#until finally she gets exasperated enough with the accusations that she stops trying

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 12

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Warning: Angst, Tragedy.

Author Note: So... I wrote the story outline until the ending. I didn't expect the story to turn dark. Prepare yourself.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

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Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 💖💖💖

“You did what?” Bucky’s voice echoed through the hotel lobby. His anger was palpable, his frustration clear as he confronted Lydia. He had been swamped with overseeing the construction of the new hospital, unaware of his mother’s latest actions.

Lydia flinched slightly at her son’s outburst. “Keep your voice down,” she hissed, glancing around to see if anyone was watching. She then dragged him into her office.

Bucky’s face contorted with anger and disbelief. “You fired her without even consulting me? Hah!” His laugh was bitter and sharp.

Lydia straightened her posture, trying to maintain her composure. “I am the owner of this hotel. I have the right to make decisions.”

Bucky’s eyes blazed with frustration. “Decisions? You call this a decision? I’m the one keeping this business alive while you squander money on gambling, waste it on frivolous outings with your friends, and spend it on your boyfriends.”

Lydia’s face turned red with anger. “How dare you speak to your mother like that?”

Bucky massaged his temples, clearly exasperated. “Is your allowance not enough that you have to steal money from the hotel?”

Lydia’s voice was icy. “I’m just enjoying my life, and we own the hotel. What’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong? You’re stealing!” Bucky’s words cut through the air like a knife.

Lydia’s patience snapped. “I can do whatever I want. I am your mother.”

“Don’t play the ‘mother’ card with me,” Bucky retorted, pointing a finger at her. His face was flushed with frustration. “You were never a good mother to me. I was just a tool for you to get his attention.” His words were sharp, each one dripping with hurt and disillusionment.

Lydia flinched as Bucky’s words cut through the air. Her face paled slightly, and she took a shaky step back, her eyes widening in surprise. The accusation hung between them, heavy and accusing. Her posture stiffened defensively as she tried to regain her composure.

Bucky’s face hardened. “You think you can ruin people’s lives and get away with it? I haven’t forgiven you for the lies you told me half my life, and the misery you caused to an innocent person.”

Lydia scoffed, her expression disdainful. “So, this is about that girl?” Her face twisted with anger. “She’s just like her mother.”

"It's not just about her. I'm done letting you ruin everything. The damage stops now," Bucky said coolly, his voice steady and resolute. He shot one last piercing glance at Lydia before turning and walking away, leaving her standing there in stunned silence.

🏀🏀🏀🏀🏀

On the other side, you were waiting for Jake. While waiting, you wondered what you would hear. Would you end up hating the gossip about your mother and her ex-boyfriend, who was also Bucky’s dad?

Jake finally arrived. “Hi. Sorry I’m late. My mother kept talking.”

“That’s alright. But do we have to meet here? At the arcade?” you asked, glancing around.

“Hehe, we have to be on guard. People in this town talk. This arcade is new and only young kids come here,” Jake explained.

He had a point. “So, what did you hear?” you asked.

Jake scratched his head. “Do you want to talk while playing basketball?”

“Fine,” you agreed.

After scoring a few points, Jake started telling the story. “So… my mom was in the same year as your mother and Alex. Both of them were high school sweethearts. She was a cheerleader, and he was the top athlete.”

“Continue,” you urged.

“Everyone thought they would be together until Lydia Barnes decided she wanted to marry Alex. Her father went to the Morris house and proposed the marriage. What made everyone talk was that Alex made it obvious he would never love Lydia,” Jake said, making a shot.

“Both parents thought it was only temporary, but Alex was serious. He didn’t care about his wife. Lydia didn’t care because she was obsessed with him. She never let him go out without her because she was afraid he’d meet your mother,” Jake explained, passing the ball to you.

You never thought Lydia was this obsessed and paranoid about her own husband.

Jake sighed. “The saddest part is when your mother died.”

You flinched, missing the shot.

“Alex went crazy and hysterical. He drowned himself in alcohol,” Jake continued.

“One day, while he was drunk, he went to visit your mother’s cemetery. That’s when the accident happened,” he said.

Your eyes widened. Hearing that your mother was the cause of Lydia’s husband’s death hit you like a ton of bricks.

No wonder why she hated you.

“What about Bucky?” you asked.

“Him?” Jake looked uncomfortable.

“Do you know why he made my life miserable?” you pressed.

Jake got quiet for a second. “My mother mentioned this too. She heard from her friend who worked as Bucky’s nanny. His nanny overheard Lydia telling Bucky that the reason Alex never loved them was because of your mother.”

She has brainwashed Bucky since he was young that the evil person in their lives is your mother.

You processed this information in silence. Bucky grew up in a wealthy household, but despite all the money, his parents didn't live in harmony. His father hated living with them, and his mother had an unhealthy obsession with her husband. Nobody in the house actually cared for him.

So, does that mean the reason he bullied you was because he blamed you for his parents’ issues?

You put down the basketball. “Thanks for telling me.” Slowly, you started to leave.

Jake felt guilty for telling you. “Y/N.”

You turned around.

“None of this was your fault,” Jake said earnestly.

You nodded. “Thanks.” Then you left the arcade.

After leaving the building, you kept walking around, finding it difficult to accept that your life was miserable because of the jealousy of one person.

“Y/N,” someone called out.

You turned around and saw Bucky. You weren't ready to meet him, so you decided to keep walking.

“Wait! Wait!” He chased you until he got close enough to grab your hand.

“Don’t touch me!” You slapped his hand away.

Bucky was surprised by your reaction. “I know you’re angry. I’m sorry. I didn’t know that my mother fired you.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed.

“Please trust me,” Bucky pleaded.

"I don't trust you at all, especially since your mother is the reason my life is miserable," you said.

Bucky was taken aback, his expression shifting from confusion to regret.

“A stupid one-sided love leading to misery,” you spat. “I know the truth.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You knew?” you demanded.

He gave a slight nod. “That’s why I’m trying to make everything right.”

You gritted your teeth. “Don’t come near me or my father again. Everything you gave, I’ll give back five times more.” With that, you quickly got into your car and left.

Bucky stood there quietly, not chasing after you, his face a mask of regret and sadness.

📺📺📺📺📺

It seemed like Bucky had listened to your words. He didn't come to help your father like usual.

“I wonder what happened to him,” Tom said, puzzled by Bucky's absence.

“Busy, I guess,” you replied while taking pictures of your father's medicine to send to your acquaintance, who worked as an oncologist.

“Hmm… I guess so. His company is building a new hospital,” Tom agreed, taking the TV remote to turn on the TV.

He switched to the local news channel. The news reporter said, " The Bronze Lodge co-owner has been caught embezzling money from the hotel. She used the money to feed her gambling addiction. Additionally, the mayor is being investigated for his connection to the hotel owner."

You and Tom gasped at the news, recognizing the person in question: Lydia Barnes.

“I can’t believe it,” Tom muttered, shaking his head.

You, however, weren’t as surprised. You had suspected it after auditing the hotel’s finances and seeing the irregularities. It was obvious that Lydia had been the one taking the money.

'Knock. Knock.'

Someone knocked on the door, the sound echoing through the quiet house.

You opened the door slightly and gasped when you saw someone standing there. It was Bucky. He looked like a mess, with tired eyes and disheveled hair.

Bucky smiled weakly at you. “I said it before, you could trust me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. It dawned on you that he had turned his own mother over to the police.

“Did you do this because of me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky nodded slightly, his eyes filled with exhaustion and regret.

“Did I earn your forgiveness?” Bucky asked, looking at you with hopeful eyes like a lost puppy seeking approval.

You shook your head. “Forgiveness isn’t so easily given. The damage you and your mother caused is still too deep.”

Extra: I made a quick drawing. This is how I imagined Bucky hoping for forgiveness. Lol. This drawing is inspired by X @sweepswoop_

Poor Bucky 😂

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[akataiii]

PPB & HS (Dabi x Female! Reader)

“FUCKK!”

Dabi startles awake from his nap on the couch of the League’s hideout, blue flames flickering alive in his palm and eyes darting around the room to find whatever it was that woke him up. 

“I'm so done!” He hears again, less loud than before but still at a relatively high volume. Enough to induce a headache.

Dabi allows his flames to die out, dragging a hand along his face in exasperation. Still, a tiny voice in the back of his head nags at him to get up and go check it out. He knows who the voice belongs to, after all, and he is loathe to admit he's always a tiny bit worried when said voice is in distress.

After hearing another frustrated yell, Dabi hauls himself off the couch with a grunt and makes his way up the stairs to the top floor of the hideout.

Bless Shigaraki’s thought process when he decided to move the hideout from the bar to an abandoned motel. The bedrooms were a much-needed upgrade from them sharing the cramped living room-esque space of the bar to sleep.

Dabi reaches the door he's looking for, hearing another angry yell from inside and letting out a resigned sigh. Whatever he finds behind this door—he will deal with it like the responsible adult that he is. He will not engage in any childish behaviour like baseless bantering, petty insults, unnecessary taunts etc, etc.

With a final sigh, Dabi swings the door open, ready to offer his support and—“Oh. My god,” he says before he can stop himself, the hand not holding the doorknob coming up to cover his agape mouth.

Y/N swivels around in her seat, eyes already narrowed and glaring as a forewarning. Dabi tries his best—really, he does—to not laugh at the absolute abysmal horror that sits atop Y/N’s head. 

Her hair was already naturally frizzy on a good, humid free day, but come rain and the morning after, and she turns into some kind of Persian cat that got thrown into a tumble dryer. Just her luck that there happened to be a nice rainstorm the night before.

Y/N notices Dabi desperately trying to hold back his laughter, and she raises a hand, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Don't you dare,” she warns, eyes narrowing into thin slits until her pupils are barely visible.

He loses the battle. After the first snort makes it past Dabi’s lips, he's done for, dissolving into a fit of laughter that has his stomach aching and has him believing he ripped out a staple or two. 

“I didn't realize you were leaving villainy behind to pursue the life of a clown,” he manages to taunt through his first bout of giggles, doubling over when Y/N lets out the most offended scoff he's heard from her yet.

“Fuck you. It's not funny!” Y/N calls out from where she's sitting by the vanity, an array of hair equipment laid out on its surface.

Dabi attempts to tell her that, ‘No, it's not funny, it's fucking hilarious,’ through his giggles, but he's unsuccessful as his body is racked with another laugh every time he tries to get the words out.

“Dabi! Stop laughing and get over here!”

It takes him several minutes to finally stop laughing and make his way over to Y/N, towering over her and the mop on her head that's supposed to resemble hair. 

He almost starts laughing again.

“Okay. So, how exactly am I supposed to help?” He asks, watching as she stares back at him from the mirror.

“I don't know? Just—try something! I'm done struggling,” she answers, letting out an angry huff and folding her arms across her chest with a pout on her lips.

Cute, Dabi thinks, letting a smile graze his lips as he focuses his attention on her very frizzy, poofy hair. He runs an experimental hand through the (h/c) strands, pleased to find that it follows a smooth course.

“Good news,” he pipes up from behind Y/N. “There aren't any tangles, so I should be able to brush it down.”

“Hah,” she barks out a laugh. “What do you think I've been trying to do for the last hour of my life?”

Dabi rolls his eyes at her dramatics, holding a hand out in front of her. “Just hand me the brush,” he instructs, and the item is forcefully placed in his outstretched palm.

He takes his time running his hands through her hair and brushing through the (h/c) strands, admiring the way it has a certain shine to it when the dim lighting in the motel room hits it at just the right angle. Appreciating the way Y/N relaxes into his touch instead of flinching away from it like she did all those months ago when she initially joined the League.

Alas, even with all the gentle care and tedious brushing, Dabi has no luck taming this tumble dried Persian fur, and he lets out his own frustrated sigh.

“A valiant effort,” Y/N comments from her seat, taking the brush back and earning her a flick behind her ear from Dabi.

After a few moments of pondering, and a few moments of eyeing Y/N’s hair, he gets another idea. 

“Hand me the straightener,” Dabi orders, hand already held out and ready as he continues to study the frizzy hair in front of him.

While frizzy, yes, Y/N’s hair usually laid flat and straight when tamed. If he could just run the brush and the straightener through it, it should be fine. He's had plenty of practice helping Fuyumi straighten her hair, so he won't be going in blind.

“Hate to break it to you, Hot stuff, but there's no straightener here,” she says after a few seconds.

Dabi dips his head to scan the items on the vanity from over Y/N’s shoulder. There was a brush, hair ties, bobby pins, and a spray bottle with some whitish concoction in it all displayed on the surface of the vanity. No straightener, or curling iron, or even a hairdryer in sight.

“The fuck?” He scoffs. “What kind of motel doesn't even have a hairdryer?”

“This one, apparently,” Y/N answers unhelpfully, and Dabi shoots her a deadpan look that screams, ‘No shit, Sherlock.’

He straightens back out and paces back and forth in the room, mind going through ideas and other possible solutions. Surely there was something he could do, right? 

Out of habit, Dabi starts to snap his fingers. It's an action he started doing as a sort of stim, usually pairing it with a little heat from his quirk to ignite tiny blue sparks. It kind of reminds him of a sputtering lighter. Barely hanging onto life but still trying its very best.

After around the fifth spark, his skin starts to feel the heat building up, the healthy skin of his fingers able to feel the burn from his Quirk. Dabi stares down at his stitchworked palm, and it's then that he gets his brilliant idea on how to tame Y/N’s hair. 

He stops his pacing to stand behind her again, placing two warm hands on both her shoulders respectively, and catching her gaze in the vanity mirror.

“How much do you trust me?” He questions, earning him a quirked brow in return.

“Depends,” Y/N answers, skepticism shining through in her tone. “Why?”

“Just—I'm going to need you to trust me this once,” he says, removing one hand from her shoulders to ask for the brush.

Y/N’s eyes cycle between his hand, the brush, and his eyes, eventually signing herself over to fate with a pained sigh, and handing him the brush.

“Better not ruin my hair any further,” she mumbles, and Dabi snorts in return.

“Doon’t worry, Princess. Nothing I do can top the mess you made,” he teases, narrowly avoiding the hand that comes up to smack him.

“Enough chitchat. Get to it,” she orders, resuming her pouty pose from before.

“Mhm.”

And so, Dabi puts his plan into action, gripping the brush with his left hand and creating a peace sign with his right; he starts the familiar process that is straightening hair. Granted, it wasn't as familiar given he was doing it with his heated fingers instead of an actual straightener, but the motions were all still the same.

It takes a solid 30 seconds before Y/N starts to question Dabi’s actions.

“What are you doing back there?” She asks, trying to spot what he's doing in the mirror.

“Stop moving,” Dabi scolds off handedly, and Y/N stills with a frustrated huff.

He laughs at her childlike pout, moving onto the next section of hair. “If you keep squirming I might make a mistake,” he says a few seconds later, earning him a sideways glance from the mirror.

“Dabi. What are you doing?”

He has to fight back a chortle at her wariness, instead running the brush through the now-smooth section of hair.

“Don't worry your pretty little head,” he quips back, pleased when he earns another frustrated huff from Y/N.

He works in silence for just about 2 minutes before there's an audible gasp that has his heart doing a backflip straight out of his ass.

“Are you straightening my hair with your fucking Quirk!?” Y/N asks, affronted. Her eyes are practically bulging out of her head where she's caught sight of Dabi's fingers clamped down against her hair.

“Maybe,” he fires back, if only because he's never been able to give a straightforward answer in his life. Maybe also because he's a sadist and enjoys seeing the panic flashing through Y/N’s eyes.

“I swear to fucking—Dabi if you burn my hair off—” 

“Didn't I tell you to trust me?” He cuts her off, and she sputters weakly in protest. “It's been working so far, no?”

Y/N takes a moment to scan her head of hair, which now lays mostly flat against her scalp, save for the few sections Dabi still has left to straighten.

She pouts for the umpteenth time, unable to argue with the visible results. “Just don't burn what's left,” she mutters, wanting to get the last word.

Too bad for her, Dabi is a certified yapper, who always has something to say, and doesn't hesitate to say it, even when it's uncalled for. He always gets the last word.

“I won't burn your new job wig,” Dabi teases, referring back to his earlier statement about a clown profession.

“If you burn my hair, I will never steal you a chocolate bar ever again,” Y/N says, casting him a threatening glance in the mirror.

Dabi does not get the last word that time.

—

“All done,” Dabi says, running his hands through Y/N’s now-flat and straight hair one last time before allowing her to do it herself.

She makes a show of turning her head from side to side in the mirror, nodding slowly as she insepcts each part of her hair in close detail. Her contemplative hums fill the air, eyes narrowing in scrutiny.

“Hmm,” she hums a final time, straightening her back and flipping her hair over her shoulder. Her (e/c) gaze catches Dabi's in the mirror, and she has a large grin plastered on her face.

“Did I meet your demands, my lady?” Dabi questions with a teasing lilt in his voice, knowing Y/N wouldn't be mad at it this time around.

“You did,” she says, eyes softening at him with gratitude as she tilts her head to the side. “You even earned yourself a new title.”

Dabi chuckles. “Oh yeah? And what might that be?”

“You've upgraded from the term ‘favorite comrade’ to ‘personal portable hair straightener,’” Y/N says, eyes shining with mirth. “‘PPHS’ for short.”

He can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole situation, falling back on the edge of the bed behind him when his knees grow weak from the laughter and having stood for so long. 

“I was hoping to reach the term ‘boyfriend’ before all that,” Dabi shoots back before he can stop himself, words leaving his lips and spilling the feelings he's kept to himself for so long.

Y/N doesn't reply with the expected shocked words, ‘You like me?’ Instead, the grin still painting her face seems to double in size and she's sitting on Dabi's lap before he even has the chance to blink.

“Maybe I can tweak the term a bit,” she says, grin turning playful. “‘PPB & HS.’ Personal portable boyfriend and hair straightener.”

His hands find their way around her waist and he pulls her in closer, gazing up at her ever so slightly and beckoning her down in return. 

“I can live with that,” he replies, eyes subconsciously fluttering shut and face drifting closer to hers, the actions of a starved man whose appetite can only be satiated by one particular thing.

“Good,” Y/N whispers before her lips connect with his in a searing, passionate kiss that shows just how similarly starved she's been. It's warm, and pleasant, and so good. It's everything so opposite of the villains they present themselves to be.

And Dabi hasn't been able to feel this satisfied since Toya died on Sekoto Peak. He's only ever wanted to burn everything that reminded him of who he used to be. He still wants to burn his family, and the society that brought the pain upon him.

He wants to burn heroes and everything they hold dear. Hell, he wants to burn it all. The world and anything in his path to lessen this raging hatred inside of him.

But with the lips moving hungrily against his, and the hands running needily along his chest, clawing at his shirt and grazing the staples that hold together his skin, Dabi knows that there is one thing; one person in this fucked up world that he will never want to burn.

[kaizoku-musume]

Entry #18 in @xxsycamore’s Visions of Temptation kinktober event. I have a brief summary of my OC here for anyone interested. Some relevant info before reading: in my omegaverse, female alphas and male omegas have both sexual organs.

Fandom: Ikepri

Pairing: Clavis x OC (Lisette)

Word Count: 5.1k

Prompts: Omegaverse/Breeding | Size Difference Kink

Title: Knot Your Typical

“Clavis, stop fussing,” Lisette said after the third time Clavis adjusted the mass of blankets and clothes on the bed. The unspoken ‘like an omega’ that a lot of people would have implied was missing from her tone; instead, she sounded fondly exasperated like she always did. If there was one person Clavis didn’t have to defend his secondary gender to, it was Lisette. That didn’t prevent Clavis from getting nervous at sharing Lisette’s rut together for the first time. But he appreciated her all the same.

The crux of it was, Clavis had been trying to convince Lisette for ages to let him help her through her rut, but it wasn’t until they were married that she finally agreed. She’d given a myriad of excuses: her rut lasted three days instead of the usual two, Clavis’ body wasn’t designed to take a knot, yadda yadda yadda. None of that mattered because Clavis had finally worn her down until she agreed, which lead to now, where Clavis was thoroughly stretched out (with her fist, and look, Clavis would never admit to biting off more than he could chew, but maybe he had), a nest made, nonperishable food and water stored nearby, and Lisette’s rut just starting to hit.

“You can’t just tell me this is the first nest you’ve been in right before you’re going to be fucking me in it,” Clavis accused. He loved her, he truly did, but sometimes she drove him crazy. His lovely, feral wife, who spent her previous ruts hunting wild animals and picking fights with the dregs of society, was a nutcase, and he meant that as a compliment. How had she never shared a nest with her siblings? They were close enough to be comfortable with that, surely.

“If I didn’t like the nest, I would have made it differently,” Lisette intently watched Clavis. Logically, that made sense. Despite having no previous interest in building a nest, she’d taken to the task seriously because Clavis did. She was easily satisfied, too, needing nothing more than a good mix of things carrying their two scents surrounding them. It was Clavis who was more concerned with the actual layout. “You can stop fidgeting. It’s too late to change anything.”

But this was their first rut together. And if things didn’t go well, it might be their only one, and it all started with the nest. Clavis had enough to worry about regarding his stamina in the next few days-there couldn’t be any setbacks right out of the gate. “Yes, well, forgive me for not trusting your judgment,” he waved her off, “You like to sleep outdoors.���

“Clavis,” Lisette said, his name spoken like a warning.

“That’s right, you call it camping. Except I know what camping is, and building a hammock out of vines in the middle of the woods is not it,” Clavis was only half-joking, sadly.

“Clavis,” Lisette repeated, surging forward, hands gripping his thighs. Her pupils were blown wide, eyelids narrowed the way they got when she was heavily aroused.

“Really?” Clavis raised his eyebrows in surprise, “That soon?”

Lisette’s nails reflexively dug into his thighs. Clavis could see the effort it took her to ease up on her grip. “Apparently. It’s never been like this before,” Lisette admitted, “but I’ve never spent it with a mate before. It feels like it’s hitting harder. Way harder.” It wasn’t like heats and ruts made alphas and omegas lose control

or anything like that, but everyone talked about how intense it was-kind of like an aphrodisiac, if Clavis had to guess. Lisette must really be going through it right now.

“Time to get the show on the road then,” Clavis snuck a quick kiss to Lisette’s cheek before flipping around and settling himself on his hands and knees. Lisette hadn’t been willing to compromise on the position for the first time Clavis would take her knot; her reasoning was that if Clavis couldn’t handle it when it would be easier on him, then he couldn’t take it at all. Clavis begged to differ, but sometimes arguing with Lisette was like picking a fight with a wolverine. Clavis had learned to pick his battles. “Come on,” he wriggled enticingly, “we spent all that time getting me ready just for this.”

“Fuck,” Lisette cursed, hands immediately landing on his waist, like she couldn’t help herself. Normally, there’d be more light-hearted teasing, more back and forth, but Clavis felt the tip of her cock press against his hole, and seconds later she was pushing in. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Clavis laughed through the mind-numbing feeling of Lisette steadily filling him. “Desperate already, are we?” They both sighed in relief when she was fully seated. “That eager to fuck me?”

“Don’t tempt me, Clavis,” Lisette said through gritted teeth, the tension in her hands and thighs pressed against his hinting at her struggle to stay still and let him adjust.

Awww, how cute. There wasn’t a chance in hell he would listen, of course, but props to her for trying. “What’s wrong?” Clavis clenched down on her cock, rocking his hips back, “Don’t think you can measure up?”

Lisette was worryingly silent and still for a few moments. “All right, you asked for it,” her voice was pleasantly calm, contradictory to the way she began fucking into him like she had a grudge.

Clavis moaned, “That’s more like it.” He braced one hand on the bed while he reached back with the other to hold onto Lisette’s thigh, feeling the power in her muscles as they flexed with every thrust. “Fuck me like you mean it.” Lisette was for sure going to scold him later for egging her on like this, but if she fell for it then that meant she had no high ground to argue from.

Because the thing is, right now, there was nothing in the world he wanted more than this. He wanted her desperation, her fierceness, her possessiveness. He wanted her to give in to her base needs, to recognize that Clavis alone could fulfill them. He wanted her to be so hooked on using him to satisfy her rut that she sought him out every time from now on.

“Have your fun while you can,” Lisette warned, using her leverage on his hips to yank him back on her cock, “We have three full days of this. At some point you’ll be begging for a break and I’ll remind you of this moment.”

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Clavis said, smiling with pride when Lisette laughed. 

It became clear she was getting worked up faster than normal. The palace doctor-another thing Lisette hadn’t been willing to negotiate on-had advised them that the first orgasm would be quick, the initial onset of rut heavily influenced by the urge to knot and-well. So Clavis felt fairly prepared when Lisette upped the pace even more, bending over to cover his back with her chest. He was a bit disappointed at having to place both hands flat on the bed to help him bear both of their weight, but the change in Lisette’s position causing her cock to drive even deeper inside him was worth it.

Lisette brushed her nose against Clavis’ scent gland just above the base of his neck, breathing him in. She’d told him that he smelled like the food he made: tart and tangy with just a hint of spice. It should have been overwhelming, she’d said, but it was just the right mix to be enticing to her. Clavis had mostly just been grateful that the scent of another alpha didn’t put her off, and that he loved her woodsy scent, all fresh pine and chestnuts.

Lisette lapped at the sensitive skin there, circling her mating mark right around the edges. A shudder ran through Clavis, her prodding tongue encouraging his glands to release more of his scent. Clavis was going to say . . . something, he didn’t even know what, but Lisette snarled and pressed her teeth right on his glands, threatening to bite down, and whatever Clavis was planning to joke about was swept from his mind. He gasped, squeezing around her cock, and that seemed to be enough for Lisette: she clamped down on her mating mark with a growl as she stilled deep inside him.

At the same time, the knot at the base of her cock began to swell. Clavis thought he was prepared for it. He’d read the pamphlet, studied the diagrams, could list off every fact and statistic related to ruts. But it kept growing bigger, and bigger, stretching his walls right behind his rim an obscene amount. And he could still feel her cock pumping into him, twitching through her release, could hear Lisette’s deep rumbling purr throughout.

It was too much. Clavis stifled a moan in the pillow underneath him, hand shooting down to grip the base of his own cock to stave off a sudden orgasm. He could not come now. He had three days to endure, and the less he came, the better-he was not shooting off the first chance he got. Thank goodness Lisette didn’t seem to notice, finally coming down from her high. She guided them to lay flat on the bed, Lisette’s weight resting comfortably on top of Clavis, locked together for a good ten minutes. She definitely heard him whimper when their shuffling jostled the knot in him, though.

God, it really was huge. No wonder Lisette had taken so much time to stretch him out. That was probably the only reason Clavis wasn’t in any pain right now. It was just the stretch, the sheer girth of her knot keeping him both spread wide and closed tight, butted up right there against his rim. Clavis felt stuffed; he’d never been this full in his life. It was agony, lying still, unable to rock back on Lisette’s cock or grind against the sheets while he was still on the edge of an orgasm.

Lisette slowly unlatched her teeth from his collarbone. “You good?” she asked.

“Very,” CLavis assured her, “Nothing hurts at all, darling, I told you you wouldn’t have to worry.” Lisette hummed and pressed soothing kisses to the fresh bite marks. She edged her hips forward, digging her knot in deeper. Clavis bit his lip around whatever sound wanted to escape. He tilted his head to the side, mouth and nose buried in her hair. “How does it feel?” he said, nuzzling the side of her head. He’d never enter a rut himself, his previous illnesses when he was a child ravaging his body too much for it ever to be a possibility. He didn’t mind all that much-it was better to survive than to succumb to sickness-but he couldn’t deny the natural curiosity he had. 

Lisette groaned, wriggling impossibly closer. “Un-fucking-believable, that’s how it feels. It’s so. Fucking. Intense. I want to dig my claws into every inch of your skin and drag,” she squeezed one hand between them, raking her nails down his back, scoring lines of red. Clavis shoved his face into the pillow to silence himself, a moan bubbling up in his throat. “I want to sink my teeth into you and tug,” Lisette scraped her teeth across the back of his neck before briefly biting down. She tore the pillow away from Clavis and yanked his head upward by his hair, grabbing a good fistful of his roots. “Even like this, I still want to fuck you,” she grinded into him, her knot bumping against his prostate.

“Wait, wait,” Clavis’ hands scrabbled against the sheets.

Lisette didn’t wait. “You feel perfect around my knot,” she cooed, “So tight for me. You weren’t made for this, but you’re taking me so well. It makes me want to use you until-”

“All right!” Clavis was seconds from coming just from her words alone, “Question answered, very glad you’re the one in rut instead of me, love, thanks for taking one for the team.”

Lisette snorted and let go of his head. “Don’t hide your voice,” she warned, “I want to hear you.”

It was around then that Clavis began to acknowledge the possibility that he may be in over his head.

* * *

Hours later, Clavis was on his back, legs wrapped around Lisette’s waist, wrists pinned to the bed above his head as Lisette rocked into him. Her need to know had settled, yes, but not her need to be inside him, to soothe the heat running through her veins, to mark every inch of Clavis-inside and out-as hers.

Clavis had only come once so far, cock long since hardened since then, trapped between their stomachs as Lisette kissed and bit and sucked on his neck. She’d been at it for five minutes now, seemingly in no hurry to chase after her next orgasm. Gasps and moans filled the air, Clavis unable to keep them in even if he wanted to risk finding out how Lisette would torment him if he failed to comply with her request. This was already torture enough, being kept on the edge for so long, his neck one of his most sensitive erogenous zones.

“Lisette, love, you have to stop,” Clavis urged, “I’m too close.” He needed to start researching herbs that could boost his stamina. Clavis enjoyed a good bout of edging, but this was too much. Lisette was way too focused on all his weak spots, because she was as twisted as him and loved making him squirm.

With a reluctant grumble, Lisette lifted herself up, hands gripping his hips as her eyes scanned the mess of hickeys she left on his neck. Clavis tilted his head back for her, proudly showing off her work, pleased when Lisette purred in approval. God, even that sounded like a growl from her. Why was she only like a stereotypical alpha in all the hot ways?

“I’m going to look like a chew toy when you’re done, aren’t I?” Clavis predicted. Maybe, when they were done and back to their usual lives, Clavis would have to wear something sheer so everyone could see just how much Lisette owned him. 

“Mmm,” Lisette hummed, eyes darting over his body like she was cataloging where she would mark next. Her pace sped up as she finally went after her own pleasure. “That’s a nice thought,” Lisette said as she slammed into him in excitement, “You, covered head to toe with my marks, soaked in my scent, unable to walk when we’re done.”

And knocked up, Clavis’ mind supplied, the thought making him flush in addition to her words. Clavis couldn’t get pregnant, obviously, didn’t necessarily want kids either, but the thought of it: of Lisette being the one to impregnate him, her seed creating something between them that would tie them together forever-there was something in that chain of thought that was deeply arousing to Clavis. It was hard to ignore, when that was the whole purpose of ruts.

It didn’t help that Lisette’s smug expression when he blushed was unbelievably sexy, her nails digging into his waist as she pounded into him until she spilled inside, her knot welling once more. It put him too close to his own orgasm again, and he had to reach down and clamp his fingers around the base of his cock. Fuck, now he was thinking about it, about the meaning behind Lisette coming in him and then plugging it up. And that damn knot didn’t get any easier to take, always filling him up so much he could feel it behind his teeth.

“Maybe you should wear a cock ring next time,” Lisette teased as she collapsed on top of Clavis, nosing at the space behind his ear. “Remind me to grab the lube when my knot goes down.”

“I think you’ve come in me enough for that not to be necessary,” Clavis joked, stroking his palm along her back.

Lisette snorted and playfully swatted at him. “Better to be safe than sorry. You’re going to get sore before you know it.” She trailed a hand down to his hole, thumb circling his rim.

“If I do, will you kiss it better?” Clavis couldn’t resist saying-the set up was too perfect to ignore. Lisette burst into laughter, an openly joyous sound at odds with the debauchery surrounding them. They lied there, giggling and trading raunchy innuendos for the rest of the time they were tied together.

* * *

At the end of the day, when Lsette’s natural sleep cycle won out over her horniness, they fell asleep, Lisette’s perpetually half-hard cock a hot brand on Clavis’ ass she spooned him. It was a much needed break for Clavis, who was starting to flag earlier than he expected. In the morning, he woke up to Lisette already moving inside him, slow and gentle in unhurried leisure. Clavis had given her permission to, but had been half doubtful about her actually doing it.

It was a nice start to another full day. Lisette was clearly making an effort to take things slower, but rut was rut, and Lisette was too attuned to Clavis’ body at this point to miss when he was pushing himself too far. At some point she prodded at his hole without warning, and Clavis couldn’t stop the sharp hiss that escaped him.

“Hold on,” he shot up on his elbows when Lisette pulled away, “It doesn’t hurt, it’s just sensitive. I’m still good to go.” Did he sound too desperate? It was a herculean effort to hold back from grabbing at her like a child. They were barely a quarter through the second day. It couldn’t be over already. How was Clavis supposed to prove that he was the best partner for Lisette if he couldn’t handle her rut?

But Lisette hadn’t made a move to leave the bed or put everything away; she’d simply leaned over to grab the lube from the nightstand. She must have caught on to Clavis’ worry, because when she turned back to him, her eyes were narrowed suspiciously. “You’re clearly not ready to keep going,” she declared, slathering lube on the inside of his thighs, “I told you before we started this that I wasn’t going to let you get hurt.”

Oh. so Lisette hadn’t planned on stopping, just redirecting. Of course she was. That was . . . Clavis should have thought of that, honestly. Ugh, he always underestimated Lisette’s stubbornness. “I think it’s a little late for that,” Clavis gestured to his body, littered with bruises and nail lines and bite marks, hoping it would distract her from trying to work out Clavis’ thwarted breakdown.

Against all odds, it seemed to work. “When you can look me in the eye and say you didn’t like it, I’ll concede,” Lisette said. She pressed his legs together and tossed them both over her right shoulder.

Clavis tossed his head back on the pillow in an exaggerated motion and pressed the back of his wrist to his forehead as he pretended to swoon, “It’s the worst, my love, simply the worst. The torture you put your poor husband through!”

Lisette rolled her eyes and laughed at his antics. “My poor husband would sound more convincing if he didn’t just come from my teeth on his scent gland.” She slid her cock in between his thighs, the tip brushing against his balls and base. Her tone turned sharp and knowing, “Speaking of torture, what had you so upset earlier?”

Clavis gaped at her. With one arm braced across his legs and her free hand planted on his hip, Lisette had him trapped in a precarious position. “You’ve gotten better at that,” Clavis accused, offended. Lisette was usually so blunt and straightforward, but lately she was starting to use his own methods against him.

“I learned from the best,” Lisette smirked as she began to thrust, “But I don’t really need you to answer. We know the drill by now, don’t we? I can go ahead with the usual script, how’s that sound?”

“Not good at all,” Clavis attempted to shift away from Lisette’s cock bumping against his own, but he was stuck fast.

“Perfect,” Lisette proceeded to fuck his thighs wth a steady rhythm, unaffected by her deconstruction of him, “Now, I could call you out on your habit of unnecessarily worrying”-well, that was a nice way of phrasing his tendency to doubt his ability to keep her in this relationship-”but I think we can skip to the fun part where I remind you that you’re mine. I know that’s your favourite. If you couldn’t tell from the fact that I married and mated you, I have no intention of leaving. You wanted to be a part of my rut, well you got it. I don’t care if I wind up fucking my fist for all three days, I’ll keep you in this bed with me the whole time. You think now I know what this is like I’ll let you go just because I can’t use your ass?”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Clavis said weakly. He figured she’d be too concerned with his safety to try this a second time if it was too much for his body, but once again, her possessiveness led her to find a solution that worked for both of them.

“You mean when I tell the truth? Yeah, funny that,” satisfied that there were no more misunderstandings between them, Lisette began picking up speed, cock dragging deliciously against his. “You don’t have to worry, babe, I’ve got plans for you.”

Now that was a challenge if ever Clavis heard one. Sounded like he was going to have to step up his game. He flexed his thighs with every thrust, forming a tighter passage for her cock. His hands went to her ass, squeezing the plump flesh, urging her forward even faster. Lisette met his coaxing with ease, thighs slamming into his. It didn't take long before she was hunching over, spilling her seed all over Clavis’ stomach and chest, painting his skin white like a lewd work of art with a frankly unreasonable amount of come. To his surprise, he could feel her knot well between the tight seal of his thighs. Unable to resist, he spread them apart to get a peek.

“Oh,” he breathed, reaching out reflexively to wrap his hand around it. It was too large for him to circle completely, his middle finger and thumb a good-god, what was that, three or four inches?-apart. He’sd need both hands to fully encompass it. That monstrosity was in him the majority of the times Lisette came? Clavis shivered, his hole clenching in sympathy and desire.

“Fuck, Clavis, you can’t look so eager for it,” Lisette bent down and nipped his nose in punishment.

“Aww, does that make it harder to go down?” Clavis feigned sympathy. That wasn’t how knots worked, but he clamped his thighs back together around it to mimic the feeling of being inside him anyway-it wouldn’t hurt for a knot to be untouched, but it would feel far more comfortable like this.

“You know exactly what you’re doing. Keep this up and the next time you’re ready for me to fuck you, I’ll give you everything I’ve got,” she threatened.

“Lisette, darling, why do you think I’m egging you on so much?” Clavis admitted, laughing at Lisette’s expression, torn between amusement and resignation.

* * *

Lisette’s plan was use the rest of Clavis to get off when he was too sore: she took his mouth (without her knot popping, in spite of Clavis joking about it), his thighs, in between his ass; she even fucked his chest once. Clavis also gave her a handjob or two, taking the opportunity to worship her knot. It made the second day easier to bear, so that by the third day, Clavis was still able to take her inside without pain.

It was on the last day that Clavis enacted his revenge. Lisette could see right through him, sure, and she was getting better at worming the truth out of him, but Clavis could just as easily use his knowledge of Lisette against her. He had a surefire way to get her to fall into a kink she wouldn’t have otherwise (unless it was dangerous), because he knew her weakness. So the next time Clavis had enough energy, he guided Lisette into resting against the pillows at the headboard, climbing into her lap as he effortlessly slid down her cock until she was fully sheathed.

His sweet mate didn’t suspect a thing. “This is a nice view,” Lisette let her hands settle on his hips, simply holding on as she let him set the pace.

“You think every view of me is a good one, as you should,” Clavis started a slow, gentle grind, rocking back and forth indulgently. Mmm, but it was a chore not to just give in and get lost in the feeling of that perfect cock spearing him. But he couldn’t pass up this opportunity. “Lisette, love of my life, darling wife, lifelong mate,” Clavis crooned, saccharine sweet, “do you know what I want?”

Suspicion immediately crept into Lisette’s expression. “If you’re trying to get me to agree to spar with you, it won’t work. You could edge me for the whole length of my rut, but I don’t plan on ever taking that risk.”

Good to know, he’ll keep coming up with other ideas to change her mind. “I want you to put a baby in me,” Clavis said.

Lisette stared at him, dumbfounded. “What?”

“Isn’t that what your rut’s for?” Clavis tilted his head innocently. He gyrated on her cock, hips moving hypnotically. “Why did you think I was so eager for this? Just because you’d be fucking me for three straight days? You didn’t think I’d want you to breed me?” Lisette’s eyes widened, her grip tightening around his waist. Bingo. The most surefire way of making Lisette develop a kink? Just have Clavis reveal that he was interested. The sexier he acted while doing so, the quicker she fell for it. He had her hooked, now all he had to do was reel her in.

Clavis began bouncing on her cock, rising up and slamming down, his own cock slapping against her stomach and dripping precome that contributed to the wet slapping sounds coming from them. “I’ve been thinking of it ever since your first rut,” Clavis said truthfully, clenching around her whenever he sank down, engulfing her cock in his tight, wet heat. He reveled in how hungrily Lisette was watching him, her nails digging into his skin. “Thinking about you filling me up and having it take. Having a part of you within the innermost part of me for months.”

“Clavis,” a low-pitched growl rumbled in Lisette’s chest.

“I love having your knot in me,” Clavis said breathily, resting a hand on his stomach, “It’s so big and deep I can feel it in my womb. And I love how when you come in me, it keeps it all plugged up so I stay full of you. Next time I want to wear a plug in between each round, so none of it spills out. Do you think that would be enough to knock me up? I bet my belly would start swelling from that alone. Have you thought about it? How I’d be carrying another claim that I’m yours? How deeply you’d-”

Clavis was cut off when Lisette snarled and shot upright, hands holding him tight enough to bruise. “Don’t think I don’t know what this is. You’re the pettiest little shit I’ve ever met.” Clavis laughed even as Lisette planted her feet on the bed, fucking up into him.

“Yet you fall for it every time,” Clavis grinned in the face of his victory. Even when he gasped and cried out when Lisette set a brutal pace, yanking his hips down to meet hers, he kept on smiling. This was exactly what he wanted, Lisette unable to hold back in her need for him. He wrapped his arms around Lisette’s neck and held on for the ride. “Now tell me how bad you need to breed me.”

“Motherfucker!” Lisette snapped, jerking him close so there was no distance between them, fingers digging deliciously into his hips, thighs, and ass. “You’re a dirty cheat, pulling this on the last day. I was trying to go easy on you because I know your body can’t handle it, but you just have to go and push me, don’t you? Don’t blame me when you’re unable to move after stirring me up. You want me to knock you up? I’ll pump you so full my come will be dribbling out of you for days. I’ll keep you sitting pretty on my knot until you’re fit to bursting, begging me to give you a break. I’ll give you a whole litter to satisfy your needy ass. Then I’ll do it again, and again, and again. I’ll keep you nice and stuffed with our brood for the rest of your life. You like that?”

“Yes,” Clavis whined, clutching at her shoulders as he pressed his forehead to hers, “Yes, Lis, give it to me,”

Lisette did exactly that, slamming into him thrice more before coming, knot catching against his rim before she forced it in. Her teeth clamped down on her mating mark on his scent gland as she rode through it, hands still pressing him close. Clavis came right after, hissing through the pain, lightly biting his own mating mark on her neck, milking her knot for all it was worth. It was a silly, impossible thing, but something about this orgasm felt . . . different. Like the hot rush of Lisette’s seed carried something more this time. The idea had Clavis twitching through the aftershocks.

When he’d recovered enough of his senses, Clavis ran a hand through Lisette’s hair and rubbed her back, easing her through the last seconds of her orgasm. Her hips were still minutely rocking into Clavis when Lisette finally pulled away, licking away the faint traces of blood on her lips. “Asshole,” restless, Lisette kept groping Clavis, “I can’t believe you gave me a breeding kink in two seconds flat.”

“It’s a fun one, isn’t it?” Clavis said blithely, arms crossed casually behind her neck, “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.”

“You made this a million times harder on yourself. You’ll need days to recover from what I’m about to do to you,” Lisette promised.

“Oh no,” Clavis leaned in to kiss her, “that sounds absolutely dreadful, how will I ever cope?” His lips stole whatever response she was going to make. One day, Lisette would realize that Clavis didn’t care what state she left him in so long as she held nothing back and gave him every bit of her. But for now, he was happy lasting the rest of her rut like this, closer than they had been before they started.

[touchmycoat]

HX/LQG!anon: oh, Ella!LQG just pings my kinky heart - he's SURE HX is just messing with him, but there's just a tiny bit of his brain that says, but what if he really needs it? And he just. Wants. He wants to give HX what he needs. And there's that other bit of him that just feels really really good doing what HX tells him to do, a weapon put in good hands. LQG is all-in/ ride or die if he trusts (loves) someone, even if he tries to pretend that's not happening. (Such sub energy!!)

p.s. First David and Second David???????!!!!!! *SCREAMS* I HAVE TOO MANY FEELS! Talk about emotional whump... *bites nails in anticipation*

--

YES YES YES YES AAAAAAHHHHH lqg honestly wants to be the weapon SO bad, just do as he's told because he knows he's in trusted hands. SUB!LQG IS YUMMIEST LQG. And He Xuan, well, he thrives off of control, that much is obvious. Not to be cliche but I want them to do every single con that involves He Xuan coming in and posing as LQG's debtor or employer or owner in some way, and at some point he just impatiently beckons LQG over, asks LQG why the job's all screwed up, and backhands LQG. LQG murmurs a "sorry sir" with no prompting at all, and HX nods, satisfied, before returning to the job.

BABE. BABE. I ALL OF A SUDDEN REMEMBERED NATE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A CATHOLIC PRIEST. WAS THAT WERE HX WAS HEADED?? NOT CATHOLICISM BUT DEVOUT DAOIST SCHOLAR, MAYBE HISTORIAN??

(then HX's entire backstory got a revamp so warning, this got super fucking long)

Like, he and his sweetheart got engaged during undergrad, and for HX's last year he got this huge grant to travel to China to do his research on, I dunno, the original sutras that brought buddhism to the mainland and the daoist sociopolitical interests that propelled the translations. His fiancee makes a joke about how he's like Tang Sanzang from Journey to the West, but will he be okay all by himself, all the demons out there wanna eat his flesh y'know. HX laughs it off and goes—but it's during this time that SWD's entire shit strikes. It's probably a real estate thing to begin with—HX's dad's little Chinese diner refuses to sell to the rich corporate developers. They send people to smash things up, and the first time dad gets hospitalized HX tries to come home, but his mother convinces him to stay put, bc she's heard the real estate developers have some internal issues and are going down.

Sure enough, the company does, and the Hes thought it was over. HX reluctantly stays in China bc they really do have so much money riding on this, but a little while later, he hears about his baby sister falling sick. He and his mother argue for a period of time, but in the end it's HX's father's sudden death—complications due to his injuries from before—that makes his decision for him. So HX drops the research grant, comes home, realizes it wasn't just his sister sick, it was his mother as well, and takes academic leave to take care of his mother and sister.

But he realizes something's wrong. He's already pretty clever, and through mild grifting figures out there's something hinky with the whole "real estate company going down" thing. At the same time, this guy who just calls himself the Reverend shows up, and tells him look, you seem pretty desperate. Your family's sick, you're working yourself to the bones just trying to keep getting them treatment, you'll probably never return to school. But how about you come work for me?

HX puts on a damn good show. He pretends to refuse at first, forcing the Reverend to show him more and more of the business they got running. Then he "accepts" the Reverend's jobs, but tips off the people who were supposed to be the victims, and has them escape or resolve the situation in ways that wouldn't reveal it was HX behind it all. But it was all just a matter of time, of course, and he wasn't trying to trick the Reverend for the longterm, he was just trying to ferret out the people behind the Reverend. Why did they want HX's dad's shop badly enough to kill him, and why do they keep sending goons to smash up the storefront every time HX tries to clean it up?

Meanwhile, his fiancee, who's always helped out at the diner, is getting sick too. That's how HX put the pieces together, that it's...something like radiation poisoning (gotta figure out the deets),, and the real estate situation was an entanglement of coverups to hide what was probably improper waste disposal way back when.

Some good news though—there's a treatment being offered through a special program at the hospital for the thing HX's mom and sister are sick with, and its rep? A bubbly young corporate heiress out to perform some philanthropy, Shi Qingxuan. SQX befriends HX's fiancee first, and after learning about HX's situation, she prepares a whole grant application to the parent medical insurance company, says if it goes through HX wouldn't have to pay a dime. HX's naturally skeptical, but SQX is like "don't worry, I know people high up, wink wink"

But halfway through this the Reverend figures out HX is compiling evidence. Instead of confronting him straight, they want to tie HX down as an accomplice instead, so they send him on another "job" that's totally a set-up. HX's clever and figures it out, sends people packing, and in the end confronts the Reverend like, "the state police are coming, I have evidence and testimony to your crimes, you're going down."

But then the Reverend goes ahead and says, "good job then, you wanna keep patting yourself on the back or go see your mom and sister for the last time?" And plays for him a message from the hospital about his mother and sister's situations suddenly worsening. HX knows this is their doing, but what else can he do? He rushes to the hospital, and finds his fiancee weeping, SQX trying to comfort her. HX's mom and sister are already dead.

At this point, there are strains and fractures in HX's relationship with his fiancee, because of course there is—they're both still so fucking young. Miao-er had wanted to go on academic leave too, but HX refused, saying one of them needs to graduate college at least. The Hes are paying for her tuition anyways, and he kind of strong-arms her into continuing her education. Then he started taking the jobs for the Reverend, and Miao-er knows it's bad news because she sees the way HX's going kind of dark-sided. She always tries to bring him out of his funk, with varying levels of success, but she also kind of wishes he would just stay, and be there, and make this simple instead of diving into what kind of looks like a crazy conspiracy theory.

So here, that confrontation happens. The Reverend had given HX a gun for the set-up job from before, and HX turns right back around at the hospital room and goes to kill the Reverend. Miao-er tries to stop him, finds out he has a gun, is like jesus shit what the fuck dude, SQX's in the background trying to calm things down. HX ends up storming off anyways, and Miao-er is crying. SQX gets a little pissed off too and runs after HX to tell HX that Miao-er needs treatment too. She's really, really sorry that HX's mom and sister didn't make it in time, but the case went through for Miao-er, she can get the full course of treatment with all costs covered, and if HX storms off for revenge right now and gets caught, that means Miao-er gets left completely on her own, you know? The Hes are basically her adopted family, she doesn't have anyone else here in the States, and she just needs HX, please, calm down.

HX listens, manages to calm down, but when they go back, Miao-er's gone. Figuring she just needs time to deal with things herself, HX makes arrangements for his mom and sister's bodies. SQX continues to keep him company, and when she learns about the Reverend, she brings all her personal lawyers to help out. Together, they successfully resolve the entire Reverend ordeal. The Reverend goes down for everything, from the initial improper waste disposal to the real estate situation to getting HX's entire family killed. HX gets a payout, and wonders what to do next.

But then, Miao-er never came back. HX gets all tense and intense about searching again, but then SQX hesitantly informs him that according to the medical grant, Miao-er is currently receiving the full course of treatment. As for where, she's not at liberty to say, but, well, it kind of looks like she's just avoiding him? Maybe he should give her time?

Then HX gets smacked with an insane amount of student debt, both his and his fiancee's, which made no sense, unless Miao-er had cashed out the year's tuition that the Hes gave her and paid for school with a loan instead? And Miao-er continues to be gone, not answering any of HX's calls, and it just doesn't seem like something she would do but over time, HX doesn't know anymore. In the span of months, he's lost everybody, and the only person who still gave a damn enough to check up on him all the time, no matter how much of a bastard he is, is SQX.

Then SQX tells him her brother is hiring. "Look, we're an insurance company, we need case investigators. Normally they only hire out of prestigious schools but I can vouch for you, alright? I've seen what you can do. Take the job, pay off all these debts, smooth things out, and see where to go from there."

HX listens. He works under SWD and becomes the firm's top investigator. He pays off his debts, helps out his neighbors with zoning shit, and somewhere along the line starts dating SQX. SQX loves loves loves him, and keeps proposing to him ("but hahaha no pressure only if you really want, because I really want, like, spice girls really really want"), so finally, HX accepts.

Soon after their engagement though, HX suddenly gets a call. It's an unknown number, but he recognized the voice immediately. It's Miao-er.

She's crying, she sounds weak, she says she's sorry, so sorry, she let them lie to her for so long, that she never should have trusted them. She says he's been right all along, that there's been a cover-up, and now they're going to kill her for it—

The line goes dead. HX doesn't really remember how, but he loses consciousness. When he wakes up again it's to SQX telling him the doctors said he had a panic attack.

HX's brain puts the pieces together faster than he's really aware, and he has a fist in SQX's collar. He asks her where Miao-er is, what she knows, what happened to the treatment payments, did SQX lie to him about Miao-er taking—

But SWD's also there. They're staying at the Shi mansion, post-engagement. SWD pulls him away from SQX and has security take him down. SQX tries to protest, says HX's not feeling well. HX just keeps demanding to know where Miao-er is, and SWD just coolly opens HX's phone, shows him he hadn't received any calls, and basically calls off the engagement, gaslighting HX into thinking he's had a psychotic break triggered by the engagement to SQX.

Everything goes downhill from there. HX knows what he heard, and knows if something really did happen to Miao-er, then SQX must have had something to do with it. Their relationship completely falls apart, SWD fires him, and HX leaves a complete and utter mess. He drinks himself stupid, lives out of his car, sells his car, and ends up running in the dark side of town, where he mostly just wants to be left alone, but ends up making a name for himself anyways as someone immensely powerful and dangerous.

Then he meets Xie Lian. Everything kicks off again from there.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Guess who got to the airport way too early and then got to sit at the gate bored out of her mind? Me. It’s me. So I wrote this drabble while I’m waiting. This goes out especially to @moodymelanist ;) Enjoy! 

A… D… H… Ha… He… Nesta’s finger stutters to a stop where it was gliding along the various colorful spines on the shelf. She goes back, making sure she hasn’t misread the names displayed, but sure enough, the one she is looking for is distinctly missing. With a huff, she steps back from the shelf. Her eyes scan back and forth across the different books on display, wondering if perhaps it was reshelved in the wrong place. She has no luck there either though. 

Nesta can feel her annoyance beginning to bubble as she digs her phone out of her bag. She double checks she has the right author’s name, and once she has that confirmation, she turns quickly on her heel and heads for the front of the library. There’s a librarian with wild curls pulled back with a scarf and wide, round glasses perched on her nose sat primly behind one of the desks. 

“Excuse me,” Nesta greets politely. “I was wondering if you might help me find a book?” 

“Of course, dear,” the librarian tells her, smiling brightly up at Nesta. “What’s the book name?” 

“Existentialism and Humanity.” 

The librarian types the name into her computer, squinting through her glasses as she reads what the screen says. She does some more typing and scrolling, the various hums and hmm’s she lets out not boding well for Nesta. When she finally meets Nesta’s eyes again, it’s with a soft, apologetic sigh. 

“I’m sorry, dear, but we don’t have that book available,” the librarian explains. 

“What do you mean you don’t have it available?” Nesta asks, trying and failing to reel in her exasperation. “I need that book for an essay for class.” 

“Well, it says that the book was checked out last semester, but it was never returned.” 

“Checked out by whom?” 

“Oh, I don’t think I’m allowed to share that information.” 

“But I’ll get the book back for you,” Nesta argues. 

The librarian eyes up Nesta skeptically, but then she lets out another soft sigh. She grabs a post-it note and a pen, scribbling down a name. She gives a cursory glance around the near empty library, like she expects someone to jump out from the shelves and accuse her of wrongdoing, and then she’s slipping the post-it note to Nesta. 

“Just don’t tell anyone you got this from me,” the librarian whispers conspiratorially to Nesta. 

Nesta wants to roll her eyes at the dramatics, but she keeps it in so the librarian won’t change her mind. Instead, Nesta offers the librarian a polite smile and takes the post-it note. She heads for the doors of the library, already mentally preparing a plan to find this student and get the book she needs if it’s the last thing she does. She refuses to get anything less than an A on this essay, and she can’t do that without the book. Nesta glances at the name scrawled out across the bright pink paper then digs her phone back out, shooting off a text to the group chat with her best friends. 

I need your helping finding someone

It takes Emerie and Gwyn less than thirty minutes to track down Cassian Valderez. A series of Instagram posts leads them to the exact dorm he lives in, and a message to one of Gwyn’s old lab partners gives them the exact room number. Nesta wastes no time cutting across the campus commons to get there. She slips inside the dorm building behind another group of students then takes the stairs up to the third floor, following along the halls until she finds room 311. 

A tall man pulls open the door after Nesta knocks, dark strands of hair cut relatively short but still falling across his forehead and temples in streaks. Dark eyebrows frame brown hued hazel eyes, one raising in question as he takes Nesta in. 

“Are you Cassian Valderez?” Nesta asks, settling the man with a scowl. 

“Unfortunately not,” the man responds, leaving Nesta fuming that her best friends’ sleuthing didn’t work. But then the man is turning to shout over his shoulder. “Cass, there’s a scary, angry girl here to see you.” 

A loud, booming laugh echoes behind the man, followed by a voice calling back. “Sounds like just my type.” 

Before Nesta can even bother to roll her eyes, another man appears in the doorway. He’s not as tall as his roommate, but he’s bigger in other ways, broad shoulders stretching out under the green cotton t-shirt he has on. His hair is longer, falling in soft curls down to his shoulders, and his hazel eyes seem to glint with gold as they roam over Nesta. 

“How can I help you, sweetheart?” 

“Are you Cassian Valderez?” 

“The one and only,” Cassian tells her, leaning against the doorframe and offering Nesta a crooked grin. This time, Nesta doesn’t bother hiding her eye roll. 

“You have Existentialism and Humanity, and I need it,” Nesta explains, crossing her arms and settling this Cassian with an unimpressed look.  

“I—what?” 

“Existentialism and Humanity. The book? You checked it out last semester and never returned it, and I need it.”  

“Since when did the library start doing house calls? Not that I’m complaining. Especially if all the people they send are as beautiful as you.” 

Nesta is going to throttle him. She’ll punch that smug smile clean off his face and find the book herself in his room. Maybe she’ll even get his roommate to help. She doesn’t have time for this. Her essay is due at the end of the week, and if this Cassian thinks he’s somehow going to flirt his way out of Nesta getting this book, he’s sorely mistaken. 

“Look,” Nesta tells him, narrowing her eyes when Cassian seems to take glee in her annoyed tone. “Do you have the book or not?” 

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” 

“Do you think this is a game? I have an essay due this week, and I need it, so just give me the book.” 

“How about,” Cassian starts, leaning forward so that he’s up in Nesta’s space. This close, she can feel his breath skate across her skin, but she refuses to be intimidated or back down. “I’ll give you the book if you agree to go on a date with me?” 

Nesta lets out a humorless laugh. “You have got to be kidding me. Coercion? Really?” 

“Do you want the book or not? And besides, what do you have to lose?”

[luvidzy]

☆ genre: fluff

☆ pairing: kim seungmin x reader

☆ summary: an anonymous person is writing poetry and you are determined to get to the bottom of it

☆ word count: 3.2k

You honestly hadn’t even noticed at first. You weren’t really into the school paper, so you didn’t read it very often unless Felix decided there was something interesting you just had to know. Which is exactly how you found out about your secret admirer posting about you in the paper.

“Y/N, you have to see this!” Felix’s voice rang out as he slid into the seat next to you. You looked up, less than thrilled to be interrupted in the middle of trying to study for your Greek Classics test tomorrow, but you couldn’t stop yourself from setting your pencil down at Felix’s excited expression.

“Yes, Felix?” You asked, trying to hide the exasperation in your voice. If Felix noticed, he didn’t let him affect his excitement as he pulled the school paper out from under his arm, unrolled it and smacked it down on the table in front of you.

Your eyes scanned the front page, trying to figure out what Felix was so eager to show you, but nothing stood out. There was an article about the softball team, an article about an upcoming concert by 3racha, and a column that was talking about new things to do on campus. Nothing particularly interesting, and also nothing that you hadn’t seen before in the paper.

“So I was looking at the paper, and something caught my eyes. Come on, you have to read it,” Felix urged, his eyes sparkling as his freckles crinkled beside his eyes. You rested your forearms on the table, signalling to him that you were listening. Felix began to flip through the pages, before he landed on one of the latter ones. 

His finger pointed out a small section of writing in the upper right hand corner. You squinted slightly, bringing the paper closer so you could look at the words. From what you could tell it, was a small three line poem that anyone would overlook if you weren’t paying attention. Lucky enough for you, Lee Felix always paid attention to the paper.

she sits so sweetly

sweater too big on her back

perfect to me

Eyes wondering over the black lettering, you felt your eyebrows furrow. There was no signature and not even a hint of who the poem might be addressed to. It seemed so out of place, yet your curiosity was growing every second.

“Does anyone know who wrote it?” You asked, turning to Felix. The blonde shook his head, pouting slightly.

“I asked Seungmin, but he said that they had just found it on one of the desks in an envelope with a note asking them to publish it,” Felix explained. You sighed, before sliding the paper away from you in favor of getting back to your studying.

“Well, keep me updated. Maybe next time we’ll know who this mysterious poet is, or maybe who he’s writing to.” Felix nodded eagerly, before pulling the paper back towards him and opening it up to read while you continued to study.

Of course, the poem wasn’t dropped there as Felix brought it up to your friends again that night as you hung out in Chan and Changbin’s apartment.

“It’s romantic, for sure. But I feel like it would be even more romantic if the person who it was for actually KNEW it was for them, ya know?” Jisung said as he threw a cheeto in the air and tried to catch it in his mouth. You stifled a giggle behind your hand as the cheeto flew back down and hit him in the face, causing him to pout.

“Maybe they wanted to test the waters? See if the person responded well before they actually did anything that might give them away?” Jeongin suggested, before stuffing some M&Ms into his mouth. Seungmin shrugged as he leaned back into his chair.

“I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see if we get any more envelopes.” You sighed, smiling slightly as you leaned back into the couch you were sitting on.

“How nice it must be to have someone write poetry about you. I don’t think anyone would ever do that for me,” you exclaimed dramatically, throwing a hand onto your forehead for effect. Minho snorted as he threw a piece of candy at you, causing you to shriek slightly.

“Maybe, if you weren’t such a dramatic bitch, people would actually fall for you.” You stuck your tongue out at the older male, crossing your arms with a pout on your face. He was probably right, but there was no need for him to be rude about it.

The next time the mystery poet wrote in the paper, you found out about it way too late at night. Your phone began to buzz incessently as you tried to focus on your paper, to no avail. Finally you gave in and picked up the phone.

“What?”

“Y/N, where are you right now?” Felix’s voice was rushed and enthusastic, and it took all your strength not to groan. How could he be so energetic this late at night, when all you wanted to be doing was sleeping instead of studying for you stupid exam. Seungmin, who had been joining you in your study nights the past few days, looked up with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m at the library with Seungmin. Why?” You replied, rolling your eyes to Seungmin who just snickered. He knew from personal experience that the only person who would give you this reaction so late at night was Felix.

“There was another poem posted in the newspaper! I was gonna tell you earlier but I couldn’t get a hold of you. Stay where you are, I’m on my way.” Felix rushed, before hanging up. You took the phone away from your ear, before looking to Seungmin with an accusing glare.

“There was another poem and you didn’t think to tell me?” You exclaimed, cringing as the librarian shushed you.

“I didn’t think you cared that much. Besides, why would I take away Felix’s gossip? What kind of friend would I be if I did that?” Seungmin chuckled at the pointed glare you sent his way, before you turned back to your paper to try and do some work before Felix got there.

You managed only another 2 paragraphs before Felix came bustling through the doors, trying to be as quiet and fast as possible. He finally crashed into the chair beside you, spreading the paper out before you. You shut your laptop as your eyes scanned the page, trying to find any sight of the poem.

“It’s a good one this time. You’ll have to see it,” Felix said, his grin more of a smirk as he flipped to the next page and pointed his finger at the lines of text that had been imprinted on the page. Your eyes immediately trained on it, scanning over the words in every line like a woman who’s seeing for the first time.

The girl in room 204

with the world on her shoulder

but a smile on her face.

I wish I could be your Atlas

and hold the sky up long enough

for you to take a breath and relax.

But despite the circumstances,

despite her exhaustion from

sleepless nights in the library,

her eyes glow as she talks

even if it is about the most mundane things.

I can’t help but stare and smile,

wondering if she will ever notice

that she means everything to me

and that I would gladly be condemned

to a lifetime of suffering if it meant 

taking your pain for just a little while.

Your eyes widened as you looked at the poem, before you noticed the small print that was sitting underneath the beautiful lines.

-to the girl in room 204 of Levantar Hall

Your heart began to pound and you could practically feel the blood rushing to your face as you reread the tiny tag, the realization only setting in after the 5th time looking it over.

“Holy shit! Felix, these poems are addressed to me!” You exclaimed, turning to look at the bright smile of your best friend. He nodded eagerly as you turned back to the poem, rereading it with this newfound knowledge.

“And you said no one would ever write poetry for you,” Felix teased. You hit him lightly, before taking the paper and shoving it into your bag. You grabbed your laptop, slung your bag over your shoulder, before looking at the boys you were sitting with.

“Sorry gentleman, I have some sleuthing to do,” you said, before rushing out of the library, completely ignorant of the adoration in Seungmin’s eyes as he watched you go.

You spent the next few days waking up extra early and camping out outside of the newspaper office to try and catch the mystery person in action of dropping off their envelope, but you were always met with disappointment as Seungmin came in every morning with no sign of the admirer.

You were a bit bummed about it until you decided to read this week's newspaper and came upon a startling revelation. 

Another poem. 

so close yet so far

she would never know my love

it’s not my nature

You immediately called Felix, who agreed to meet up with you at the nearest cafe to discuss the poem. It wasn’t until you were sitting at a booth, coffees sitting in front of you that a revelation decided to hit you.

“Felix! I’m an idiot!”

“I mean, I know. But how so this time?” Felix said, causing you to throw a playful glare his way. You looked at the poem, before pointing at the poem in the paper and reading the words aloud.

“Okay?” Felix questioned, an eyebrow raised. You rolled your eyes at the thought of having to explain it all to Felix.

“I know whoever this is, Felix! The words insinuate it’s someone that I know, and someone who is not very affectionate with me!” You said proudly, happy that you had managed to narrow the list down. Felix nodded in understanding.

“So, that leaves only a few people, right? Cause all of your friends are pretty affectionate, outside of Minho and Seungmin, right?” Felix said, and you nodded, before freezing. Minho…. or Seungmin. You didn’t want to immediately jump to any conclusions, but you hadn’t seen anyone outside of the newspaper room outside of Seungmin and, being honest, you kind of wanted it to be him. You had had a crush on Kim Seungmin since freshman year of college and it would be like something out of a novel if it turned out to be him.

“Earth to Y/N! What’s the plan now?” Felix brought you from your daydream as you took a sip of the coffee in front of you. You furrowed your brows in thoughts, before her eyes lit up.

“I know! Felix, I just need to mention something incredibly specific to each of them! Any good writer would take advantage of the creative inspiration and incorporate it into their poem!” you announced, quite proud of yourself for coming up with the idea. Felix thought for a moment before he nodded.

“That’s so stupid, it might just work.” You pouted at his comment, before immediately looking at your phone, seeing the time, and stumbling to get up and rush out.

“I completely forgot I need to meet up with Minho for our project! Phase 1 starts right now!” You rushed out of the coffee shop, Felix laughing behind you as you nearly ran into the door due to your excitement.

True to your plan, while with Minho you brought up the extremely intricate topic of Andromeda and Perseus, a tale which you had learned about a month ago in your Greek Mythology class. You loved the story and thought it was incredibly interesting and a great muse if Minho turned out to be the secret admirer in the paper.

You didn’t see Seungmin for a few days, but that gave you time to think of the perfect topic to bring up to him. You wanted him to be your secret poet so badly and you wanted to make sure you gave him something that would definitely end up inspiring the next poem. It finally hit you as you sat with Seungmin and Jeongin in one of your University’s common areas.

“We learned about the story of Icarus in my Greek class the other day,” you started, making sure to look at Seungmin and see if he was listening to you. Sure enough he perked up, looking up to show you that he was taking in the words that were coming from your lips.

“Essentially, Icarus was the son of this great inventor, Daedalus, and they were both imprisoned in a tower. Daedalus made them 2 sets of wings to escape the tower, but they were made out of feathers and wax. When they were flying to escape, Icarus decided to not heed his fathers words and flew too close to the sun. The wax in his wings melted and he drowned. It’s a sad story, but it tells a tale of curiosity and how being too curious can lead to your downfall,” you explained, noticing how Seungmin had stopped writing as you told your story. Jeongin stared at you with a questioning glance.

“Why would Icarus fly so high if he knew he would die?”

“Well, I guess that depends on how you look at it. Some say he was just foolish and brash, but I personally like to think Icarus knew what would happen to him, but decided that the ability to be free and live in the excitement for even a moment was worth the consequences he knew would befall him.” Jeongin nodded, obviously thinking about the story. Satisfied with your work, you looked back down at your work, not noticing how Seungmin had flipped to a blank page in his notebook and was jotting down what seemed to be lines of poetry.

It was a few more weeks until another poem was posted, and you were starting to be concerned that the admirer had given up and decided to stop. That was until Felix, as expected, rushed into your dorm one day, completely scaring you out of your concentrated state.

“The poem was posted! And you’ll never believe it, but your plan actually worked!” Your stomach flip flopped as you realized that the moment of truth was about to be upon you. The minute you read the poem that laid in the ink of the school newspaper, you would know who was your secret admirer. Felix handed it to you and as your eyes went to the words, you silently prayed that it was the man you so desperately wanted it to be. 

I am Icarus,

and she is the sun.

I don’t dare get to close,

even if her gleam,

bright against my rickety feathers,

warms me from the inside out.

I can never tell her how I feel,

I can never say a word,

but if I could I’d tell her she is golden to me.

That she is the heavens,

and I am just a mortal man 

begging for her to let me in,

begging for her to let me love her, 

begging for her to let me praise her,

because God knows that if I could 

I would never stop spilling words of devotion to her.

I am Icarus,

and she is the sun.

My faux wings melt like candle wax

as I force myself closer to her,

because I’d rather fall out of her atmosphere,

then never experience her at all.

Your mouth dropped open as you finished reading the carefully crafted poem, your cheeks heating up and your mind running a mile a minute. It was Seungmin. Your secret admirer was Seungmin.

You rushed out of your dorm, the paper abandoned on your bed as Felix called after you, but you didn’t have any time to stop and explain. You glanced at your phone, realizing that if you made haste, you could catch Seungmin alone in the newsroom before he left for the day. You weaved through the halls of the journalism building, the only thing on your mind getting to the boy who had written some of the most beautiful words about you.

Seungmin was standing outside of the door, locking up the room for the day, when you barrelled down the hallways and basically tackled him into a hug. He grunted as your arms wrapped around him and he stood there for a moment, completely unsure of what to do in this situation. You didn’t give him any time to react though, pulling back and staring at him with a smile rivalling the sun.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Tell you what?” Seungmin asked, genuinely confused. He had a long day and you weren’t making any sense right now. You rolled your eyes playfully, before looking at him with a smirk.

“That you were Icarus and I was the sun.” Seungmin’s mouth dropped open as you repeated the words he had written back to you. His usually sharp mind was completely blank as he tried to figure out what to say in response to you, but once again you didn’t give him time to think as you pulled him in for another hug.

This time, Seungmin allowed himself to wrap his arms around you in return and give you a squeeze. Months of pining after you and he was finally doing what he had fantasized about so many times. You nuzzled yourself into his neck, giggling as he let out a soft gasp, completely unused to the physical affection you were showing him.

“So, does this mean the poems worked?” Seungmin joked, his cheeks red as you pulled back again. You let out a laugh, nodding happily as you kept your arms slung around his neck.

“Of course! To be honest, I’ve had a crush on you for a while now. I was really glad when I found out it was you,” you said, staring at him sheepishly. He smiled softly at you, before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“What gave it away though?” He asked. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“You really think I just threw all that philosophical stuff about Icarus out there for nothing? I was hoping you’d pick up the clue and use it for some creative inspiration,” you said. Seungmin nodded, feigning a look of impressiveness.

“That’s pretty smart for you.” You punched him lightly in the arm, eliciting a chuckle from the boy as he grabbed your hand and interlocked your fingers together, leading you down the hallway.

“So, does this mean your poems are going to stop?” you asked, unable to hide the pout in your voice. Seungmin smiled a little bit, giddy that you liked his poems so much.

“I mean, at least the public poems. But I’ll write you all the poems you want in private. But they will be for your eyes only. Can’t let anyone know that I went soft for you,” he said jokingly. You let out a laugh, squeezing his hand as he laughed along with you.

Honestly, you didn’t mind if the poems were public or private. It was more than enough for you that Seungmin was holding your hand right now, speaking words of love that held more meaning than any poem about Icarus ever could.

[xjoonchildx]

guilty | knj x reader | chapter one: how odd

summary: as the man at the top, kim namjoon has almost everything he wants. almost. could a familiar face from the past change his future?

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 2.8K

notes: you guys have been so amazing with your feedback on “guarded” and it warms my heart that you loved hoseok and ms. kim -- so it’s time to show mr. kim some love, too.  this series will not be long (probably three parts) but i had to break it into chapters because of the POV shifts. please let me know what you think about this chapter and as usual thank you so much to all the tiger wives and my amazing betas @ladyartemesia​ and @hobi-gif​.

this series is dedicated to the amazing @sahmfanficbts​ who is an incredible writer, an awesome woman, and kim namjoon’s number one fan.

this fic is a continuation of the Guarded Series but can be read as a standalone piece.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | Epilogue

**********************

“You fired me?”

Namjoon turns at the sound of the quiet accusation that comes from over his shoulder.  

There is color in your cheeks as you cross the length of his office.  Your jaw is tight, one lock of hair falling free from the loose knot at the base of your neck. One perfectly-arched brow is raised high.

You look hurt.

Beautiful -- but hurt.

Guilt hits Namjoon like a freight train.

“Of course not,” he deflects, taking a seat.  He picks up one of the papers scattered across his desktop and pretends to read it carefully.  “I reassigned you to a position I believe will be a better fit.”

There’s no way he could miss the irritated breath you suck between your teeth but Namjoon keeps his eyes glued to that paper in his hand.  He realizes, absently, that it’s a takeout menu.

He hopes you haven’t noticed the same thing.

“Well, was there some kind of problem with my performance?”

Namjoon winces at the dejection in your tone.  He finally forces himself to meet your gaze and finds your eyes brimming with frustration.  

He certainly can’t blame you on that account -- you have every right to be frustrated.  You shouldn’t be made to feel somehow lacking when it’s him who is lacking in every way that counts.

“Quite the opposite,” he says carefully.  “I think it’s a waste of your skills to have you keeping my schedule and taking calls.  Seokjin can make better use of your talents on the business side.”

A strained silence settles over the room and Namjoon clears his throat before looking back down to his papers.

“Well, the new girl is terrible at this,” you say flatly.  “I certainly wouldn’t have let me walk in here unannounced.  She’s too busy looking at her phone to look after you.”

Namjoon knows you’re right about that.

In the few short months you’ve worked for him, you’ve proven yourself to be unnaturally attuned to his needs. You knew without asking which calls he was trying to avoid and when, when to clear his schedule the day after a rough night on the streets. You’ve kept his office stocked with every comfort he’d ever wanted and some he hadn’t even realized he wanted.  

You are the single best assistant he’s ever had and he couldn’t stand to keep you around for one minute longer.

You don’t wait for Namjoon to formulate some kind of response to your damning and accurate observation.  By the time he looks back up from his papers, you’ve already turned on your heels to leave.  

He watches you walk away with regret weighing heavy in his gut.

**************************

Namjoon’s keys clang loudly when he drops them on the table in his foyer.

This penthouse is the best apartment in one of the best buildings in Seoul.  It’s filled with lavish furnishings and expensive paintings and boasts a stunning view of the Han River.  It’s one of the finest residences in the city.

And Namjoon hates it.

The vacant rooms and the echoing walls seem to mock him, making him all the more aware of how empty it is.  How completely devoid it is of any life. Most nights he stays at the office until he’s delirious with exhaustion just so he can collapse straight into bed once he gets here. 

Tonight though, for once, this place seemed like a better option. 

Namjoon pulls off his tie and releases the first few buttons of his shirt before pouring a scotch.  

He’s drinking too much these days -- he knows it -- but the drinks help slow the constant movement of his mind.  They help dull the anxiety that seems to take over when he’s too still for too long.

He walks to the window to look out over the night sky.  

This is his favorite way to see the city -- high up enough that everything looks pristine.  Get closer and you’ll be assaulted by the noise and the crowds and the pollution.  Get closer and the flaws are too hard to ignore.

“Was there some kind of problem with my performance?”

Your words echo as clearly in Namjoon’s mind as if you’d spoken them out loud in this cavernous apartment. He takes a seat in his plush chair and sips his drink, savoring the familiar burn of the scotch.

He thinks back to when you both were kids.  

Your father -- one of the few decent men in his own father’s inner circle -- didn’t bring you around much.  He can only recall a few social functions you’d attended before taking off to university.  News of your father’s death came shortly after that and it had been years since Namjoon had even spared a thought for you.

Then you came walking through his office door.

You definitely weren’t a kid anymore, that much was clear.  

What was much less clear was why you -- a college graduate -- turned up one day, desperate for a job.  He hadn’t questioned your need for fast work and fast money and you hadn’t questioned the long hours and strange requests.

You repaid him with a flawless work ethic.

And he repaid you by fantasizing about fucking you blind over his desk basically every chance he got.

So yeah, there was a problem, all right.   

The problem was Kim Namjoon.

*********************

“There you are.”

The voice on the other end of the line practically slithers into Namjoon’s ear when he answers the late call. 

“Mina,” he sighs, infusing the name with a displeasure that comes through loud and clear across the connection.  “This line is for business only, you know that.”

Mina makes an exasperated sound.

“I wouldn’t have to call your cell if you’d return my messages from the office.  I’ve been trying to reach you for more than two weeks now. I’m starting to feel like you’re avoiding me.”

Namjoon pulls the phone away to allow himself a long exhale before putting it back to his ear.

“How did you get this number?”

“You’re hung up on that?” Mina groans. “Honestly, Namjoon.  I reached out to your new assistant who was more than happy to pass it along.”

Fuck. He’s going to have to fire the new girl, isn’t he?

“She’s a nice girl,” Mina muses.  “Far more competent than that last assistant of yours.  Excellent decision on replacing that woman if she fails to complete a task as simple as delivering a message. Three messages, actually.”

Namjoon mulls that information over in silence.

“Where is your mind these days, Mr. Kim?” Mina tries to cover her displeasure with a laugh but he hears it anyway.  “You’ve been so distant lately.  It’s been too long since we had the chance to enjoy one another’s company.”

Namjoon can envision the pout she is wearing on the other end of the line and it aggravates him beyond belief.  Pouting ranks near the very top of his least favorite female manipulation tactics. 

Pouting makes him want to put his fist through a wall.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes,” he mutters.  “I’m here.”

“Are you drunk?”

Namjoon grits his teeth, fingers tightening around his glass.

“No, Mina,” he grinds out. “Not drunk. Just not in the mood.  Not anymore.”

She sputters on the other end of the line as Namjoon ends the call.

Maybe he should feel bad about being so blunt, but he doesn’t.  It’ll be a week before she’s onto the next wealthy, connected man.  Women like Mina make sport of locating and latching on to power. 

She’ll survive.

Namjoon stares out into the night sky and sips his scotch, letting his mind wander back to the one piece of the conversation that did capture his interest.

What are the chances that you -- a woman with seemingly unerring attention to detail -- forgot to deliver three separate messages from the same caller? 

He contemplates that in the dark.

How odd.

***********************

YOU

Kim Namjoon was the most serious boy you’d ever seen. 

Even as a young man, he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. You can still close your eyes and remember exactly how he looked back then -- standing solemn at his father’s side, lanky body swimming in a suit he’d not yet grown into.  His hair just a touch too long and falling into his eyes.  

You thought he was the most handsome boy in all of Korea.

Namjoon kept mostly to himself -- no easy task given that his status alone made him the most celebrated catch amongst the children of the Gajog.  

Everyone fought for the attention of the boy who would be king.  

It would have been so easy for him to abuse the power he had over his peers, to treat them with disrespect, but Namjoon never did.  You noticed how kind he was to the children who idolized him.  You noticed how well he managed the volatile moods of his alcoholic father.  You noticed how he hovered protectively over his sister.  

He never noticed you, of course.

Your own father was careful to limit your exposure to the Gajog and as such, you lived on the outskirts of the social circle.  By the time you were a teenager, you’d only spoken to Namjoon directly a handful of times.  The few times you did see him face-to-face, you’d had to suffer through that awkward moment before his eyes lit with recognition.  

It always took a minute for him to remember who you were, but when he finally did -- every time he finally did -- your heart would stop just a bit at his shy smile.  

That was the image you held on to when you held your breath and walked into his office a few months ago.  You’d taken a deep breath and prayed that the quiet, kind kid you’d known so long ago hadn’t changed too much over the years.  And then you stepped into his posh office.

Kim Namjoon definitely wasn’t a kid anymore.

The Namjoon who stood up from behind his desk to bow a greeting was nothing short of devastating.

Standing in place of the slender boy from your childhood was a man with deep, dark eyes and a striking, angular face.  His suit -- cut to fit every line of his body to an exacting standard -- did nothing to conceal his powerful frame.  He had grown into the full lips that once seemed a bit too large for his face. 

Without a doubt, he’d become the most handsome man in all of Korea.

The shy smile remained, though -- dimples prominent when Namjoon extended a hand to shake yours and you woodenly accepted, blinking back.  You’d realized, absently, that you were gawking.

You hoped he hadn’t noticed the same thing.

If Namjoon had picked up on your mortifying reaction to seeing him after all these years, he was far too much of a gentleman to let on.  He’d offered you a seat and then listened patiently as you explained that you were in need of a job -- any job -- so long as you could start right away.

You left out the painful details, of course.  

Namjoon nodded quietly as you outlined your education and qualifications and emphasized your willingness to serve the Gajog in any role he saw fit.  His eyes were warm and reassuring as you spoke, but you still braced yourself for the possibility that he’d send you away empty handed.

He didn’t.

At the end of your impassioned speech, Kim Namjoon made you an offer you could not refuse.  

Reporting directly to him and starting right away.

***************************

The serious boy you’d known so many years ago had grown into an even more serious man.

It didn’t take long on the job to notice the bone-deep melancholy that seemed to emanate from Kim Namjoon.  He was good at concealing it in front of others but you saw it clearly.  The way he would stand at his window at night, drink in hand, brooding.  The way the shadows behind his eyes would surface when he thought no one was looking.

But you were always looking.

You wanted so badly to help.  

You wanted to do something to help ease the burden he seemed to carry around at all times.  So you threw yourself into the work, memorizing his routines and taking note of the things he needed.  You organized his files.  You streamlined his schedule.  You ran interference on Yoongi and Hoseok and Seokjin on the nights when his moods turned dark and ominous.

Tiny gestures, in the grand scheme of things -- but there were days when you could convince yourself the gestures made a difference.

Days when Namjoon would look at you with a quiet appreciation that made you feel heat down to your toes.  Days when his eyes would soften as you’d instinctually met some need he hadn’t voiced out loud. Days when the darkness inside of him seemed to recede and one of those heart-stopping shy smiles would emerge.

You convinced yourself over time that this was enough --  that taking care of him like this would be enough for you.

It had to be enough. 

To allow yourself to imagine otherwise was nothing short of delusion.  

**********************

“Eomma?” 

You call out into the quiet as you lock the door behind you.  You can barely make out the sound of your mother’s soft reply from her bedroom.

This is where she spends most of her days now, shuffling between her bed and her chair, too weak to stand for more than a few minutes at a time.  Pill bottles litter the nightstand, obscuring the yellowing photograph of your parents as newlyweds.  

“My sweet Ttal,” she rasps, voice hoarse from disuse, “You’re home.”

“I am,” you sigh, sweeping into the room and pulling off your coat.  You bend down to drop a kiss on her forehead before taking a seat at her side.  Your mother’s once-luminous skin is now spotted with age, eyes cloudy and dull, but she is still one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen.   

She flinches when you take one of her hands into your much colder ones.

“Sorry,” you murmur, massaging over the paper-thin skin.  “It’s freezing outside.  I should have warmed them first.”

She gives your fingers a gentle squeeze.

“Home early again,” she croaks.  “Is everything okay at work?”

Her innocent question brings the sadness simmering just under the surface of your thoughts back to a full boil.  You still can’t understand why Namjoon chose to reassign you -- and you still can’t forget the sting of getting the news secondhand from your replacement.

Your face falls at the memory and you hope your mother doesn’t notice.  

The last thing you’d want to do is add worry to her already long list of concerns.

“Yes, Eomma,” you soothe, smoothing back her hair.  She leans into your touch with a tired smile.  “Everything is fine.  My new boss doesn’t keep me as late as the old one did.  But that’s a good thing, right?”

“Right,” she agrees, closing her eyes.  “Mrs. Sim left just a short while ago.  She brought some Japchae for dinner.  Not as good as mine, but not half-bad, either.”  

You laugh at the way the corner of her mouth lifts into a smile at her jest.  

People like Mrs. Sim are in large part why you’ve fought so hard to keep your mother here in your childhood home.  The financial strain has been tough -- particularly when paired with the medical bills -- but you need the help.  With no siblings to share your burden, you’ve had to lean on the goodwill of longtime neighbors.

“Leave Mrs. Sim and her Japchae alone mother,” you tease, standing to stretch.  “I’m going to get a shower before bed.”

Your mother makes a noise that sounds like approval, but you can tell she’s already drifting off again.  

She’s on so many pills these days; a blessing and a curse.  More pills means less pain and better rest -- something she desperately needs.  But more pills also means far fewer moments of lucidity -- much shorter windows of time for you to enjoy your mother’s quick wit and dry humor.

She’s back in a sleep state before you even make to stand.  You stroke your fingertips across her face just as your phone pings in your pocket.  You pull it out and very nearly dismiss the routine banking alert altogether -- but something catches your eye.

You swipe into the app to confirm you’re seeing the numbers correctly -- that your tired eyes and tired mind aren’t playing games with you.  

They aren’t.

The direct deposit of your paycheck is coming on the date it should, at the time it should.  But the number glaring back at you from the screen is higher -- much higher -- than it should be.

A demotion and a raise in the span of one week?

How odd.

******************************

GLOSSARY:

Gajog: Family

Eomma: Mother

Ttal: Daughter

tag list: @barbikatherine​

[turtleedovee]

Life Has a Funny Way of Working Out

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Chapter 2

Word Count: 3,111

Warnings: Cursing, abuse, angst, small descriptions of blood and bruises, shouting, breaking things (that’s about it but if you guys have anything else i’ll gladly add it to the list)

A/N: this is my first bucky fic ahh! idk if i’ve ever posted any fanfics on this blog before which is crazy. i was thinking of making a side blog but whatever it works here. this is gonna be a series of sorts. maybe three chapters, 4? we’ll see. reader is a female and has powers oOoOoo. i’ll post this on AO3 as well so check out my account on there too! i’ll reblog this post with the ao3 link once i publish it on there if you wanna leave kudos or see my other work 👀but anyways i’m done talking, i hope you enjoy! (not my gif)

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

You sighed at your boyfriend’s anger and frustration, you didn’t blame him of course, you had just told him you wanted to break up.

“Please just calm down and let’s talk about this-” You tapped the table lightly, signaling him to just take a seat because he wouldn’t stop pacing back and forth.

“No, I’m not gonna sit down, what the hell? Why are you doing this to me?” He ran his hand down his face; you were really hoping this wouldn’t turn into some big thing but life has a funny way of working out.

“We talked about this. You are constantly complaining about me not being around enough because you just want to hang out with me, which is sweet of you, but after thinking about it, I am not what you need right now, I can’t be an attentive girlfriend right now and you know why.” You tried to reason with him but he was still standing up, all jittery. You really did think about this long and hard; he was always upset about you being away on missions constantly but you had warned him about that the first time you both went on a date.

“Yeah, yeah whatever you save the fucking world, then why did you decide to put me through this if you knew you weren’t gonna be around.” He accused you. 

“Wow.” You were starting to get upset, standing up you started defending yourself. “I told you what we were in for if we started dating, you told me you didn’t care and wanted to be with me either way. So you knew this was going to be difficult, now I’m giving you an out. You can go be with someone who will be there for you alright? I can’t be that for you and I’m sorry.” He scoffed and turned away from you, after a couple of seconds of silence he turned around and looked at you in shock.

“Oh my god.”

You shook your head confused. “What?”

“You’ve been cheating on me.”

“What!?” Now it was your turn to shout. You could not believe how and where he drew his conclusion.

“No yeah, yeah!” He shouted as if he was trying to convince himself of this. “You constantly hang around this boy’s clubs all the time and what? I’m supposed to believe you’re just going on missions?” He said stepping forward.

You scoffed, honestly amazed as to how he was trying to blame this on you. “Yes! I am away trying not to die constantly to save the world your ass is living in.” You shouted, you clenched your fist so angry as to how this was the same guy who brought you flowers after you came back from your first mission while you two were a couple.

“Oh so now this is my fault.” He waved his arms around, exasperated. “Honestly how am I supposed to believe you.”

“You’re supposed to believe me because I wouldn’t lie to you. Because we’re in a relationship, isn’t that what it’s all about? Trust? I can not believe we are having this conversation right now.” You stepped closer now, just tired of this whole evening. 

“Well if you didn’t want to have this conversation maybe you shouldn’t have decided to dump me.” He yelled and then did the most childish thing you could think of: he punched your wall and made a hole in the column right next to the kitchen.

Now you were angry, mainly because you were going to have to pay to have that fixed, or else your landlady would never let you hear the end of it, but also because he was acting like a child.  “I decided to end this relationship because I couldn’t be the girlfriend you wanted me to be. You are constantly bitching and moaning that I don’t give you enough attention while I’m out there busting my ass working tirelessly day and night trying to oh I don’t know, save the damn world you live in and you decide to just complain about how you don’t have anyone to watch a movie with you? Honestly dating you had been like having a second job, fuck you-” Suddenly he turned around and swung at you.

Not a slap, it was a punch. He hit you with his right hand and hit the left side of your face, you’ve always been told to expect punches and hits, hell, one of the first rules you learned was to always protect the face. But no training could ever prepare you for the person that you cared for most would decide to swing at you.

The impact was enough to turn you around and almost cause you to fall but the couch was on your right-hand side so as your body motioned to the right you instinctively reached out for the couch and balanced yourself. 

You reached out to touch the spot where he hit and realized he broke some skin. As you removed your hand from the side of your face you realized that there was a little bit of blood. You didn’t look at him, trying to compose yourself and not explode.

Just breathe. Just breathe.

You should’ve used your powers

You reacted too slowly

Your powers could’ve stopped him

You should’ve broken up with him in public 

He wouldn’t hit you in front of random strangers like he did now… right?

A million and one things ran through your head but finally, after an excruciating 5 seconds of silence, you spoke quietly. “Get out.”

He looked at you as if he was confused as to what you meant by that, but still, he did not move.

“I said get out. Now.” You turned to him, stared him dead in the eye, and pointed to the door. “We’re done. I want you to leave and never speak to me again.”

He shook his head and began to talk, “Babe, c’mon you know I didn’t mean it.” He started walking closer to you and reached out for your arm, but you were ready this time.

You lurched your arm forward and up, lifting the now terrified man in the air, he knew about your powers and what they could do, but you promised to never use them on him; now those promises meant nothing to you.

“I told you to leave. You refuse to listen so here is how this is going to go,” You tilted your head slightly to the right and lifted him up higher, he tried moving his arms but your powers kept them to the side of his body, “you are going to leave. I don’t ever want to see you again, don’t look for me, don’t talk to me, do not even breathe the same fucking air as me. And if I ever see you in my line of sight again, I will not hesitate to end you. Are we clear?” He just stayed there staring at you. “Oh, and I almost forgot.” Using your free hand you motioned it up and to the side, two keys coming out of his pocket and landing in your hand. It was the spare keys you gave him when you first moved to the apartment so that way he could wait for you until you got home. “I’ll be needing these back, thank you.” Putting them away safely in your pocket, now ensuring he won’t be able to get into your apartment complex again. “Now leave.” Once again using your free hand you waved and the door began to open inwards revealing the empty hall. You moved your hand that held him in place towards it and launched him forward, his back hitting the wall. The last thing you saw was him starting to get up but you didn’t give him much of a chance to do anything else until waved for the door to close. Finally letting out the breath that you didn’t realize you were holding in, you ran for the door and double-locked it; turning around and resting your back against the door breathing heavily, you stayed there trying to wrap your head around what just happened. 

This man was stubborn as hell and you hated him for that. He stayed at your door for god knows how long, occasionally weeping and saying he was sorry for what he did, begging you to let him back inside to talk it out, to bangs on the door and screams shouting things at you whether calling you a “slut” or saying that he straight-up hated you. You were starting to regret asking Fury to find you a complex that had no other tenants on the same floor because you knew by now someone would’ve heard and called to complain, but since the complex was four stories and you were in the building furthest from the staircase, no one could hear anything.

————————————————————————

He checked his phone for the third time in the last 5 minutes

Sent 1 hour ago

Shit… 

He turned off his phone and threw his head back sighing. His partner now getting annoyed.

“Look man, don’t worry about it maybe she got just forgot or something,” Sam spoke, looking at Bucky who’s stare stayed unwavering at the ceiling.

“I don’t like it, Sam, she said she would text us once she finished breaking up with that douche bag.” Checking his phone once more, all that stared back was the 4 texts he had sent back to back constantly checking in. You had told him not to call but part of him itched to just hit the dial button and make sure you were okay.

“She’ll call us when she’s ready to talk, so just give her some space.” Sam tried to ease his nerves, but Bucky knew something was off, he felt it in his gut. It wasn’t like you to just not leave a message in case nothing happened.

“I’m gonna go check on her.” Bucky began to get up from the couch.

“Buck-” Sam warned.

“She said she was gonna text us once she finished dumping that guy, that was 3 hours ago and we haven’t heard anything from her. If it’s nothing then I’ll come back.” Bucky grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. Sam only shook his head knowing he couldn’t stop him now.

“Fine, but be careful alright. If this guy is still there by the time you come I don’t think he’ll be very happy to see you.” Sam chuckled a little.

But Bucky rolled his eyes and headed out.

————————————————————————

He arrived at your apartment complex in a little under 15 minutes, trying really hard not to break any traffic laws. But it didn’t matter after what felt like forever he looked at the building now shrouded in darkness since the sun had set less than half an hour ago. He tried looking for your window to see any signs of people in there, not getting very far he decided to go up to your door and knock. 

This building was not the most secure in the world. The front gate that led to every tenant space was left open so getting in was a breeze. After climbing a few sets of stairs he finally reached your door. The first thing he noticed was the dent on the wall that wasn’t there the last time he came to visit. He tried looking under the door to see any movement but all he saw was something dark standing in front of the door. But didn’t hear anyone speaking; so he just decided to knock quietly hoping you would answer and explain how you were just fine and how everything had gone well.

————————————————————————

Today couldn’t have been any worse

You heard another knock.

Dear fucking god can he not quit

It had been nearly 5 minutes since you heard the last knock and wanted to look to see if he was finally gone but something in your body told you not to move. You have never been this paralyzed in fear. You had gone through worse things before in your life as an Avenger but those guys were bad, they meant to do harm and had no reason to give you any false sense of security, but he did.

Knock knock knock

You couldn’t take it anymore. He had been at the door for over an hour and you just wanted to be left alone, so you got up created a ball of pure energy in your hand made solely out of anger, just ready to blast the ever-living shit out of him. 

You began to open the door and started to wind your hand back ready to launch the ball of energy in his face, “I thought I told you to leave me the fu-”

“Woah Woah Woah-!” You heard a voice say, and when you actually looked at who it was you realized it wasn’t your now ex.

“Bucky?” You asked in disbelief, still ready to launch your hand forward at any second. He held his gloved hands above him to cover his face from being blasted right off. “What’re you doing here?”

“I came to check up on you. You weren’t answering your messages so I got worried.” He said, slowly lowering his hands. 

You followed his movement lowering your own raised hand and dispelled the energy ball, fading away just like your anger.

You sighed in relief. “Oh,” you started realizing that he could probably see the mark on your face so you slowly rested the left side of your face on the door, slightly flinching at the contact, not expecting it to hurt as much, you hoped Bucky didn’t notice. “Well, uh, everything is fine.” You told him, giving a small smile.

He tried looking inside, “You sure?”

“Yes I am very sure, it all went smoothly.” You knew lying was going to get you nowhere with him, he was pretty perceptive.

“Okay, so you wouldn’t mind letting me in?” He pressed on, he knew he was getting nowhere standing outside the door, while you were inside desperately trying to hide something.

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, trying not to alert him of anything going wrong, but you knew if you told him he couldn’t come in he would suspect something and the last thing you wanted was for this to turn into something worse than it already was. 

“Of course, come on in.” You opened the door gesturing to come in, already regretting your decision.

“So, who were you trying to blast?” Bucky asked as you let him in, he examined the living room, nothing seemed too out of the ordinary. Your beige couch was slightly slanted forward but other than that everything else seemed to be in place, he did notice however, you having your back towards him, not making eye contact.

“Hmm?” You asked slightly distracted. “Oh, uh my neighbor’s kids, you know they keep running up and down the stairs and hallway.” You said, hoping he believed you, though you wouldn’t even believe your own lie given how shaky your voice was getting,

You cleared your throat, “Want some tea? I’m gonna make some right now.” Hoping a distraction would get you through this.

“No thank you I’m good, so uh, what did he say when you decided to break it off with him?” Bucky asked.

You weren’t ready to discuss this now, but what choice did you have, you could tell he was getting suspicious about something, so you just had to convince him it was nothing.

“Oh you know, he was upset obviously, but what’re you going to do.” You tried sounding nonchalant about the whole thing, you talked all the while putting water in the kettle and put it on the stove to boil. “He was upset but understood why I did it, and then uh, left.” 

“Really? Just like that?”

“Mhmm.” You spoke, the kettle starting to scream a little, grabbing your mug.

“So, if he just up and left without any struggle… then who made this hole in the wall?” Bucky asked as he tapped the wall with his knuckle.

Your fingers slipped and you dropped your mug, first hitting the counter then smashing into pieces on the floor, the screams of the kettle now almost piercing.

“Shit.” You whispered, for dropping the mug and completely forgetting about the hole he made right before he hit you. 

“Woah, hey are you okay?” Bucky turned around and saw you on your knees trying to pick up the broken pieces of the mug you had just dropped.

You were at your tipping point. Everything felt like it was unraveling all at once, you tried picking up the broken pieces of the mug, hardly noticing your tears trickling down and hitting the floor.

Bucky turned off the stove to stop the screaming and went up to you, gently putting his hand on your back. “Hey don’t worry about it okay? It’s just a mug you didn’t mean to drop it.”

“No… no no no, I wasn’t careful enough, I should’ve been nicer and more careful, this is all my fault.” You muttered to yourself. 

Bucky was starting to think that you weren’t talking about your mug. “Hey, look at me.” He spoke softly and gently lifted your chin and that’s when he first noticed the little bit of dried up blood that was on your left cheek and saw a bruise forming. “Oh god-”

You hated how he stared at you: pity, it was written in his eyes, you really didn’t want anybody to find out, especially him. Most of all, you were embarrassed, embarrassed with everything that happened and how you handled it all.

“I’m sorry.” Was all you could say, trying really hard not to break down crying, but it got harder the longer you stayed there on the floor staring at the shattered mug.

“Hey it’s okay, come here.” He wrapped you in a tight hug and that was all it took to get you to release the fear, anger, and sadness that you’ve had bottled up for the last few hours.

And there you two were, sitting on the floor of your kitchen, silently crying into Bucky’s shoulder gently gripping his jacket to steady yourself. Bucky just stared at the shattered mug, a mixture of relief and sadness filling his head; glad he went to check up on you but angry and upset that you have been put through something that dick had caused, and he intended to make his sorry ass pay.

[themangolorian]

nothing, really, dies. nothing dies. nothing dies.

For @kanejweek Day 2: Ambiguity (life & death, cold-blooded)

Pairing: Kaz x Inej

Warnings: Nothing much, discussion about death and some slight physical intimacy

somewhat inspired by this quote

Inej wrapped her arms tightly around her child as the wind whistled over the rooftop of the Slat, only slightly pulling at their thick coats. They watched the barges pass in the distance, for a moment in silence. Then a tug on her sleeve.

“Mama?”

Inej hummed. A question. Her fingers rubbed warmth into the back of her daughter’s tiny hands as they huddled in the chill.

“Why do everybody die?”

Inej suppressed a sigh, her eyes running the length of the distant gondol that carried the dead out of the city to the Reaper’s Barge, the sight of which no doubt had prompted her child’s inquiry.

“Well, Chaaru.” The Suli word for my dear. “There truly is no death, only transformation.”

“More Suli proverbs?” The voice was rough stone.

“Papa!” The child wriggled excitedly out of Inej’s arms and nearly tackled her father where he stood, having just clambered through the office window.

Inej’s heart skipped a beat when Kaz’s good leg briefly lost its footing, but he righted himself with his cane and wrapped one arm around the tiny shoulders of their little girl.

Inej pulled her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knees as she watched them.

Kaz slid gracefully into the spot just beside Inej, stretching his legs before him, and letting their child crawl into his lap.

“Go on,” he murmured, his eyes on the barge in the distance.

Inej’s breath caught slightly at the words, and by the twist of Kaz’s lips he knew it.

“My people don’t believe in death the same way...” she paused, considering, “shevrati do.”

At this, their daughter giggled. “You’re shevrali, Papa.”

Kaz made an affronted sound but there was no mistaking his grin; he adored when their daughter was clever, even when, maybe especially when, it was at his expense.

Inej allowed herself a laugh and reached forward to run her fingers through her daughter’s silky coil of hair, so reminiscent of her own. The movement brought her flush with Kaz, and she was pleased when he leaned into her, when he didn’t tense. He hadn’t frozen like that in so long. Inej was glad.

“Our people,” she corrected herself, “know that life can only ever be created, not destroyed. When we leave this life, we are brought back, in the air, the water, the people.”

In the love we show for those who are gone, Inej thought but didn’t say as she watched Kaz watch their daughter. She knew exactly the ways in which their daughter reminded him of his brother lost those years ago, forever a boy; she knew the fear these thoughts fed him.

“No mourners.” Their daughter replied at last in what could only be a mournful tone, as if she understood too well, though Kaz and Inej had so far protected her from life in the same way they had not been allowed to be.

“No funerals.” Kaz and Inej both murmured back, their smiles helpless.

Later, down in the office, their daughter fast asleep in the cot across the room, Inej wandered over to the desk where Kaz was finishing some last minute accounting from the day’s earnings. She stopped short of the desk in her customary way. She’d made a habit of giving him his space, letting him pull her into it.

He scribbled on and she thought she’d retreat back to the cot until he was ready but it was as if he’d been watching her the whole time, waiting for that moment. He let the pen drop and pushed away from the desk.

Wordlessly, she circled the half of the desk separating them and let him collect her in his arms. He hadn’t held her like this for some time, but in the moment it just felt right.

“You never told me I was going to live forever,” he accused.

Inej pulled back slightly to stare up at him as if he was dense.

“What are you going to tell her when her kitten gets snatched up by a hawk?” He asked almost gently.

Inej’s eyebrows hiked their way up her forehead. “You’re getting her a kitten?”

His face smoothed over automatically; Kaz had always had a good face for bluffing.

Inej huffed and buried her face in Kaz’s neck. “I’ll just have to teach the cat how to not get caught,” she said into his jacket, her voice muffled.

Kaz’s responding chuckle was low, some joke known only to him.

“Our lives are eternal, you know,” she murmured near his ear. He shivered, but she knew it wasn’t in aversion to her. “We are what we leave behind. Not just our children, but every act, every blessing, every curse.”

He paused; she could almost hear his brain work, considering.

“Our...children?”

Inej startled, lost. “What?”

“You said,” he started, reaching to take her hand in his and bringing it slowly to his mouth, “children.”

Inej blinked slowly up at him. “All that wisdom and that’s what you took from it.” She snapped, but her cheeks were warm, the implication of his last words still hanging densely in the air.

His lips met the curve of her palm tentatively, and Inej felt the familiar blaze low in the pit of her stomach at the gesture.

“Is that a no?” He spoke into her palm, his breath hot on her skin.

She swallowed heavily, her mouth dry. She opened her lips to respond when- a tiny meow sounded from across the room.

In a split second, Inej went from expectant to exasperated.

“Kaz, you didn’t.”

He avoided her gaze, looking only bored.

She began to slide out of his arms to go find the source of the sound. But he caught her hand at the last second.

“I believe you, you know.”

She found his eyes in surprise. They were dark with hunger. Her body reacted in kind.

“About what?” Her voice was less steady than she would have liked.

“Life after death,” he said simply, his thumb running tantalizingly over her knuckles. The look in his eyes was blazing as he looked at her, something intense set in them. “How could I not believe around you?”

Her voice was nearly short of breath when she spoke.“You’re just trying to butter me up.”

He tilted one eyebrow as he gazed at her as if to say Really? Inej’s cheeks went hot now. The look was true enough; he already had her right where he wanted her.

She stared at him, her mind flashing over the long chain of events that had brought them both to this point. “Alright,” she said finally.

His turn to look surprised, though he quickly masked it. “Alright?”

“Children,” she repeated firmly before untangling herself to go find the kitten.

Dumbstruck, Kaz let her go. She didn’t have to turn to know he was smiling.

[thewildwaffle]

Agents of Discord - Part 2

Back by (very) popular demand, here's a continuation of THIS story. I jumped the queue of WIPs to get this done asap, and had fun doing it

*****

"Zerlix," Captain Piulo groaned as she rubbed the rough crest on her head, "this route only has a small handful of moments when this crew doesn't have to be on high alert. Why do you insist on filling those moments with your antics about the humans?"

"My antics?" Zerlix clutched the comm device harder. "Captain, did you not hear the recording? Human John outright admitted that they're all imposters and are going to kill us all! They're going to throw this entire ship into their own special brand of discord! Listen, listen, I'll play it again, here." He reset the audio file and Human John's one-sided conversation from when Zerlix started recording filled the room.

"Enough Zerlix, stop."

Zerlix’s claws scrambled to pause the recording, all the while Captain Piulo and a few other high-ranking officers seated around the meal table watched blankly. One feathered officer kept looking between Zerlix, the captain, and the half-eaten meal in front of them.

Captain Piulo sighed and pulled up a command screen on her comm device. “Let’s clear this up as quickly as we can, shall we?” Her short fingers scrolled through contacts before she found Human John and opened a direct call.

“Human John, could I have you join us at the meal hall as soon as possible?” Zerlix couldn’t hear the human’s response on the other end but assumed it was positive, as the captain then thanked him and closed the call.

The feathered officer finally decided the following awkward silence was an appropriate time to sneak in a few more small bites.

Thankfully, the human in question must have not have moved from the alcove where he’d been plotting everyone’s demise because it didn’t take long before he was walking into view.

As he approached, he patted his chest in the ship’s customary salute. “Captain Piulo, what can I do for you?”

“Human John, please take a seat,” the captain motioned to a spot on the long bench Zerlix was already on. John promptly sat on the other end. Zerlix tried scooting to the farthest part of the bench.

“Zerlix here has some concerns and claims you are planning to ‘sew discord’ and ‘destroy us all’. There’s even a recording of your conversation saying as much.” She nodded to Zerlix who played the recording again, a satisfied grin slowly spreading when the audio ended.

“Do you mind explaining?”

John looked from the captain to Zerlix who was now so far down the bench, they were close to falling off the edge. “Oh, so this is another Zerlix thing. Okay. Uh, yeah. I thought that was weird that you just left like that earlier.” John paused and pulled out the tablet he’d been on earlier in the alcove.

“I’m sorry if you misunderstood, Zerlix. I was talking about an old Earth game. It’s gotten really popular again lately and my friend was trying to get me to join a few rounds. I can show you all a round of the game if you’d like.” He tapped the small tablet’s screen a few times and held it up so everyone could see. “I left the round I was playing with my friends, so I don’t know if they’re done yet, but I can jump into a different room to show you how the game works if you want? It really is just a harmless game, totally for fun and that’s it.”

“If that will set minds at ease,” Captain Piulo nodded and nodded, “Proceed.”

John tapped a few more times and turned around so he could hold the tablet in a way that everyone could see the screen as he played. As the game began, John explained what everyone was doing and the goals everyone was working toward.

It took only about half a moortik before Captain Piulo cut him off. “I think we’ve seen enough. Thank you Human John. You’re excused to return to your rec time.”

“But Captain!” Zerlix protested as the human stood up. “He said he was going to kill! That he was an imposter! That… that… discord and chaos! We’re not safe with them arou-”

“Zerlix, stand down.” The captain’s voice immediately silenced everyone within hearing. She exhaled and brought her voice down as she continued. “I don’t know how much convincing it’s going to take to get to you, but I am nearing the limits of my patience while trying to find out. You overheard Human John talking about a game. Before that, you thought Human Nekpen was challenging you to a duel to the death. This ship has five humans aboard, and despite all your wild accusations, they have never done anything against anyone. We have a little less than half a cycle left before we reach the Chiru Strait.” At the mention of the celestial spacemark, several officers grimaced. It was not the most dangerous part of the route to Senbora 6, but it was pretty close.

Captain Piulo paid no heed and continued, “I will strongly suggest you take that time to visit the medbay.” The captain’s tone indicated what she was saying was more than just a suggestion. “Doctor Fah can fit you in and hopefully start helping you get over this severe paranoia you seem to be experiencing. I need you at full capacity, not hindering yourself because of unwarranted fear from your own crewmates of all things.”

Zerlix sat there, dumbstruck. This was not how this conversation had been expected to go.

“You’re excused, Zerlix. I will let the medbay know to expect you soon.”

***

The medbay was not particularly busy, but Zerlix still had to wait to be seen. Just insult to injury at this point. How did no one else see this? How the frewan had the humans been able to pull cover once again?! It would be almost admirable at this point if it weren’t so flargin’ exasperating! And this time, it had only ended in a blubkus trip to the medbay for the trouble of trying to expose them.

A sudden bump knocked Zerlix out of their silent fuming.

“Oh, sorry about that,” the only other occupant of the small waiting room creaked. Jannoah, a young Toanoaktree scooted the offending barky leg back. Small leaf growths along their shoulders and arms were trembling slightly. “Are you okay? I was just playing a game and I got startled and jumped. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“You’re fine, I’m fine. No harm done,” Zerlix muttered in reply as they readjusted their seat.

The waiting room returned to silent normalcy. Or actually, not silent. Zerlix just had been too deep in fuming thoughts that they hadn’t noticed the sounds coming from the tablet the crewmate held in their branch-like hands. Voices were talking and laughing in conversation. At first, Zerlix thought maybe Jannoah was watching a video or something until they responded to a question one of the disembodied voices asked.

Zerlix sat up a little straighter to see what exactly was going on. Toanoaktrees don’t have great eyesight, so Jannoah didn’t seem to take notice.

Colorful characters were running around the screen in what Zerlix recognized as the “game” Human John had been “playing” earlier. This time, however, the screen was split with another box that had circular pictures and text. A green outline kept moving from one circle to the next as voices changed. What was this?

“Oh hey Zerlix,” Jannoah must have noticed after all, “Have you played this yet? The humans showed me and helped me set up an account. Or well, accounts. One for the game and one for Discord.”

Zerlix froze. There it was again. Discord. The humans were spreading it under the guise of this deceptive, vile game! Dread and vindication pulsed through Zerlix’s veins.

Jannoah frowned and tried to study Zerlix’s expression while still keeping an eye on the game. “Uh, you okay? I didn’t knock you that hard, did I? I’m so sorry.”

A confused voice spoke up from the tablet and the green circle changed places on the screen. “What are you talking about Jannoah?”

“Oh, nothing sorry! I was talking to my crewmate, asking if they’re okay. I’ll mute my mic for a bit. Hold on.” With a quick tap, Jannoah looked back to Zerlix expectantly. “Sorry, I didn’t realize they could hear me on that. Are you okay?”

Zerlix didn’t respond at first, never taking their eyes from the tablet screen. “How are they talking to you? Who are they?”

“Oh,” Jannoah turned the tablet to show the screen better. “Some new friends I met. Well, kind of met. Not in person at least, just online. Human John invited me to join this Discord server and everyone is really nice and invited me to play this game with them.”

Zerlix couldn’t believe what they were hearing. This was so blatant on the humans’ part! How could they be so bold in the open like this with their dastardly plots and still think they were going to get away with it?

Well, they supposed, the humans were getting away with it. That was the problem. Maybe… just maybe a change in tactics was in order. What did Jannoah say earlier? The humans helped ‘set up an account?’ Maybe in order to catch them, Zerlix had to get in closer to the situation.

“Hey,” Zerlix said slowly, “how do I get an ‘account’ on this discord server?”

[riverscyberwife]

The First Time She Met Daryl Dixon

Part of the 'Call Me 'Darling'' Series

(Daryl Dixon x unnamed female character)

The first time she met Daryl Dixon was not pleasant.

“Fucking Shit!”

It wasn’t long after the fall. The time of indescribable horrors. The day the dead began to walk the earth.

“You useless shit” a feminine voice rang out in exasperation, met only by the greenery that surrounded. Tears pricked at frustrated eyes as small, dirty fists beat aimlessly at the soft earth beneath. The roots of a nearby tree grazed along knuckles, breaking the skin there. An unintentional hiss left trembling lips as sad eyes observed the fresh blood appearing.

She had found herself alone in a dense wood somewhere near farmland in Georgia, drifting aimlessly, no destination in mind. Attention on the songs of the wild birds. The music of the forest being the only company had in days.

In dazed wandering, clumsy feet had met a large tree root protruding rather rudely from the ground. It met her right foot violently, causing herself to stumble harshly while holding the appendage prisoner. The attached ankle twisted painfully as her warn body was thrown forward and forced to spin, landing unceremoniously on her obnoxiously generous behind.

An advantage only when the clumsy feet betrayed her. Something that happened more often than her ego would like to admit.

A glare that could almost kill, along with some less than lady-like language was aimed at the battered ankle. It lay life-less and throbbing next to the offending root, almost mocking with its silence.

A twig snapped far too near for comfort. A rustling of leaves alerting to a nearby presence. In such a vulnerable position, the woman mentally chastised herself for becoming too distracted to hear the oncoming intruder. Almost definitely one of those undead fucks stumbling across a yummy young lady laid out like a buffet.

Her head whipped around to peer behind with enough force to cause the joints of her neck to let out a crack. A sound that went unnoticed as a sharp gaze found a man staring at the crumpled heap she currently was. He seemed alive enough as he pointed an intimidatingly large weapon at her head.

Is that a crossbow? The thought shot through her mind before returning swiftly to the danger that was presented. It wasn’t something you’d ever expect to see in real life, let alone have pointed at you. Far more intimidating than a gun it seemed due to its unexpectedness.

The man holding the weapon was rugged. Short brown hair and clothes had seen better days. Gaze locked with the most vibrant blue eyes. An intense silent battle taking place between said eyes and her own.

“Ya kiss yer mother with tha’ mouth?” His voice was gruff. Deeper than expected. It held a soothing quality even in its accusing tone.

“Not if she was alive” A deadpan tone returned, eyes narrowed as the gaze turned cold. He only grunted in response. A shiver ran unexpectedly down her spine. Probably just caused by the very pointy stick he had ready to be catapulted through her skull.

“What are ya doin’ round here?” he questioned more aggressively this time. The hints of playfulness had disappeared. This man meant business and she didn’t doubt he would shoot her with the intimidating weapon if he felt the need to.

“I’m having a teddy bears picnic, can’t you tell?” An overly sweet voice quipped back unwisely. Suspicious eyes only narrowed in return as the grip seemed to tighten on the bow.

“Okay” A tired sigh left dry lips. “I was just wandering, looking for her next meal and place to sleep. I fell over this damn tree”. Trying not to feel embarrassed by the statement, her gaze wandered the muscular upper arms visible due to the missing sleeves that seemed to have been forcefully ripped away.

“I take it by your defensiveness that your camp is near here” she queried. “Don’t worry, I won’t go near it.”

“Better not. Now get outta here before it ain’t a choice.”

Eyes rolled at his threat. “Not very welcoming are you?” The question was met only by silence.

“Fine, I’m going.” She stated as weak arms pushed herself to her feet, forcing the rapidly bruising ankle to take the weight. Attempting to ignore the pain in refusal to look weak in front of this rude man. The backpack that slid from aching shoulders during the fall was slung back into place and the dagger that had saved her life numerous times secured in a determined grip.

“Nice to meet you” her defeated voice rang sarcastically before turning and limping away as fast as able.

“Asshole”

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

Many months passed without a thought about the rugged man. Surviving alone could be very distracting after all. Jumping from abandoned house to worse smelling abandoned house with the hopes of a safe nights rest. Never knowing where the next meal would come from or even if there would be a next meal.

The weight dropped off at a concerning rate. Concerning only because there was a good chance of being eaten by the dead because her trousers fell down. What a way to go. She died as she lived. Falling over.

Eyes raked over the forest floor in search of life. Trusted dagger held securely in her dominant hand, poised ready to strike should dinner appear suddenly. An unexpected commotion seemed to begin somewhere to the left. Ears guiding rushing feet towards the sound in hopes of a large animal to catch. The grumbling of her stomach agreeing with the silent statement.

Upon the arrival at the scene, crouched down behind a shrub, her small body was easily hidden by the undergrowth. In immediate sight was the back of a man. Keen eyes would not have recognised him so immediately if not for the missing sleeves on the dirty brown shirt. He was facing off with four of the dead. A knife raised high in his right hand seemed to be his only weapon. A glance to the side revealed the crossbow a few feet away. Far less intimidating when not pointed at ones head.

Logic said he couldn’t reload the damn thing in time to shoot the fuckers one by one. She however had not been spotted by the dead and was only about 3 feet from the weapon.

Daryl began to panic as what felt like a never ending amount of walkers came at him. He couldn’t kill them all at once and his knife wasn’t doing much good. He’d resorted to desperately shoving them backwards.

The walker directly in front of him was big, standing at least 6 foot tall and charging with a purpose. It managed to knock him to the ground, the snapping jaws aiming to rip Daryl’s face cleanly away. It was prevented only by an increasingly weakening forearm to its neck.

Thick black blood oozed from the tear in its jugular, dripping grotesquely onto its struggling prays jaw and throat. Should Daryl open his mouth he’d be treated to a very unfortunate final meal.

‘This is it’ thought Daryl as he frantically felt around for the fallen blade. ‘I’m gonna fuckin’ die.’

Daryl’s rapidly beating heart seemed to stop dead as a bolt from HIS crossbow shot through the top of the walkers head to protrude from the now permanently dead man’s mouth. The sharp tip pointed directly between sky coloured eyes.

With a confused sigh, his head leant back to peer behind at the crossbow which lay exactly where he had left it. The unsightly corpse was shoved unceremoniously off of the hunter as he realised suddenly that there were no walkers after him.

It took a few seconds to come to his senses as he observed the 3 other walkers already dead on the ground nearby. Steely eyes flickered up to the small woman standing a few feet away, casually wiping a bloody knife on a large leaf. Confusion only grew as he stared at the calm woman who acted like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. A look of boredom on her face.

Smug eyes flickered to the side where the rugged man still sat stunned on the ground. An involuntary smirk forced its way onto her face. It was so difficult to keep the bored look when the handsome mans jaw was practically on the floor.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” This seemed to snap him out of his daze. His mouth clamped shut audibly as an irritated expression took over.

“Daryl” was all he said as he made his way slowly to unsteady feet.

“Well Daryl” she chimed nonchalantly “You’re welcome” before turning and once again walking away from the shocked man.

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

Most nights she dreamt of the undead. Snapping jaws, inches from her face. Dirty, broken nails on rotted flesh, grabbing at her skin. Thick black blood filling her mouth and claiming her lungs.

Sometimes she would dream of family. The life lived before. Laughing faces and sweet smiles. Little girls with pigtails and pink dresses. School days sat on the grass in the sun. Underage drinking in the park. Splashing in the cold sea. Golden sand between painted toes. Faces not seen in years.

And sometimes she would dream of the most beautifully pure blue eyes. Those eyes were the most haunting.

Stayed local to the area, familiar terrain was an advantage. It was only a matter of time until she stumbled across it. The prison. The opposing grey buildings would have been of little interest had it not been for the suspicious lack of dead ones.

Upon closer inspection there appeared to be crops growing in the grounds. A variety of luscious plants living in neat rows. Every so often a mop of brown hair would appear within the greenery. A slender teenage boy who tended the food.

Witnessing silently from the branch of a nearby tree, never daring to make a noise or risk being seen. People were after all, dangerous.

Many others appeared within sight in the hours observed. Some seemed to be on lookout. Some pierced the skulls of dead ones through the fence. Many simply socialised and basked in the sun. Although not terribly interesting, it was the most entertainment had in weeks. Quite like a trip to the zoo, watching them in their natural habitat. There seemed to be little of concern and just as the tired woman considered slipping away to find her own refuge for the night came the startlingly loud rumble of engine.

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

Far louder than that of a car, approaching the fence that opened in entrance to the structure was a motor bike. Another thing unexpected at the end of the world. The more shocking factor however being the slim figure and mop of brown hair that sat astride. The fear-provoking weapon strapped to a wing adorned back. Her rugged man.

Any idiot with half a brain would know not to approach the prison alone unless they desired an arrow through the head. But there was something about this man. The incessant need to see him again. To hear the drawl of his voice. To see that pretty face up close even in the snarl that was sure to be aimed at her. Luckily, Mr Dixon, hunter and gatherer extraordinaire didn’t seem to spend that much time in the prison. The outdoors suited him far better.

Daryl treaded stealthily through the thicket, bow aimed low and eyes alert. His ears strained in search of a living creature. He swore his heart leapt from his chest at the sudden noise slightly behind and above him. Startled feet spun so fast he stumbled.

“I like your hair. Suits you”

The feminine voice presented no unease due to the deadly weapon pointed directly at the source. A raised eyebrow prompted Daryl to lower the thing before accidentally shooting.

“Bloody ‘ell woman, where’d ya come from?”

“Bit of a personal question. Don’t you think? You don’t even know my name yet” the voice quipped with a smile. Feet landing gracefully on the ground in front of the alarmed man as she dropped from the low branch.

Daryl grumbled, dropping his eyes which only caused her grin to widen.

“What’s yer name then?”

“Can’t tell you that. Stranger danger.”

“Think yer the only danger ‘round ‘ere.”

“You think too highly of me, Darling.” Lips smirked as light fingers gently raised Daryl’s chin to meet devious eyes.

His shining orbs widened comically at the gesture. “Darlin’?!”

The outraged tone of the statement served to strengthen the ever present accent.

“Oh I do like that.” Smirk turned to a full grin. “Call me Darling.

----------

They couldn’t seem to keep away from each other. Well she couldn’t keep away from him anyway. He’d always go in search of food and the menace would always appear seemingly by magic. She intrigued the man and she knew it. The way his eyes followed her form was like he wanted to figure her out. Solve her like a walking puzzle.

She craved his voice. It soothed something inside her. Somehow made the state of the world forgettable. Hours were spent together without notice. He didn’t speak much but he always listened intently and usually had a smart remark to counter her regular jabs. Teasing Daryl Dixon was always her favourite part of the day.

He never asked where she was going, was staying or why she was always alone. He didn’t seem to want to burst the secret little bubble they’d made for themselves. Something both were happy to keep intact as curious eyes secretly watched the prison.

It was getting progressively more difficult to live alone in the wild. When Daryl went back to his cosy home with his friends at the end of the day her tasks were to go in search of food and a place to rest her head. She would never confess her struggles. He would want to help and her pride wouldn’t allow it.

At her lowest she found herself slumped in a corner of a dingy old house, curling in on herself. The small fire haphazardly made almost burnt out, the strength to go in search of more kindling evaded the weak woman.

Just as she hadn’t seen the face of her favourite person, her body hadn’t seen water in days. Food even longer. If this was how she was to go out then so be it. She’d survived this long alone and that’s all that mattered.

Her vision swam as black spots appeared. There was no control left of her body as it slumped sideways, striking her head against the wooden floorboards as unconsciousness consumed entirely.

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

Daryl panicked when she wasn’t at the usual spot. She was always there when he went to hunt. He had no idea how she knew when to find him but she did. He often questioned if she was real. This mysterious girl that no one else had ever seen could so easily be part of his imagination.

He remembered how Rick had seen Lori for so long after her death. He’d spent so much time alone out in the woods that it wouldn’t surprise him if his mind had made up the annoying woman that he couldn’t stay away from. No, she had to be real. Even Daryl’s mind couldn’t tease him like she did.

He began by wandering in the direction he had last seen her go as they parted, knowing there was a nearby town that could offer some food and protection. As gravel crunched beneath old boots in place of the usual dirt and neglected buildings began to rise on either side of the man, it became clear that the area was empty. Motionless walker bodies lay scattered around, each seemingly had received a knife through the head.

The smell was overpowering as the hunter contemplated why they hadn’t been burned. Perhaps she was only passing through. Perhaps she simply didn’t have the strength.

Tracks were clearly visible all through the town. Mostly bloody, they led into every single building. Daryl sighed. He was sure by the small stature of the print that they were hers. The woman that so desperately clung to his mind had clearly been here. Yet he had a feeling she was still here. She wouldn’t just leave him, would she?

Daryl could almost hear Merle’s voice echoing in his head, calling him a whipped little bitch. He scowled at the thought but just couldn’t stop. What if something had happened to her?

----------

Sharp eyes scanning the area, he could clearly visualise the woman clearing the place, killing walkers and scavenging for the food. His eyes drifted to the last house to the left. The windows were boarded and the door was shut. A trap lay set in front of the building. It was clearly the most secure place. His feet carried him almost involuntarily towards it. Towards her.

White light pierces blackness. Heart beat rising. Blood rushes ears. Footsteps sound a million miles away.

Gentle knuckles brush cheeks. Rough fingers press pulse point. Fluttering eyelashes attempt in vain to open.

The earth tilts sickeningly as her body is forced into sitting position. The sound of ringing slowly transitions to the calling of her name. The familiar voice causing an upturn of lips. Her rugged saviour.

Cold liquid is raised to parched mouth. Gulped down greedily without thought. Hands fly to grab the bottle. The best water ever tasted. An appreciative groan as eyelids are forced to rise. Blurred vision soon clears to reveal shaggy brown hair that begs to be touched.

His name leaves her lips in struggled whisper. His eyes are hard with judgment and underlying concern.

“Why the hell didn’ ya tell me?” some form of food is held to her chin.

She doesn’t take not what as her eyes shift away in shame and her arm weekly brushes it away.

“I don’t want your food”

“Well ya clearly need it. Ya look like hell.” His teeth grind in annoyance at the usually stubborn girl. Her head shakes in response, causing the black spots to momentarily return.

“I don’t need saving, Prince Charming.” He guffaws at the name.

“I aint no prince, nor ‘nything charmin’.”

She needed him gone. She couldn’t bear the look of pity in his eyes. The worry on his features. She wasn’t anyone’s problem.

“You shouldn’t be here. Just go back to your damn prison. The irritation clear in her voice. Almost missing the way his vibrant eyes widened.

Shit. She realised her mistake a split second too late.

“How the fuck do you ya know ‘bout tha’?” She’d never heard him sound so angry and even a little scared. Knowing full well that if they found she knew about their home that they wouldn’t just leave her alone. She was dangerous to them.

Nervous eyes flicker everywhere but at the face that stared her down.

“I’ve been watching. Had to know if you were dangerous.”

“An ya didn’ tell me”

“Would you have let me go?” It was Daryl’s turn to look away in shame.

“Nah. Would have to tell ‘em ‘bout ya” He sighed defeated.

“Exactly.” Their eyes clashed in a battle of wills, silently debating what would happen next. After a beat, his eyes shined in a way that determined a decision had been made.

“Yer comin’ with me” He stated assertively.

“No” she countered plainly, offering little room for argument.

“Wasn’ askin’.” Before further refusal could leave her, strong arms surrounded her. He rose to his feet, cradling the surprised woman to his chest. Her bag hanging from his right hand where it curled around her knees.

Her malnourished body was slow to react. Sluggishly moving to press at his firm chest in protest. He easily made his way out of the house and to the far end of the street where the bike sat undisturbed.

The fresh air aided in clearing her senses. The situation she was in becoming evident to her irritated mind.

Gently set down on the leather seat, she was released from the sure grip.

“Fine.” A resigned smile as the cogs of her mind began to spin. “I’ve got another bag though. Brown satchel. Must still be in the lounge.”

He nodded. “Alright, I’ll be right back. Don’ move.” Turning and jogging back into the house.

The moment his right foot made it over the threshold, the loud roar of the bike engine caused his heart to sink.

“Son of a bitch!” Fast feet threw him back out the door and half way down the street but it was too late. His mysterious girl was gone and so was his bike. A lone bag lay in the spot it had previously been in. His own bag containing the water and food he had offered her.

The walk back to the prison was long, made worse by Daryl’s rising anger. Refusing to interact with anyone upon his return, he had his way into the empty cell where he refused to sleep but went to for privacy. Throwing himself down onto the lumpy mattress, he glared at the underneath of the top bunk. His mind swirling with images of her devious smirk.

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

Two days later he was woken at the ass crack of dawn by Glenn frantically calling his name. As the sun had appeared over the horizon so had his bike, propped up on its stand just outside the gate. Next to it lay a cardboard box full of baby formula as an apology.

Daryl of course went looking for her, but she no longer appeared. Weeks were spent without a trace of her until another box of formula appeared outside the gates in the dead of night. Sat atop this one was a small stuffed elephant, the perfect size for little ass kicker. Soft and clean as if straight from a baby shop.

Next to it a small piece of paper. In loopy handwriting it read ‘Stop looking for me, darling. It makes me miss you more.’

He thinks he can let her go. Thinks he can carry on living. Barely thinking of her during the busy days but she appears in his dreams. Reliving the sweetest moments between them behind closed eyelids.

“Come back with me.” His sombre voice breaks the silence.

They had somehow ended up leaning against a railing on the edge of a rooftop. Forearms against cold metal, they basked in the glow of a setting sun. Features basked in orange light, he watched her shyly.

They both knew that they should retreat to safety before darkness fell but neither could bring themselves to leave the others company. Peace consumed them as they absorbed the view laid before them like a renaissance painting.

Her head tilted as her eyes searched his face contemplatively.

“Ya always leave me.” His dejected words caused an ache in her chest.

“Why won’ ya stay with me” He asks earnestly.

“I can’t” Eyes cast downward at the sudden urge to shed a tear.

“Why? They’re good people. Rick an’ Carol an’ lil ass-kicker...” His fists clench as the unfamiliar emotions stir within him. His stare fixed on the setting sun.

“Exactly. You’re a family. I don’t belong there. I can’t. I can’t lose anyone else.” Her eyes squeeze shut as pain consumes her.

“So I don’ mean nothin’ to ya?” His voice strains.

“You shouldn’t” Her voice is a soft whisper.

His head turns to question her answer but she’s already gone.

“Darlin’?”

He’s woken suddenly by the sound of Judith’s cries. Greeted only by the sight of the bunk above him. He decides he’s going to find her. He has to.

But he doesn’t. Because soon enough the sounds of gunfire and screams is all that’s heard as the prison falls.

A/N - Here it is, the first thing I've ever written recreationally. It was so much for difficult than i expected. I feel like i'm handing over a steaming pile of rubbish but here you go! I hope you enjoy.

@pandorahurtsx @winchestershiresauce @sunflxwerbullet @holliss @haruhey @lilythemadqueen @dixonextracts @daryloverdixon

[startanewdream]

I have this multichap WIP in the works for ages and now thanks to @sunshine-marauders' prompt ("Insecure James") I finally got around posting the first day!

Read on AO3 or below:

____________

Not a bad day

Chapter 1 - Not a bad game day

The moment the portrait closed and all sounds of the party vanished, James let the smile slip out of his face and his hands grabbed his hair nervously, fighting back a will to just tear them away.

Ten points.

In his first match as Quidditch captain, Gryffindor won by ten points.

It had never happened before in all twelve matches James had played; James remembered easy winnings, even in that match last year that he had to play as Seeker when Godfrey had broken his arm the night before the match, but back then they had a decent captain. Or two, because the Prewett twins were co-captains and they knew how to be a captain.

He’d thought he had done everything right. He had trained with the other chasers, making sure they worked as a team; he’d instructed the keeper in how to detect and avoid any tricks, sharing with him even James' secret manoeuvres. He’d practised with the two beaters, spent afternoon days with them with himself as their target and James had been to the Hospital Wing with two broken ribs, but he was certain the beaters could hit any target. And James had spent even more hours with the new seeker, developing all skills that were already there and making sure she was confident enough.

And then everything had crumbled in the first ten minutes of the match.

James had called for two time-outs and had talked to his team, bestowed upon them his best confident charm, but nothing seemed to work; and despite his words, he was equally lost. He didn’t know if he should try to redirect his team or make sure they had enough goals to not matter if they lost. If he wasn’t the captain, he would be scoring as many as possible — but everyone was looking at him in search of an answer he didn't have and the narrator was gladly commenting about every mistake Gryffindor was making and…

And a miracle had happened when Vance had caught the snitch, but James knew it had been more an accident than actual talent.

He hadn’t said anything about it though. His team — his carefully chosen and well-trained players — knew the match had been horrible and James didn’t have the spirit to let them down even more. So he had done his captain duty: he had praised everyone for whatever he could (‘That pass was amazing, Jones. You almost hit that bludger perfectly, Merryweather. Spectacular diversion of that bludger, Vance), and he had congratulated them for the victory.

None of the Gryffindors seemed to think anything was amiss. The victory party was raging when the team arrived — loud music and bottles of butterbeer all around. Sirius was drinking something that definitely wasn’t butterbeer and James had been tempted to lose himself too, but he had passed.

He had expected to drink to celebrate, not to drown away his misery.

After a while, he had just risen and left the Common Room quietly. With luck, his friends would just think he had left to celebrate with someone or had fallen drunk behind some couch.

The halls were quiet and empty, which James considered a small blessing. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with any joke about his performance as captain or even worse, any compliment about it.

He just wanted to be left alone to brood, really, and to think how everything had gone so wrong.

He found an empty classroom to sit in, watching the sun shining over the surface of the lake. The good thing was that the game lasted only one hour — the bad side of it meant it was still early and the party would last until nightfall. He wondered if he could just hide there all day — probably not, James thought as his stomach rumbled. He just wanted that horrible miserable day to end.

James lasted another thirty minutes until he agreed that he needed something to eat. The only question was if he would rather risk going to the kitchen or back to the Common Room — if people started clapping his back again, James was sure he would just throw up. What he needed, really, was to go to Professor McGonagall and return the captain badge so she could pin it on anyone else — and then he would be free to do what he was good at, that was scoring goals without worries about what everyone else was doing.

The Common Room, James decided. From there he could just slip back to his bed and then pretend he was too drunk and just try to sleep. Anything to end that day, to pretend it had never happened at all.

He left the classroom absently, and he was closing the door when he heard a voice that made him jump.

‘Potter?’

His hand went to his hair, in a gesture that was more reflex than anything. There were a lot of reflexes that James couldn’t help whenever he heard her voice — such as that redness that came to his neck or the way his heart beat faster whenever Lily Evans was around.

Mostly the last one.

And especially when he turned around and his eyes found Lily Evans standing in the middle of the hall, watching him leaving the classroom. She was still dressed in Gryffindor colours: wearing the uniform lazily, the tie hanging undone around her neck over two open buttons of her shirt; her face was painted with two lines of red and gold in each cheek, and her red hair was combed in two braids that were lined with golden flecks. He felt he could stay there watching her forever.

Good Godric, she was beautiful.

James refrained from sighing.

‘Hi, Evans,' he said, and his voice did that melodious thing that always happened when he was near her.

James really wished he could talk to Lily Evans as if he was a normal human being, but his body was always full of reactions when it came to her, no matter how much he tried to control them.

He was trying to forget her after all. Evans had already made it clear that she wasn’t interested in him — which was becoming more evident now as she watched him with a sudden suspicious expression, her eyes narrowing.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Going back to the Common Room?’ he answered, feeling a little unsure. There was something about Evans that always made him feel guilty as if she could find the worst faults in him.

Even when he wasn’t doing anything wrong such as now.

‘You left the party,' mumbled Evans, still sounding accusing as if he had no right to leave in the first place.

‘So did you,' James smirked, which he knew wouldn’t work with Evans but he had to try anyway. ‘What are you doing, Evans?’

‘Patrolling,' she answered easily, pointing to the prefect badge pinned on her robe, in the same place James had his captain badge pinned. ‘Which is why I get to ask what you were doing alone in an empty room — oh.' Evans looked away from him, an annoyed expression crossing her face. ‘You weren’t alone.'

‘What?’

‘No one is supposed to enter classrooms without permission, you know that, Potter,’ reprimanded Evans, ignoring him. ‘I will have to report it to Professor McGonagall.'

‘Ah, come on,' James complained, the unfairness of it making him grimace. ‘I can’t even brood alone without getting detention? Really?’

Evans blinked.

‘Alone? I thought — you left the party, and Vance too and — brooding?’ She paused, watching him with concern now, which James realized was even worse. On top of all his failures, he also didn’t need Evans’ pity. ‘What happened, Potter?’

‘Nothing.'

‘You look like someone stole the last piece of chocolate tart that you always pick up first at dinner — really, what’s up? Shouldn’t you be celebrating your victory?’

‘Just let go, Evans,' he asked, turning away from her and walking down the hall. He could hear her rushed steps after him.

‘Potter —'

‘I am a crappy captain, is that what you wanted to hear?’ he cried, turning around to face Evans. He hadn’t noticed how close she was, but for once James didn’t let this thought distract him. ‘I had one job that was to keep the team working and I screwed it up.'

‘Butt —’ Evans looked really confused. ‘But Gryffindor won.'

‘By ten points. We needed a good margin of points to not depend on the result of other games and now we have to double our work —’

‘You still won,' she insisted, watching him closely and there was no pity or annoyance on her face now. ‘Winning by ten points is better than losing by ten and, be honest, even if you had won by a thousand points, would it have made a difference?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘A victory by a giant margin — would you have relaxed your efforts with the team? Would you stop working so hard with Matt and Lucy? Or stop all those night meetings with Emmeline?’

James blinked slowly, not understanding what Evans meant by that. Of course he would keep trying to improve his team.

‘No.'

‘And if Gryffindor could lose by three hundred points and still win the Quidditch Cup — would you want the team to play poorly?’

‘No, of course not!’

‘So, Potter.' Evans crossed her arms like she had done a thousand times before at him but James didn’t think she was exasperated this time. ‘This one match doesn’t change anything. You still have work to do with your team.'

James shifted the weight from one foot to another, thinking. Evans was still watching him, her green eyes giving him the impression that she could see every thought unfolding in his mind; she didn’t look surprised when he nodded.

‘I guess the game wasn’t so bad. I mean, there is room for improvement, but now I saw everyone’s weakest points and I can work with that.'

‘Exactly, captain,' Evans said, and James dared to think there was a teasing note in her voice, one that he’d heard her sharing with others but never with him.

He fought very hard his desire to grin.

‘Ready to go back to the party?' she asked.

'Yeah. And you?'

He tried not to sound too hopeful. Considering Evans didn't look repulsed by his question, James thought he had been successful.

'It was a little boring,' Evans said, shrugging. 'I don't know, I expected it to be more fun.'

'It's because I wasn't there,' James teased, but this seemed the wrong thing to say. Evans took a step back, frowning; panic flooded him and he added hurriedly: 'I mean, who left Sirius in charge of the music? He grew up with classical music.'

Her expression softened.

'Maybe you could tap the radio to Muggle stations? Like you did last year?'

James fought to keep a neutral face. She had noticed he was the one that did it, then? He'd thought Evans was too mad at him back then — during all that party, James had tried to draw her attention, certain that him leading Gryffindor to the victory would make Evans want to go out with him, but she had refused to even glance in his direction.

But she had noticed his charm.

'I could,' he replied slowly. 'It is much better to dance.'

'Yeah,' she agreed and then Evans smiled at him.

She smiled. At him. On purpose. That warm glorious smile that had first attracted him years ago, long before he knew what it meant.

His heart was doing full acrobatics dancing steps inside him now.

'Are you going back too?' he asked, desperately willing himself to look normal, though his hand wanted very much to comb his hair — or touch her braids, he wasn't sure.

Evans bit her lip, looking down the corridor that led to the Astronomy Tower.

'It's Saturday,' James added as charmingly as he could, his voice again melodious and nice. 'Do you really need to be patrolling today?'

'Actually… no, I wasn't scheduled. It's just —'

'The party was lame, I know.' She looked back at him; it was difficult to concentrate under her gaze, but James had to try. 'But still better than patrolling empty halls, I’d say.

He tried that puppy look he always saw Remus using when he wanted something; at least it should be more efficient than his confident gaze that Evans never seemed to find amusing. But she took one look at his face and she averted her eyes quickly, looking suddenly flustered.

'Well, it wasn't my schedule anyway,' she agreed, walking next to him in the direction of the Gryffindor Tower. 'And I could use a drink.'

'Sirius' version or the normal butterbeer?'

'What's in his version?' Evans asked, and James could hear the amusement in her voice as if she was already predicting his answer.

'Probably not butter, only beer — and worse.'

She let out a giggle. James pretended the sound did not fill his heart with hope and joy.

'I will stay out of his version then. I would like to remember this day tomorrow.'

James thought of sharing a smile and a decent conversation with Evans — she had noticed he always saved a chocolate tart for himself? Or that he had charmed the radio to play Muggle songs? And she was actually going back to the party because he had asked? — and decided he would like to remember that day too. It had not been that bad.

_________

[jjaeong]

The Heiress, And The Twelve. Act I.

Episode VI: To Be Deceived, Or Protected.

Series: KPOP Girl Group: ���달의 소녀 (LOONA).

Pairing: OT12 & Mafia Heiress Female Reader.

Summary: While the members residing with The Heiress in Eden managed to resolve her internal conflict about who she was and who she had deemed herself should be—Haseul, along with Sooyoung and Jinsol, discovers a certain string of information that could potentially lead to a much more greater complication than they had ever encountered before. And as Jinsol finally reconciled with Sooyoung after the incident, Hyejoo and Heejin find themselves stunned as they come across your room—realizing that something had been missing in the vicinity, with that something being you.

"Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be with the members?"

Jinsol had just managed to set her foot on the top of the staircase when she met the sight of the distressed Ninth member who had lingered in the hall that led to the boss' office, pinching the bridge of her nose in clear disbelief with the disrupted idea that only she was called by Haseul for the meeting. It's been days since the Leader had regarded her request to be removed in any missions with the Seventh member, being that she was still sensitive over what had just happened with the incident—Jinsol had already been walking through thin ice with her miscalculation, but Sooyoung's projected anger towards the woman intensified when Jungeun had informed them of your order to be left alone. And as much as she was relieved that both her member, and her adoptive sister were safe—Sooyoung couldn't shake off her impression that you had not been unscathed, because physically, you and Hyejoo were well, but your order was the effect of the event which she had deemed also as her own error with being one of the Twelve.

The Seventh member, however, no matter how many times she had blamed herself for it, she had understood Sooyoung's hostility towards her and knew that it was absolutely justified—from all those years that the members had grown together, she knew well enough that the woman was as emotional as she could get, more so for the people she cared for the most. But the Seventh could only take so much, she had somewhat prepared herself for the the member's response—yet she still couldn't avoid condemning herself over it, for the most part being Sooyoung not wanting anything to do with her.

And as Sooyoung stood there, leaned back against the hall's wall with her arms crossed and her brows knitted in apparent frustration while looking the other way—Jinsol could only manage a hesitant smile as she tried her best to swallow down the bitter aura between the two of them, before directing her weary gaze towards the tall double doors at the end of the hall. Slightly taken aback by how isolated the scene had looked from their position, which meant that the Leader had not yet arrived—making Sooyoung the first person to have been called by Haseul, and Jinsol quickly becoming the second.

"Is it.. Just the two of us..?"

"She just told me to meet her here, and that she'll be arriving shortly from her visit with our guests," Sooyoung muttered, practically scoffing at the mention of the Lee Family that had been staying in the Mansion as they awaited for their Boss' recovery. The younger of the two winced at the recollection of when they'd first arrived at the infirmary with the Lee Family's Boss, and how Sooyoung raised her tone at Haseul for the first time since she'd been appointed as Acting Boss after declining Sooyoung's plea to head straight to Eden—which led to the Ninth member into defying the Leader's instruction and driving all the way to the castle, just to be pulled aside by a stone-faced Jungeun, "but you still haven't answered my question—why are you here?"

"I don't see why I shouldn't be..? Haseul did ask for me—"

"I specifically told her that I don't want to be in any operation with you right now—and for what? Suddenly she doesn't listen anymore?" Jinsol would be lying if she said that hearing those words come right out of Sooyoung's mouth didn't hurt her, she swore that when this member of theirs was mad she knew exactly how to do so—but to be on the opposite end of the woman's livid state, Jinsol had never experienced to be this ridiculed by her. The silence that had come after Sooyoung's sharp words even made the member glance at Jinsol from the corner of her eye, finding her head hanging low as she picked on her blue pin on her tie in deep contemplation—slightly irritating Sooyoung even further because the Ninth had known that the habit was common with the members since they'd acquired their pins, holding onto the object when they couldn't seem to find it in themselves to assess a situation in their own way.

"Maybe we're not on a mission as a pair, probably.. A reschedule? Change of posts? Haseul assigning you to my spot—and me with yours?" Sooyoung gripped onto the fabric of her sleeve as Jinsol began to straighten her tie, which she had done several times before looking behind her to the staircase below—as if Haseul would just magically appear out of thin air and cut through the tension between the two of them, saving them from possibly making it worse than it already was.

"That's great, maybe then Y/N wouldn't be in as much trouble as she'd be if she was under my range of security." Jinsol frowned at the malicious tone that the Ninth had suddenly switched into, making her turn to eye the member who still refused to meet the clear regret plastered all over her features—while Sooyoung continued to glare at the nothingness that had seemed to have kept her attention more than the member currently standing right in front of her.

"Sooyoung.."

"Just admit it, Jinsol—you despise her. You don't want her to be our Boss because she's nothing of what you expect her to be—it's a full circle to what happened the day we told her everything, you want her gone." Sooyoung spat as her member flinched, making Jinsol shaking her head in attempt to relay the message to Sooyoung that it was nothing of that sort.

"That's not true—I care about her just as much as you do!" the Seventh stammered, completely taken aback by how she had been suddenly accused for having felt something that she had not.

"She was in the lot! You could've prevented it even before he approached her—"

"And you think I don't go every single day thinking about that!?" Sooyoung's furious eyes snapped to connect with Jinsol's exasperated ones, the Seventh's demeanor looking as frustrated as she could get with her hands balled up into fists hanging by her sides while her eyes stayed connected with her member's, "We've never had any complications with our group since the beginning, and ever since Y/N came in the picture—it's as if the least we can do is not turn against each other."

"Oh, and that makes it her fault? Is that what you're trying to say?

"I'm trying my best to understand—alright!? I thought we can continue this Family without having her in the picture, but.." Jinsol tore her eyes away from Sooyoung's to think carefully about her next words, having an inkling that whatever she may say next would be enough to tip Sooyoung off the edge and tarnish her reputation completely—or in some sort of miracle, she'd be able to properly express what she had wanted to say, "I didn't want any of that to happen—I swear that if I could have stopped it in all the ways I've calculated it after, I would've. But it's already done, I messed up and the only thing I can do is try to make up for it with Y/N—for as long as she'll have me, and if she can't forgive me for what I've done then.."

Sooyoung lowered her eyes at Jinsol who shrugged her shoulders in defeat, sighing when she thought that the apology didn't go exactly as she'd expect it to be. She'd thought that once she laid her heart out, it'd go as smoothly and sincerely as she'd thought—but instead, she felt that the reason for Sooyoung's silence was that she had taken her words in the complete opposite. Her words being taken under the impression that she was over it, that she didn't care as much as she said she did—causing the gap between her and the members that had your well-being as the priority to broaden, when she had just warmed up to the idea that she had wanted the same thing as well.

The Ninth member eyed the struggling woman in front of her, it was clear that Jinsol was incessantly thinking through what she had just told her and continuously trying to criticize her choices of wording—but as much as Sooyoung hated the thought that had led her into blaming Jinsol for what had happened, the greater part of her that believes that the members would never do each other wrong was pushing past her projected anger. This wasn't them against a common enemy anymore, this was Sooyoung's protectiveness over you—against her protectiveness over her members, but instead of it mostly being directed towards the Lee Family's Boss, she had Jinsol to blame. And that was what caused her inner turmoil, Jinsol is her member and a member that had been one of the reasons that put you and Hyejoo in danger—but Jinsol was just as much as a member as the others, yet there Sooyoung stood, continuously reminding her that she had messed up and she needs to feel the consequences of her ignorance.

Sooyoung then realized that Jinsol had already been going through the motions just as she'd been, and it was unfair of how she was quick to blame her for it—when Sooyoung had no idea about what was about to come until Hyunjin had some sort of vision.

"Well—apologize to her, not me," Jinsol practically choked at Sooyoung's mumbled response, feeling the weight of her worries fall off her shoulders as she watched Sooyoung shake her head at her and detach herself from the wall—slipping a hand into the pocket of her dress pants as she placed the other to her neck, craning it as if to stretch in exhaustion. The member still had a pout set on her lips but her brows were anything but furrowed, just looking drained from the encounter—while Jinsol slowly started to fall apart in her position, "you can start by how you acted in our living room, then with whatever happened with the Lee Boss. She's not the type to hold a grudge, you know—yah! Jung Jinsol, get off me—"

"I thought you'd never forgive me! I apologized so many times and you were never this mad—"

"Let go!" Jinsol continued to wail as Sooyoung's pout threatened to stretch into a grin while she tried to pry the member's arms off her, opening her mouth to start threatening the Seventh. But just as she was about to, light footsteps started echoing from the steps behind Jinsol and soon after revealed an absorbed looking Haseul—which had seemed to be caught off guard at the sight as she blinked at the two who just froze in their spot and stared right back at her, Haseul's eyes softened only for a moment before they dimmed yet again.

Looking away from the two, Haseul motioned over to the end of the hall before starting to make her way past them.

"You've made up, good. Follow me." the youngest of the three started to walk down the halls, which made Jinsol release Sooyoung from her hold before they both hurried to trail behind the Leader—eyeing each other in question about what had the member in such state, Sooyoung could only hope that it was just something connected to the Lee Boss and nothing more.

As Haseul pulled the key out of her pocket, Sooyoung had remembered that the last time all twelve of them were inside the office was when Haseul had first sat herself into the Boss' chair—how she carefully laid out what specific orders the previous Boss stated before he had passed, and how they would slowly but surely make sure you were well acquainted with a few members. Haseul also swore that it would also be the last time that she were to set foot inside of the office, not finding it comfortable how she would occupy the room as if it were her own when her purpose was to have you settled into your rightful place.

And as if Jinsol could hear Sooyoung's thoughts coursing through her, they could only wonder how much trouble the Family had caught themselves into for Haseul to break her own word.

"Shut the doors behind you, I've asked to keep this floor vacated until one of us leaves the room." Jinsol quickly turned to shut the doors behind them as Sooyoung followed behind the Leader to stand in the middle of the room while Haseul circled behind the desk to open one of it's emptied drawers, reaching far into the compartment as if rummaging to find anything that had not been in there in the first place.

"Are you looking for something?" Jinsol question as she stood beside Sooyoung who eyed the Leader suspiciously, the two watching Haseul shut the drawer to then move to another.

"What are you even doing, Haseul?" the light sound of a click echoed through the spacious, and moonlit office that had Haseul tensing up on her spot. Jinsol made a move to approach to the woman and lend her a hand but Sooyoung grabbed ahold of her arm before she could even do anything, the two members carefully watching as Haseul pulled out what seemed to be a thick stack of papers—jaw clenched while she placed them on the desk before looking up the puzzled expression on her members' features.

"Lee Seokmin has returned to his conscious state today, he refused to speak with the doctors and requested to speak with the one he perceived as the Family's Boss. And so I paid him a visit," Haseul shut the drawer to fully grab the stack from the desk, eyeing the papers before walking over to the two and meeting them in the middle of the room, "he was convinced that I was Y/N, stating that he couldn't believe that the previous Boss' plan worked—how he kept the Heiress safe by letting her live a normal life outside of the Family, all while being protected from the other Families."

Jinsol paled as Sooyoung let go of her arm, eyes widening in alarm while Haseul stood in front of them with a vacant expression on her face.

"He asked me if I knew about it, when I found out about it—confessing that he knew about the documentation because he had overheard it once from the Jeon Family that the Heiress was being watched."

"We were watching over her, but I thought the documents were supposed to be discarded after the Boss' passing?" Jinsol barely questioned as her voice failed her, switching her eyes from Haseul to Sooyoung who could only look at Jinsol with wide eyes as well.

"It was, I saw through with it. Haseul, Vivi-unnie and I were the ones present when it was erased."

"He wasn't talking about our documents, he was talking about this." Haseul motioned to the papers in her hand, it didn't take too long of the three to stare at each other before Sooyoung reached over to grab the papers and start inspecting each and every page—feeling lightheaded at the information that she had read from it, how as if every page she had skimmed through just continued to reveal a deeper story behind the minimal observation reports that they had set for you.

The papers dated back up to four years prior to the previous Boss' passing, several pictures of you, Jungeun, and Jiwoo were practically on each page of the stack—the lightest conversations, passed homework, your every move was typed down as if they were studying not a living human being but a test subject. Through the documentation, it seemed as if you weren't the Y/L/N Y/N that the members had made a point on learning to care for and to believe that you'd lead them into a better future—but rather a statistic in which would demonstrate if you were fit in becoming a Boss for the highest ranking Family there ever was, and ever will be if you had truly had what it takes.

Whoever had created this document, only had that particular version of the Heiress in mind—and it made Sooyoung feel sick to her stomach.

"Who.. did this? How did you even know this exists!?" Sooyoung's voice started to raise as she looked up at the torn expression on Haseul's face, making Jinsol take a step in between the two to try and calm the Ninth member down while also turning to glance at the Leader behind her—but as Sooyoung started to prod Haseul with questions while waving the papers in her hand, Haseul swallowed sharply before looking up to meet the the concerned look on Jinsol's face.

"I didn't."

Haseul's words echoed in Sooyoung's head, and before she knew it—she had let the papers fall onto the ground, pushed past Jinsol to reach for Haseul's collar to aggressively grab ahold of her. However, Jinsol was quick to recover after staggering back—attempting to pry Sooyoung off of the Third member by wrapping an arm around the Ninth's waist and tugging her off the Leader.

"You—you're our Leader! You can't just tell us you have no clue! our lives are dependent on your choices—and you have the audacity to tell us you don't know!?"

"I thought I had properly vacated this room after we all left—that was the last time I've been here, it was all the previous Boss had instructed me.." Haseul barely whispered, crumbling under Sooyoung's hold to the point that it was the member that had been keeping her up on her feet—making Sooyoung snap out of her fuming state to watch the dread sink into her member's features, "he told me where everything was, the archives we needed—I thought he told me everything I needed to know, I was appointed Leader for this."

"Sooyoung, she doesn't know." Jinsol dragged out slowly as she loosened her grip over her member, walking towards Haseul and prying the Ninth's hands off completely from the Leader—all while keeping Haseul up on her feet by wrapping an arm around her shoulder, leading her to the desk so she had a place to lean on.

"The Twelve, Y/L/N Y/N—that's all I know, you have to believe me."

"We do, Haseul—Sooyoung's just in shock, we'll figure this whole thing out. Right, Ha Sooyoung?" the Ninth continued to stare at the two, absolutely mortified that they were currently easing themselves into uncharted waters—completely unknowing of what would come, but only to prepare themselves for whatever it may be. Sooyoung caught Jinsol switching her gaze from Haseul to the papers on the ground, the Seventh seemingly the more composed member out of the two—and as if moving completely out of practice, Sooyoung bended over to grab the papers and walk over to Jinsol to hand it to her.

"What do you suggest we do?" Jinsol's eyes widened at the blank, yet expectant look that Sooyoung held as she offered her the papers—glancing at Haseul who had now held onto the desk as if her life had depended on it, before she caught onto what exactly it was that Sooyoung was trying convey. With Haseul's Leadership position becoming nothing of aid to the members as of her current state, Sooyoung wanted them to work it out as a group instead of letting the woman carry all of this on her own. So Jinsol grabbed the papers from her hand, eyeing the front page and skipping to the last as she followed her gut—having a relieved sigh escaped her lips as she pointed a finger at the signed letter 'R' initial at the end of the page, it's ink shining under the moonlight while she directed it to Sooyoung's view.

"We can start by tracking whoever this is?"

"Alright." Jinsol gave Sooyoung a small, yet grateful smile before looking back down to scan the papers while Sooyoung turned to Haseul who sat still on the desk—completely frozen as she tried to recall every bit of information that the previous Boss had passed onto her, fingers gripping tightly onto the pin on her tie. The Ninth member reached over to place an consoling hand on the Leader's shoulder, halting mid-way but somehow going through with it—which made Haseul visibly tense but when she had found that it was Sooyoung from her peripheral vision, she just looked back down to return into her state of recollection.

"I shouldn't have lashed out, Haseul. I'm sorry."

"You have every right to be mad, I'm the appointed Leader and I can't even uphold a simple task. Even I'd be mad at myself." Jinsol snorted from behind her which made Sooyoung glance at the member, finding Jinsol eyeing Haseul from the side before flipping another page from the stack.

"You mean tracking down this profiler from just one initial? Haseul—you can't even find the right curtains to hang inside your room without Yerim." Sooyoung's lips broke into a grin which made Jinsol release a laugh, making the Leader turn to look at her members who were now laughing amongst themselves as they eyed the paper in Jinsol's hands. Haseul then looked up to find Sooyoung's careful eyes directed on her, the member giving Haseul a determined look in contrast to the Leader's downcast expression.

"You might be the Leader, but we are a team, Haseul. We'll get through this mess, with or without the previous Boss' help." Haseul tore her eyes away from Sooyoung to look back at Jinsol's thoughtful expression as the member continued to inspect the page—until she found Haseul watching her, so she gave her an encouraging look before raising a fist in the air.

"Damn right we are! Fighting!"

"If you use that language in front of Y/N—I swear, Jung Jinsol—"

"Your sister is a year away from graduating High School—she's old enough to know if cussing is bad or not."

"You don't tell me how to raise my sister!"

"She's our future Boss! She can decide that for herself!" Sooyoung placed her hands on her hips as she continued to banter with Jinsol as the member continued with her task, the two completely back to the way before their feud—while Haseul watched them silently, feeling the anguish of her assumed failure as a Leader slowly dissipate as Jinsol and Sooyoung continued on. The interaction had somehow eased the Third member's worries, the sight reminding her that no matter what happened—they were still the Twelve, and with that, the world would still be turning for as long as they'd stay like this after whatever may cross their path.

"Until we've figured out who this person is, be that they're in this Family preparing for another coup—or from outside, this stays between the three of us," Haseul stated, making Jinsol's look up to clearly try and object but one pleading look from Haseul—she had known that her intentions were nothing but for their safety, "please, the more people that know about this—the harder it will be to find them. One word about this from anyone but us.."

"They'll know we're onto them—got it."

"But what do we do about Lee Seokmin and his members?" Sooyoung crossed her arms on her chest as Haseul turned to look at her, more composed than a few moments ago.

"They'll be returning to the village that Jeon passed onto them in a few days, I made sure that he didn't recognize that I wasn't the Heiress he was talking about. All he can pass to whoever he pleases is that the Y/L/N Family's Heiress is back in her rightful place." Haseul concluded as Sooyoung released a heavy sigh, looking at Jinsol yet again but this time—Jinsol had lingered over one specific page.

"What is it?" Sooyoung leaned over to check at what the member was staring at, which made Haseul completely turn to peek as well when Jinsol practically gripped onto the stack in worry.

"From the beginning of the document, they never mentioned any names—they even labelled Jiwoo and Jungeun as Upperclassmen A, and Upperclassmen B," Jinsol placed a finger on a specific sentence on the paper before looking up at Haseul and Sooyoung, "'4:35PM: The Heiress returns home. Property under the name of 'Ha', a civilian household consisting of two adults and three daughters.'"

"Don't tell me—"

"Who ever this 'R' person is—they know exactly which one of us is the Heiress."

Hyejoo had just shut the door to Jungeun's empty room, signalling the end of her morning rounds which consisted of surveying the vacated rooms of the members that typically headed to school approximately two hours before her—when she had realized that today marked the fifth day since the incident, which made it Wednesday. And Wednesdays were different, because in that specific day Yeojin and Yerim would accompany Jungeun and Jiwoo for early morning Student Council. With Yerim being the President of her class, and Yeojin being her own—Jungeun had briefly talked the two into either occupying their roles once they've graduated, or at least being part of it.

The two Maknaes were quick to take her up for it, being that they had fit the credentials well—they'd agree without a doubt, but that had meant that every Wednesday, Hyejoo would only have to drive her and Chaewon to class. And it wasn't that she wasn't on good terms with her Gowon-unnie, it was quite the opposite—because every Wednesday morning would be Chaewon asking Hyejoo about how she's been, and how she had felt about whatever had happened the days before. Somehow, it had slightly bothered Hyejoo that she had always started off their conversation in that manner since Yeojin and Yerim rode with the two Unnies—but the ride had seemed to grow on her once she realized that the Eleventh member wasn't shooting up a conversation to fill the silence, but to genuinely ask Hyejoo how she's been.

Park Chaewon had surprisingly seemed to have understood her even in that alley, which was something that goes over Hyejoo's head sometimes.

The Twelfth's eyes seamlessly connected with your door in the middle of the hall as the recollection of the alley felt similar to what happened that day, and being that only room in that specific hall was only occupied by you—with Haseul, Sooyoung, Jinsol, and Kahei being everywhere at once, the closest member that could reach you incase of an emergency was Jungeun, because her room was the closest to yours. Hyejoo started to make her way to your room almost subconciously to check up on you when she was met by the unusual sight of Jeon Heejin who was never usually awake this early in the morning, already dressed in her uniform—glowing as if she'd just awakened to the greatest sleep she's ever had, her eyes even widening in surprise as she found Hyejoo coming from the other end of the hall.

"Son Hyejoo! Good morning!" Heejin waved enthusiastically with both hands outstretched, making the Maknae scrunch her nose up in distaste as Heejin grinned adoringly—eyes turning into crescents while she continued to her venture into your room, the sound of her footsteps lightly decreasing as she neared. The First member carefully twisted the handle to peek into your room, her smile impossibly widening as she expected to be greeted by the sight of you laying on your side with Jeon Stitchie and Hyunjin's Shiba Inu—only for her to squint her eyes through the darkness to find the two stuffed toys but not even the top of your head revealing from the covers in sight.

"Y/N-ah~?" Hyejoo heard Heejin call from her position, slightly peeking through the door frame, making the Twelfth member furrow her brows and stand behind the member just as she had flipped the light switch on—illuminating the empty room before walking inside and making her way over to the door that lead to your bathroom, pushing it open to find it unoccupied as well. Heejin continued to scan the room, even getting down on her knees by your bed to check if you were under it as Hyejoo stayed put by your door—watching her Unnie's puzzled features slowly turn into concern just as she saw someone approaching by her peripheral vision, she turned to find an equally confused Chaewon standing next to her before the Eleventh turned to her.

"Have you seen Vivi-unnie?"

"Did you just come from the Surveillance room?" Hyejoo questioned in reply, but before Chaewon could even get a word out—Kahei appeared from the end of the hall, seemingly reading a book while doing her rounds as she donned her reading glasses. Heejin had managed to slide past the two members just as Kahei was about to walk past them, making the woman look up from her book to eye the startled trio in wonder.

"What's with all the worried looks? Did something happen?" Kahei asked softly, making Hyejoo and Chaewon exchange glances while Heejin looked at your empty room before looking back at Kahei.

"Unnie, Y/N's not in her room." Heejin stated in a tone that had slowly started to reflect her dismay, but as Kahei tilted her head at the three something flashed in her eyes before she stared directly at Heejin—as if she should've known.

"Of course she isn't, she already left with Jungeun and Jiwoo. Why? Is there something I should be worried about?" Hyejoo's eyes widened in surprise as Heejin mouth popped open at Kahei's nonchalant reply, Chaewon was the only one of the three who had managed to not be surprised—considering that she had been looking for the Fifth member to ask why she had been the one to send you and the other members off as she watched a replay of the cameras just as she had woke up.

"You let her go, just like that?"

"I didn't see a problem with it—she had me convinced, afterall," Chaewon raised a brow at Kahei, to which the member only smiled at before walking past the bewildered Heejin and Hyejoo and return to reading her book as she walked down the hall, "Heejin, it must be some miracle that you woke up before Hyunjin—but if you don't wake her up you'll both be late to class. You two should start getting ready as well, Hyejoo, Chaewon."

The three members watched as Kahei disappeared from the hallway, turning to face each other briefly before hastily doing as the member had told. Heejin switched the lights off and shut the door before speed-walking down the hall to Hyunjin's room—pounding her fist against the door the second she reached it and tugging on the handle as she followed by calling her member's name. On the other side of the door, Hyunjin had already been awake, she was just about ready to leave—all she needed was to attach her pin onto her tie which she had quickly finished, so she grabbed her bag from her desk to pull the door open and roll her eyes at the sight of her aggrievated best friend.

"I get it—you woke up before me for the first time in years, you don't have to shove it to my face." Hyunjin pushed past Heejin who was trying to catch her breath, breathing in deeply before stopping Hyunjin dead on her tracks with what she was just about to say.

"Y/N isn't in her room—she left with Jungeun-unnie and Jiwoo-unnie to school!"

"..She what?"

Greetings,

I hope this message finds you well—sike with the formalities, it's a tumblr post, there's no need for that. But what this Author's Note actually needs is.. An apology (even though I came clear with you all if you've read through the first chapter to not be too attached with this story) because it's been over two months since my last story update!

But in all honesty, I'm not even sure if it had actually been two months or.. A month and a few days—but still! Am I back? Maybe~ What could JJ have been possibly doing to go MIA for this long? Real life stuff, but mostly the overwhelming feeling of Orbit twitter that's.. Something, a true bit of love and hate between that.

It's actually funny how many Episode VI's I've wrote before properly settling with this one, the first draft had too many new characters involved (spoilers for who they are? I'm sure if you've read a few LOONA fics—it's just in between those lines), the second and nth were all too messy—and so there's this one! I think it's a nice turn, considering that this is the half of Act I. and I literally just wrote this in one go again, I really can't believe myself at this point.

Though I think most of our new readers that are following this blog is more into the OS spectrum—so I should maybe start leaving posts? Like.. Talk? But it's not really my thing, having posts up but it's just me talking about God knows what—I don't really know how to feel about it.

I'm getting way over ahead of myself again, so yeah. I truly hope you guys are doing well out there, what's happening outside of these social media platforms is absolutely petrifying—I made this blog as an outlet to express how much I love the girls but you can't escape the crippling truth that is reality itself. This world is unforgiving even to those who had never done anything drastically wrong, and for a writer to not have the proper words to express how they truly feel about what's happening around them.. Please take care of yourselves, and I'm sorry for not being able to find the right words for this.

Laters,

JJ.

>ovc: loonatheworld (200316).

https://youtu.be/U5z35vxC9bs

[pocketfulofrogers]

Everything Comes Back to You

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean can count on one hand the amount of weaknesses he has. Despite his every effort to keep his distance over the years in an effort to keep you safe, he find himself at your door a few too many times. Everything changes when it you who calls him.

Notes: My first supernatural piece! A story told through many years.

September 14, 1996

There were few things you despised more in this world than calculus. The lecture had drug on and on, monotone and continuous, until you felt like you could scream. A miracle of reprieve came when the door opened and in walked a boy who seemed to glide on charisma. He made some kind of offhand joke and flashed a smirk that had half the girls already in his palm.

For you, it was what you saw in his eyes that drew you to him. Something akin to the pieces you kept buried deep within you.

December 22, 1996

You’re sweet, unbelievably so. The way you taste, the way you sound, the way you feel. It’s so easy for Dean to bury himself in you, forget about everything that isn’t in this bed. You had been the solace he didn’t know he had been searching for- offering just a few moments of peace in this life he had no say in.

Most days he believes you may be the light that will save him, other days he believes it unfair to ask such a thing of you.

You nuzzle into his chest and his arms around you tighten. “What are you thinking about?” You ask.

Maybe it’s how tired he is, running between the motel to check on Sammy and darting straight back to the comforts of this bedroom that has him feeling so unnaturally mushy. You’d say it’s the Christmas spirit looming in the air, threatening to infect him with just a bit of joy.

You did love Christmas, and he loved you.

But love was not something he was allowed in this life - stability never something he’d known. Dean knew the drill all too well. The moment he allows himself to plant any semblance of roots, it’ll be time to load the Impala and disappear. Kansas may have been home once, but it isn’t home now.

Still, he couldn’t help himself when it came to you.

Sometimes his mind wonders to what his life could be if he were to just ask you to run away with him. Leave this little town and never look back. No more hunting, no more fighting, just wonderful, uncomplicated, boring life. Life with you.

He’s never met a hunter that’s successfully left the life, though. The longer you knew him, the higher the chances got for you to get caught in the crossfire and he’d never forgive himself if something were to happen to you.

You’re silently watching him, waiting for a response to a question he had already forgotten.

“I should go check on Sam.”

April 18, 2002

“You gave my address to who? Mom, just because someone says they knew me doesn’t mean you should tell them where I live! It doesn’t matter if he seemed like a ‘wonderful young man’ you know there are things out there.” You’re pacing in your living room now, tempted to grab your shotgun.

“Oh, Y/N, stop it with that nonsense. He had a photo of you and now he’s on his way.” Your mother dismisses you.

You groan and toss your head back. “Well hopefully you can describe what he looked like to the cops when they find me-“

Then a car pulls up, engine roaring and rock music blasting. You knew that car, you knew it well. Sneaking up to the window, you take a peek around the curtains and see the sleek black Impala. A man gets out, the leather jacket he’s wearing tickles a memory long buried.

It isn’t until you see his face that it settles in- butterflies swimming in deep rooted anger. The boy who left you with nothing but an aching hole and a postcard with no return address was all grown up and damn if he didn’t look good.

“Gotta go.” You hang up the phone.

When he knocks, you brace yourself- scrounge up all the will-power you have so you can kick him out. There will be no apologies or pleasantries. No sir. None. Not one.

But Dean’s always been one step ahead of you, so, he’s quick to start when you open the door- death glare only momentarily stalling him. “Listen, I know-“

“Get back in your car and go home.”

“Just hear me out for a minute.” He pleads.

You want to tell him to go, you really do, but one glance at those green eyes and every fiber of your being is pleading for you to just wait. Call it hope, call it weakness, call it a desperate need for some form of closure, you let him in.

Narrowing your eyes, you ask him, “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you.”

You hate how that almost settles your anger, how after all these years he still had some ridiculous hold on you. “How can you possibly believe I would want to see you after what you did? That kind of hurt doesn’t just disappear, Dean.”

“I know, I know. I’m also here to apologize. I should have said more-“

“More?” You interrupt exasperated. “Please tell me you did not come all this way to ask me to absolve you of your guilt.”

“That’s not-“

“Because you showed up on my doorstep, asked me to pack a bag and run away with you- leave my life and everything I’ve ever known to go who knows where with you. And then, when the sun rose in the morning, you were gone.”

“You hadn’t exactly been happy with me.” He tries to defend himself.

“Yeah, but you know what I did that night? I packed a stupid bag and waited for hours in front of that stupid diner. Waiting and waiting, but you never showed! You just left me! Know what I got out of it? A postcard from Topeka with a half assed ‘I’m sorry’ written on it.”

He falters under your gaze. “Y/N, I am sorry. I really am.”

“I just want to know why, Dean.” Your voice falls and he can no longer meet your eyes. “Come on, there are a million excuses. You couldn’t leave Sam, you couldn’t leave you dad, you didn’t actually love me. Just pick one so I can move on.”

“I did love you.” He bites back.

“Then what, you couldn’t leave the life?”

His eyebrows furrow as he takes a step closer and lowers his voice. “What do you mean?”

You sigh. “I was young but I wasn’t stupid. The family business wasn’t sales, Dean.” His eyes widen. “People started disappearing right before you and your family showed up. They stop disappearing and then all of a sudden, you’re gone. I had my suspicions, but it wasn’t until I met another hunter a few years later that I knew for sure.”

He makes his way into your living room and you want to ask what gave him the idea that you wanted him in your home.

“If you know about that side of this world, then how can you blame me for wanting to protect you from it?”

Of all of the reasons you had come up with as to why the boy you thought was the love of your life had left you high and dry, this wasn’t one. Had he truly loved you? Had he weighed his heart and your life to determine which he valued most? You can’t tell if that idea hurt more than the rest.

“Who were you to make that decision for me?”

“Who are you to expect me not to have?”

It’s quiet, uncomfortably so. Dean rakes his fingers through his hair and your arms tighten across your chest. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. None of it. He wasn’t supposed to have left you destroyed, calling out for him in the middle of the night. You were supposed to have moved on, supposed to have said goodbye to the boy with so much sadness in his eyes and so much love in his heart.

You never really do forget your first, though, do you?

He sighs, drawing your attention back to him, and pulls his gaze from the ceiling. “This isn’t what I came for.”

You tighten your arms across your chest and take a step closer, then another. “Do enlighten me, then. What are you really here for?” You’re dangerously close now, a breath away and Dean can barely think. “What is it you want?”

You look up at him and in a second he’s gone, just like that first day. It’s nostalgic and painful and warm all at once. How was it you still had this power over him?

“You.” He breathes out.

October 14, 2006

“Hey, uh, Fairmont? That’s close to Eudora, right?” Dean asks, trying so hard to seem casual.

Sam peaks around the bathroom door, noticing his brother has been ‘cleaning’ the same weapon for the last thirty minutes, and raises a brow. “Yeah, not too far.” Dean just hums. “What’s in Eudora?”

“Huh? Oh nothing, just thought a detour would be nice with everything going on.”

Sam spits his toothpaste into the sink. “Didn’t we spend a Christmas there?”

Dean stalls. “Well, you know, we moved around so much it’s hard to tell when we were anywhere, really. I couldn’t-“

“No, no, I’m sure we did. I had that English teacher that snored through Shakespeare.”

“Your memory is definitely better than mine, I couldn’t tell you much about-“

“And there was that girl, gosh, what was her name again?” Sam prompts his brother, already knowing the answer.

“There’s been so many girls, Sam, can’t expect me to remember all of their names.” Dean chuckles nervously.

The flop sweat on Dean’s forehead is almost reward enough, but hearing him sputter and flail was just too good for Sam to give up.

“She had the hair and the mom, liked Christmas.” Dean stutters again. “Oh right! Y/N! Aka the girl who’s name you say in your sleep on a weekly basis.” Now he’s red. “How long has it been man? If you could’ve made it work, you would’ve. What’d she say when you saw her last?”

Suddenly the floor is very interesting to Dean. “That I can’t keep coming in and out of her life.”

“That’s all the closure you’re going to get, Dean, take it.”

October 18, 2006

Work had been the worst. The only thing you wanted was a bubble bath and a huge glass of wine. The last thing you expected when you finally reached your driveway was Dean Winchester sitting on your porch, but of course, with the cluster fuck of today, this might as well happen.

You take a moment to collect yourself before stepping out of your car.

“Heard you took down a Rougarou in Tennessee. Thought you said you didn’t want a part of this life.” He raises a brow and you can’t tell if it’s an accusation or an ‘I told you so’ moment.

“Was there for business, it was just good timing. Guess you were right, though, can’t just sit by.” You shrug. He looks like he’s waiting for something, something you’re sure you can’t give him. “What are you doing here?” You ask, sounding more tired than upset.

“I know, I’m sorry. But we had a case nearby and Sammy told me no, but next thing I know I’m in my car and then I’m here. Really, it’s your fault. Should’ve moved.”

You snort. “And you wouldn’t have found me?” He only shrugs. “What is it you want, Dean?”

“A friend?”

“You drove all the way out here for a friend?”

“Guess you could say I’m in short supply.”

You look him up and down, noticing the bags beneath his eyes and something in you aches for him. Of course, you had heard about the passing of John, that may be the very reason he’s here, but knowing Dean, it’s not a subject he wants to touch.

Ten years later and you can still read him.

“Fine, but don’t ask me to run away with you.” You tease. “Twice is enough for this lifetime.”

June 16, 2013

Dean is in the middle of another argument with Sam trying to defend the importance of bacon when his phone rings. Sam’s dramatic sigh of relief earns an eye roll from his brother.

“Dean Winchester.” He answers, but he can’t hear anything on the other end. “Hello?” He tries again and this time he makes out heavy breathing. “Who is this?”

“Dean.” His name barely slips from your lips and to his ears before you groan.

He leans forward quick enough to earn concern from Sam. “Where are you?”

“Sound stressed.” You chuckle before sputtering.

“Y/N, tell me where are you.” His voice is the kind of calm that would usually send ice through your veins, but right now you were struggling just to keep your eyes open.

“Not sure.” Your speech is slurred and the panic Sam sees in his brother’s eyes drives his fingers faster as he works on a trace.

“How bad is it?”

“You should see the other guy.”

“Dammit, Y/N, not the time. Where are you hurt?”

“Broken ribs, I think. This gash in my side seems a little alarming.” You squint down at it trying to determine if your blurry vision was a result of the gapping wound or the nice blow to the head you took. “Objectively, all very bad.” You mumble.

Dean is over Sam’s shoulder now and if he hadn’t looked as terrified as he did right now, Sam would be making a less than funny comment about it.

“Were you on a hunt?” His voice is still cool, but he begins to waiver when he has to strain to hear your confirmation. “Is it still after you?” He has to press the question two more times before he gets a response, by then he’s already started the Impala.

“Finished him ‘for he finished me.”

“Y/N, were on our way.” Dean grits out. “You just hold on a little longer and we’ll get you all patched up.”

You barely manage to hum response before everything begins to fade out, Dean yelling your name in the background.

June 17, 2013

They had only barely made it in time. Dean had come sliding to your side, bandages already in hand. He spoke softly to you, a drastic contradiction to the frantic shake of his hands.

Sam had never seen his brother like this before.

“Dean, I don’t think…”

“No! Just,” Dean tossed the keys to Sam and slipped his arms beneath your limp body. “Get us to the nearest hospital.”

He sat in the back seat with you holding as much pressure against the flaps of skin as he could, still talking so softly to you. Sam’s heart ached as he heard his brother beg you not to leave him and make promises they both know he can’t keep.

When he could no longer feel you breathing, his eyes shot up to the review mirror and Sam slammed on the gas.

Squealing into the ambulance drop off, Sam began to yell for help as he pulled open the back seat door. Dean was frozen, all of the color drained from his face.

Emotion cut off from his voice, he had barely managed a whisper. “I think she’s gone.”

From there, he had spent the last six hours trying to force himself to come to terms with the fact that he had lost one of the only good things in his life. Sitting there in some criminally uncomfortable waiting room chair with his head in his hands.

All he could see was you. You twirling around in a bright sundress with the Kansas sunset kissing your skin. Your eyes closed- lips parted slightly as you slept soundly. You angry, red in the face accusing him of using you as some kind of sick tie to a simpler time.

Was that all she was to him? No, he shakes his head at just the thought of it. To him you were the only thing that made sense. A singular constant that he felt like his whole being revolved around.

But he had never told you.

Finally, by 5am he had almost convinced himself that he would be fine.

So, when the doctor comes out with blood speckling the bottom of his scrubs, he wants to shut down, but he needs to know.

“Just give it to us straight, doc.”

“She’s alive.” He says. “The surgery was tough and she gave us quite a scare, but she is alive.”

His knees almost give out from beneath him.

June 20, 2013

Everything hurts. Your side, your chest, your head, your skin. The gentle breeze from the vent above you is what pulls you out of the darkness. The harsh fluorescent lights are almost enough to send you right back to the comfort of the dark, but a shifting pressure at your thigh piques your interest.

Slowly, trying not to groan despite every muscle in your body screaming, you look to your left. Dean’s arm is draped lightly across the tops of your thighs, his hand curling in at your hip. For a moment you do nothing but watch him sleep, his eyes fluttering behind his eyelids every so often.

He looks like shit.

Dark, sunken bags have built up beneath his eyes and it looks like he hasn’t shaved in days. A part of you feels flattered imagining the fuss he had to have made to not only get you here, but to stay here himself.

Without thinking, you begin to move your hand to caress his cheek. Your fingers trace the lines of his now furrowed brow before you thread them through his hair. The movement hurts, but it’s worth it.

Especially when you’re rewarded with a lovely green as his eyes slowly open. For a moment you think there may be no yelling or ‘are you out of your mind’ speeches when a smile begins to slowly light up his face. And then, as if he’s suddenly remembered what has happened, his smile shuts down into a scowl.

“You almost died.” He hisses lowly.

“Almost.” You echo and try to cough out a laugh, but it devolves into a groan. His alarm doesn’t disappear when you try to wave him off. “I’m fine now, so why don’t you go shower or something? You smell.”

“So you can try to slip out?” He narrows his eyes at you. “Not happening.”

“You’re usually the one that slips out.” You mutter, but he doesn’t hear you. “You can’t kidnap me, Dean.”

“The hell I can’t.”

June 23, 2013

“Bedroom here, bathroom down there. Sam and I are here… and here.” Dean’s pointing to doors as you struggle to hobble behind him on his tour of the bunker. When he stops, you almost run into his back. “Sammy went to grab some stuff from your house, but it looks like you don’t live there anymore.” He only raises a brow when you advert your gaze.

Instead of responding, you turn around to point at a door a couple down. “Mine? Sounds good.” You scurry as quickly as you can into the room, but Dean catches the edge of the door before you can shut it.

“You’re not going to explain yourself?”

You laugh bitterly. “Explain myself? Are you kidding me? I don’t answer to you, Dean.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” You want to turn away from him, but he’s holding your gaze too intensely. “What’s going on with you? You’re living out of cheap hotels and hunting on your own now?”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”

“Y/N, cut the shit. It’s just you and me here. Have you even told your mom what happened?”

And it’s this comment, this sincere question that takes the final piece of your resistance from him. He watches as the tense set of your shoulders fall and your face relaxes. The malice and resentment slips from your features and it’s a relief.

“She’s dead.” You barely manage to whisper. “Vetala. Didn’t know they worked in pairs. Her husband found her tied up in the kitchen three years ago.”

He’s stunned. It’s probably the only thing you could have said that would steal his fire in an instant. He knew that kind of pain, that kind of drive. He knew it too well. You sniffle before quickly wiping your eyes and his face falls imagining the pain you’re feeling.

To his surprise, the moment is gone as quick as it started when he watches you swallow down your emotions and rebuild that wall in almost an instant.

“Don’t worry, I know you’re not one to be domestic. I’ll be out of your hair the second the doctors clear me.”

It stings. “Just like that?” He asks, not caring this time if you hear the hurt in his voice.

“Why would I stay? You make it clear what you want each time you stop by my house for a quicky and then slip out without a word.” The stunned look on his face is infuriating. “I get it, Dean. It’s convenience and consistency. Not love.”

“Not love?” He repeats your judgement, rolling the word around his tongue and he has to admit he hates the taste. He repeats it again, louder this time and it startles you. “Y/N I gave up everything I ever wanted that night I left you at the diner because I love you. I have tried and tried to stay as far away from you to keep you safe because I love you. I show up on your doorstep in moments of selfish cowardice because I can’t stay away! Almost my whole life I have been drawn to you time and time again and I know it hurts you. It kills me to hurt you, but I can’t stop because I love you.”

Dean’s chest is heaving, his breath falling across your face with how close he is to you now. “You love me.” He has to strain to hear you, but you need the clarification. Love or loved?

“When I saw you laying on the ground, bleeding out, I wished it was me instead. But when I held you in my arms and you…” His voice breaks and his eyes water. “And you stopped breathing…”

Before you know what you’re doing, you have your hands cradling either side of his facing, soothingly hushing him.

“Dean.” You murmur. “I’m okay, you saved me.”

“Stay.” The word bursts through his lips without his control. “Please, just stay.”

A single tear falls from your eyes as you nod knowing that the idea of a place called home had changed over the years, but this, him- he had always remained.

[sparklingchan]

Phenomenal you are || Choi Jongho(Ateez)

Pairing : Reader(fem.) X Jongho

Word count : 2.1k+

Warnings : cuss words.

Genre : Fluff, angst if you look with a microscope, romance, rock band au.

Description: In which, a band practice for the Annual Winter Festival brings Jongho to finally face his true feelings for you. 

A/N : I wrote for ateez after soooo long. I’ve been pre occupied kinda but I’ve written a few drabbles to post from time to time. 

Enjoy!

In the quiet summer afternoon , while the sun is at its most cruel forms and the rest of the world is enjoying their holiday at the pool, the only sound that can be heard from Hongjoong's old car garage is the soft strumming of Jongho's acoustic guitar. Lazy and unmotivated.

"We need a singer." Hongjoong says with a sigh louder than Wooyoung's laugh as all the boys stare at him.

How dare he!

The tension in the air is so thick someone could cut it with a knife and though no one breaks the silence, they know what is to come next.

Jongho stares at Hongjoong, eyes big with curiosity and mouth gaping, half expecting Hongjoong to suddenly start laughing and declare it all a prank.

"We really need a singer." Hongjoong stresses on every word yet again. That's a combination of words he never thought he'd hear the older boy say yet here they were.

"Man, come on, we already have Wooyoung and Jongho. We don't need another singer." Mingi groans, absent-mindedly playing with his drum sticks. His foot is slightly tapping against the bass drum pedal.

Jongho and Wooyoung shake their heads in agreement but Hongjoong looks unconvinced. Like always.

"But the rules for The Winter Music festival are clear. They said that a band needs to have a separate singer along with the instrument players. Or else they won't be allowed to participate!" Hongjoong argues.

Jongho sighs with frustration. He loves singing as much as he loves playing the guitar, but if he had to choose between one, he'd always choose the former. He can't let someone new take his place as the voice of the band.

It hurt his ego more than he'd like to admit to his friends.

"I'll stop playing the guitar. I'll just sing." He suggests, although he's immediately met with Hongjoong's disapproval.

"Don't be fucking ridiculous. Who will play the guitar then? I play the keyboard and Wooyoung is on the bass. We can't play the guitar!"

There he is, leader Hongjoong, who's always right.

"Fine. Fine. So does anyone have any singers in mind? Should we hold a small audition or..?" Mingi says.

Wooyoung smirks at Jongho's direction, leaning in to whisper into his ear, "Dude, its your chance to shine. Come on. Tell them."

Except Wooyoung can't whisper. He can only yell.

"What? Tell us what?" Hongjoong questions.

"Oh, you know y/n right? She sings really well. She has a YouTube channel too." Wooyoung exclaims, walking as far away from Jongho as possible.

Jongho elbows the older boy right in his stomach.

"Y/n? As in Jongho's y/n?" Mingi asks with a mischievous grin.

Jongho hides his face in his hands, cheeks burning red as an unknown combination of happiness and embarrassment wash over.

The sound of your name always makes him feel vulnerable yet he cannot bring himself to hate this new found side of his personality.

Were you truly Jongho's? He didn't know. But did he want you to be his? Obviously, yes.

"So who's going to talk to her?" Hongjoong asks, actually considering it.

Jongho is beyond exasperated at this point, "Hey! We can hold a small audition or something. I'm sure there are other singers who'd want to try out?"

"Do you really want that ?" Wooyoung teases.

No, he doesn't. He doesn't think there's any better singer out there than you. Your honey like voice with the most beautiful texture ever gifted to a human and the way your eyes close in concentration when you feel the music right in your bones always makes him feel weak in the knees. He wants to be able to watch it all live and not from behind a laptop screen.

"Fine. I'll talk to y/n."

No one reacts because they already know Jongho could never say no to anything that involves you.

*

"I'm not very confident, Jongho, I'm telling you!" You cry out loud as you walk down the unfamiliar road with Jongho close by your side, not paying heed to any of your protests.

When Jongho first asked you to join his infamous band as the lead singer, you were sure he was joking. But he insisted that he wasn't and the serious expression plastered on his face showed nothing but honesty so you let yourself believe him.

Of course, you did throw around your own set of tantrums which you were sure irritated him, even so he somehow manages to take you to the boys' practicing session in Kim Hongjoong 's garage.

"Y/n, please, you and I both know you're the best choice. Mind you, Hongjoong personally discarded the idea of an audition just to save this position for you!"

Lies. It was him that had said no to the prospect of holding an open and fair audition for all the students of their school. Because he only ever wanted you.

"Why do I feel like you're buttering me." You mutter to yourself but Jongho obviously hears you, and a smile crawls its way onto his lips.

The garage is old and a little small, you notice the moment you enter the place, but that place also has everything you ever dreamed of - instruments, good mics, a band who wanted you to be their lead singer, and Jongho.

"Hey, y/n! I'm so glad you actually came. You know Jongho's never been the most convincing man on earth, right?" Wooyoung greets you, his fingers busy fiddling with the tuning keys of his bass guitar.

You smile, "I think he convinced me well enough though. "

You shoot Jongho a shy glance, only to find him staring right back at you, his eyes reflecting the same yearning as yours do. The sides of his mouth are slowly curving into a grin, and the thumping in your chest increases as you watch him blush under the warm, afternoon sunlight.

Ethereal is what he looks like to you.

Mingi clears his throat, breaking the unexpectedly long eye contact, "Guys, come on. We have to practice."

And with that begins your musical journey with the boys.

There were really nice and welcoming and made you feel very comfortable. It almost felt like you were...home.

Within weeks, you had gotten so close to the guys, one would almost confuse you of having known each other for a long time when in reality you guys barely talk to each other at school. And nothing would have changed if you hadn't joined the band.

And on the other hand, we have Choi Jongho. Nice and sweet and talented and has heart eyes for you and only you, yet with your new found friendship with the other boys, he finds a foreign feeling of insecurity settling down in his heart, like foreign sediments in fresh water.

Until a few days ago, you were his little secret, his only friend out of his normal social circle at school, he had you all to himself. But now that his other friends have started showing equal interest in you, he feels neglected, jealous even. Though he would die rather than mention it you or the boys.

"We're going for ice cream. Come on." Wooyoung unlocks the door to Mingi's car, and slides is as if it were his own, "I'm driving."

Hongjoon mutters a warning under his breath before sitting in the front passenger's seat while Mingi follows suit, and sits behind them.

"When was this decided?" Jongho leans against the car's door , an irritated expression etched onto his face. His forehead is creased, his eyes alert and his hands are stuffed in his pocket - he looks displeased  .

"When you were in the toilet. What's the big deal." Wooyoung says impatiently.

Jongho looks at you, his forehead crease deepening, "Why didn't you tell me?"

You are taken aback; in all honesty, you hadn't thought it was such a great deal to him. The five of you were just going for ice cream. Its not a life or death situation.

"I-I didn't think it was that important. " you reply.

Jongho scoffs, a sarcastic smile on his lips, "You didn't think it was important to tell me we were going somewhere? I see, I wasn't wrong to think you'd finally sidelined me. "

"Jongho, what are you even saying?" You say, exasperated.

Jongho has never been a man of too many words, or too many gestures. He doesn't have the habit of beating around the bush. Which is why is words are often too honest, too harsh.

You knew this, yet you couldn't help but feel a sting when Jongho accuses you of sidelining him. It feels like your chest is on fire.

"Dude, just get in the car. What's gotten into you?" Hongjoong says.

You are utterly confused - you couldn't believe Choi Jongho is throwing tantrums over something so trivial - the man who is known for his high tolerance and abundant patience.

"Nah, I'm good." Jongho pulls away from the door and turns on his heels , "See you guys tomorrow!"

And with that, he walks in the opposite direction, toward his house. And needless to say, he doesn't even bother sparing a single glance at you.

"Should I go after him?" You ask out of impulse, but you do mean it.

What's the point of going with the guys when your mind would anyway be preoccupied with Jongho?

"Not to play cupid, y/n, but yeah, I think you should." Hongjoong sighs, rubbing the crease between his eyebrows .

You nod, closing the door, "I'll see you guys later then."

"Give him a smack in the head while you're at it ,y/n." Mingi chuckles, shaking his head.

"Oh, I will."

*

Jongho had not walked far enough yet, making it easier for you to run up behind him.

"Oi! Jongho! Wait."

Now, Jongho is sure he's making up things in his head because he genuinely believes you’d not have left the boys behind just to chase him. Well, prove him wrong now, y/n, will you?

"Jongho! " you yell again and this time he stops in his tracks, not having the guts to turn around yet curious enough to wait for you.

"What?" He demands without sparing you a glance still his eyes somehow manage to stare at your shadow on the concrete of the street, "Why didn't you go?"

You quickly catch up to him, though the run exhausts you badly but you convince yourself it's worth it.

If it's for Jongho, everything is worth it.

"Because its no fun without you. "

Jongho had built up this weak wall around him, a wall meant to protect his fragile heart from being broken but there has never been anything as fragile and delicate as this wall - and the words that leave your mouth does exactly that.

"Y/n, I-" he begins but you cut him off.

"Uh, no. Firstly, you owe me an apology for all that you said before, and secondly, you owe me a whole tub of ice cream because I chose my crush over ice cream and that is not done."

You'd never been the best at confessions, really, and before today You'd never felt the need for it either. Yet here you are. Confessing to Jongho as if it were the most natural thing to do.

"You - what?" He asks in disbelief, his body growing warm under your intimidating gaze.

Y/n just confessed to you, dumb ass, wake up!

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get too ahead of yourself." You roll your eyes, wrapping a shaky arm around his.

"Do you really mean it, y/n?" He asks in the most sincere voice, the tremble in his voice giving him away completely.

Jongho doesn't deny your touch but he does look away from you, his face scrunching in a peculiar way.

You don't know if he's crying or laughing or about to combust, but whatever it is , the slight blush on his cheeks and the softness of his eyes makes you feel all mushy inside.

"Of course! " you whine, "Why don't you believe me?"

Jongho pulls you closer and then wraps his arms around you - like how he'd seen people do in those stupid rom com movies. And when you hug him back , placing the softest kiss on his cheek, he realises how relieved he is.

“I believe you.” He sighs, “And I like you, too.”

And he realises how much more special this feels than the scenarios he’d often make up in his head. He realises how terribly sweet you smell, how radiant your laughter is and how phenomenal you are.

[angelsfalling16]

Love Unspoken

I finally got around to editing this, and I’m excited to finally be sharing it!! This isn't what I usually write, but I really like this ship and enjoyed writing this. I hope you all like it, too!

Ship: TamaKyo

Rating: Teen

Summary: While staying in Nekozawa's mansion for the night, Tamaki walks in to find Kyoya and Haruhi together in Kyoya's room. He has a hard time putting into words what why he's so upset, but Kyoya understands anyway.

Read it on ao3

***

Tamaki hesitates outside the door to Kyoya’s room for the night. He can’t just enter in the hopes that Kyoya will be happy to see him; he has to have a reason to be there.

He knows that they were just with each other, having left dinner to head to bed together – well, not together but at the same time. Gah, he’s never felt this flustered by the thought of seeing Kyoya. He is unsure what to do.

Well, he is a little sore from spending too much time out in the sun, so he could use some lotion. (Nevermind the fact that he has some of his own back in his own room.)

With a deep breath, he knocks twice. He doesn’t wait for an answer because he knows it will give him plenty of time to chicken out and go running off. Normally, that would be very unlike him, but when it comes to Kyoya, nothing is normal. Tamaki doesn’t have to put up an act around him; he can just be himself, and Kyoya welcomes it.

“Hey, Kyoya,” Tamaki says as he pushes open the door. “Do you have lotion and stuff? My sunburn stings…” He drifts off when he sees what’s happening in the room.

Kyoya is standing next to his bed, shirtless and hair artfully disheveled. Haruhi sits in front of him on his bed, her hair and dress mussed up. Tamaki can only imagine what happened in here before he walked in.

Haruhi stands up, but Tamaki only has eyes for his best friend of two years. (Are they still friends? Or something more?)

He doesn’t believe that Kyoya would actually do anything with Haruhi, but he isn’t sure what else to think when all of this is staring him in the face.

“Kyoya, what were y—?” He’s cut off when Kyoya shoves a bottle of lotion into his chest, hard, staring at him with an intense expression.

“You shouldn’t open doors without waiting for an answer,” he says in a low, dark tone.

“But you and Haruhi—.”

“Relax. It wasn’t like that.”

“But—.”

“Seriously, Tamaki. It's nothing.” His tone has softened, and he draws nearer to Tamaki, ensuring that his focus is solely on him now.

There's a rumble of thunder in the distance.

“I—.”

“Shh.”

There's a flash of lightning, and it lights up the two of them as if they are the most important thing in the universe. Tamaki glances around the room, noticing that they’re alone now.

“Huh? Where did Haruhi go?”

Kyoya shrugs. “She must have left while you were throwing your tantrum”

“I was not—!”

“Hush now, darling. It's just the two of us so you can drop the act.”

That’s one of the things that Tamaki likes about Kyoya: he doesn’t put up with any of his wild antics. He may go along with some of them, but he never lets Tamaki go too far off the deep end.

“Kyoya,” Tamaki says softer now, the accusations gone from his tone.

“I told you it was nothing. You are all that matters to me,” he says, bringing his hand up to gently cup his cheek.

“But what were you doing with her?”

“I was only trying to help you.”

“How? By bedding her?”

Kyoya sighs again, but if he’s being honest, he finds Tamaki’s jealousy a little bit cute.

“It wasn’t like that. I only thought it might be the best way to help her see your point. She really shouldn’t have tried to fight those guys on her own.”

“Oh. I see. So, you weren't...?”

“No, you idiot. The only person I could ever want in my bed is you.”

Kyoya waits a beat then kisses Tamaki, giving him ample time to pull away. He doesn’t. He never does.

Tamaki kisses him back enthusiastically and with a great passion that nearly has Kyoya swooning. In order to keep that from happening and embarrassing himself, Kyoya slowly leads them over to his bed where they fall on it together, Tamaki laughing into Kyoya's mouth as they get situated, tangling their legs around each other.

They kiss for a long time as the storm rages outside before Kyoya finally finds the strength to separate himself from Tamaki, rolling over onto his back.

“You should go,” he says as he stares at a point on the ceiling. “You don't want someone to find you here.”

“I don’t care about that.” Tamaki tugs on his arm, trying to get him to roll back over.

Kyoya doesn’t move, though. He just smiles grimly and says, “We both know that's not true.”

Tamaki doesn't argue with him, which is what hurts the most. Kyoya wants so much more than these stolen kisses behind locked doors, but he won’t do anything to push Tamaki.

With a longing look at Kyoya, Tamaki slides off his bed and straightens his clothes.

Alright. Well, I'll see you in the morning then?

Kyoya merely nods, too tired to say anything. At least he can let his guard down around Tamaki, even if it is a foolish move on his part.

He waits until he hears the door close, though, before he fully lets his guard down, rubbing his hands down his face. He hates how much it hurts each time to push Tamaki away, but he has to. For both their sakes.

Kyoya forces himself to sit up, refusing to wallow and considering whether he should go over the numbers for the day or simply go to bed. Before he can decide, he hears a strange noise coming from the closet.

It really was a terrible idea to take Nekozawa up on his offer to stay in his mansion. Who knows what kind of creepy things he has hidden here?

There's a crack of thunder, and the closet rattles again. Well, he can’t sleep now. Not until he investigates.

Knowing it's probably harmless, Kyoya simply goes over and opens the closet.

The last thing he expects is to see Haruhi curled up in a ball on the floor.

Is it possible that she heard...? No, that’s not important right now.

“Haruhi are you quite alright?”

A crack of thunder resonates throughout the room, and Haruhi shudders but ignores him. He can see what the problem is now and why she disappeared so suddenly earlier.

“You're afraid of the thunder.” It's not a question. “Come here,” Kyoya says, squatting next to her. He picks her up easily and holds her in his lap and against his chest.

“You're alright,” he soothes. “It's just noise. I won’t let it hurt you.”

“Kyoya, I—!” A voice exclaims as the door slams open once more.

“Damn it, Tamaki,” Kyoya murmurs. If only he could learn how to properly enter someone else’s room.

Tamaki freezes just inside the door for the second time that night.

“You really should learn how to knock,” Kyoya says, pinching the bridge of his nose. He's too tired for all of this.

“Again?! How could you?”

“As I said before, it's not like that. I was only trying to soothe her. She doesn’t like the thunder.” It may not be his place to say this, but the easiest way to stop Tamaki’s whining is with the truth.

“Oh. I have something that might help.” He says, pulling a blindfold from his pocket.

“Tamaki, I don’t think now is the time for that.”

Tamaki waves him off. “It's for Haruhi. I have some earplugs as well. To block out the sound and the sight of the lightning.”

“Right. That’s a rather good idea.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” Tamaki says, but he’s smiling despite himself, secretly happy to be praised by him.

Just as Tamaki finishes tying the blindfold around Haruhi’s eyes, the twins, Hunny, and Mori all walk in with matching expressions of shock and bewilderment.

“As soon as school begins, our first club meeting will include etiquette on how to enter someone else’s room,” Kyoya says, exasperated. Perhaps he was wrong to expect more from these boys. Not a single one of them knows how to knock properly.

“That’s so wrong,” Hikaru says.

“What kind of sick game is this?” Kaoru asks.

“You pervert,” they say in unison as they glare at Tamaki.

“Now, boys,” Kyoya says calmly, getting to his feet. “Do you honestly believe that I would allow Tamaki to do something to Haruhi while I just sat by and watched? Nothing bad happened here. We were only trying to help her.”

“Help her what exactly?” The twins ask, but Kyoya ignores them, ushering everyone out of his room. He has had enough of all of them for one day.

Haruhi goes, too, but Kyoya notices that she keeps the blindfold and ear plugs, even though the storm seems to have stopped. He’d never admit it to anyone, but it makes him sad to think about how she might be alone the next time it storms and need those.

Kyoya starts to close the door, but Tamaki hesitates in the doorway, looking like he doesn’t really want to go.

“Kyoya, I–.”

Kyoya shakes his head, gently cutting him off. “It’s alright. I know.”

He knows how Tamaki feels even if he isn’t ready to say it aloud just yet, and he would never push him to say it before he’s ready. It would only drive him away, and that’s the last thing he wants.

Still looking torn, Tamaki turns and leaves. Kyoya leans against the door once it’s closed, feeling utterly exhausted.

He can’t wait to get back to his own home where he can have some peace and quiet and isn’t worried about the trouble the others could be getting into.

***

Later, once everyone is sound asleep in their own bed, Tamaki returns to Kyoya’s room. This time, when he knocks, he waits for an answer.

When Kyoya opens the door, he’s in casual wear, and his glasses aren’t on. He looks slightly annoyed, but his voice is deceptively soft when he asks Tamaki what it is this time.

“Uh, I wondered if I might stay here with you tonight?”

Kyoya feels suddenly wide awake then, his eyes going wide. He knows that he should tell Tamaki no, that they shouldn’t risk being found out, but maybe because he’s too tired or simply because he doesn’t want to, he lets Tamaki in.

“Alright, but lock the door behind you.”

“No,” Tamaki says, faltering slightly when Kyoya turns a glare on him. “I just mean that I don’t care if anyone finds us together. I just want to be with you, Kyoya. I-I love you.”

It’s the first time Tamaki has said any of that aloud. He had been too afraid before, worried how others might react. He’s done worrying, though. He loves Kyoya, and if anyone has a problem with that, then they aren’t his true friends.

Kyoya is still staring at him, not saying anything, and doubt starts to seep in and pull at the confidence that Tamaki walked in here with.

“I can go if you want. Sorry. I shouldn’t have—mmph.”

Kyoya silences him with a kiss that steals the breath from both of them. He has never kissed Tamaki like this before, so openly and passionately. He was afraid to give all of himself away. But he’s not afraid anymore.

“I love you, too, Tamaki.”