatever Bruce had been about to say. 

“Mommy and Daddy were fighting,” y/n said drily, her defense mechanism of humor kicking in. Bruce made a choking noise. “Find anything useful? Like maybe Frank Gallo?”

She could almost hear Gordon’s teeth grinding from across the room. “No.” 

“Bruce,” Alfred said from behind Gordon. “We have some things to discuss.” 

Bruce gave her one last glance before following Alfred out. 

Alone with Gordon now, y/n sank into her chair with a long sigh. She stared at the little coffee spills as if they had personally offended her. “If I spill any more coffee tonight I might kill someone.” 

“Now that would be a sight. Looked like you were about to do Mr. Wayne in already.” Gordon chuckled and took the seat across from her. He flipped open a small notebook. 

“I’m still not opposed to smothering him in his sleep,” she muttered. “Arrest me if you have to.” 

“How about I get your statement instead?” 

It didn’t take long. She was basically a pro at giving statements to the police at this point. When she was done, she said, “I’m so…tired of giving statements to the police.” 

Gordon regarded her with sharp eyes that didn’t miss anything. “We’re doing everything we can, y/n,” he said softly. 

“I know, I know. It’s just–getting shot at was scary and all, but this is my home.” Her voice cracked. She ducked her head and fiddled with her coffee mug so Gordon wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “They’re telling me they can get to me here, too. Where I’m supposed to be safe.”

“I understand completely. We’ll get him. We’ll get them. I have a feeling he might show up on our doorstep sooner rather than later, with something bat-shaped pinned to him and a couple of black eyes and broken bones.” Gordon smirked. Y/n frowned as she realized she hadn’t seen Batman at all. Had he been downstairs? Maybe Bruce hadn’t wanted him to come upstairs. Her frown deepened. “Now, you’re going to have to help me convince Officer Martinez not to sleep in the elevator tonight. Or right outside your door. He’s pretty upset.” 

“I’m surprised he still wants to hang around, considering how much of a dick Bruce was,” y/n said under her breath. “But I’ll do my best.” 

Martinez took a lot of convincing, but eventually relented and went home to his girlfriend. He made y/n put a chair under her bedroom door handle first, though.

Bruce hadn’t reappeared by the time y/n went to bed. 

She laid down, the words of their argument–or whatever the hell that had been–replaying on a loop. Being around him made her feelings go haywire. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so angry at him. The heartbreak of three years ago had taken over her life and she had to admit that the anger felt…almost good. Cathartic. But it also made her feel out of control. She didn’t feel like herself. Being mad at Bruce went against years of instincts. She was used to defending him, or him defending her, to being on the same team together.

She was still wide awake as dawn broke over the sky hours later. 

Another thought kept turning over and over in her mind. Frank Gallo–or someone he had hired–had gotten into her home. Her very, very secure home. 

She had been afraid before, but it was nothing like this. Her safe haven had been…sullied. They knew who she was, where she lived, and had basically said right to her face that not even Bruce Wayne’s money and power could keep her safe. 

Added all together, y/n’s mind simply would not shut off in order for her to sleep.

It occurred to her again that she hadn’t seen Batman at all–had Gordon updated him on what happened? Because he had been in that photo, too. He had kept her alive, which she was certain had pissed off the Gallos. Was he a target? Maybe the picture of them together was a threat to both of them, but only given to her since they knew where she lived. 

When she rolled over, her eyes caught on all of her research piled on the opposite side of the bed. Her eyes snagged on those three words: white knight syndrome. 

She bet she had her answer about any possible feelings he might have. Even if he had shown up, he hadn’t tried to contact her, to see her, nothing. He was probably sick of having to keep her alive. He was probably leaving it up to Gordon and the police department now. 

Despite everyone who was trying hard to keep her alive, y/n felt utterly alone. 

Next Chapter

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[luveline]

Oh my gosh Zombie!steve holds a special place in my heart. Please write more for this Drabble series

thank you for reading!! steve zombie!au —you and steve reunite after a morning apart. 1k, fem!reader

Steve's sitting by the fire unawares when you drape the spare blanket over his shoulders. His hair, wet from a quick scrub in the stream, has soaked the collar of his shirt. The blanket is a welcome warmth, your doting moreso. 

He puts his makeshift bookmark between the pages of his book and follows your face as you sit with him. The apocalypse and subsequent lack of movies has turned him into a bookworm through necessity. He worries about things too much if he has nothing to do, and lately that's always the case. 

"Hello," you say, crossing your legs. Your knee bumps into his. "Sorry. Hey. What chapter are you on?" 

He flips the pages until he finds the chapter header. "Chapter twenty five." 

"You're getting quick," you say. 

It's weird to him that after so many confessions, days spent in one another's arms, nights laying between each other's thighs, you still hesitate sometimes before touching him. You know how much he loves you, and you waver. 

"We could start reading them together again."

"I go too fast." Your eyes widen in recognition. "But you're quicker now." 

He doesn't mind missing the last few lines of each page if it means you'll lean your head against his arm for a couple of hours every night. Your breath warms his collarbones. Your cheek soft and smushed to his rigid shoulder. 

"Way quicker." 

He thinks you're beautiful. It might be hurtful to say you aren't everyone's type, and it's not that he felt he had to warm to you before you became his type or anything, but you have something about you that he loves. Maybe it's purely the way you smile at him, that silly devotion poorly smothered (that he hopes you'd find reflected by him), or maybe it's your eyes. Maybe it's the way you speak to him, half the time like you're worried he won't talk back, and the other half like you're the same person thinking all the same things. He's hungry for every thought you have. 

Beautiful, and he loves you. Steve couldn't be more sure about it, and everyday it gets worse. He wonders if it'll ever stop, or if one day he's going to wake up next to you and choke on air, astounded by the chances of it all. How did you manage to find him? What luck was it of his to get to keep you despite his bad behaviour? He knows he was never as kind as he should've been to start with.

He looks at you and he thinks, Fuck, she's pretty. 

Steve tosses his book down into the packed dirt and just stares at you. You look back unabashed for a handful of seconds he savours. 

"Do I have something on my face?" you ask. 

"No," he murmurs. "You're just beautiful." 

Your eyebrows thread together at the starts, a wrinkle creasing the skin between them. You don't believe him, your lips puckering into a small frown.

"Why do you say stuff like that?" you ask. 

"I really, really think it's true. That's why. I can't not look at you without thinking about it. Even when we're dirty and starving and smell like hot garbage," he says, shrugging gently. "You're beautiful." 

"You've been reading too many romance books."

"I get that it sounds weird," he says. "Doesn't make it less true. You're beautiful." 

"That's enough," you say with a grin. "Stop. If Eddie hears you saying that he'll make fun of you forever." 

Steve gives you a fake shove. "Sorry, I'm confessing my love and the first thing you bring up is my arch nemesis?" 

You wince though he's only kidding, more than aware of his Eddie Munson related jealousy. You both talk about everything without punches pulled these days, and you've assured him he's the only one for you, but he'd quite like to hear it again. 

"Sorry, that's my bad," you say, shuffling closer to him. You put your arm behind his back and kiss his shoulder, warmth unfurling from the contact despite the shirt and blanket between it. "I think you're handsome, too, but you know that. Beside the fact that I'd never really been naked in front of someone before, those early days were torture for me 'cus I thought you were, like, the handsomest guy I went to school with." 

"Just school?" 

"No," you mumble, crossing your free arm over his stomach, nestling yourself under his arm. "Handsomest guy ever." 

He dips his head to touch his nose to the top of your head. 

"I love you," you say, scrunching his shirt in your hand. 

"Yeah, I love you, too. How was work?" 

"Bah. How was your day off?" 

Steve likes getting time off at camp, but it's pointless when you're not off with him. "Wasted. Missed you stupid, helped out with the kids at lunch anyways, spent the rest of it on that shitty book." 

"It's no good?" you ask. 

He loves your voice. It shoots through him like a spark, your genuine, lilting concern. 

"Shit. I don't think I wanna finish it."

"Skip to the end and go get a new one," you suggest. 

He closes his eyes and breathes in the smoky air of the campsite. You have this effect on him —of many— where you can quieten a hectic place. You sit down next to him and suddenly he's not sitting a ways off from the fire in the middle of the Michigan woodland, he's with you. Plain and simple. 

"I will." 

"Maybe I can help you vet some? Make sure you get one you enjoy this time. Or we can trade some of our credits for a new pack of cards. I'll teach you how to play speed."

"After you tricked me into being bad at gin rummy? Nah, you're okay." 

You force his head up as you lift your own, pinning him with your tender gaze. "You like losing. You do, you always say I have to kiss it better." 

He's a simple man. A kiss from his girl is all he needs. "Maybe we should get a pack of cards," he says smugly. 

You shake your head at him, but you're beaming. 

[cj-ghostemoji-destielpie]

⚠️⚠️⚠️PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS IN THE ABOVE SCREENSHOT BEFORE CONTINUING!!! ⚠️⚠️⚠️

This is my fic btw 💖 it'll only get worse. Chapter two will be posted soon and it's... F-d up.

Royal Tastes, by Dragonborn_Eldenlord on AO3.

Chapter 1: The Young King, The Cannibal Knight, The Dead Knight:

Sir Hannibal Lecter. A knight, ruthless and merciless in his quests. Or hunts, as he calls them.

Hannibal was infamous among many kingdoms as the Cannibal Knight, or Hannibal the Cannibal, that ate his enemies as a show of strength; not a popular habit. Most Knights hated or reluctantly accepted their jobs, but he reveled in the bloodshed. The scars, the agony, the screams, the light fading in his victims eyes, blood gurgling from their mouths or dripping from shallow wounds til they slowly bleed out… He saw beauty in it all.

Hannibal was visiting a kingdom he hadn't visited in a good twenty years or more; the Ophiuchus Kingdom, named after the serpent constellation due to the multiple snakes that infest the forests. Ophiuchus was infamous. The past rulers were known for their vicious and violent tactics, for their greed and gluttony. The only reason Hannibal was coming here in the first place was to and get in the good graces of the new ruler, as they had recently had their coronation if rumors were to be believed.

Walking into the throne room, Hannibal noticed the grandiosity of the palace. The new King is obviously doing some remodeling since there's multiple portraits stacked in a corner, many of which are torn. Hanging on the walls in their place are tapestries, animal hides, and furs, making the throne room have more of an animalistic, wild, and feral vibe.

Hannibal noticed the lack of the King as the throne was momentarily empty but he knelt anyway, the dark gray metal of his armor scraping against the expensive tiled floor; dark inky black tile with gold outlines and occasional intricate designs. He kept his head hung low, and soon he heard the footsteps of who he presumed to be the new King.

“Sir Hannibal Lecter, at your service, my Lord,” He greeted, head still positioned towards the dark ground.

"My apologies, Sir Lecter, but I'm not exactly... Educated on the proper etiquette of societal expectations for how I'm supposed to act and talk so I hope you'll be patient with me. Stand. I'm Lokka La’Rose, new King, blah blah blah. Killed the last King because he was a dick, so on and so forth," Lokka says casually as he perches on the arm of the fancy throne, not even looking at Hannibal as the Knight stands, instead he's briefly frowning in distaste at the gawdy throne before finally looking back at Hannibal with curiosity, golden eyes slowly taking in Hannibal's armor clad body and handsome face.

Hannibal stood, looking at the new King now fully. He seemed young. At least, younger than most rulers. If he's an adult it's just barely. His outfit—well, it lacked any form of royalty. Wearing something like that in court would make him the laughing stock of all the nobles. He's dressed in simple hunter-like garbs; a simple dagger on his hip, faded animal hide trousers and shirt. His curly hair is messy but pulled back in a low ponytail to keep it out of his face.

There's an old ugly scar running across his face that somehow danced between both eyes without harming them. And his eyes are peculiar as well; unnatural gold, reflecting all light, and feline-like with slit pupils.

"No worries, there's nothing wrong with not knowing etiquette. You’ll learn, it’ll feel like second nature in no time at all, Your Highness,” Hannibal studies the scars on the young King's face, "May I ask how you got those?”

"The scar? I was eight years old, a starving orphan, tried stealing from some noble man and he actually noticed and decided to teach me a lesson. Left me with a scar so I'd be reminded of the consequences of theft. Instead it just reminded me of the power imbalance in the Kingdom and the greed of the rich.”

Hannibal stayed silent for a moment, his eyes locked onto the other man. He studied the scar again, as it ran across his face in a jagged line. It had clearly scarred over years ago, but it still looked quite prominent. He knew the old King, and he was a greedy man, for sure. He thought the entire Kingdom was a piece of him to flaunt around. And many of his nobles had the same mentality.

"I see. You didn’t deserve that, child," He said the word in a somewhat condescending tone, though his facial expressions didn’t change from their almost emotionless state.

A small quiet huff of amusement escapes the King, “So, what are you here for? You requested an audience with the King. I know I'm not probably who you expected but I suppose I can still hear your piece and possibly assist.”

Hannibal smirked at his slight amusement, finding the King somewhat amusing. He began to circle around the throne, eyeing the golden details. He then came back to the front of the throne, locking eyes with the young King who'd allowed the Knight to pace and circle around him, looking entirely unthreatened.

"I didn't expect y ou , no," He paused for a moment, "Though I heard that you killed the last King. Tell me, was it worth it?”

Lokka tilts his head in thought, ".... worth it for the people....perhaps not for me though. I didn't want to be King. I just wanted there to be change. But no one else had the power to do it.”

Hannibal nodded slightly, silently admiring his slight vulnerability. He seemed to have thought about it a lot. He crossed his arms behind his back, shifting his weight to one foot. He seemed to look him up and down again before speaking again.

"You did this for the people, not yourself. That’s very admirable, Lord La’Rose.”

"Thank you, but please, just call me Lokka. I'm still not used to that title… and you're interesting enough to keep around and befriend.”

"Very well, Lokka ."

The way Hannibal says the King’s name makes the young King shiver and his cat-like pupils dilate.

Hannibal tilted his head downwards slightly, his arms behind his back casually and nonthreatening but somehow still imposing. The boy seemed somewhat shy, but somewhat confident, at least for speaking to a Knight that was feared by many for his bloodthirsty killing. He took a few steps closer to the throne.

"How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?”

“17,” The young King states simply.

Hannibal nodded as an indication of acknowledgement, slightly impressed that he had managed to kill a man—let alone a King—at that age. There was clearly a lot of determination and courage, perhaps some foolish bravery as well. He took another few steps, now being a few feet away from the throne.

"Ah. Young and full of life," He teases.

Lokka gives a small playful smirk, "I've heard of you, Sir Lecter. Hannibal the Cannibal . The Cannibal Knight . Are you here to add another man to your diet or are you after something else? I'm not easy to kill so I'd think twice if I were you,” His tone isn't threatening, just playful but with a hint of promise.

Hannibal chuckled dryly at Lokka’s comment, his hands still behind his back. Hannibal seemed amused by Lokka, intrigued even. Lokka was a curious thing.

" You're smarter than you look, kid ," He paused for a moment, looking into his odd eyes, before continuing, "And you seem a tad bit cocky for a young Lord.”

“Fake it til you make it," He says with a simple shrug, a hint of insecurity in his strange eyes.

Hannibal chuckled, noting a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. He tilted his head to the side, studying him a little closer.

"You're not confident, are you?" He teased him, finding a way to get under the new king’s skin.

Lokka shrugs, unperturbed, “No, I'm not. But I'm stubborn and spiteful so I'm planning on sticking around as King for a long time. At least until I find a suitable heir."

Hannibal hummed in acknowledgement, somewhat impressed by Lokka's determination and stubbornness. He seemed like a boy filled with ambition and power…and yet so vulnerable. So…breakable.

He'll be fun to break . Hannibal thinks to himself with a secret smile.

" And when you find that suitable heir, will you simply pass the throne over to them without a fight?" Hannibal asked, taking a small jab at him.

"I'll train them, have them educated on the life of the nobles and the poor, make sure they have decent morals and a support system, and then I'll peacefully step down, give them the throne when they're ready, and perhaps stick around as an advisor or something if needed.”

Hannibal’s eyebrows raised slightly, impressed by his thought-out plan. He had clearly thought it through for a while, which he respected.

"So you already have a plan in mind, that's quite…ingenious." He paused for a moment, "And you're sure they’ll be fit enough to rule your kingdom?”

"I've no idea. Haven't met a suitable heir yet. Enough about that though. What is it you wished to accomplish with your audience with the King, Sir Lecter?”

Hannibal chuckled at him, slightly amused. Lokka was clearly done talking about the subject for now, which Hannibal was willing to respect. Sometimes you have to play the long game when playing with a new toy you wish to enjoy breaking.

"Ah. Straight to the point. I like you, Lokka." He commented, now towering over the shorter man, "I simply came to offer my services to you—to the kingdom, I mean.”

Lokka gives Hannibal a small playful smile, not bothered at all with Hannibal towering over him- most Kings would've had Hannibal thrown out for the attempt at appearing imposing or threatening, instead Lokka just peers up at Hannibal in amused interest, "You wish to be my knight?" He basically purrs sweetly.

Hannibal found Lokka's lack of fear for him amusing, almost down right hilarious. Most rulers would be intimidated by a man like him, but the boy didn’t even seem slightly bothered by it. Hannibal found it quite interesting.

"Yes, of course," He said, somewhat amused. "I am the best in my field. You’d be unwise to decline my services, kid.”

Lokka chuckles, "Most would be practically begging or at least respectful when offering their services to a King, even a young and naive King enjoys respect instead of being called a kid," Lokka says with a playful smile, casually crossing his legs as he remains perched on the arm of the throne.

Lokka studies Hannibal for a long few moments, golden cat-eyes piercing and intelligent as he takes Hannibal in, like a wild cat studying its prey. Slowly he returns his gaze to Hannibal’s.

"Ask again." He says, a small smirk tugging his lip, “maybe with a pretty please ?" He asks, basically taunting Hannibal.

Hannibal was taken somewhat aback by his request, his eyes widening a slight bit. He had expected him to be polite and shy in his response, not demanding and confident. Hannibal’s smug expression soon faded away, the slight teasing look still in his eyes.

"My apologies," He began, his expression almost blank by now, "I'll be respectful , like you'd like."

He took a deep breath, knowing he was going to hate it.

"May I please be your Knight, Your Majesty, Lokka ?”

Lokka giggles in honest amusement, golden eyes lighting up with joy before he schools his expression.

"hm...no," He says before smiling again. "I'm not going to waste your services as a common Knight. If you'd like to work for me, I'd rather you be my main security. Top knight, Housecarl, or whatever the fancy noble terminology is. I've heard of your skills and I'd love to see them in person. I've had multiple attempts on my life within just a week so I imagine you'll get a chance to prove yourself interesting . If you grow bored of being a bodyguard, then I suppose I can send you out to play with the other Knights. Does that sound appealing enough to you, Sir Hannibal Lecter ?”

Hannibal’s eyebrows shot up at Lokka's words, surprised. He was expecting to be a regular Knight of the castle, which was just fine. But security for the King? That was unexpected, but he was very much intrigued by the offer. And it would make it easier to toy with the King and slowly break him.

"That sounds very appealing," He commented, his smirk returning once again, "I agree to those terms.”

"Good. Splendid. Hope you don't mind explaining the seemingly stupid noble jargon the people here keep expecting me to understand. Do you understand the purpose of so many forks for one meal?" He asks, tone switching from the teasing playful to genuinely open and curious

He chuckled at his question, amused by the King’s clear lack of knowledge of the social rules.

"Of course. And I know the noble jargon.” He explained. "And it’s stupid, honestly. There’s so many rules for a simple meal. A commoner would eat an entire turkey with their hands, while Kings and Queens have to use specific forks and spoons for specific items of a meal. And don’t even dare to use your hands; you’ll be chastised by the etiquette police.”

The King sighs dramatically as he lays across the throne, "Everything has so many ridiculous rules and yet the commoners are more concerned with surviving, which is more understandable. Why so many forks when hands work just fine? It's stupid…”

"I think I'm going to like you, Sir Lecter." The young King says, rolling his head where he lays across the throne to look up at Hannibal.

"Perhaps I may say the same," Hannibal replied, an amused smile tugging at his lips. He studied him for a moment, admiring his confidence, especially for a young king like him.

“ Goddesses ! I need to get rid of this throne !" He jumps off of it dramatically, a good three feet in the air before landing on his feet in a squat like a feral cat before slowly standing like a normal human, "that thing is so ridiculously uncomfortable. And such an eyesore . Like, we get it! This is a throne! But if you're going to show off wealth you may as well use it for something comfortable . Especially if you're expected to sit in the evil thing for days on end and play nice with other nobility.”

Hannibal was surprised by Lokka's sudden outburst and unexpected agility as he jumped from his throne, not expecting him to be nearly as physically adept as he was for a King or a human. He let out a dry chuckle as he stood next to him.

"Most nobles and royalty don’t care about what’s comfortable. They just care about what looks good and makes them look better than everyone else," Hannibal replied dryly.

Lokka huffs and crosses his arms, glaring at the throne like a petulant child who was just told that he has to eat his veggies before dessert, “Well I'm not most kings. If I could have that replaced with a recliner I would... I suppose I'll just settle for having this fancy throne melted down to coins and donated to the commoners, maybe the orphanage. Then I'll just feckin' carve a nice throne from some cherry wood perhaps and get some nice comfy- but I suppose fancy fabric- cushions to line it with."

Hannibal chuckled at Lokka's…rant, finding his determination for a more comfortable throne quite amusing. He tilted his head to the side, studying the younger man.

"A cherry wood chair," He repeated, a single brow quirked, "With plush velvet cushions," He added dryly with a slight tone of mockery. He was clearly holding back his laughter.

The King huffs and throws his hands in the air with dramatic exasperation "Ye have better design ideas, Sir Lecter?”

Hannibal let out a few dry chuckles at his dramatic actions before replying with a smirk.

"Maybe. I was thinking something a little more… aesthetic ," He said, thinking over the design in his mind, "Dark oak. Gold or a dark material for the trimmings. Soft light fur as a cushioning.”

"....I might actually be able to work with that...I'll sketch something up and have you look it over,” the King says after actually seeming to seriously be pondering over Hannibal's words.

Hannibal hummed, finding him quite amusing. Who would’ve thought a newly crowned King would ask for his input on a throne design of all things? Hannibal had to hold back his smirk at Lokka's eagerness.

“Of course. I’ll look it over once you have it sketched up, Lokka.”

"....so," Lokka clasps his hands and rocks slightly in place, "I'm supposed to play nice and be all Kingly for a few more hours today. One of the servants told me that there were a couple different knights and messengers from different kingdoms coming today- aside from you. I was even warned that at least one messenger is going to try and get me to marry some King's daughter from a neighboring kingdom," he says, looking disgusted but hides it mostly, "Are you ready to play advisor/bodyguard today or do you wish to have a servant show you to your new quarters and start tomorrow?”

Hannibal could sense Lokka's disgust in his voice and almost chuckled but contained himself. It seemed he disliked the prospect of having to listen to someone ask him to marry someone’s daughter for political purposes. He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest once again.

"I’m quite ready. And if any messenger does decide to try to convince you to marry an ugly daughter, I’ll be your bodyguard and advisor.”

"I'm not concerned with their looks , I'm just opposed to marrying some girl I don't know nor wish to know ," He says simply, reluctantly sitting back on the throne, though properly this time. He glances at the grand fancy clock across the throne room, "The next person should be here soon. Don't remember if it's a knight or some noble, or a messenger though.”

Hannibal watched as Lokka sat back down on the throne, this time properly. He still found the throne to be a little gaudy looking, no amount of proper sitting would change that. He took a few steps closer to the throne, positioning himself on the right side of him.

"Well, whoever this next person may be, I’ll be right here," He replied, referring to his position beside Lokka.

Lokka gives Hannibal a small smile, "Good boy," He says playfully, but praising, and before Hannibal can snark or react, a servant enters and announces the arrival of another visitor; another Knight.

Hannibal’s smirk quickly faded in surprise with Lokka's playful praise, his cheeks taking on a slight red hue. He was not expecting him to say that, but he quickly shook it off. He refocused his attention back towards the entrance to the throne room as the servant announced the arrival of another Knight. His eyes narrowed slightly as he watched the Knight carefully for his mannerisms.

The Knight was mature in age, probably around Hannibal’s age. His armor was shiny and well-polished; he's probably rather stuffy and hasn't actually seen many battles. He entered the room rather arrogantly—like most Knights were—and began to speak in an overly cocky tone.

“Your majesty, I am Sir Charles,” The Knight said, standing in the middle of the room, not bothering to take a knee or bow or show any respect, making Hannibal curl his lip in distaste.

Lokka tilts his head, studying the man, "Sir Charles... I'm Lord La'Rose. What have you come here to ask of the new King of Ophiuchus?" Lokka asks, all previous playful energy gone, in his place is now a serious calm intelligent King.

Hannibal noticed that Lokka even used his title this time, instead of being casual like Lokka had been with him. The change was sudden. Happened as soon as Sir Charles entered, only a brief moment of Lokka sniffing the air prerequisites his personality shift when Sir Charles entered.

Sir Charles was taken aback by Lokka's sudden and unexpected shift into a completely different person. From a giddy, happy, young King to a stoic, serious individual in a matter of seconds. He paused for a moment, almost intimidated by the change, but eventually responded.

"Well, your majesty, I have come to… congratulate you.” He replied, the word ‘congratulate’ sounding almost bitter coming from his lips.

"hmmm... Is that so? You could've just sent some gift like most of the others singing my praises lately," Lokka doesn't sound cocky despite his words, he actually seems uncomfortable with the thought of being praised for what he'd done, "So, what else is it you wanted from me, Sir Charles, aside from wasting my time?”

Sir Charles was once again taken aback, clearly not expecting the King to brush off his praise and assume he was just there to waste his time. He stood silently for a few moments, almost shocked, before speaking up again.

“I wasn’t just here to give my congratulations, your majesty.” He replied, his tone somewhat snarky and somewhat irritated now. “I also came to request something.”

"speak, no need to dawdle.” Lokka says when Sir Charles doesn't get straight to the point, making Hannibal fight a proud smirk.

Sir Charles let out a snort, crossing his arms over his chest and taking a few steps closer to the King.

“If you’d be so kind, Your Majesty, I was hoping you’d send a few of your troops to help us in a little battle we’re having.” He explained, the tone in his voice still demanding.

"A little battle?" Lokka asks, a single brow raised, "Why? Plead your case, Sir Charles.”

Sir Charles let out another snort, his arrogance seemingly taking control as he spoke again.

“My kingdom has been at war for over a year now. We just lost a significant amount of soldiers and are requesting backup.” He said, as if the reason was obvious and simple. “It would be immensely appreciated if you would send whatever soldiers you can spare.”

"...you have yet to explain why you're even at war or why I should be inclined to help. Perhaps I'd rather help your enemies, hm? What say ye to that?"

Sir Charles stood silent, shocked, for a few moments. The arrogance on his face now faded into disbelief. Obviously, he hadn’t expected the King to be so indifferent and ask for a reason to send soldiers to help.

“The reason for our war…” He repeated, “Why- the reason is…”

He paused for another moment, trying to come up with a reasonable response on why they were at war and why they needed his help. A good reason. One that wasn't seeped in greed.

Lokka chuckles, darkly, in amusement, before speaking with a light disturbingly kind tone despite his words, "Give me a good reason, Sir Charles, before I send you back to your King without a head.”

Sir Charles almost staggered backward in shock, horrified by the King's response. His dark amusement and the threat of beheading him if he can’t come up with a good reason was enough to nearly make Sir Charles piss in his armor, but he managed to stay composed. Mostly. He swallowed thickly before replying again.

“We’ve been at war with our neighboring kingdom for years now. A war we can’t win without you. If you do not help, Your Majesty…” He paused once again, his voice wavering slightly, “We will be overtaken and lost.”

"Still," Lokka says, casually standing from his throne, and slowly walking down the steps of the platform to the main part of the throne room, gesturing with one hand casually for Hannibal to stay, back for now, "You've yet to explain why you're at war. Just that you are and that you're losing." Lokka's tone softens to an almost teasing seductive tone as he nears Sir Charles and raises a hand to gently caress the taller older man's cheek and tilts his gaze to meet his eyes, "so... Explain to me, Sir," Lokka practically purrs, "why," he traces his fingers over the Knight's pulse point, "you need me?”

Sir Charles froze as the King suddenly approached him, his hand gently caressing his cheek and moving his head to face him. The sudden shift in his tone and attitude to something more seductive and playful shocked him, his heart almost stopping as he felt his slender fingers tracing over his pulse point.

He inhaled deeply, unable to find the words to respond. His words got caught in his throat, but he eventually began speaking despite the dryness in his throat.

“I- We…” He paused, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"ooh, has a cat got your tongue?”

Sir Charles tensed his shoulders, his cheeks turning a slight pink at his words. It didn’t help that Lokka was so close to him, his slender but firm and calloused fingers still gently caressing his pulse point. Sir Charles swallowed again, his words stuck in his throat like a frog for a few moments.

“N-no.” He managed to stutter out, cursing himself for stuttering like a boy with a middle school crush.

The King chuckles playfully, dancing around behind the large Knight and draping his arms over the man's shoulders from behind, wrapping his arms around the man's neck and resting his hands teasingly on the man's chest armor.

"hmmm..." Lokka hums in thought, glancing over to Hannibal, "Sir Hannibal, what do you know of Sir Charles and his Kingdom?”

Sir Charles tensed more as the King began to dance around him, jumping slightly as he suddenly draped his arms over his shoulders. He immediately tried to look at whatever Hannibal’s reaction was to the King’s action, his stomach twisting into knots at the King’s forward and almost…flirtatious behavior.

Hannibal’s eyes remained fixated on the pair, his head tilted to the side observing the King’s behavior, and Sir Charles’ reaction. He noted his tension and how he seemed almost afraid of the small young King.

The boy continues to surprise me…

"Don't tell me a cat's got your tongue too now, Sir Hannibal," the young King calls out playfully to his Advisor and Knight, "Do you know of Sir Charles or his Kingdom? Feel free to speak your mind, Sir Hannibal.”

Hannibal’s eyes flicked over to the King as soon as he spoke up, his eyes narrowing for a moment before his normal, calm demeanor returned to him. He raised an eyebrow, a little surprised with the King’s almost childish behavior. He took no issue with it, it was almost…endearing…

Hannibal glanced back at Charles for a moment, observing his behavior further, before speaking up in his usual polite but crisp and composed tone.

“I know of his kingdom and his cause. I also know of his king.”

"Hmm," Lokka hums, teasingly nuzzling his face into Sir Charles' neck from behind, though from where Hannibal stands, Hannibal can see the way Lokka curls his nose in disgust at whatever he smells, or just disgust for the Knight Sir Charles in general.

“Continue to speak your thoughts, Sir Hannibal. What's your opinion? Since you know of him and his King. Should we help them? Why are they in a war?”

Hannibal noticed the way the King’s nose curled in disgust as he nuzzled into the Knight’s neck. That was interesting. Clearly, there was more going on than a simple plea for help. Hannibal kept that thought in the back of his mind for now as he continued to speak up.

“They’re at war with their neighboring kingdom because of a fight over land.” He explained, “Their King wants to expand his kingdom and is willing to take it by any means necessary, even if it means going to war.”

"Hmm...." Lokka hums, tracing his hands teasingly in a sexual manner over Sir Charles chest armor from behind as he continues to nose Sir Charles' neck, "pathetic," he hisses out before suddenly biting down and tearing into Sir Charles' neck, tearing out a large chunk of his flesh and causing blood to gush from his artery.

Sir Charles drops dead to the ground, a few brief gurgling noises before he dies. Lokka is now covered in Sir Charles' blood but looks unbothered. More annoyed with the blood on the beautiful tile throne room floor than anything else.

Lokka whistles out a sharp note and a servant enters.

"Maria, darling,” Lokka says sweetly, almost apologetic, and it seems genuine, “Can you have the gardener get rid of this one like they did with the King? You and the servants may sell or keep whatever he has on him. I'll need someone to clean this blood out of the floor. Again."

Hannibal’s eyes widened in utter shock the moment the young King suddenly bit the Knight’s neck. He stood speechless for a few moments, unable to speak or form any words or coherent thought. Everything about this moment was so…unexpected..

And strangely attractive.

Hannibal watched as the King called in a servant named Maria, almost stunned as he listened to what the pair said. He was still trying to process what just happened, and it almost felt like he was dreaming.

Maria nods and quickly fetches a few other servants. Soon the dead Knight is gone- a handsome but awkward looking man, the gardener presumably, fetching the body and carrying it out- and there's a servant cleaning the blood up. Lokka walks slowly back up to the throne and stops a few feet in front of you.

"Do you still want this job?" Lokka asks, unknowingly licking the blood on his lips.

Lokka's mouth, jaw, neck, and the front of his shirt is soaked in blood from Sir Charles.

"I promise to play nice and let you leave without harm if your answer is no. Though I will be sad if you do choose to leave.”

Hannibal’s eyes remained fixated on the bloody, almost gorey scene before him, unable to tear his eyes away from the blood on the floor.

He stayed silent for a few moments as he finally registered his question to him, his eyes snapping up to meet his gaze. His usual stoic features were now replaced with slight shock and awe. He wasn’t sure how to feel about any of this, it was all so…unexpected…

“I…I do still want the job, Your Majesty.” Hannibal says with a small stutter, surprising even himself. It's not fear though that makes him stutter. Something about the way Lokka looks with blood dripping from his chin is just… delicious. Maddeningly so.

"hmm... Very well then," Lokka turns and looks back at the servant currently cleaning the floor, "Maria? Sir Hannibal and I will be gone for a few minutes. If any guest comes, please apologize for the wait and have them guided to... I don't know where, just somewhere nice and keep them entertained and fed til I return. Understood, doll?”

Maria, a young, brown-haired, and freckled servant, looked up as the King addressed her. She paused for half a second before nodding her head. She didn't seem afraid of him despite the gore and violence.

“Understood, Your Majesty. Will do.” she says simply.

"Good." Lokka says with a soft smile to the girl, though the blood on him ruins the attempt at a kind image.

He turns and gestures for Hannibal to follow as he leaves the throne room and heads for his private chambers.

They're not the original King's Chambers- far too casual and not as overly decorated. There's still nice furniture and a sitting area but it's also decorated with multiple books filled with notes and scribbles in the margins, animal hides and leathers tossed everywhere, half finished crochet and wood carvings and leatherworking projects everywhere.

Lokka leads Hannibal in and practically ignores his presence as he goes to his wardrobe and pulls out a nicer but still not exactly Kingly clothes; simple black pants and a long sleeve black shirt. He changes and washes the blood from his face at the water basin before finally turning to look at Hannibal, not caring that he'd stripped down to his boxers and undershirt in front of the other man since the boxers and undershirt hid the parts of himself he likes to keep hidden from everyone who doesn't need to know his secret.

"So, any opinions or questions as to why I killed that Knight? You're allowed to speak freely. I won't give you the same side of me I gave him.”

Hannibal took the invitation to speak his mind, taking a moment to properly organize his thoughts before beginning to speak.

“You’ve clearly got a distaste for people who you see as weak, a person like the late Knight.” He began, keeping his voice and tone calm, and his words precise and careful to avoid sounding disrespectful. “Perhaps the Knight said something, or you simply got…fed up with him.”

The King chuckles softly, "hm, good theory but not quite, Sir Hannibal," He says as he sits on one of the couches in the sitting area of his private chambers, "I was going to kill him the moment I smelled him- I'm not a normal human if you haven't noticed yet."

Hannibal tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing for a moment as he fully assessed the king now, taking in his unnaturally keen sense of smell. This kid was far more than he seemed. He slowly walked over to the same couch and sat down a few feet away, keeping his usual polite composure still.

“You’re a werecat.”

Hannibal stated, not asking but saying it like it was factual.

“Precisely," the King says with a chuckle.

This was a very interesting development, to say the least. Werecats were relatively rare. Hannibal noted that Lokka's eyes resembled that of a cat. Sharp, unwavering, and almost predatory in a way.

“I assume you could smell that he was a coward…” Hannibal mused out loud, pausing for a moment as he noted more differences about the King.

“I did not kill him for his cowardice. But rather what I smelled on him- what he'd done- before he'd dirtied my Kingdom with his presence."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow, intrigued to know what he smelled on him. He never would’ve expected such a young king to be so…violent. The death was so vicious and sudden, and not to mention messy. And it was all over a particular scent.

But God, was it beautiful…

“What did you smell on him?” Hannibal questioned, his curiosity getting the better of him.

A murderous snarl tugs Lokka's lip, but not at Hannibal, rather the Knight he'd killed, "He smelled of children, suffering children, at least two. Two whose scents were far too different from his to have been his offspring. And scents that reeked of fear and pain. He'd harmed them. I dare not dwell in what ways."

Hannibal’s eyes momentarily darkened as he listened to the kid’s reply. Child abuse, a particular weakness of his. His hatred for it was almost as strong as his cannibalism.

For a split second, Hannibal suddenly felt a pang of…admiration. The kid had a sense of justice, in a way. A strange moral sense of delivering justice but still. He wasn’t a normal royal, that’s for sure.

“Is that why you killed him the way you did?” He questioned, masking his previous internal admiration and remaining composed and polite.

"Yes.”

Hannibal didn’t know how to feel about the King being so…unapologetic and straightforward about his violence, yet he found it almost refreshing and…charming. Usually, nobles danced and tiptoed around the subject and acted disgusted or horrified when acts like this were brought up.

“A brutal, yet justified death.” Hannibal muttered under his breath, speaking his thoughts out loud by accident.

"I'm glad you think so," Lokka says softly, head tilted slightly as he looks up at Hannibal.

Hannibal noticed his head tilt, taking in the small action further. He couldn’t help but find it…cute. The little King was clearly not an ordinary King, especially for his age. He was young, wild, and violent, and yet there was an almost endearing quality to him. Almost like that of a small, feral creature.

Hannibal's eyes drifted to the King's lips.

Soft and stained a faint red from the blood that he'd just washed off.

Lips that had parted to kill a man.

Lethal but beautiful lips that Hannibal wants to-

------

The gif of Hannibal covered in blood belongs to @bloodydancy ☮️💖

[daydream-believin]

Like A Boiled Frog (You Don't Even Scream) [ch 1]

notes: might proofread this before i post this to ao3 but here have the raw milk version (pasteurization is for losers amaright)

series summary: every time you think things cant get any more batshit, hurricane throws another pile of guano at you. every time you think the hole cant get any deeper, you fall further. and you’re not sure what frightens you more: the town itself, or your increasing reluctance to leave.

or: au where mike has that pizza shop for wayyy more than a week and you find yourself a horror protagonist. or at least one’s love interest.

chapter summary: get haunted bitch. now go drive to utah in a manic episode. go meet a nice walking corpse, maybe it'll fix you. or make you worse. probably that second thing lmao

word count: 7985, oh dear (thats with me cutting out some stuff lol)

warnings: uh, swearing, manic behavior, self-harmful thoughts/behavior, mention of hallucinations/hearing voices, shit this is sounding bad, i mean its canon typical violence so idk man no lifeguard on duty

You know how in Source Decay, John Darnielle says / I wish the west Texas highway was a mobius strip / I could ride it out forever / when I feel my heart break? / Well, that guy’s a bitchass snake oil salesman for romanticizing this. Fuck that guy.

Although, this is the first time you’ve ever been able to set a cruise control and actually just leave it at that. What with there being no other cars on the road out here at this hour for you to run into. You even forgot about it at one point.

Little puffs of fire danced in your peripheral vision, like fairies flitting about. It was easy to spot them out in the night air, all those pumpjacks that littered the desert. There was nothing but these small fires, with the tiny, dotted additions of the glowing red eyes of windmills to light up the way for miles.

And you tried not to think about how if you broke down, no one would be around to find you. Every now and then you would startle at the shadowy specter of a tumbleweed crossing your path, but you were acutely aware of just how alone you were out here.

On that train of thought, your gaze fell to the passenger side, to the little bear toy you had buckled into a seatbelt like it was a person.

“Can you believe this, Fredbear?” you asked the inanimate object.

Fredbear did not answer, of course. Would be insane if he did, right?

Hmm …Why did part of you expect him to.

***

The august sun was beating down hot on your back as you walked home that day. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but it was only last week.

The neighborhood was as full of life as it always was. The kids running around in a game of tag, the teens playing basketball, and the adults walking their dogs. You could hear some faint music playing in the distance, most likely from the stage setup in the square downtown, not too far away.

There were many yard sales set up, it being the thing to do on a sunny Saturday afternoon like this. Despite your very strong instincts to rummage through all the boxes in these sales like a raccoon looking for dinner in a dumpster, you were broke, with no money to spare for impulse purchases on random junk. And thus, being a mature adult, you walked right past them.

That is, until a yard full of children’s toys caught your eye. One of your cousins’ kids was turning 6 in a few weeks. Might as well buy presents now before you forget again and have to rush to the store in a panic 8 minutes after the party had already started, sweat rolling down your back as you search the toy isle for something the birthday boy would like, while your phone keeps buzzing in your pocket nonstop because both your cousin is texting and your aunt is calling to ask where you’re at because you were the one who was supposed to be picking up the pizza.

 I mean, just a hypothetical scenario here.

You didn’t really find anything good as you dug through the bins of miscellaneous action figures and toy cars. As you could recall, the kid really liked Iron Man right now. And sharks. Alas, you found no Iron Mans or sharks in those bins.

The other table’s baskets were full of stuffed animals. You could maybe get lucky and find a stuffed shark in there. But stuffed animals are notorious for being hard to clean; and yard sale plushies sometimes come with more than just one new friend. You weren’t about to be the reason your cousin had to fumigate her house for bedbugs. Again. So, you decided to close this case for now and skedaddle on out of there.

You took another look back at the table as you walked away.

Well.. The toys you could see at the top of the bins did look like they were well taken care of… It couldn’t hurt to just look, right?

Yeah no. You found no sharks unfortunately. What you did find, however, was this funky little teddy bear wearing a top hat and bowtie.

A real character, that one. The bright gold fabric of its body made it stand out amongst the other toys. The smile stitched onto the bear gave it a weird, smug look. And you hadn’t seen a plushy with eyebrows before.

That being said, this thing’s aura was so... unsettling. You stared into its black eyes, that seemed to stare right back at you, with a strange feeling twisting in the pit of your stomach.

“You like that one, do ya?”

You almost jumped out of your skin when the old man running the sale spoke to you. You had Not heard him come up beside you like that. Creepy.

“Yeah, it’s…” you tried to think of a positive word, “very intriguing. Looks like it’s ready for a party.”

“My granddaughter called him Fredbear. Found him over in Utah, many years back. In a yard sale, just like this one,” he gently took the bear from you, and looked down at it wistfully, “My granddaughter..  liked how smartly dressed he was. A perfect guest for her tea parties. You were right about that…”

The old man stared at the doll for a little longer after the conversation faded. You felt extremely awkward now. Perhaps you really should have just left without unearthing this obvious sentimental piece.

“My grandchildren are no longer here with me,” you felt a little uncomfortable with how he phrased that, “so, I’ll tell you what. Promise me you’ll take care of him, and he’s yours. Free of charge.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. I’d be happy to pay for him, really,” you felt bad taking free stuff from the elderly.

“No,” he said with a tone of finality, placing the bear firmly into your hands, “the day’s almost over. I’d like to help this old friend move on. It’s time.”

Well that somehow was both sweet and foreboding at the same time.

So, you thanked the old man and started back on your walk home, Fredbear cradled in your arms. He waved goodbye to you. The grandfather, of course, not the teddy bear.

You probably aren’t going to wind up giving this one to your cousin’s son. There was something about it that told you not to. Maybe it was the way the old man talked about it. You felt compelled to take care of the plush yourself. Kind of like an honor thing. Or a pity thing.

It smelled a little funky. But that’s nothing a little TLC couldn’t handle. And some dish soap.

Maybe you were just. Feeling a bit childish lately. Too small and easily broken. Moved to tears by little things that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Disregarded and treated like your fears weren’t real.

Deeply afraid.

Yeah, you’d give Fredbear a nice soak in the sink with a fun dish soap bubble bath. And maybe after that, you’ll both feel a little better.

You were alone in your apartment that night, as your roommate was always gone these days. And when you made your tea, you brought Fredbear a mug as well. A little tea party, for old time’s sake.

Looking back, maybe that was your first mistake.

***

Static rolled from your radio. You gave up on fiddling with it hours ago, but you’ve got nothing better to occupy your mind now.

You turned the knob absentmindedly, never really expecting to get anywhere. Or any signal, that is. A muffled country song here, the broken-up voice of a DJ there, nothing strong enough to stay for more than a few seconds. However, a few seconds of a clear transmission was all you really needed when you rolled past a certain signal.

“zZz-Hurricane—“

Now that was a word that got your attention. Not that you were anywhere near the coast at the moment. You know, unless the person reading this is looking to buy some oceanside property in Arizona. In that case feel free to slide into my DMs.

“zZZ-Peach Days! -Zz celebratio— zzZ-year—peaches peach—-ZzzZ-Heritage-zZ,” you let your gaze flicker downward, towards the dimly lit red text of the frequency number display as if that would provide some more insight.

And then suddenly, the fuzz was completely gone, as if you were near the tower itself,

“So Hurry On To Hurricane City!” the spokesman encouraged cheerfully. You could practically here the giant pageant smile in his voice as he delivered his slogan. This man was your friend, obviously. Then, however, his tone shifted as he closed the ad copy, “Because you know the party can’t start without you…”

You held your breath as the silence dragged out a few agonizing seconds, until “ZZZZZZZZ!!!”, in a jolt, the transmission went completely out. Explosively. You even flinched.

You stayed on the station for a good twenty minutes after that, waiting to see if you could hear anything again. You could feel your heart pound against your ribs until the terrifying feeling faded. There was nothing else but static, of course, and for so long you almost thought you must have imagined it. If not for the way those dull words repeated in your head, over and over.

THE PARTY CAN’T START WITHOUT YOU.

THE PARTY CAN’T START WITHOUT YOU.

THE PARTY CAN’T START WITHOUT YOU.

You hadn’t really had a destination in mind when you took off. No goal other than to get out of there as fast as you could manage. The idea of the West had been bouncing around your brain a lot lately, hence your current trajectory, but you really hadn’t had a clue where you were supposed to be going when you left.

I mean, you still didn’t have a destination. You had no clue what that advertisement was even about. Where they were even fucking talking about. Hurricane City?

Yet, somehow, you knew those words were meant for you. Not anyone else. you. There was a party and the party was waiting for you.

Guess you’d have to look for a map or something in town. Perhaps use the library computer. Man, you would regret throwing your phone into the lake in a fit of passion as you left town, but honestly, this is the longest you’ve known peace in quite some time. Just gonna have to live a little retro for a while. Not the worst thing in the world.

You’ll get a new one later, once you’ve settled in to… wherever you’re going. Whatever new home lies over that horizon for you, you guess.

The sun was breaching the beige skyline of sandy shrub brush as you finally rolled over the state line. You needed to eat. Your stomach growled loudly at just the thought. Funny. You hadn’t even thought about eating in the last.. twenty hours. Which means you should be absolutely shaking right now. Yeah, that’s why you’re shaking. That’s it. You’ll pull into the first diner you see.

You were hoping to at least be in Roswell for breakfast, but there was no way your body was going to be able to keep running if you waited that long. Looks like it’s just going to be the first place you come across.

Hopefully they don’t put green chilis in their pancakes or something.

That sounds insane but it’s an actual thing you’ve seen before in this state, trust. There are no laws nor gods when it comes to Hatch green chilis.

***

Your sleepy brain was not ready for the bell that rang as you walked through the door. Embarrassingly enough, the tinny noise startled you. You almost tripped, to be honest. Thankfully your wobbly Bambi legs held up as you managed to catch yourself.

The hostess wasn’t in sight as you awkwardly stood in the entrance, but there was a whole heap of noise coming from the kitchen.

“Hold on just a second, Sweetpea!” a voice called out to you.

Well, guess you’re holding on a second.

Your eyes scanned the top of the walls, perusing the vast cookie jar collection that the owner had accrued over the years. They were never dusted, despite being on shelves that lined the top of every wall in the tiny shack of a diner, and thus you could easily tell that a few new additions had been made. You know, because those cookie jars were way less filthy.

That’s gotta be a heath-code violation.

After you heard a bit of garbled yelling, the hostess rushed out to take her place in front of you. Smoothing down her polka-dotted apron, she grinned at you.

“Table for two?”

You blinked. It was too early in the morning for fully intelligent speech.

“Uh. No. Just me today. Thank you.”

Her big, bedazzled cat-eyeglasses fell a little farther down her nose as she scrunched her face in confusion, “alright then. Just the one of you today...”

She grabbed a paper menu as she led your shambling body to a table near the window. Which was shut away with ancient looking vinyl blinds that you were too afraid to open, lest they crumble and the cost of replacing them be put on your on tab.

She had already disappeared back into the kitchen by the time you got yourself in a seat. You glanced around the room. You weren’t the only patron here, as a few tables held a few bodies, but you were the only one without your face buried in a newspaper. And to be expected honestly, you were the youngest person in the room at seven in the morning.

The hostess, who was also the only waitress in this tiny local business, placed two glasses in front of you. The dull sound they made hitting the table drew you out of your revelry. There before you were two cups, a steaming mug of fresh coffee and a short glass of milk. You looked up in confusion.

“Don’t worry, it’s whole milk. Builds strong bones.”

That... wasn’t your concern.

You looked back at the cup in confusion and by the time you turned back, she had already moved on to the next table, refilling mugs and having loud banter with the other customers. Her regulars, by the sound of it. You felt too apathetic to try and call her over again.

You shrugged, to no one in particular, as you did not have a breakfast partner with you, despite the waitress’s insistence otherwise. Wait, was she mocking you? Eh, maybe it’s just supposed to be for the coffee. Nevertheless, you would not be drinking the milk, so you just left it there.

Despite the prevalence of the local newspaper in the room, there wasn’t a dispenser or anything at the front of the restaurant, like there usually is. As you drummed your fingers on the tablecloth, bored out of your mind, you kinda regretted throwing your phone in the lake a bit more. Maybe not the best of moves.

But hey, at least you aren’t constantly quelling the incessant buzzing you’d be hearing if you’d kept it.

You busied yourself stirring your coffee while you looked over the menu again, just for something to read. Of course, you were ordering a waffle. Because this was a diner, and, yeah, you do like waffles. And pancakes. And French toast. Doodoodoodoo can’t wait to get a mouthful.

That voice kept echoing in your mind. The party can’t start without you.

“More coffee, Babycakes?” the waitress snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Oh! Yeah, thank you,” you moved the mug to the edge of the table, closer to her, “Say… I know this is an out-of-pocket question, but have you heard anything about Hurricane City? Maybe something about peaches?”

“Oh!” she snapped her fingers, “You mean the Peach Days. It’s a little heritage festival they put on every summer in Hurricane, you know. It’s a hoot, my family makes a trip out there every few years or so for it. Not this time of course, clearly, since I’m here talkin’ to you and not in Utah—”

“In Utah?”

Of course, it was Fucking Utah again.

“I know it’s soundin’ far, but it’s only ‘bout a day’s drive from here. Two days if y’ain’t crazy about following an itinerary like my husband,” she brushed a hand over her apron before you lost her attention to the other customers, “I swear that man would plan out a schedule for every second of the day if he could…”

After she wandered off to go top off more mugs, you lamented the fact that you still hadn’t ordered yet. That’s what you get for being nosy about peach festivals, you suppose.

Thankfully though, soon enough you had your hearty breakfast and were back in front of the wheel, on your way to the friendly neighborhood Walmart. Where hopefully no cops or employees would bother you as you crashed in the parking lot.

You took Fredbear to the backseat with you for good luck. Maybe it was the gold color, or the fancy getup he had. Maybe you just needed a cuddle buddy to not feel so alone in this parking lot swarming with people.

Much to your disdain, it was now a bit into the morning hours, and the sun was fully up.

You had tried to find as shady a spot as possible, but it’s not exactly like trees grow in this biome. At least not naturally. Windbreak tree lines were definitely a thing, but those protected buildings people cared about, and this was a Walmart. Nothing around here but concrete, rocks spray painted blue, and cigarette butts.

So after tossing and turning in the bright blinding sunshine for way longer than you should have, and making promises to higher deities was proven to be unfruitful in your attempt to find some semblance of peace, you finally just had to admit defeat. And here by rescinding any aforementioned promises to higher powers.

You laid Fredbear back down on the seat and tucked him in with the blanket when you got back up. At least one of you could be cozy and well rested. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to be you, however.

Well, it’s far from the first all-nighter you’ve pulled without having time to take a nap during the following day. Sleep deprivation isn’t real, silly. Teachers just made that up to scare you. It’ll be fine.

***

You know you never really realize how much we structure our lives around other humans until you take a drive through the middle of nowhere. How essential it is to have enough gas to make it to the next town. From town to town, your life becomes segments. Only within the eyesight of other humans are you ever safe. Only within the bounds of the settlement can your soul be settled.

Gas stations become oases. Which is the plural of oasis, apparently. Anyway, you start seeing them like mirages. Dingey, weather-worn gas pumps become as good as a sparkling illusion of precious water in the Sahara. The empty shells of buildings you passed by, long since forgotten, became like mausoleums in these graveyard towns. Villages. Hamlets. Mostly hamlets.

“Are we there yet?” a small and very annoyed voice called out.

You had just written it off as your imagination until you heard the noise of shuffling fabric. Normally your audio hallucinations aren’t that detailed. Paralyzed, you held your breath, not daring to make any noise that would distract your ears from hearing whoever, whatever, was in the back seat. Your mind went to stories of skinwalkers and misshapen monsters and hitch-hiking serial killers.

“… Are we there yet?” the voice repeated, admittedly sounding even smaller to you now.

Yep, that’s a real person alright. Or a real thing. Your eyes were probably bloodshot from the way you haven’t blinked this entire time, just staring straight ahead on the desert highway. Taking a deep, shaky breath to steady yourself, you turned down the rear-view mirror…

Christ almighty. You had a stowaway.

Your stomach turned immediately. God, come on now, don’t puke up what little you had on your stomach. You need that.

“Hey Buddy,” you tried to sound as friendly as you could, “What’s your name?”

Clad in a little striped shirt and cargo shorts, he started kicking his feet in impatience, which would be cute if it weren’t for this situation y’all are in, and the adrenaline pumping through your veins, “We’ve been in here forever,” he whined.

If this was a skinwalker, he was a pretty darn adorable one. And definitely not a hitch-hiking serial killer. At least you hoped. But no, this was a greater form of terror: responsibility.

“Haha, yeah, we have been in here really long, haven’t we? How long do you think we’ve been driving, can you tell me?”

When did you pick up this child. When you got gas in Gallup? Albuquerque? Dear lord, if he’s been in here since Roswell, you’re about to have the world’s biggest headache on your hands, both metaphorically and physically. But there’s no way he’s been in here for fucking 10 hours, right? right??

Okay, okay. Maybe you’re just a little panicky right now and not thinking straight. Maybe teachers hadn’t been making up sleep deprivation just to scare you after all. You have been purposely not drinking anything for the lack of available restrooms. People get dehydration hallucinations, right?

The boy just stared at you, blankly. Probably fully realizing you were a stranger and not whoever he thought you were. In lieu of answering you, he started fidgeting more with the toy bear you had had in the back. You really hoped that hadn’t been what lured him into your station wagon in the first place.

Don’t be getting shy on me now, kid.

You put your blinker on, ready to merge off the road and onto an incoming rest-stop that you thanked your lucky stars for.

“Honey, can you tell me what your phone number is?”

He looked up at you, finally tearing his attention from the bear, and you could see gears turning in his head.

“…435-555-1987?”

You repeated it back to him, and he nodded. Alright, time to find that payphone.

Said rest-stop payphone was thankfully near a picnic table so you could sit him down and be able to watch him carefully the whole time you made this call. Because judging by the fact this situation was happening at all, he was a slippery one.

You got out of the car and opened the back door, but he was hesitant to get out. Which, fair, you are a stranger trying to get him to a second location.

“What’s up, Bud?” you tried your hardest to not sound like a predator but boy was that a real nebulous idea, wasn’t it?

“Fredbear wants to come too,” he mutters.

“Well, sure then, let’s bring him, we’ll have a little picnic.” With no food, but hey, whatever lie it takes to get him sitting on that bench.

It was really cute the way the kid set the bear down on the table and positioned it like they were going to have a picnic together. When you find this kid’s parents, you’ll let him keep Fredbear. Toys like it when they’re given to new children, right? Wasn’t there a movie about that or something. Wincing at the grubbiness of the payphone, you reluctantly dialed the number.

“Hello, Jeff’s Pizza on Main St, are you ready to order?”

You closed your eyes, counting the seconds as you breathed in for 4 seconds, held it for 7, and released for 8.

“Hello? Are you there?”

“Yes!” you practically shouted into the receiver. So much for calming down, “please don’t hang up,” you pleaded.

“Listen, we don’t take solicitation,”

“No, uh, sorry. I’ve found a lost child who told me this was his number. Is the owner of this restaurant by chance frantically looking for their son?”

You heard some muffled conversation happening behind the phone, “Well, no, I don’t even have any kids… and I uh, am currently understaffed. Im the only one here.”

you cursed under your breath.

“Uh, alright, well…” you could tell this was getting really awkward for him.

“Could you tell me where y’all are, I’m unfamiliar with the area code,”

“Uh, Hurricane, Utah?”

… If you weren’t on the phone, you fucking swear you’d be screeching at the top of your lungs like a chimpanzee right now.

“Thank you, you know, just in case he’s just remembering an advertisement he’s seen or something,”

“Oh, okay,” there was a pause, “well I hope you find the parents or, whoever,”

“Thank you,” you’ll put him out of his misery and hang up.

“Are you sure that’s your number, Hon?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Why don’t you tell me it again, maybe I dialed it wrong,”

“435-5--” his face scrunched up in concentration, “435-555—I don’t know…”

You tried not to look visibly stressed at this answer.

“Do you know where you live?”

He moved the bears paws along with whatever little game he was playing, before looking up at you, head tilted in confusion, “Hurricane?”

Okay. Police time. If not for him, for you. The skinwalker possibility just went back up. Because, honestly, he had to have gotten in your car as a coyote or something. No way you wouldn’t’ve noticed a whole ass child entering your car.

“How does ice cream sound, huh Buddy?”

“I want ice cream!” he said hastily as if you’d change your mind if he hesitated.

“Ice cream it is then, but only if you’re good for me and the officers, okay? And tell them everything you can remember. You’re smart, right?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Great,” you smiled over clenched teeth.

After herding him back into the car, you had to take a moment to gently rest your head into the steering wheel. And it took everything within you to not smash said head into it. Or scream in agony. No, no, we mustn’t scare the child.

Tuba City wasn’t too far away. The police station was downtown, as most are. Luckily, across the street there was a paleteria with a courtyard area. The little guy got very excited when you got pulled into the parking space, so eh, what the hell, ice cream first. Maybe after a treat and some playtime in the courtyard he won’t be as wiggly and will be able to tell the cops what he knows about just where the hell he came from.

The noise of the bell chiming made you flinch as you two walked into the paleteria. You hadn’t thought you were that tightly wound right now but apparently you were wrong. The lady behind the counter greeted you warmly, and you responded in turn, trying to play it cool.

God, imagine if she got an off-vibe from you and the kid and called over the police from across the street before you even have a chance—

Deep breath. Okay. The kid you had started referring to in your head as just “Little Boy” was leaned against the display case, his breath fogging up the glass in front of him and probably leaving little handprints for the shopkeeper to clean later.

“I’m sorry about that,”

“That’s… Okay. What can I get you?” she seemed a little confused. Strange, but you brushed past it just as quickly as she did.

“Ah, what do we want?” you asked Little Boy.

He excitedly tugged on your pantleg and pointed to the popsicle he wanted, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes. He doesn’t need to convince you, but you quickly realized you were not going to be able to say no to any else after this if he deployed the same cute begging look.

“One of those cute little Tweety Bird faces,” you pointed.

“Anything else?” she handed you the popsicle and you gingerly took it.

“Nah, that’s it” you were too nauseous to eat right now.

You paid, throwing the change into the tip jar, and turned to give Little Boy the popsicle she handed you.  The words caught in your throat as you looked down to find your pantleg absent of any tugging by any Little Boy. You quickly scanned the tiny paleteria. He was nowhere to be found, anywhere in the room.

“Uh, did you see where the kid went?” you tried not to sound too panicked.

She was taken aback, also quickly looking around the room to find no one, before shaking her head, “Did you have a kid with you?”

You furiously nodded in confusion,

“I’m sorry, then I didn’t see them,” she pointed to the glass door that led to the courtyard only a few feet away from y’all, “Try outside, maybe?”

You burst outside, searching the area in a panic, but you couldn’t see him anywhere. Not hidden in the tangle of the garden, not splashing around in the fountain, not at, under, on top of, or around any of the tables.

You went to call his name, but your voice caught in your throat when you realized you didn’t have a name to call. And.

And.

Something hit your shirt. A water droplet. You looked up into the clear, blinding blue sky. Your nerves tickled as another droplet ran down your cheek. Oh, you were crying. Huh.

You took the closet seat you could find, counting the things processed by your 5 senses. It’s all you could do to not start bawling for no reason. Maybe you’ll calm down and be able to think straight soon.

Why can’t you think straight? Everything feels so fuzzy.

You should be terrified, and in a way, you were. In your heart of hearts, you knew the truth: Little Boy wasn’t real. Or at least turned back into a coyote and ran off.

As you stared vacantly into the open air, you realized you still had a dripping popsicle in your hands. Supposedly “Tweety Bird” shaped, it just looked like a yellow skull missing its mandible bone to you. How fitting.

You pulled it to your mouth. Yum. Tasted like AAAAAAAA. Or orange, according to the package.

Attempting to lick the melted yellow liquid off of your hand, you accidentally stuck the ice pop on your face. Great. Now you’re sticky all over.

God, you’ve really gone and lost your fucking marbles this time, haven’t you.

There was a bulletin kiosk a few feet down your field of vision. On that bulletin kiosk was an old poster, barely visible as it was buried under layers of other flyers. It caught your eye and seemed to burn your retinas. What little you could see was the word Freddy and part of what looked like a version of the bear you’d been toting around this whole little expedition, but that was enough.

Something clicked. You looked down at the bear hanging by your side in your other hand. The kid had shoved it into your arms so he could more easily lean on the display case, right before he disappeared the very moment you took your eyes off of him.

You know, you hadn’t really felt alone since bringing Fredbear home. And not in a good way.

Guess the name you should’ve been calling was Freddy.

You had to get rid of that bear.

***

You had been walking home like you always did, same route. But you noticed something peculiar about this time. The house that the old man had his yard sale in was now stripped of all decoration, with a For Sale sign proudly standing in the grass. No cars, and no blinds or curtains on the windows, so you could see into the den which was now devoid of any furniture.

You’ll admit it, you crept around to the other windows, searching for any signs of life at all in the empty rooms. None. No furniture, no people, no trash. The yard sale was yesterday. How did they clean this place out so thoroughly in the short amount of time between when you’d seen it last and now.

A little confuddled, you went home as usual. While strange as hell, this wasn’t a missing person’s case or anything. And it’s probably why the man was so adamant on giving you Fredbear because it was the end of the day. He had a deadline. He was skipping town.

God, you wished you could just skip town.

You frankly thought nothing of it when you unlocked the door to your apartment to see Fredbear was already seated on the couch, like he was all set to marathon whatever 30-year-old cartoon you wound up watching that night. And it’s not like your roommate hadn’t done something like this before, move a stuffed animal or action figure into a funny position for you to find later.

You hadn’t seen him much lately. Or like, at all. The only reason you knew he was still alive were the dirty dishes in the sink, dirty clothes on the floor of the bathroom, and the aforementioned moving the bear around.

Looking back now, was he moving the bear around?

If you locked the deadbolt that can’t be unlocked from the outside, you’d be guaranteed to catch him in person for once. But you weren’t willing to go through the trouble and emotional toil of doing that, however.

In the name of feeling less like a ghost haunting your own home, getting yelled at for intentionally locking your roommate out might be a wee bit counterproductive. Sure, you’d be seen and spoken to, but the harshness of his words and tone would send you into a worse episode than you were already in.

Well, at least Fredbear seemed ready to keep you company tonight...

The fact that they put unskippable advertisements on streaming services you’re paying for in the first place is criminal. Or at least regular cable tv in a trenchcoat.

You got a drink while they prattled on about luxury cars you couldn’t afford and real estate companies you weren’t going to have the privilege of patroning any time soon. Embarrassingly, as you poured the pitcher of water into a glass, you got a little distracted.

The cheap glass’s glass was only about a millimeter or two thick. You could easily just crush this cup in your hand, in one swift movement. The muscles of your arm began tensing up at the thought.

But thankfully, a loud, blaring advertisement coming from the TV snapped you out of it. And so, you promptly decided to Not Do That, because picking all of those tiny glass shards out of your flesh would be a bitch. And that was not how you wanted to spend a perfectly good Sunday night. And of course you didn’t need the questions at work tomorrow.

You returned to the couch, curiously, and you swear, that damn teddy bear followed you with its eyes. Even though they were a shiny, solid black, and the idea itself would be insane.

As you settled back down, you grabbed the remote to turn down the volume of the cheery music playing. Mysteriously, it wasn’t just a commercial with bad sound mixing, the TV itself had been turned up. Now that it had your attention, the thing that was being sold to you seemed to the state of Utah. You know, those Visit [X] ads that were commonly played between cooking shows and ghost hunting documentaries.

“Oh hey, you’re from there, right?” you poked at fredbear. And immediately felt pathetic. God, you’ve got to stop talking to inanimate objects and like get a boyfriend or something. Geez.

The imagery on the screen was just, you know, normal southwest stock footage:

A drone shot of Zion national park

Old men golfing

Owls living in holes they’ve dug into cactuses

Rock archways

A family laughing as they shared a pizza being served to them by a man in a bear suit that looked just fredbear,

“Oh, well there you are, I guess.” you once again absent-mindedly spoke to your toy friend.

Kids swimming in a fancy resort pool

A Navajo cultural event

More rock archways and red sandstone cliffs

Kids crowding around a claw machine filled with toys just like the one sitting next to you

Kids crowding around a stage as an animatronic band played

Kids crowding around a birthday cake, the light of candles bouncing off their faces as they sang along…

The fake sounding voice of the announcer rung out, “Visit Utah! You know the party can’t start without you!”

Your mouth felt dry. Good thing you now had that glass of water.

***

Of course, you did what any smart, sane person would do and feverishly ripped through the layers of old flyers to get to the advertisement for what you now knew was Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place. A themed diner and nickel arcade that made most of their money hosting birthday parties, by the looks of it. You knew the type; you had been an American child once too.

Good thing none of the cops were hanging around outside to fine you for littering, because the amount of paper you just released into the breeze was in fact criminal.

There was a short list of locations at the bottom of the poster. They had a few scattered over Utah, or at least they used to, judging by the harsh weathering of this poster. The closest one being in Bigwater, explaining why this poster was out here in Tuba. But the word Hurricane stood out to you like it was lit up in neon. It burned like sunlight.

It appears you are in fact on your way to Hurricane, Utah. As if you didn’t know that already at this point, you being out on the canyon rim instead of your much preferred and beloved Rockies. Well, congratulations bitch. You’ve only got another three hours to go. Better get going. Have fun!

***

Oh, this place was creepy as hell. Or it’s just late at night, and you’re sleep deprived and paranoid. In the spirit of being honest to yourself, ‘sleep deprived and paranoid’ has always been your natural state of being, but right now it’s definitely ramped up to an eleven.

But even though it’s been close to 48 hours since your last brain-reset, this place still had a certain energy about it. Like New Orleans, or the woods around lynching bridges did. That spooky oh I am Not Safe here type of energy.

The gas station-man gave you a real weird look when you stormed in and asked where the Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place was. Normally you would’ve chalked it up to you being a clear foreigner asking for directions as if it’s 1995, to a children’s arcade close to midnight nonetheless, but now you weren’t so sure.

You eyed the fridge full of wine in pint sized bottles and little juice cartons. But nah, you probably needed to have a quick reaction time to whatever was waiting for you in this Venus flytrap you’re willingly walking into. You grabbed a Monster instead and you know what, yeah, that probably wasn’t the best decision either. If you weren’t high strung before, you definitely were now. You felt like you could punch a bear. A Freddy Fazbear.

You bought a local map alongside the energy drink, feeling like you were gonna need it. Man, low-tech was actually kinda annoying after a while. You got the gas station-man to begrudgingly mark Fazbear’s down onto it for you. Apparently, it and all other locations within town had closed down some twenty years ago. Not many people are still around who remember why, he said, but it had something to do with the faulty animatronics. Teenagers told ghost stories and dared each other to spend the whole night in the dining room. But otherwise, beyond the rumors, the original Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place was just an empty, scorched building. And the other various locations like Jr’s or Circus Baby’s had been sold off, passing so many hands who knows what businesses were in there now. But you could still kinda tell, if you paid attention, in the same way you can tell if something used to be a Pizza Hut.

What you really wanted, according to gas station-man, whose nametag read Gary, was this new location that was opening soon, simply named Freddy’s Pizzeria. It’s set to open for business in September, so you’re lucky. He marked it one your map as well.

You don’t know why Gary was so nice to you. Maybe it was the harrowed look in your eyes. Maybe it was the twitchiness. Maybe Gary is just very bored of this tourist town and was looking to fall madly in love with a random troubled soul he met at midnight in a gas station and would wind up running away with to some far-off place. If that was the case, sorry Gary. You were too busy with the metaphorical torture labyrinth to care about romance at the moment.

You couldn’t decide if the haunted Fredbear would want to see an old location or the new one. You asked, but of course the fucker didn’t answer. Just sat there with his smug grin and glassy eyes that followed your hand movements. So, you quite literally tossed a coin. A new mint, the face side had Eleanor Roosevelt on it. And she marked the fact that you were going to try the new location first, and then try the original building next. Cool.

***

Your patience was kinda at its limit here, you’ll admit. You really should get some sleep soon. Or eat. Since you were hellbent on getting here and nothing else, the only thing on your stomach besides that wretched Tweety Bird popsicle is half a monster energy. Guess you’ll go by a fucking Denny’s after this. If you survive.

If you were going to die horrifically, you’d really rather the forces that be make it snappy. This was getting ridiculous.

You pulled into the parking lot. The building clearly wasn’t new but had been freshly painted. Nothing creepy so far. As you stared down the building, sizing it up, you noticed there was one car parked in the front, and a few of the windows were lit up.

Cool, so there was someone in there. Great. That makes, well whatever this is, much harder.

The door was locked.

You could hear music playing from inside. You banged on the door as loudly as you could manage, and it still took a couple of minutes before the music stopped. And then a very disgruntled man in coveralls was in the doorway, tiredly asking just what the fuck you wanted at this time of night.

He smiled to cover up his rudeness, but the smile stretched a little too wide, inhumanly wide, and a shiver ran down your spine.

You took him in, unashamedly raking your eyes over his form. He stood awkwardly, as if ready to bolt at any moment. What you could see of his build made him out to be weirdly skinny. That unnaturally wide smile gave way to some exposed teeth on the left side of his face. His eyes were shadowed by his bangs in the backlight of the door, but you swore they almost glowed themselves. His complexion was greyish and bordered on almost purple in this lighting.

Despite all this, he was still pretty handsome. Well, you did always think some of those creepypasta guys were boyfriend material. Maybe, you wouldn’t mind getting chopped up into little pieces if this guy was the one doing it. Okay, and maybe you’ve been sleeplessly chasing ghosts too long.

Startling you, he reached his hand to grab your shoulder, a little too fast.

“Hey mate, are you okay?” He asked nervously,

It snapped you out of your stupor, realizing you had yet to say a word to him, “Uh, yes, I just wanted to…”

How do you even fucking ask this. “Hey, can I bring a stuffed bear to your dining room so maybe it’s spirit will leave me alone? Maybe conduct a séance or something?” Seriously, did you even know what you were doing here? Shit. Okay.

“I wanted to ask if I could check out your facility?” came out like a question because even you had no clue what you were saying.

“Come back tomorrow in the daylight, then,” he began closing the door, shaking his head in annoyance, “or perhaps when we’re actually open.”

“NO!” you slammed your foot into the door as he closed it, “AAGH!”

“Jesus Christ! WHY.”

Dear lord, this man now 100% thinks you’re a crackhead.

“Just, don’t close that door, okay,” his brows scrunched together as you grit your teeth to swallow down the pain, “I need you to help me.”

“I really don’t have any money to spar--”

“I’M HERE BECAUSE OF A GHOST,” you interrupted. Finally, you managed to get that out somehow, if nonsensical.

A look of recognition flickered in his glowing eyes. He lowered into your space, kind of intimidatingly. Or intimately. Yeah, no, this was hostile, don’t fool yourself.

“What kind of ghost,” he asked suspiciously.

“Uh,” shit, okay, “the weird, haunted doll kind? Uh, like the ones the McElroy brothers are always bidding on on eBay. Or maybe this is kind of a Ben Drowned kinda situation, I’m not completely sure.”

He blinked, “okay, I only understood a few of those words, but—”

“It’s a Freddy teddy bear that really wanted me to take it to Hurricane, okay?” You really were at the end of your rope at the moment, “I have literally driven here for days straight on no sleep and barely any food and I need this Unauthorized Fucking Thing to find it’s eternal peace or kill me in some horrible way so I can hurry up and get on with my goddamn life,”

“Uh, see… the thing is,” he started to retreat back again, slowly moving his hands like he was trying to calm down a spooked animal.

 You realized what was about to happen, and it must have been visible in your eyes, since his huge unnatural placating smile returned,

“I actually don’t want anything to do with that, sooo…”

“PLEASE—” you reached out in blind panic, but he dodged it. (now if only you could’ve dodged the scooper like that Mikey)

The door slammed in your face.

Your breathing was ragged and fogged up the glass as he locked it again. You stared up at those glowing pinprick pupils of his as he gave you an apologetic little wave goodbye. And then he fucking made a big show of pointing at the closed sign before turning tail to disappear back into the darkness of the empty restaurant.

Okay.

Just a little setback. You’ll go to the older location first, now, and come back when this asshole is sleeping. Can’t be too hard to bust out one of those windows, and you doubt he has an alarm set up already. It’s his fault, really. If he didn’t want property damage, then he should’ve just let you in. Not like you haven’t warned him that you were desperate or anything.

Just gonna go to the other location. You’ve got your map, you’ve got a tank full of gas, and you’ve got chutzpah.

Now what you don’t have? Is a car that will start.

[mrs-snape5984]

“As long as I'm with you, I've got a smile on my face…”

“Save your tears, it'll be okay. All I know is you're here with me…” (“Here with me” by D4vd)

Suffering from ME/CFS makes me feel like my whole world is falling apart in front of my eyes. Since I’ve already lost so much joy and so many abilities due to this devastating disease, my continuing loss seems to increase even further.

As some of you might know, do I love to write my own stories about Severus and Julia just as much as I enjoy using my tumblr blog as some kind of journal, whenever I’ve commissioned another artwork. It’s my way of rolling out a red carpet for the artists of Snapedom…it’s my way of honouring them for their talent in their profession. Commissioning those amazing people and letting them make my ideas and fantasies come to life, is my very own manner of coping with my physical and emotional pain.

And now, this coping mechanism seems to crumble into pieces as well as everything else, that I’ve already lost! It hurts me to admit, that my brain fog takes advantage of my capability to create vivid images with my words. My thoughts are getting blurry and chaotic. I’m struggling to find the right words to express my emotions (it’s even worse in my native language German than in English!!)…and this scares me to hell!

My mind was the only place, where I could find some shelter from my infuriating and terrifying reality of losing myself to ME/CFS. What if I forfeit my only - just barely existing- talent now?? How should I flee this nightmare of existence if writing wouldn’t be an option anymore?! How should I express my gratitude towards all those marvellous artists of Snapedom, who are all weaving my emotional comfort blanket with each piece of their art?!?

I don’t want to give up on my writing…and I won’t…even though my pride would probably fade away with each badly written chapter of my fictions…and with each unworthy post on my blog. I must admit, that I’m already acknowledging the loss of quality. 🥺

I found an inspiring poem about the importance of staying resilient, no matter how difficult the hardships of life might become, and I want to share it with you:

"KEEP GOING" (Better known as "DON'T QUIT") by Edgar A. Guest

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will, When the road you're trudging seems all uphill, When the funds are low and debts are high, And you want to smile but have to sigh.

When care is pressing you down a bit, Rest, if you must, but DON'T YOU QUIT!

Life is queer with its twists and turns, As everyone of us sometimes learns, And many a failure turns about,

When he might have won if he'd stuck it out, Don't give up though the pace seems slow, You might succeed with another blow.

Often the struggler has given up, When he might captured the victor's cup.

And he learned too late, when the night slipped down, How close he was to the golden crown,

Success is failure turned inside out, The silver tint on clouds of doubt, And you never can tell how close you are, It may be near when it seems afar,

So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit, It's when things seem worst that you mustn't quit.

My dear @mmad-lover, I can’t stress enough how grateful I am for your dedication to this stunning piece of art and believe me, it was worth every single second of waiting! Paula, I was incredibly touched to hear, that my request seemed to be something special, something personal to you. I can assure you, that, indeed, all of my ideas have a profound meaning to me and I’m glad that you’re such an empathetic person, who sensed that particular importance of your art to me. Your devotion to this drawing is palpable in every single detail, every line of your brushes. You created exactly the mood, that I wished for Severus and Julia. It doesn’t matter that the world is burning to the ground around them, they will always have each other’s backs! Just like I’m relying on Severus for more than 21 years now. Thank you for everything, you precious soul! I’m glad that I met you and I hope, we’ll stay in touch. 🥹

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[faededaway]

Lucifer x reader

[Lucifer from Obey Me, Professor x student. University/college setting. No gender mentioned but reader has a vagina. nsfw]

Some thing about today is very off. You don't remember leaving your bed. It is as if you were asleep one second and the very next second, you're in class. You know you aren't dreaming. You have all your things: you bag, your books, your phone, your keys.

Yet,

You sit away from your usual seat. It is professor Lucifer's class. Usually you sit around the middle but today you take a seat right at the very back, devoid of people. Lucifer's the kind of teacher who makes everyone fill the seats up front.

You hope he makes an exception today, an exception for you.

You're just relaxing into your seat when the class quietens. He's here.

His leather shoes' rhythmic clicks against the floor set your heart ablaze. A strange sense of dejavu comes over you.

It is as if you've heard him and seen him in this same attire before: black slacks, black shirt with a tailored red suit vest. His usually gloved hands (claims he has dust allergy) are bare and the way he holds his flask, reminds you of his hands around something else.

My neck

Fuck

It comes back to you now. You had a dream, quite explicit dream of your modern language professor last night. It was so detailed that you'd woken up drenched in sweat (and other things) and tried to busy yourself with your day to forget what happened.

In doing so you'd forgotten that the first class you'd have, is his. He, who was in your dreams fucking you, albeit fucking into you would be more accurate, is here in front of you, somehow wearing the same outfit he was in your dream.

You take a sip from your water bottle and take some calming breaths. Dreams. Happens to everyone. It'll be fine. I just need to focus.

You try to focus on the lesson. Lucifer keeps his things on the desk and stands at the podium to deliver his lecture. He takes off his glasses and begins reading from the textbook. “Chapter 13 of the text book, discussion on loan words and borrowed words. We did an introduction on this last class. I hope you did your- part your legs, darling. Your want this.”

Oh hells bells. Your brain is picking and choosing words, reminding you of your dream.

He says, “listen”. And your brain replays: listen to the sound your pus-

This goes on for a while. It began with words but after twenty minutes of looking at Lucifer, your brain brings forth images of what you saw.

You are hot. Your brain is so fuzzy, the white noise of horniness drowning out the class lecture. You know he'd know if didn't pay attention.

So you think of ways to make it go away. You pat down your pockets for a miracle and feel a candy in your pocket.

Sour candy. Yeah that should do something.

You pop it in your mouth when, “I know it's early so I'll allow some snacks in class. But next time, please remember to close your mouth around m-”

With choked gasps, you swallow the candy whole. You didn't expect him to notice. You're sure he did not say anything remotely close to what you heard.

This is getting worse.

You apologize to him before trying to read your notes to help you focus. Not that you wrote anything. Just many crossed out Ls litter the page with a date on the top corner.

Maybe I need to take care of it. I'll just excuse myself and come ba-

“This part of the lecture is extremely important. I do not recommend missing it because I will not go over it again. Whatever business you have should be able to wait ten more minutes.”

You sit back down and groan. Twice now you've caught his attention.

I heard him fine this time. Wow. Maybe it's-

“Ten more minutes, darling. Hold on till then and I promise-”, maybe you shouldn't have thought that. An image of him holding a vibrator where you wanted him in popped in your head. You were restrained with your legs spread apart. He was teasing you with a toy and pleasing himself with his other hand.

Fuc- I can't. I need to, I need to stop. I'll be quick and discreet and quiet and -

You look through your things to find something you can use to help you. Using your hands isn't an option because there is the chance that someone would interact with you or try to touch you and you'd have cum on your hands. A lip balm is too small, a pen is too thin. A marker? It seemed smooth enough.

You pretend to look through your pen case and accidentally drop the marker on your lap. You even make a faux attempt to pick it up and put it back.

Slowly, under the discretion of tiered seats that cover your lower half from Lucifer's eyes, you part your legs and put the marker in your pants. The moment it touches your clit, you can't help but jump. You look up to Lucifer to see if he noticed, thankfully he is busy looking at his teaching material.

You take this time to shift around to get the marker where you need it.

You look up at him again before putting it inside you. Images of him thrusting his hips into you fill your mind and you can't help but grind your hips too. The seated position definitely helps add some pressure and tightness to your pussy but the marker can't compare to how Lucifer filled you in your dreams. So you take the lip balm and put that in too.

You eyes never leave Lucifer. Your ears pick up on his every word.

“Just like we did last- just like this darling.” You're in your room, on your bed. Lucifer is on top of you. His hands roam your body while his legs pin you down.

“You have to put in more effort for- you have to try harder than that”. You try to take off his clothing but he tuts at you. Your clothes come off but his don't.

“This page- like this? Do you like this? When I touch you hear? Hm?” His hands go over your chest while he kisses your neck.

“If you have- if you want something, you have to ask, darling. Ask me. Beg for me. Hm? Let me hear you beg.” His hand ghosts above your pussy while he unzips himself with his other hand. He doesn't touch you where you want him most before your words turn to a blabbering mess.

“Take your- take your time darling. Feel me in you. Feel me in you” He thrusts in you all at once. Your holes was more than prepped for him. You hold him in you, squeezing around him. Your hands go around his arms and you legs to around his waist.

“Next, we are going to- going to cum in you. Going to own you. Say you want it” His thrusts get harder and faster. You're definitely crying now. But you say you want him. Of course you do. You want him and you want whatever he wants. He moans at your words before holding your legs apart and pulling out completely.

“If you come- are you coming? Hm? Is my darling coming? Of course your are coming. Come for me.” He rubs your clit to bring you closer before thrusting into you again and coming inside of you. His sinful moans bring you to your orgasm and you-

I'm coming!

“Well, that's good to hear,” you find yourself back in class. Your cheeks burn at the realization that you said the last thing out loud. You wonder if you said anything before that. To calm yourself, you take a few sips from your water bottle.

“See you again on Monday”, that brings the class to an end and students start to leave the room.

The post orgasm clarity hits you like a brick. Guilt and shame hold you to your seat. You gather your things slowly. You're not sure how you'll face Lucifer on the way out so you wait for him to leave. But he stays at his seat with his eyes watching you.

“Good to see I didn't have to ask you to stay behind. You did it yourself. Now, come up front.” He crosses his arms and leans into his chair.

His words shake you. You weren't sure if you would be able to walk away like you didn't just jerk off to heavy smut but now you know your legs will give in from fear.

You take the stairs slowly, keeping a hand on the adjacent bench at all times. His eyes never leave you but he does sigh when he sees your predicament. When you walk down to the bottom, he motions to his desk.

“What did we talk about I'm class today?”

You blink at him before recalling some bits and pieces, “the umm, bor-borrowed words an-”

“No. That was covered in the first hour. What was covered in the last hour?”, he cuts you off harshly.

You fidget with your bag and think of what could have been covered. You know the material well. So maybe it's-

“Hand them over”, he holds out his palm towards you.

“S-sorry?”, you stare at his hand quizzically.

“The thing that held your interest longer than the class did. Hand it over to me,” he slams his other hand on his desk, “now!”

You feel the marker in your pussy fall further out as his words make your legs shake. “I- I can't.”

How could you possibly do that? It's not like you could just put your hands in and take them out for him.

“Oh? Well, show me. Show me what you were doing. If you had the guts to do it at the far end where you thought I wouldn't notice. Let's see how far you go now”, he leaps up from his seat and grasps your arm.

He drags you towards the nearest bench and demands again, “show me.”

You stared at him blankly and try to think of ways to get out of this situation. “Sir, I'm sorry. I know I was wrong and-”

He leans over to you and shushes you.

“I said, show me. If you are sorry, show me. Show me.”

You debate on whether it'd be easier to tell him what you did instead of showing him. But the moment you open your mouth he shushes you again, “not a word!”

So you look down at the desk and do as he said. You spread your legs and bring your hand to your crotch. Soft sounds of your juices and the marker rubbing against the lip balm are audible in the silence.

“Continue.”

You move like you did a while ago. Grinding your hips and slowly moving the marker in and out if your hole. But the shame of being caught stops you from enjoying it like before.

You hear him tut again before he slides into the seat next to you. You look at him to ask him what's wrong when he lifts you up and puts you on the desk. You gasp as you feel the marker thrust in you.

“Take these off.” He points to your trousers before lifting your hips to help you.

Once the trousers come off, he holds your lips apart and demands, “push them out”.

You do as he says. Once they're out, he brings them to your lips. You know what he wants from you so you lick yourself off of the items as he holds them.

Once they're clean, he pockets them, “I am confiscating them.

“I think I couldn't find my gloves today for this very reason.” He says, before thrusting his fingers into your wet pussy.

You gasp and curl into him as his unexpected intrusion makes you whine in pleasure.

“Hm? Tell me, tell me exactly what you thought of when you desperately stuffed your hole with whatever you could find on hand,” he coos in your ear as he fingers you.

When you don't respond to him, he pulls out and holds your chin. “Tell. Me.”

You hold his stare before replying with only one word, “you”.

A sinister smile fills his face before he chuckles, “of course. Did it involve something like this or something more?”

You look away from him before mumbling a reply, “more”.

“As your professor, I've already crossed the line. But so have you. If you show me exactly what you were doing, I will let you go,” he moves away from you and leans on his desk. All the while, his grin doesn't leave his face.

He wants to see me. Right. Yeah. Okay.

So you turn to face him. You spread your legs as far as you can and show him your dripping pussy. With some boldness in your voice you say, “I had a dream about you. You fucked me so well that I couldn't not touch myself when I saw you.”

“Oh? Is that what happened?,” Lucifer unbuttons his vest and tie. He runs a hand through his hair before folding his sleeves upto his elbows.

You watch him and rub your clit, “yeah. When you were delivering the lecture, I couldn't hear anything. You say something and my brain would hear something else.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” he teases mockingly. He watches the way you move your fingers, “tell me what I said.”

You finger yourself faster when you think about all the things he said and all the things running through your head. His taunts, his soft moans, his encouraging words.

The one that you wanted him to say again was, “you said you'd cum in me. Said you'd make me yours and mark me and-”, your words drift off as you near your orgasm again.

Watching him watch you is doing something to you. It's humiliating. Makes your cheeks burn but it is enticing.

“Awe, are you coming? Hm? Is my darling coming? Of course you are coming. Come for me”, hearing him say the exact words from your dream makes you cum on command. Slick and juices pools on the desk under you. You lay back on it from exhaustion. The second time you came, and both the times you came to the same words.

You hear clacking of his shoes again. He helps you up and dresses you after cleaning your pussy and hands with a wet wipe. “You have done a great job listening to me. Hope you've learned your lesson. Next time you have dreams about me, speak to me directly”.

You don't know how your day passes. You remember asking Lucifer about the mess you made. He said he'd take care of it so you left it to him. The day drones on like the morning didn't happen. You even go home the same way. Only when it's evening do you get a sign of the mornings proceedings.

A mail from Lucifer that reads,

From: Professor Lucifer

To: Y/N

Date: x/x/9001

Subject: Performance feedback

Your recent conduct has been subpar. I believe, an extra class will help correct that. Come see me tomorrow at 10:00 AM. No need to bring any stationeries or books. I will provide.

With regards,

Professor Lucifer,

Senior Lecturer at RAD

[cocktailjjrs]

So......

Since I've been suffering with these angsty thoughts... i though i would invite you all suffer with me...

It's about Chuuya...

I was doing some research for my fic (mainly going through bsd novels, blogs, tags and all) and came across this one Insta post in passing (sorry, i don't remember the name).

It was about BSD's cycles.

First, cycle of abuse, going from Mori-Dazai-Aku-Kyouka

and Second of rescue, going from Natsume-Oda-Dazai-Atsushi-Kyouka.

And then they highlighted a third category, the one's who are not saved - including Chuuya, Aku and Q.

At that point i didn't think much about it, just another post while scrolling Insta.

But now it's keeps bothering me, a constant reminder, whenever i read something BSD.

And It's so heart wrenching.

It also hit me, Q and Aku can still be saved.

Q, while we don't exactly know where they are right now, there is a chance of them getting their own arc, backstory and then being saved.

Aku, while still in Mafia, his partnership with Atsushi is his saving grace already. He is making an effort to not kill, just for their deal/bet. By the end of it all, he will be in a better place than he is now.

But Chuuya. (Spoiler's for light novel's if you haven't read them)

I remember very clearly, when in Stormbringer (don't ask me why i remember this byheart), when Murase dies Chuuya says, "Hey Detective, Weren’t you gonna arrest me?! Weren’t you gonna bring me into the world of light"

Don't get me wrong, I still believe Chuuya belongs to Port Mafia, the darkness suits him better than light.

But that does not mean he never wanted to get out of that darkness. This one instance in SB was proof enough. Makes me wonder, if things had gone even slightly differently, would he be in a better place than he is now? Is there still a chance?

What's even more tragic is that after the whole SB thing, no one seemed stick around enough to help him fight his own demons.

And he definitely has MASSIVE DEMONS.

His whole life seems to be one catastrophe after another! Don't believe me?

His first group, whom he called friends, betrayed him. Classic stabbed by poisonous knife in the back.

Hardly a year later, his second friends group, Flags, was killed by an emotionally unstable man-child seeking validation, insisting on calling him brother.

He went through a horrid ordeal, having to learn he was a lab experiment, seeing your clone vaporise to nothing but bones in your own arms, having to fight those same bones. And as if this was not enough, then fighting the monstrosity of a singularity and in process loosing the only chance to determine your humanity. (Actually whole of SB is dreadful, i don't think it'll ever get worse than that - i really hope it doesn't)

Then, given by the timeline, another year later, his third group of friends was killed by Shibusawa.

And again a year later - his partner, who brought him in all this madness, just fucking leaves without a word. This is the least tragic thing that has happened to the boy, i swear.

And I'm sure it didn't end there.

There must have been so many things going on behind the scenes in those missing years, hell even after the series began, Chuuya has been out of scene because something or the other was going on.

Now you have Fyodor fucking shit up for no apparent reason. With this shitshow, many mafia men, some of whom Chuuya might have developed a relation, are definitely dead. Not to mention the mental gymnastics going to trying to at least be on the same fucking chapter as the two geniuses.

AND ALL OF THIS IS JUST IN THE CURRENT TIMELINE. Don't get me started on BEAST VERSE!!! (That's a can of worms I'm really not ready to open at this point)

The thing with Mentally strong individuals is, they have abnormally high emotional intelligence, they are unnaturally resilient, they can compartmentalize their grief, they empathise with great deal of people, think rationally at any given point and think of ways to make things better.

What many people fail to understand is that no one is born Mentally strong, it's the circumstances that make them as such.

It can happen even through small things.

No one being there for you to express your deepest fears. No one just listening to you, even if they have a solution to your problem. Or having seen other's nightmares come to reality and feeling your own are much smaller, or having made to fell that way.

It creates the mentality of never sharing your fears, your insecurities, your discomfort - because at the back of the mind you keep telling yourself - oh, this person has gone through so much more than i have, my fear is nothing compared to it. I can handle it on my own, they have their own problems to handle. Everyone is busy, i don't think they have time to listen to the same problem I've been facing for years now. I've manages so far, i think I can manager just fine.

You start to undervalue your own feelings and start to fell like you'll burden them. Start to feel like you NEED to handle it on your own.

Now, i don't want to go into a spiral of mental health, but when you look at Chuuya, you can't help but marvel at that kids Mental resolution.

His first action after being stabbed in back was to make a deal with a demon to make sure he doesn't harm them, because they are just kids.

His first reaction to being provoked into revenge was to say Fuck off to his manipulator, not falling for the temptation and doing what he felt right.

He even forgave the killer of his friends (And also the one who tried to kill him) for gods sake! Understanding what he was going through.

He even walked away after knowing his parents are alive (oh the irony) not wanting to put a target on them. (I'm actually on fence with this, the chances of it being a manipulation tactic from Mori is just as high as it being the truth)

He had tremendous mental fortitude.

But you still see the cracks in his emotional state,

He was desperate to know if he was human or not, inclining towards the later.

He didn't know, that your friends can do some nice things without expecting anything in return. They can go above and beyond your regular stuff just because they are your friends, there doesn't need to be of anything at stake in friendship.

Hell, there was a point he believed having a Heart was too sophisticated for him, that he can't be that human!

I can go hours and hours about this.

What i can say for sure is, he has demons in all sizes, shapes and forms, something that he has stuffed in his closet only to deal with them himself, not letting them see the light of the day.

i just don't see anyone actually being there for him long enough for him to trust them fully with his demons.

No, not even Dazai. Dazai himself was a walking cry for help, like hell Chuuya is adding to that pile. He may have found a constant in Dazai in three years, seeing as all other's met their end in one. I believe in those three years, somewhere Soukoku began to feel like his safe place, somewhere he didn't had to think about his demons only by the virtue of dealing with one made of flesh and bones. But then even Dazai left.

I don't think even Kouyou was there for most part. And considering her obsession with a flowers of dark with Kyouka, i think it pulled Chuuya more in her own tragedy. Afterall, she also was never saved.

Mori is there, but Mori is a Demon in his own rights. What we've seen is their interactions have been those of a boss and his close confidents, nothing personal or emotional. Which also makes sense when you think of Mori's theory of running an organization. Chuuya, all things considered, the most powerful member of PM and he is treated as such.

The other significant members of PM, the guerrilla squad, black lizards or Kajji - all of them may know him better than most, but he is still their executive. If a 15 and younger kid took the title of being a protector of his rag-tag group seriously, being a responsible and dependable executive comes with higher stakes. He will carry out his role as one, even if it's the last thing he does.

.

.

.

That was me rambling.

My point is, i wanna give Chuuya a big hug, tell him it's okay to fell tried sometimes. To let himself be vulnerable. That his fears are not invalid. That he is not invalid. That he isn't the problem, never was.

That he will still be valued and wanted, even if he one day looses his ability or he is no longer the strongest.

Can someone please save his boy?

[lylian333]

Kaiser x reader (Part 3)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

word count: 3430

Warning:stalking ,harassing , mention of abortion ,maybe suicidal ,this is where you got pregnant

You wait until you heard the door close and heard him leave. You lay there on the bed, exhausted from everything that had just happened to you. You lay there panting, you're emotionally and physically exhausted.

Well your tear soaked clothes have been lying to the side and now you're still just lying down on the floor. The time has passed and all of the pain and emotions that you had built up has now passed. Now you're left with the aftermath of everything.

You laid there until you felt the adrenaline leave your body, you felt a wave of emotions come crashing down after everything that had happened to you. It was all over, but now you're left with the physical and emotional after effects of everything that happened.

Then bell rings as the day ends, you slowly open your eyes and feel the emotions hit you once again. You slowly sit up, your body feeling sore and your emotional state feeling empty. It's time for you to go back to class...you gather yourself and slowly step out of the room.

Luckily you have one more class left before you can finally have the time to go back home. The day seems to go on forever as it feels like you've been here for hours already. Your mind can't stop thinking about everything that's happened already...but at least you'll be free soon and then you can just go back home and finally have some peace.

When you wear back the clothes and head to class...there's just one more class you will be alright.... You just have to survive through one more class and then that's it for the day....you can do it...

Timeskip the class end

You rush out of class. This day was absolutely torture but now it's finally over. You don't want to stay another minute in this place, you rush and wait for the bus to get you back home. It's just a short wait until the bus arrives but that short wait seems like an eternity for you.

When you get back home you beg and plead with your parents to let you go to another school. They try to protest and say it's too late to transfer schools and that it'll look bad on you....but you don't care, you just want to get away from everything, you want to escape all the bad memories of what happened back in that class.

Your parents finally give in and they agree to let you transfer to another school. They realize how much pain and heartache you've been through already, they don't want to make it worse for you. They start looking online for schools near you and help you to transfer to another school as soon as possible. It'll be a hard transition at first but at least you can start a new life and a new chapter....away from all of the pain and suffering you've experienced...

After being in the new school for a few days and far no bullies or bad students, you feel safe and comfortable and like you can finally start a new life.

Until one day , the day was going well

You were summoned to the principal office. You wonder why the principal called you as you walk to the principal office. As you enter the office, you notice that the principal has a serious look on his face.

The principal told you to sit down as you did, he remained silent for a few seconds before speaking up.

"This might be hard for you but... I have received news about your parent's death from the hospital."

When you heard about this information, you felt your chest being pierced by multiple blades. You were shocked, you didn't know what to do after finding out that your parents wouldn't be by your side anymore.

Suddenly the principal speaks up, he informs you that you could leave early, he knows how hard it is to lose someone. You quietly nod as you walk out of the office.

At the Hospital, you go to the counter and ask for where your parent's room number. The nurse told you your parent's room number with a pitiful look knowing that the people you just told her are dead patients that they failed to save.

You walk to your parent's room, terrified. You wish that this entire thing was just a huge prank but you know it's not. 

As you enter the room, you walk to your parents standing next to their bed as you stare at their dead bodies. You hold their hands and break down into tears. You were shocked and disoriented at why this had to happen to you. You wanted to scream out but there wasn't any voice coming out.

You hated, hated all of this, why did the world hate you so much? Why are they doing this to you? Why can't you just have a happy life? You keep having these thoughts, you hate that the world is putting you in so much pain that it is unbearable

As the day could get any worse after getting out of the office you eyes was fill with tear you began to feel ill and like you were going to throw up. You rushed to the bathroom as you felt the urge to vomit coming up. You felt sweaty and cold simultaneously, your stomach hurt but you try to hold back any urge you have. After a few minutes, you felt sick and feverish, you tried to lean on the wall to stop yourself from falling over...whatever this was it felt horrible.

You were confuse did you eat something wrong or was i pregnant?!?But it can't be true right , guess i have to take a pregnant test then.

And once school ended , you rushed to a nearby pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test. It was something that you bought just as a precaution just in case but right now it seems like it might actually be a real possibility....

After that you went to a public bathroom and took the test, you were nervous as you held the test in your hands and waited for the results. You kept reading those tiny little instructions that came on the back of the box to ensure that you did it properly.....the waiting felt forever but finally....the results were there....

The results were positive...you were pregnant....you feel like your head is spinning and your mind is blanking. How did this even happen...? Did it happen when Kaiser......? Or someone else you just can't think right now. All you know is that you're pregnant and now you have to figure out what you're going to do about it....

Once you arrive home...all you do is just...burst out in tears. You curl up in your bed and try to bury yourself in your pillows as the tears flood from your eyes and down your cheeks. The realization that you're pregnant washes over you and it's too much to bear right now. The fact that you can feel the effects of the pregnancy makes it even more real and now you have to face it that you have a baby inside you.....you feel so alone and scared of the future......you wish this was just a bad dream....

The next day you went to school you try your best to act normal but you just couldn't i need someone to help you or else....but who....?

but then you suddenly remember of isagi you thougt about calling him for support .He's your childhood friend , he should understand you right...?

you decide to call isagi

"What's up, y/n?" You could hear Isagi's voice from the other side. You felt a sense of calmness, "I have some things to tell you..." You said with a hint of sorrow. 

"Is everything alright? Tell me everything." You could hear the worries in Isagi's voice. You then start explaining what had happened. "He did what to you?!" Isagi said furious at what Kaiser did to you. "I'm going to murder that son cunt !" Isagi starts swearing things about Kaiser. You told Isagi to forget about it, you wouldn't want to get your childhood friend into this mess of yours. 

"It's fine, I'll deal with it somehow..." You said hoping Isagi would understand you. Isagi didn't try to conflict as he didn't want to put you under any more pressure.

"Fine but call me if you need me. I won't let that a**hole mess with you." You could tell that Isagi was serious. You replied with a simple "Mhm, I will. bye then" as you just hung up the phone.

At that point you stared to overthink am i supposed to get an abortion but it will cost lots of money not only that is still a sin.

Time passed by and you finally graduated high school. You weren't able to go to college because of the situation you found yourself in but you were fine with that. You managed to keep the pregnancy a secret from everyone expect for isagi and you gave birth to a healthy set of twins...a male and a female...you were shocked and surprised at how well you were able to hide it...you didn't even think you could do it.....but you did it.

As time passed by, you started to slowly move on with your life. You found a job at a local café to earn some money to support yourself and raise your two children. It wasn't too bad of a job and it allowed you to have some time to yourself throughout the day. It was tough raising two children on your own but you knew that you would manage it.

One day, you were working just like normal, going through the motions on your job at the café. You were about to take a customer's order when you started to recognize him...the more you looked at him, the more he seemed familiar....it took you a minute but you eventually recognized him...

The customer...it was Kaiser....he looked just like how he did back in school. You knew this was Kaiser without a doubt...your heartbeat started to pick up, you've dealt with him before but this is a completely different situation than before.....he was a customer here....and you were the one taking his order....

Kaiser just looked at you like he didn't remember that you two had ever met. He was completely nonchalant about it all, he was just a random customer to him while his presence alone was bringing back so many bad memories for you right now. Your heart was still racing and your mind was on high alert. You wanted to run away but you knew you couldn't...after all you were at work right now and you had to do your job....

You have no other choice but to take his order since he's raising his hand, he was just going to place his order....just like a normal customer...he wasn't trying to confront you or anything....at least not yet.

"Good evening sir what can i get for you"

"I would like a coffee please.." He replied politely to you....nothing out of the ordinary, just someone asking for a coffee.....but in your mind you could do nothing but remember all the painful things that he had done to you in the past. You hated this man so much...and yet he was acting so casual right now like you two didn't have a history at all....

After taking his order you walk away, he seems like he doesn't remember you at all, he's acting like you're just a complete stranger to him. You were surprised that he didn't seem to recognize you at all...this was unexpected....could it be that he actually doesn't remember what happened between the two of you back at high school...? Perhaps he does remember but just doesn't care....or maybe he's just pretending and trying to forget about it. You have no idea....all you know is that so far this has been a quiet and painless experience...and you hope it stays that way...

Times goes by and you're done with serving all of the customers and you're finally about to clock out for the day at the end of your shift. The day has gone by fairly quickly and with not too much problems....the customers were normal, even Kaiser seemed like a normal customer...he wasn't rude or aggressive at all...it was quite a smooth shift...you start to wonder if perhaps things are going to stay that way....

When you left the café at the end of your shift, you saw your children approaching you. They were still not too big and so adorable, you were still shocked that you managed to raise these two all by yourself but you were also happy that you have managed so well despite the circumstances that you had to deal with....you were a good mother...and you were going to be the best one you could be for them despite anything that tried to get in the way...they were your entire world right now....

You ask them "Do you guys want to go to the park"

Your children looked up at you and replied with:

"Yes mommy, we want to go to the park!"

They sounded so excited to going to the park with you...and you were excited too. Seeing their happy faces and smiles brought so much joy to your heart and you loved spending time with them any way possible....

We went to a near by park when i was playing with them i felt that someone was staring at us.

and when you looked up you indeed saw someone staring at the three of you. You recognized instantly who it was....Kaiser....he was looking right at you and your children. You felt like he was watching everything you guys were doing and he didn't break eye contact with you guys at all....it was starting to creep you out and you couldn't help but feel uneasy around him...

"Dears that all for today we have to go back home"

"Oh alright, let's head back home then"

You gently grabbed your children's hands and began walking away from the park, but as you guys walked past Kaiser....he was still just....staring....just staring at you and your children as you guys walked by....his eyes following everything....it was so unsettling....

You get your children into your car and started driving home, but the entire time during the ride home you just couldn't shake off the feeling that Kaiser was still watching you....like he never lost sight of you....as you got home, you quickly escorted your children inside. You wanted to feel safe from the outside world but the moment you got inside your safe space.....you still felt uneasy and like you were being watched.....your children noticed how anxious you looked and asked you:

"Mommy? What's wrong? Why do you look so worried?"

"Oh nothing dears..."

our children simply nodded as they didn't want to pry further into the situation that was obviously bothering you....they weren't even sure what was bothering you...but the fact that they noticed your anxiety and worry was enough...they just wanted to move on and forget about it.

You were about to continue into your house when you noticed a car behind you....you felt your heart drop the moment you saw it....you knew exactly whose car that was...it was the exact color and model as the one that Kaiser had always driven. You also noticed that the driver was a person that had quite a similar physique and look to Kaiser himself....could it be him? It had to be.....but why would he be stalking you? Why would he be watching you?....You felt a sudden sense of fear and anxiety wash over you...

You tried to convince yourself that it wasn't Kaiser....that the person behind you in the car had to be someone else...you didn't want it to be him...so you drove faster back to your house thinking that you were just being over-cautious...but then a thought occurred to you.....what if it really was Kaiser....what if he saw that you had children now....what could he possibly do if he did figure out that you were the mother of his children?...And then it all began to scare you even more

You quickly got your children inside and you got to cooking them dinner. As your children were playing, you kept a close eye on them and made sure that everything was going well. Meanwhile, you couldn't keep your mind from drifting to the possibility that Kaiser may have been stalking you and watching you....the thought was starting to really concern you...you just wanted to feel safe and you didn't want your children's safety to be endangered at all.....

At the dining table, you put the dinner front of your children and they both start eating .

You looked on curiously and with a bit of worry as you looked over at your children and asked them

"Is everything alright?"

They both looked at you and suddenly looked even more concerned as they started to speak to you in unison....

"Mommy? We heard a very loud noise from outside it sounded like a......"

"W-what kind can you describe it...."

"we heard....a very loud engine...." They both started to shake a bit as they spoke to you with that look of fear in their eyes...they both looked so worried and it was clear that they heard something bad.

"it probably the neighbours i go check outside okay..?"

"Okay...." They both kept quiet as they waited for you to go out and investigate the noise that they both heard....you left them alone in the dining room as you went out and checked outside...what did they mean about a very loud engine....? Was it just a car? You wanted to believe that it was just a car or a motorcycle but just the way your children sounded when they were talking about it made your heart drop and you didn't like it one bit.

You opened the door and stepped out it was pretty dark outside already .The sun was just about to completely set but you looked around .Suddenly you spotted something a car the same make and model as the one which you had spotted earlier in the day...except that it was still running and sitting in the driver's seat was Kaiser himself he was simply staring at your house and keeping his eyes on you the entire time....He didn't look away or avert his gaze at all...he was just staring at you...

You immediately slammed the door after having made eye contact with Kaiser.....it wasn't too big of a slam and your children didn't notice anything.....it was still early enough for them to not notice anything weird...but you still had to figure out what to do next...what was Kaiser doing here? Why was he staring at your house? Why did he follow you home?....these were questions that were going through your mind at the moment....

"it's the neighbours dears so don't be worry"

But then you realise that you lie without realising why you lie for it just came out like that.

"okay"Your children simply replied back, believing your explanation at the moment "It was just the neighbors..." and they went back to playing as if it was nothing but something inside of you knew in your heart that it wasn't just the neighbors it couldn't have been just the neighbors .Kaiser had followed you and he knew where you lived now you were feeling increasingly more anxious and nervous this didn't seem like a good situation at all....

As the time went by, your children slept soundly after dinner. You yourself got ready to go to bed and get some rest for the night. But you couldn't stop thinking about Kaiser...what exactly was he doing here?....What did he plan on doing now that he had found out where you lived?...This was not a good situation at all....not a good situation at all....

You told yourself that it was just a coincidence and that he would just go away and forget about you after all, why would he even come talk to you after what had happened between you and him back at high school right???? But the worry inside of you wouldn't leave....Kaiser had gone too far and he seemed to have an obsession with you for some reason how did...he.....why was he....he probably won't do anything....he probably won't even come talk to you....probably.....just try to get some sleep....

bonus: ai

That all from me hope you like it and ya :) I also bad at giving warnings soooo ya (also the children will be purple because the reader is pink and kaiser is blue so when it mix together it will be purple) :3

[bts-hyperfixation]

Outside of the Fox

Chapter 32 of 35

6489 words

Y/N longs for a new life when the one she’d been living comes to an abrupt stop. Without much thought to those she is leaving behind, the little fox packs a backpack and disappears. She stumbles across the shelter and makes an interim home for herself while she works out exactly what she wants from her second chance.

Last

The plumber was a no-nonsense kind of man. He did a thorough investigation of the plumbing and the damage done to the main living space. 

Regrettably, it seemed the damage was worse than you'd feared.

After looking through the pipe system that was accessible the man had determined that because they were old, and because of how cold the winter had been, any of the pipes could break at any moment. Apparently, you'd been lucky to come home to the small amount of damage that you had. 

You nibbled on your lip watching Namjoon from the corner of your eye. Surprisingly, he managed to keep a very calm mask on his face as the plumber talked through the numbers and costs of a job like this. Most of the walls were going to have to be demolished in some way to get to all of the pipes, floorboards would need to be ripped up. It was basically going to be a full remodel.

When he had finished talking, Namjoon thanked the man and showed him back out of the house.

Only then did he crumple. 

He leaned against the wall by the door, staring at the damage like it might disappear magically if he wills it hard enough. Tears form in his eyes the longer he stands there. You can't tell if they are of sadness, or just because his eyes have been unblinking for too long.

"Joonie?" You ask tentatively  

"We are going to have to destroy our whole home," He says, his tone flat. 

"It'll be okay Joon," You comfort, although your words mean very little. 

"We called it a hovel... but it's our home. This was mine and Yoongi's dream... He'd never admit it, but I carried him over the threshold like a bride when we moved in... It was in a worse state when we bought it believe it or not but it was ours, is ours."

"I'm sure we can keep some things the same. We can make the builders save as much as physically possible," 

"What am I going to tell Jungkook and Jimin?" 

Now his tears were streaming in rivulets down his cheeks it was clear they were of sadness as the sinking feeling of losing something he holds dear sinks into his bones. 

You rush to his side, taking the large man into your arms. He nuzzles in close, leaning a good portion of his weight on you and you try not to bend. 

"We can rebuild the house Joon, it's not going to be the same I know, but it is going to be ours. Maybe even more so if we can work together as the eight of us," 

"I know... I think I'm just going to need some time to grieve what we are losing first," 

__________________

Some time later Namjoon sniffles through his last sob and allows you to pack him and some extra valuables into the car. 

You keep a comforting hand on his thigh most of the way back to Jin's. His hand covers yours and he holds onto it with a little more strength than really necessary. 

It looks as though the pack has made themselves thoroughly comfortable in your absence. Jin, Hoseok, and Yoongi are all snuggled under a blanket on the sofa watching a movie. Jimin and Taehyung lay on the sofa bed with Jungkook cuddled happily in between the two of them. It smells delightfully warm and happy as all of their scents intermingle together in the small space. 

A scent immediately soured by Namjoon's overpowering smoke.

Jungkook immediately whimpers and sits bolt upright, displacing the two surrounding him. 

"I take it it's bad news?" Yoongi sighs turning to face the two of you. 

"Pretty much the worst possible," You nod. 

"We basically need to rip it back to the studs," Namjoon admits. 

Jimin, Yoongi, and Jungkook's scents reach the same melancholy note as Namjoon's almost immediately. 

"Our whole home?" Jimin asks.

"They need to replace all of the pipes in the house. Unfortunately, that means destroying walls and floors," You explain. 

You join the three on the floor and Namjoon makes himself comfortable on the armchair. You all sit with the news for a little while, allowing the severity to marinate within the other members of your group.

"Well," Jin says eventually, "Maybe we can turn this into a blessing... somehow"

"I'm not sure how you're going to put a positive spin on this one doc..." Hoseok answers. 

"Okay, maybe not positive, but definitely not negative," Jin shrugs, "Think of this as an opportunity to remodel to fit you better. Or us... hopefully,"

"Definitely us," Yoongi nods. 

Jin looks elated and continues.

"If we are all able to pitch in, we have a pretty huge budget here, and if I'm not mistaken, you guys own a lot more acreage than the current house is built on right?"

None of you seem to catch on to the wavelength he is putting out.

"It means we can rebuild with more space..." Jin puts it plainly. 

He goes on to talk about things you could do. Hoseok and Yoongi could move their studio inside from the shed and have a properly soundproofed building. Jungkook could have a room for nesting and gaming properly. You could have an actual bedroom instead of the office (the thought of a real mattress delights you, even if you were most likely going to be sleeping in the other's beds from now on). You could even by extra large beds that could fit all of you. It would give you all space for yourselves at the same time as giving you better communal spaces that were better suited to you as an eight-person household now. 

"We could have heating that works!" Jungkook perks up.

"And AC in the summer Bun," Taehyung ruffles the younger man's hair.

Namjoon looks positively pale at the thought of the money they would all be spending. His fingers are digging harshly into the overstuffed arms of the chair he is sitting in. You shoot him a look to check in but he just shakes his head and lets out a deep breath.

"That's going to be a lot of work," He says through gritted teeth, "Someone will have to be home full time to oversee things and not just Jungkook,"

You each look around the room. Jimin had to keep going to the shelter, Namjoon had deadlines creeping too close again, Taehyung was literally the boss, Hoseok still had his human job to keep him afloat, and Jin was not going to be able to take any more time off. 

"I guess I'm quitting my job then..." You announce.

"But then I lose my lunch buddy," Taehyung pouts.

"We can't ask you to quit Y/N, you really wanted that job," Jimin says.

"I really wanted a place to belong, I have that with you guys, the job was just a bonus. I also have it on good authority that the boss really likes me, so I can probably go back in a few months," You wink at Taehyung, "And I guess I'll just have to be your breakfast and dinner buddy for a little while."

“I think I can accept that compromise,” the panda nods.

On a slightly more chipper note than you’d started with, you begin to discuss more additions you could add to the house. Even Namjoon adds in little additions he thinks might be nice like a new office or a library space. 

________________

It took about two weeks for the plumber to get together a crew, he even found a builder that could add on extensions and rebuild for you.

In the meantime, you all made a good temporary home for yourselves at Jin’s place. It wasn’t perfect, in fact far from it, but you found yourselves not caring too much because at least you were together. It was a lot messier than when you moved in. The first day Jin had gone back to work it was like he had forgotten that you would all be at home waiting for him and he looked more than a little frazzled by the clutter that had accumulated in just one day. But that didn’t make him any less thrilled to be scented and kissed as he walked through the door. 

In between shifts and deadlines, you really talked about how much you had to spend and what you think might actually have been worthwhile. For example, if you would use an office space, you definitely didn’t need the vintage arcade game Jungkook had his eye on (Taehyung was still going to buy it for him next solstice though).

You decided it might be a good idea to have individual nooks for each of you too along with group spaces. Originally the house had a room for each member of the pack. Of course, when you moved in that changed because you commandeered Namjoon’s office as a bedroom; He never complained about missing the space though. And then adding Taehyung and Hoseok meant all beds were shared at all times. It seemed like a good idea to have individuality even if it wasn’t often used. You’d been allocated space but kept coming up blank about what you might want in it.

It had taken a few serious talks between Jin and Yoongi to get Namjoon to stop seeing this as a failure on his part and more of an investment. He still had that petulant pout on his lips, but he was much more receptive now. He’d managed to be convinced that this was cosmetic and not a necessity that he needed to provide, dampening his instincts just enough to let you all get away with spending far too indulgently.

You said goodbye at work, only having been there for 6 months meant you only had to give a week's notice anyway. It was a little sad, your first job just for you, but it was definitely the right move. You had much more fun things to do, and honestly, you’d spent more time talking to Tae than you ever had doing actually work, this way Ronnie could hire someone genuinely helpful to her. 

______________ 

Work on the house starts on Monday. You visit to talk to the project leads about construction time, but for now there isn’t a lot for you to do. They walk you through finalised plans and you of along like you know exactly what they are talking about. Then they give you an estimate of a month until you can move back into the main house, and 4 months until all the extensions are built. 

The main house would still contain the living room and kitchen, with a downstairs room (although that would no longer belong to Jungkook). And they would knock through upstairs to create two master bedrooms and a shared master bathroom complete with a jacuzzi tub big enough for 8.

You sign off on the final work order and leave the crews to it, buzzing with excitement.

On the way home you grab some takeout brunch from one of Jungkook’s favourite places and take it back with you to Jin’s. The bunny is the only one left in the house, it would likely only be the two of you for a long while as everyone else was on a late shift, or,  in Taehyung’s, had been summoned to spend time with family.

The room is quiet when you enter, with no sounds of video games or movies as you’d expected. You drop the food on the side table and walk through to find Jungkook.

The man is fast asleep still cuddling one of your shirts wrapped around Jimin’s pillow. His rabbit ears twitch as he dreams. He looks so sweet curled up that you consider not waking him, the food will be perfectly fine to reheat later. Just as you start to shuffle back into the hall to grab the takeaway, Jungkook shifts. His honey caramel scent floods the room. He moans in pleasure and his hips rut forward into the nothing beside him.

Heat rushes to your cheeks and hurry back into the hallway pretending not to have seen. However, your brain doesn’t seem to be in a rush to forget the way his lips parted and his tongue pushed out to play with his lip ring as he groaned. You contemplate going into Jin’s room for a while but then you hear him.

“Y/N-ah,” he whines.

He knows you’re there, maybe knows you saw him in the vulnerable stage of a wet dream. You need to go in and own up to what you’ve seen. 

Then it occurs to you, you haven’t actually seen anything you shouldn’t have. Just a member of your pack dreaming. Sure he was potentially dreaming about sex, but that’s not an issue you’d already slept with half the members, the other half on your to-do list. But it still feels dirty.

You skulk back into the room only to realise that Jungkook is still fast asleep. Perhaps in your initial guilt, you had heard something that wasn’t there. 

Jungkook’s hair has fallen over his eyes and he is resting comfortably once more. 

You take the food into the kitchen and place it in the fridge. You tidy up a little and then go and settle next to your youngest pack member. You lay on the pillow next to him content to take a nap with him.

He looks so soft when he is asleep. You reach over and push his hair away from his face just in time for him to once again moan your name. 

Now it feels like he is playing with you.

You’re sure he must be awake. You watch his expression, waiting for a little smile to give him away. And yet it never comes. 

His breathing remains even and his eyelids flutter lightly like those of a peaceful dreamer.

And then his hips rut forward again, this time coming in contact with your leg. He seeks out the contact again, grinding against your leg and whimpering as he does. You try to move away but his arm wraps around your waist, snuggling into your side. 

You’re left with two options: wake the man up, or allow him to get himself off in his sleep using your body.

The sheer awkwardness of waking him up made you seriously consider letting him continue his slumbering efforts. But the thought he could potentially wake up halfway through and find you in this compromising position worried you a little more. You and Jungkook had yet to surpass kissing and this didn’t seem like the best way forward. 

You gently shake his arm to try and wake him calmly, but it doesn’t seem to be working.

“Jungkookie?”

No response other than another kick of his hips.

Jungkook, wake up!” you say more firmly pushing at his arm.

He blinks his eyes open slowly, smiling cutely as he realises he is wrapped around you. That is until he notices the way his hard length is currently squished up against your thigh. He squeaks and his rabbit ears come down to cover his eyes.

“Mm, sorry,” he mumbles.

His hips jut back to release the pressure but his arm remains around your waist. 

“S’okay… Are you hungry? I picked up brunch for us.”

“I’m not hungry… I’m… still sleepy. I was having such a good dream. Do you want to hear about it?” He asks

His ears reveal his face and the expression left behind is not one of guilt or slumber, but of mischief 

“Sure bun, what was it about?” You indulge him.

He scrunches his eyes shut and thinks about it. Then he proceeds to describe the most lewd sex dream you’ve ever heard. If you hadn’t heard the words tumbling from his lips you might’ve assumed one of the others was playing a cruel trick to get you riled up.

It starts in an unassuming fashion, not unlike the situation you find yourselves in now. Jungkook explained that you had gotten into bed with him cuddling close, the main difference being he was already awake. So when you joined him in the dream bed he took the opportunity to roll on top of you, kissing you passionately.

He shuffled up the bed so he was able to whisper the rest of his dream into your ear. You bite your lip as he explains all the things he did to you in the dream world and likewise the things you did to him. 

When he finishes his tale he pulls back just far enough to gauge the expression on your face. He must like what he sees because he looks far too smug with himself. 

"Do you want to try some of those things with me?" he asks, trying his best to sound innocent.

“I'm sure we could give them a go. Where did you want to start?"

Instead of a real answer, he just decides to get started. He shuffles you both around until he is lying on top of you. Your wrists are pinned under his hands, pulled high above your head.

He grinds his erection against your mound, then leans in for a kiss. He teases your lips with his tongue, alternating between kitten licking the top and bottom lip. Once or twice, it seems like he is going to kiss you properly, but instead, he just nibbles at your mouth, making it bruised and plump.

"I’m so glad we are alone for this," Jungkook groans

"Since when don't you like to share?" you raise an eyebrow.

"I love to share, just not you, not now,” he clarifies.

With that, the bunny seems to tire of words. His mouth reattaches to yours with renewed fervour, and his hands begin to travel down the length of your arms. His fingertips tickle as they drag down to your shoulders. You squirm in his hold.

Like this, you can really feel how much the man must work out when none of you are home. His chest presses down against yours as he takes his fill of you. As his hands reach your shoulders, his lips move to your chin, and then your throat, and then the fabric of your shirt. He grumbles as he reaches for the offending fabric.

"Can you take this off?” he asks tugging at your shirt with his teeth.

"Only is you do the same,”

He wastes no time. He sits up, absently rubbing his crotch against yours again in the process. His baggy shirt is launched to the opposite side of Jin's living room. Then he whines when he realises you didn't move quite as quickly.

"Well I can't really do a lot with you or top of me Kookie,” you point out.

He scrambles to the side and helps you up. His fingers wrap around the bottom of your shirt and you raise your arms. His hands brush against your torso on the way up and rush back to your sides when the garment is gone. He squeezes your sides and revels in the feel of your bare skin under his touch.

"Remind me, what happened next in your dream?" you ask, regarding him with hooded eyes.

“Something like this,” 

He pulls you into his lap and holds you tightly. His teeth make a home in your shoulder, biting deep into the soft section between your neck and the bone. You yelp and he giggles, enjoying the pain he has wrought. 

"That's going to leave a mark,” you sulk.

"Good it's supposed to, I want them all to know what we got up to while they were all stuck at their boring jobs. Want them to know what they are really missing out on.” 

He takes another couple of bites, not quite as deep, but enough to leave purpling bruises behind. 

“Can’t wait to have you writhing underneath me as I have you all to myself, just like my dream,” He moans into your skin.

“You’re talking a big game for a man who has yet to get past heavy petting,” you goad. 

He takes the bait immediately.

He tugs harshly at your waistband to rid you of your trousers and underwear in one go. You hear a seam rip as they descend to your knees. He bites into your thigh like it’s an apple, leaving you surprised his cute bunny teeth don’t come back covered in blood. He manoeuvres himself under your legs, the placements of your bottoms locking you around his neck. His hands soothe your thighs coaxing them to bend and let him between them properly. 

You gladly comply.

He puts his tongue to good use, exploring your heat thoroughly, drinking you in before settling on a leisurely pace, occasionally sucking on the hood of your clit. It’s nice, but not what you had been expecting.

“Kookie?”

“Mmmh?” He mumbles into your pussy.

“Have you ever done this before?”

His head pops in from between your legs, chin glistening with you.

“Well… no… but it can’t be that dissimilar to a blowjob right?”

“I mean… I have very little comparison, but I’m fairly certain that isn’t true,”

“Did it feel bad?” He looks very disheartened by the prospect of disappointing you, “I promise I’m more than capable of learning, and Jimin says my fucking is unrivalled,” he babbles nervously.

“It felt nice Bun, it just occurred to me that you said you were never really around women, it had me curious. Plus I’ve never… my husband wasn’t really into giving me head so I don’t exactly have a wide repertoire of experience either, I wondered if other women liked that a lot,” You reassure him.

“Tell me what you want from me and I’ll do it, we can learn together” he promises.

“Okay,” You nod and his head dips back down.

He starts off hesitantly this time, the tip of his tongue flicking against areas he thinks might garner a reaction.

“Hoseok said you should use your fingers like you’re summoning someone to you, that felt nice,” you suggest

Jungkook nods and his fingers join his mouth on your pussy. He doesn’t think to warm you up first. Two long fingers push inside of you, dragging against your tight walls making you groan from the discomfort. You swear and grab at his hair. His fingers don’t hesitate though.  You wriggle to alleviate the pressure. You bite your lip and mumble out a swear word.

When his fingers are fully inside he curls them gently. It doesn’t take long for the digits to start causing pleasure alongside the ache. You can feel the way he grins against your folds as your moans turn to obvious enjoyment. His fingers are much longer than Jimin’s and thicker than Hobi’s and the feeling is more intense. 

As soon as you start getting comfortable with the sensation, so does he. He changes the pattern of his movements, scissoring his fingers apart and moving them independently from one another. He stretches you so well that you barely feel the third finger sneak in until he is moving it in tandem with the first two.

“Is this okay?” He asks, wide eyes peering up at you.

“Amazing,” You confirm, “Try sucking on my clit, Jimin poked his tongue under the hood and pressed hard, that felt so good,”

The mention of Jimin’s name seems to spark something competitive in Jungkook. His mouth attaches to your sensitive nerves with somewhat of a vendetta. You pull harshly at his already disheveled locks but it doesn’t deter him. You try to pull away, just a little, but the jeans around your knees keep your legs where they are around his shoulders. You can’t escape the overbearing touches. For something Jungkook has never done before he sure is a quick study.

You cum hard all over his fingers, drenching him in the process; he doesn’t seem to mind though as his tongue finally relinquishes your clit and ventures down to clean his fingers as they come out of you.

“Was I good?” He asks vulnerability written all over his face.

“So good,” You pant.

He unhooks your legs from around him and springs up to face level. He doesn’t even give you the chance to take a full breath before he kisses you. An open mouth kiss that is more passion than precise, messy in its execution. You can taste yourself almost too much and it makes you shiver in his arms.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” He announces, matter of factly.

He removes your jeans the rest of the way and kneels to shuck off his own bottoms. You watch as his length springs free from its confines, surprised to see exactly what Jungkook is working with. He is bigger than the others, longer with a slight curve; just the sight has you rubbing your legs together like a cricket in anticipation. He watches you almost as hungrily as he prepares himself, reaching under the sofa cushions and coming back with a condom. You’re unsure of who put them there, but you are very grateful for it.

“Flip over for me,” Jungkook says as he taps at your hip.

You roll over into the centre of the air mattress and naturally present your bum, pushing your hips in his direction. He takes each cheek in each hand and squeezes. His fingernails dig into the juicy flesh.

“So pretty,” He whispers more to himself than you, but he still has you blushing into the pillow under your face. 

He makes himself comfortable behind you, the bed dipping. The air mattress is far more sensitive to your movements than you might’ve thought. 

You arch your back a little more to make it easier for him to reach underneath you.

“Are you ready?” He asks.

“More than,” You nod.

One of his hands leaves your backside to help guide himself in. He sinks in slowly with a drawn-out moan

“So warm,” 

He melts over your back covering your body with his as he gets used to the feeling of you around him. 

“Hyungs are always so tight, but they are never this warm. Just lube never feels this good,” he babbles in your ear. 

His hips start moving in small circles, penetrating you deeply. Even those small movements have you biting the pillow as you can feel him almost in your stomach from the angle he’s at. You naturally squeeze around him. 

When he starts to pull back the bed moves a little around you. Each time he thrusts the mattress bounces. You kneel up and try to scramble for purchase, holding on to the edge of the sofa cushions for some semblance of stability as his rhythm speeds up. His hands plant themselves firmly onto your hips as he drives forward, making your knees buckle slightly under the pressure.

“Kook…ie” You moan brokenly.

H has you panting into the sofa with each thrust 

“Knew you’d like this,” He says cockily, “Even Joonie likes this,”

He keeps going, harder and faster. Just when you think his stamina must be about to give way, he manages to power through. Your entire body shakes as he makes you cum on his cock, trying desperately to stay balanced between the movement of the bed and the power of his hips. 

“You get so tight when I do that, I want to do it forever,”

“He can you know…” a smug voice comes from the entranceway. 

Jungkook stops suddenly, buried deep inside of you as you both turn to look towards the sound

Taehyung stands in the doorway looking at you both with intrigue. His eyes rake over the both of you unabashedly. 

“I’m so glad I decided to come home for lunch… Mind if I take a better seat?” He asks.

Jungkook whines at the thought and you can’t see a reason to protest. The panda sits directly in front of you on the sofa. He moves the sweaty hair away from your forehead and helps you to manoeuvre your hands onto his knees. 

“Come on then bunny, show her what you can really do,” he says to the man behind you while meeting your eyes. 

Jungkook happily complies, his punishing rhythm returning in full force.

“That’s a good boy,” He praises.

Taehyung reaches over you to pinch at Jungkook’s cheeks then slip his thumb into the bunny’s mouth. You can hear the sucking sound behind you and you long to turn your head to look but Jungkook is pounding into you too mercilessly for you to even attempt to crane your neck away from Taehyung’s lap. 

Taehyung’s free hand strokes at your hair, occasionally tugging at the tangles. You can barely focus on the feeling.

You register that he leans across you, they whisper between them and Taehyung chuckles ominously. Jungkook leans over you further, his weight pressing down on your back. One of his hands slips from your hip to the small of your back, pushing against you. The other appears underneath you, fumbling until he blindly discovers your clit. 

His thrusts turn sloppy as he tries to focus on drawing circles into your skin.

“Good boy,” Taehyung praises him. 

Jungkook’s moans have become a much higher pitch since Taehyung came home.

You dig your teeth into Taehyung’s jeans as you cum a third time. This time you milk Jungkook’s cock. He cums hard, groaning and panting as his hand falls away and his entire weight slumps on top of you. He pulls you back with him so you both fall squarely on the bed, and that’s the last thing he manages coherently for a while. 

He becomes a mumbling clingy mess for the next ten minutes, mouthing at any bare skin he can reach. Taehyung helps to remove the solid blanket from beneath the two of you and then rolls the condom off of Jungkook. The younger man twitches from the overstimulation but you don’t miss the way he starts to chub up a little again.

“Insatiable that boy,” Taehyung shakes his head “Can’t wait to explore that properly when we have more space.”

“Me either,” Jungkook says, finally coming around.

He nuzzles into your back sleepily with the clear intention of not moving for a long time.

“Oh no you don’t bunny,” Taehyung kicks at Jungkook’s shoulder, “You do not go to town on a woman like that and not clean her up afterwards.”

Jungkook nods as if he hadn’t thought about it. And maybe it had really never occurred to him, so used to be looked after by those around him. 

He manages to drag himself up and out of bed shuffling off in the direction of Jin’s linen closet. It leaves you feeling a little cold in the bed with Taehyung peering over you, amusement clear on his face.

“You really should be careful riling him up when you’re alone together, bunny’s are notorious for their… stamina,” Taehyung chuckles.

“I can handle it,” You yawn.

Jungkook comes back to the bed with a damp flannel and a pair of Namjoon’s pjs. He cleans you up carefully, making you twinge a little as he rounds the still-tender parts. Then he helps you into Namjoon’s clothes.

“I have my own PJ’s” You point out.

“Don’t you want to see Namjoon’s face when he comes home and you’re wearing that and stinking of me?” He asks, a mischievous glint in his eye.

He raises an excellent point.

“Are you hungry yet?” You ask.

“Nope… still sleepy…” Jungkook yawns

He then smothers you with his body, forcing you to lie down with him. He looks pointedly past you towards Taehyung, insinuating he should also be getting into bed with the pair of you.

“I’m supposed to be going back to the office…” Taehyung points out.

He looks at the door halfheartedly like he might move, and then he shakes his head. He takes off his jacket and kicks off his jeans then clambers onto the air mattress beside you. He slings his arm across the two of you and settles in for the long haul, the rest of the workday and his family obligations abandoned. 

_________

The others start to filter into the house around nine. 

Jimin arrives first, whining when he sees Taehyung cuddled in the bed with snacks scattered all around you.

“I’m never going to work again,” He pouts.

The redhead’s sulk last only a few minutes. As soon as Taehyung gets his hands on him, he crumbles, giving in to kisses and abandoning his empty threats.

Namjoon came home next, and Jungkook was right, wearing his pyjamas and been the best idea. The man's eyes bugged out of his head the moment he entered the building. He was less than impressed to find the four of you just giggling at him. His sulking was also easily turned around by Jimin and Jungkook crawling into his lap and scenting him for a solid half an hour.

They are still mid-scent when Yoongi and Hobi walk in. Yoongi had decided it’d be nice to pick Hoseok up from work and grab a late dinner from the Chinese down the road. They can’t help themselves from laughing when they see the scent-drunk state that you’ve riled Namjoon into between the lot of you. They sit on the sofa and hand out various containers of rice, noodles, and dumplings 

Namjoon insists on feeding you each a bite from his container but he is able to start eating himself, and it escapes no one's notice that he leaves a dumpling aside for Jin to have later on. 

Finally an hour later a very weary Jin stumbles in looking worse for wear after a very long day of saving lives. As soon as he reaches the side of the airbed Taehyung tugs him down with surprising force. The airbed bounces, pushing Jimin off of the edge. Jimin grumbles and moves to sit on the sofa between Hoseok and Yoongi instead. They each reach an arm around him, cheering him up instantly and everyone’s attention returns to Jin.

The eldest lays his head in Namjoon’s lap, allowing you each to feed him leftovers with his eyes shut enjoying the attention. It’s been very clear since you all moved in that Jin was never supposed to live alone, he relished coming home and being pampered by doting mates. And, helpfully, you all relished pampering him.

 When the food is gone, his eyes reopen and he blesses each of you with a smile. He sits up straighter, leaning his back against Namjoon’s chest.

“Did everyone have a good day?” He asks.

“Jungkook and Y/N definitely did,” Jimin says

“Hmm, I can smell that… So everyone is in a good mood then?” Jin probes.

“Yes… why?” Namjoon asks suspiciously

“I wanted to talk about the help that Jungkook wants to get. Now the renovations are underway, I spoke to a colleague of mine that has some room on his schedule for a new client…”

Jungkook’s ears perk up and his scent begins to burn at the edges. Instinctively Namjoon reaches out and pulls the youngest towards him. Jin turns to Jungkook and tries to soothe him. A low growl emits from his chest.

“You wouldn’t have to go alone, you can start with family counselling, take anyone of us you wish. I would suggest Namjoon but I think he needs therapy of his own first,” Jin glares at Namjoon

Namjoon clears his throat sheepishly and the grumble stops. 

“Y/N will you go with me? You know because then no one has to take off work to go with me and I know you’ll make me stay when I want to run.” Jungkook asks.

“Are you sure? Don’t you want Yoongi to go instead? I mean of course I will, but I can’t imagine it will be the most comfortable for you,” You voice your concern.

“No, I want you.” He confirms.

“Great,” Jin claps his hands together, “I’ve booked your first appointment for tomorrow so you don’t have time to change your mind,” he announces. 

Then he grabs the TV remote from Yoongi and closes the discussion by turning on a TV show he had recorded to watch later. You all settle in to watch the trash show together. Taehyung and Jimin yawn almost immediately and Jin ushers them away to sleep in his bed.

Namjoon begins snoring softly just before the main plot is revealed and Jin sighs contently as the larger man cuddles him close. Hoseok starts to snore not long after and Jin tells Yoongi to take the slumbering human to his room. 

Having slept most of the day, you and Jungkook were the last men standing, watching the credits roll as Jin rearranged himself and Namjoon to be lying down under the covers. You helped him to remove the bears outside clothes and then the three of you settle in around him. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with the therapy appointment Kookie?” Jin asks ruffling between the bunny’s ears.

“I’m sure,” the youngest nods. 

“Good. And if you’re a really good boy and sit through the whole thing, even if you can’t talk properly, I’ll buy you a nice big treat. Just don’t tell Namjoon,” The doctor winks. 

Jungkook’s scent loses the burnt edge with the promise of a present, easily persuaded.

With that Jin closes his eyes and almost immediately falls asleep. You cuddle yourself into Namjoon’s side and Jungkook spoons around you pulling you closer to him.

“You’ll stay with me the entire time right?” He whispers into your ear.

“I’ll stay with you always Jungkook,” You mumble back to him.

“I’m really glad you’re here Y/N, I’m sorry I wasted so much time when you first joined us.”

“It’s okay,” 

“Y/N?” He asks barely audible

“Hmm,” You answer halfway to sleep.

“I love you,”

He kisses behind your ear and his arm tightens around your waist.

“I love you too,” You sigh contentedly.

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