#And the scene towards the end of this bitch of a fic that is the reason I'm writing this

[sunnami]

❝watch me, don't touch me, love me, don't hurt me.❞

[title is from ive's accendio. gif not mine.] summary. you are the fop of the wizarding society, known for your shallowness and careless display of wealth, but as hogwarts faces another threat, the marauders and lily, find themselves drawn to you and the secrets hidden under your facade. (harry just wants to know what is going on.)

pairing/s. marauders x reader. (james potter/lily evans/remus lupin/sirius black/reader.)

wc. 24.1k.

tags. enemies to lovers, angst, hurt but the comfort is later, fluff(ish), i try slow burn for the first time (it hurts.), this is highly self-indulgent idgaf, set during goblet of fire but i decide what goes, voldemort isn't the only character who can revive from the dead, BITCH. OH, LMAO I FORGOT, THIS IS FOR THE DILF AND MILF LOVERS SDKJFHSF they're married, but remus and sirius keep their name for legal and plot reasons. adult marauders and adult reader! and i was careful this time to not use any specific pronouns or gendered terms so everyone can enjoy the pain!! every1 is hurting 2nite. proofread kind of, so we die like. . . harry potter?

cws. here we go... canon-typical violence, vivid description of injuries, pain, and blood, emotional abuse, trauma, self-destructive tendencies, minor character death (non-canon), pureblood society practices, voldemort is his own warning, brief mention of war, brief scene with abducted children, panic attacks, depictions of mental illness, suic!dal thoughts, bellatrix lestrange is also her own warning, morally-grey reader.

a/n: this is inspired by my most favorite finnick odair fic EVER! obviously, i won't ever reach that level of greatness, but i've had this idea in my head ever since i read that story. sometimes, i just want to cry at night to feel something, LMFAO. halfway through writing this story, i got insecure, so thank you to this eye-opening comment on reddit that i found that will forever change how i look at reader inserts: “for me, a reader should be faceless, but not soulless.”

to my dearest friends and readers, i hope you enjoy this world that i've written for you ueueue. (the next and final part is fluffier, i promise.) will upload to ao3 soon!

act i. dear god, please save the little man.

“RITA, DARLING, do get your wretched little quill for this one. I heard from a wee birdie that Vittoria Zabini was spotted in Rome, and not just wearing last season’s designer collection, but on her honeymoon, of all things! Can you believe it, dearest? If I remember correctly, this must be husband number five now.”

Like a wingless canary in a gilded cage, you are forced once again to sing for red-lipped witches and their grating laughter, and for wizards with their fat bellies, graying hair, and leering eyes. How kind of Narcissa Malfoy to host these decrepit creatures in her manor garden—and thrust the role of main attraction onto you. There you are, lonesome badger, dressed in the finest tulle for everyone to ogle at. A ballerina in a music box, turning, and turning, and turning.

(When will your cursed lullaby finally end?)

Isadora Bulstrode cackles. “Gold-digging wench must be at it again.”

As predicted, Rita Skeeter greedily whips out her Quick-Quotes Quill. The bloodthirsty journalist preys hungrily at your every word—and you’re more than willing to satiate the irritable, little pest. “Riveting.” She pushes her glasses upwards with a quirk of her lips. “We may have tomorrow’s front page in our hands.” 

Lavinia Nott brings the teacup to her mouth, her gaze slicing towards you. “Do tell us more. Where ever do you get your information from?”

You hide a coy smile behind the fine porcelain. “Why, Lavinia dearest, if I reveal my secret now, I might have to kill you!” The drove of ladies giggle amongst themselves as Lavinia sips her tea impassively. You play these people like a fiddle, and they’re none the wiser. But even vile women have to play their parts in the cruel world forged by mad men. Yours happens to be the most ill-fated of them all. 

“A shame you decided not to pursue the same path as your mother, but that is alright—not every one is fit to work.” The Selwyn matron raises her brow, offering you a tight-lipped smirk.

“Oh, Elinor, my love, I’m surprised you’d even suggest such a horrible thing!” Your grin grows wicked and wider. You know perfectly what the wizarding society thinks of you: the orphaned heir, the shallow socialite who only cares for gallivanting about in pureblooded extravaganzas. A status you’ve so carefully fashioned; utterly beloved and adored by these people, flowers falling at your feet with so much as a whisper from your lips. 

Your gaze drifts to a familiar crowd of people to the side. It’s the pack of lions and The-Boy-Who-Lived. There they are, the marauding bunch and their displays of loyalty and whatnot; hideously coordinated outfits, but capturing the world’s attention constantly and effortlessly. 

How repulsive.

In spite of that, you are intrigued. They are the section that plays out of tune in the orchestra you have been conducting for years.

And so you bid your goodbyes to the witches; they fawn and beg for you to stay for an hour more. You pout your lips and say with faux sympathy, hand flying to your chest.  “Oh, don’t worry, my dears! I’ll be back soon enough after greeting some of the other guests. You lovely ladies might tire of me if I stay for too long.”

Melina Traverse brushes you off. “We could never! You know you’re like family to us, pet!”

With a delighted gasp, you say, “Don’t tell Narcissa, but you’ve always been my favorite Slytherin.” The venom flows endlessly from your lips. You owe your life to only a handful of people. Narcissa Malfoy, who raised you when your mother no longer could, is one of them. Finally, you’re able to sneak away from their freshly manicured talons as they tittle-tattle amongst themselves.

Once your back is turned to the rest of them, you roll your eyes until your head begins hurting. 

What a bunch of insufferable fools. 

Still, the show curtains are wide open and the sun is yet to set. You have another audience that is awaiting your next number. 

“Oh, my, my, my! Is it truly the Chosen One in our midst?” You approach the horrid family of Gryffindors—nearly doubling over in laughter at the speed with which their faces fall at the sight of you. How refreshing, you think to yourself. It’s been so long since you’ve seen people who wore their hearts on their sleeves. “Cissa and I didn’t think you’d even respond to our invitation—but this is just brilliant! Lily, darling! How long has it been? That dress looks utterly divine! Is that Charmeuse silk? The purple simply brings out the color in your eyes! And your skin, my love! Just glowing! Tell me—have you been trying those snail facials? I hear they’re all the rage nowadays.”

Sirius grimaces, cheeks turning ashen. “Bloody hell, I’m going to need a drink for this. A strong one, too.” 

“You’re at a garden party, Sirius darling,” you remind in jest, flamboyantly motioning to the grazing table. “The elves are serving Darjeeling, jasmine, chamomile, berry blends, spiced orange, silver needle, and my personal favorite, chocolate mint!” There are strings of lights wrapped around the tree branches; floating lanterns and the hydrangeas creeping on the stone walls. You put a hand over your heart, smiling knavishly. “From the Malfoy family, to yours, we sincerely hope you enjoy your brunch.” 

Lily deeply inhales as she intertwines her fingers with James’s, a polite smile on her face—an odd pang in your heart at the show of solidarity. (She questions how sincere can a Malfoy really be.) “Y-Yes, well, it’s so good to see you, too. We’re grateful for the invitation, especially since it’s for a rather honorable cause.” 

Ah, pure-hearted creatures really do get on your nerves. Lion hearts; words dripping in honey, limitless bravado. You’ve changed your mind, you’re sick of it all. A flash of vindictive glee crosses your face as you abruptly grab her hand, wrenching it away from her husband’s. “We just knew you’d see it that way! You probably see yourself in those Muggle children, eh?”

Lily recoils, as if struck by hot iron, shoulders tensing; slowly, she peels away her hand from yours, long lashes blinking away her shock.  “You and Narcissa must be raising a lot of money, then.” She eyes the marble fountain adorned in white roses, the harmonizing gnomes nearby, self-playing harps, and the scrutinizing stares from afar. “I never knew you cared so much about Muggle children.”

“Well, I suppose it must be done for all the pudgy-cheeked brats in the world,” You callously wave away her words with a sigh. Unbeknownst to most, all the charity proceeds come from your own Gringotts account. That is the one real thing left in your miserable life.  “As staff at Hogwarts, the children must come first, wouldn’t you agree, Lily flower?”

“Quite,” replies Lily, lips firmly pursed.

James enters the fray, hand snaking around Lily’s waist; jaw taut, seeming to regret ever entering the snake den. “Have you met our son, Harry, already?” He turns to the fourteen-year-old at his left side, gently patting Harry’s back with a crooked smile. “Haz, this is an old classmate of ours.” James gestures to you, and you offer the Potter spawn an amused smile as he blinks owlishly at you. The poor thing has gone frigid from the wintry cold, despite the summer sun overhead and blooming coneflowers; and you wonder if he must have run into Draco and Lucius before coming to the garden.

So this is the child the Dark Lord failed to kill, you muse. You only wish that you could have seen that monster fall to the ground lifelessly, defeated by an infant and his courageous parents. How fitting for men like Lucius Malfoy to follow in his footsteps; the blind leading the blind. Your grin stretches from ear to ear as you take his hand in yours. Clearly, he’s never held a girl’s hand before, as he limply shakes your hand, awkwardly spluttering his greetings. “What an honor it is to finally meet the savior of the wizarding world.” 

“Why, you look just like James when he was younger, always strutting around the corridors.” Your eyes drift to the lightning scar on his forehead, a testament to his and Lily’s survival against the killing curse. “And such clear-cut emerald eyes; truly your mother’s son. Tell me, Harry dearest, you must be quite the heartbreaker at Hogwarts.”

His doe-eyes harden, and your brow quirks in curiosity. (So the littlest lion can growl, after all.) “Oh. . . not really.” His hand hangs back at his side, fists coiling. The robins chirp merrily as they fly by, his parents carefully watching the scene unfold; water endlessly splashing in the fountain. Harry’s voice deepens as he continues, “I couldn’t be. My friends and I barely have time for anything else. There always seems to be something going on at the castle, apparently.”  

“How interesting—Elsie!” You bark at the quivering house elf as Harry stumbles on his words. “Get Mister Potter and his company a plate of macarons—serve them our finest tea, as well.” 

Harry winces as the elf apparates at once. “There’s r-really no need for—”

Your gaze, sharp as a knife, slices to him, as the corners of your painted lips bend contemptuously. “Have you heard the news, dearheart?”

Harry looks to his father before shrugging. “I don’t think so.”

“If Mister Lupin here has so graciously informed you,” you begin tantalizingly, eyes cutting to the rugged werewolf at Lily’s side; his back stiffening at the mention of his name, “Otherwise, keep this between you and me, Harry darling. Hogwarts will be hosting a rather important event this year—and I do love a good party—so you must have noticed the rise in appearances from the Ministry.” You gesture to the top Aurors at the DMLE towering over Harry, Sirius and James. “More than that,” you continue with a sly cant to your voice. “There will be a few new additions to Hogwarts’ staff. Among them, of course—is yours truly!”

“And to do what, exactly?” Sirius blurts out incredulously.

“Be a teacher, of course!” you feign ignorance, bashfully furrowing your brows. “Why else?”

“Brilliant!” Sirius chuckles scornfully. “So, the children will be learning about French designers and frilly dresses then, I presume?

“Is that truly all you think of me?” you ask, gasping melodramatically as you circle the rim of your empty teacup. 

“You want to know what I think? Or what everyone thought behind your back at Hogwarts?” Sirius scoffs with a cock of his head. “You’ve always been the belle of the ball, no bloody doubt about that. But I’ve always wondered if there was anything more to your head than just air.” 

He runs a hand through his dark curls, lips twisting into a sneer. “But I reckon nothing has changed since then. You’re just the same insufferable, vapid wench as you’ve always been.”

“Sirius. . .” Remus quietly calls. “That’s enough.” 

Your expression falters—but your mask cannot afford even a moment of rest. A jarring note in the lullaby plays as the ceramic ballerina stops turning. You let the minutes pass by fleetingly; it seems the self-playing chordophones have changed their tune, as well. You watch as the canary diamonds in your bracelet glint against the sunlight. (You are growing tired of the blinding show lights, unrelenting crowd, and never-ending play. Where is the reprieve, you wonder, for the tormented primadonna and her aching soul?)

The strings are now dipped in blood as your tears polish the stage. Your joints have twisted, bent, and danced. You wonder, how long must it be until you are rid of the starring role?

You muster a coy smile, fluttering your lashes at the heir of the most noble and ancient House. “Such crude language, Mister Black,” you say, albeit your voice has gone mellow; nails drumming against the table surface as the guests mingle with one another. The unbearably dull conversations buzz in your ear. You notice Draco and Astoria Greengrass heading for the glasshouse. You consider stealing her lace parasol and whacking Sirius with it, and the thought fills you with immense joy. 

Unfortunately, they are your guests, and you are nothing if not the most polite host. “Perhaps, I am not the only one who hasn’t grown out of their immature habits,” you say, eyeing his shoulder-length hair, spiky ear piercings, and leather jacket. That damned leather jacket of his. It irks you that he and his kind can show insolence freely without bearing any repercussions. (But you’d die before you ever feel envy for a man like Sirius Black.) The sun fades behind the clouds, and your mask slips perfectly into place once more.

“What is it that happened again? Between you and Severus Snape in sixth-year?” You tap your chin pensively, taking cruel satisfaction in the stutter in Sirius’s breath and Remus’s parted lips, ever stupefied. You gaze fiendishly at Remus. “Oh, silly me, I’ve gone off topic. Well, anyhow, I just wanted to say, I believe the students are in rather good hands this year. I just hope Dumbledore doesn’t accidentally let an infected beast roam the halls of Hogwarts.” 

Your eyes flash impishly. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mister Lupin?”

Lily curls her lip viciously. “Just what exactly—?”

“Elsie has returned, master.” The house elf bows her head just as the antique bistro table is circled with macarons, cucumber sandwiches, miniature cocktail buns, and slices of pound cake. Lily retracts her hand, grinding her jaw as she swallows the words in her throat.

“You may go, Elsie, thank you.” With a guileful smirk, you levitate the teapot towards James and Harry, dutifully filling their cups; steam soon arising from the Chinese porcelain. You nod at the group. “It’s jasmine pearl,” you explain haughtily. “Carefully handcrafted tea from harvested leaves and flowers. Such exquisiteness that you won’t be able to find anywhere else.”

“Do enjoy your tea; Cissa and I made sure to spare no expense for our guests.” The teapot carefully lands back on the table. The sinfonietta ends, and so does your time with this particular audience. What misfortune, that you won’t receive your flowers for today’s performance. You pivot on your heels, flinging them a lukewarm goodbye. “Do excuse me, for I must tend to the new arrivals. I believe I see Missus Parkinson over there by the koi pond. Cissa might have my head if I neglect my responsibilities.”

You turn your head, tossing a wink at Lily. “Today, after all, is for the children.”

Alas, it is not Persephone Parkinson you head towards. 

You briefly exchange tepid pleasantries with Lavinia Greengrass before walking past the koi pond to the edges of the garden, far beyond prying eyes and ears. There, like a brooding Dementor drifting through a frozen lake, waits your true target. Sadly, it is only a dour-faced professor, a long time confrère of yours, to be precise. There are only a handful of people to whom you are indebted. Severus Tobias Snape is one of those few. 

With a flick of your wand, you covertly cast the silencing charm upon the elusive spot Severus had chosen. There is no need for these edacious vultures to prey on your conversation. They are better off with their tête-à-têtes and syrupy pikelets. You drown out the chamber orchestra’s symphony, the clinking of champagne glasses, the rustling leaves and ringing wind chimes. “Severus darling,” you say liltingly, feet shuffling to his side as you playfully ghost your palm against his nape. He barely spares you a glance as a breeze courses through the rippling lake water. “You’re missing out on the festivities, you know.”

“Have you finally finished tormenting Narcissa’s visitors?” he drawls, at long last acknowledging your presence and sharply raising a brow at your saccharine-sweet smile.

“Why, I’d never dare to do such a thing,” you reply with a theatrical sway of your head. “I simply conversed with the ladies and had a delightful run-in with your old flame, Lily. Do you remember her, my sweet? Ghastly red hair, pale skin, and, oh, those green eyes. It must be infuriating to look like that,” you rattle away to the only entity willing to listen to you in his company: the wind.

“Spare me,” he drones, lips curved impatiently.

You moue. “Ever the bore, you are, Severus. Shall I fetch you a platter of brandy snaps?”

“Shall I sit around while I wait?” Snape’s lips contort into a sour grimace, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “The Dark Lord himself might even find time to rise from his grave.”

“Severus dear, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to tell me something.” You eye him slyly, mouth tipping into a smirk as a dragonfly hovers by the waterline, avidly stalked by the dwarf frog on a lily pad. “So,” you pry, “did you have something important to tell me? I promised Mister Goyle I’d have a drink with him.”

The frog splashes into the lake, and the dragonfly flutters away without a care. Severus clandestinely slips a piece of paper into your palm as he swivels around, dark cloak billowing. “Ensure that nothing traces back to you,” he snarls. “Clearly I do know better, Severus.” You toy with the paper between your fingers, a sense of exhilaration running up your spine. “Not to worry,” you say with a clipped smile, a serpentine glare in your eyes, “I always do as I am told.”

(Severus, not for the first time in his life, wonders if the Sorting Hat made a mistake when it sorted you into Hufflepuff.) 

act ii. tonight, let’s start the masquerade.

THE NIGHT GROWS weary, and so do the alleys of Knockturn; neglected as your hooded figure navigates through the brick road, only the caged owls and flickering stars to notice your presence. You fainly traipse amongst the shadows, a moment of surrender from the spotlight and malignant eyes; a brief interlude in the performance. Past the hanging doll heads in the windows of Borgin & Burkes, you find a lonely shop. Inside the locket of your ring, lies a slip of paper that had been given to you earlier this afternoon. Well, Severus, you think to yourself, idly twisting the ring on your finger, let’s see where you sent me to this time.

And so, the stage actor calls for a costume change. “Alohomora.”

With one last glance at the dimly-lit passage, you enter the boutique. The brass shop bell accompanies your entrance, but no owner appears to greet you—and if there was, well, you have quite a unique way of saying hello. Your fingers feather across the dusty bookshelves, eyes raking through the broken staircase, the faint scent of ginger, rosemary, and mugwort pervades the room; a shattered crystal ball sits in the center of the shop desk, ripped paintings on the wall. A grimace pulls at your lips as you come across a familiar ivory mask. A Death Eater mask—it’s warm to touch; recently worn, perchance. You bury the strong urge to set it on fire. 

There’s a shift in the air, a creak in the floorboards—in an instant, you whip your wand out from its leather holster. 

“Reveal yourself,” you whisper curtly.

To the naked eye, there is only one intruder in the dingy parlor. To you, however, there is an obscure silhouette of a stranger covered by a glimmering veil. You hold onto your wand resolutely. If it was an enemy, you’d be blown into the walls by now. “This isn’t an ensemble stage, you know,” you chuff impatiently, “I’m not fond of sharing the spotlight with lineless extras.” 

The disillusionment charm slowly unveils, and you wait unblinking, until you see a familiar face standing before you. Mid-length curly hair that falls over gray, dagger-like eyes, the irksome scent of tobacco, and a frightening similarity to his elder brother. 

There are exactly five people you’d risk your life for, and right now, you’re digging the tip of your wand into their neck.

“Mister Regulus Black,” you greet with a playful edge to your voice, eyes narrowing. “Severus didn’t mention we’d be running into each other tonight.” 

“That’s because I didn’t tell Sev I’d be here,” says Regulus, dimples poking out as he swats your wand away from his throat. “I might go mad if I have to stay inside for another bloody week, there’s only so many times I can re-read Good Omens—and by the way, did anyone ever tell you how dramatic you are? Lineless extras, really?” 

You hide a fond smile with a roll of your eyes, whirling around to browse the glass cabinets and leather journals on the table, returning to the task at hand. “And so you thought going outside and risking someone seeing you in the open was a good idea? Reggie darling, I often think about the possibility of Walburga dropping you on the head as an infant.” 

Regulus shoves his hands inside his trouser pockets as he hovers over your shoulders like a lost, overgrown duckling. “Wasn’t it Cissa’s soirée today? Did you jinx the statues like I told you to?” 

“Who do you think I am?” you say haughtily, pausing in your search to half-heartedly glare at him. And after a moment’s pause, you jerk your shoulder and coyly respond with a side-smirk, “Of course I did. The young Mister Flint nearly screamed his head off.” You hum reminiscently, “truthfully, it’s been quite a while since I heard Draco laugh like that these days. For breakfast, I hear about the Granger girl, and then for lunch, I hear about the Weasley children, and for dinner, it’s an hour-long spiel on the famed Harry Potter.” 

Regulus chortles in amusement as he hops onto the shop counter, kicking back his chunky boots. “And, then? Did you see my brother?” 

“Oh, darling, I did more than that,” you mutter offhandedly, leafing through the paraphernalias and foul-smelling potion flasks. 

“How was he? Is he doing well? Merlin, I think it’s been so long since I saw his face.” There’s a lapse of silence between you and Regulus. A lizard scurries across the room, chasing after a line of ants. The younger wizard taints the quietude with a long, frustrated sigh. “Sorry, I just. . .” He slumps his shoulders in resignation. “I wouldn’t have to ask so many questions if. . . if I could just. . .”

“I don’t understand why I have to hide from my own family.” With a jagged whisper, he says, “I feel like I’m losing my mind. Like I can’t believe that I’m really here, I don’t even know if I exist sometimes.” 

You grimace as you turn to look at him, hand flinching as if wanting to reach out to him. Instead, you avert your gaze and continue scouring the room. “It’s for—”

“My own good, I know,” Regulus blows a strand of hair away from his forehead. He jumps off the counter with a hardened stare. You glance at his back as he bends to pick at the marks on the floor. At times like this, you remember how small and young Regulus had been when you found him moribund from lake inferis. What a cruel price to pay in exchange for his survival, you think. 

For Regulus Black has to remain dead to the wizarding world, stuck in an interminable masquerade, waiting until the hour is up for his performance. 

All the world’s a stage, and for the best of the actors and actresses, it seems the production never ends. 

“How long do you think it’s going to stay like this? For you, me, Sev? For Cissa?” As he stands on his toes to inspect the top of a dusty cupboard, Regulus veers his head to peek at your expression, frowning when he finds none. (You’ve no answers for him, after all; the entirety of your life was spent wondering that exact same question. All you know is that the show must go on until the audience tires of the starving artist.) “Never mind, let’s just focus on finding whatever you were trying to find here.” He walks past his reflection in the vintage carved mirror. “What are we looking for, anyway?” 

You wish to offer solace to a cherished friend, but duties are meant to be fulfilled. For now, to do what is right must come first. Your fingers slither up the side of a bookcase, a wooden ladder resting against the shelves. The mahogany is freshly varnished, the stench of glue is prominent, and deep scratches indent the floor. It’s an empty treasure cove, barely anything displayed on the racks. You grit your teeth as you realize it’s been well-maintained compared to the obsolete state of the room. “Here,” you rasp, abruptly snapping your head to look back at him.

He furrows his brow. “What?” 

You beckon him to the corner of the room from where you stand, wooden planks creaking as you push at the bookcase. “Help me with this, Regulus. There could be something behind it.” You clench your jaw as you lean your weight onto the cabinet frame.

“Why don’t we just, I don’t know,” Regulus cocks his head as he waves his wand in the air. “Use magic?” he offers discreetly, as though divulging a century-old secret. “I suggest Bombarda for maximum efficiency.” 

You stare at him vacantly. “Regulus dearheart, I hold a stupendous amount of tolerance for you, but there is absolutely no way we are drawing attention to ourselves via explosion spells in the dead of the night.” 

He grins boyishly before ushering you away. “Alright, alright, I was only taking the mickey out of you.” Soon after, Regulus deftly mutters a levitation charm, his wand steadfast as the bookcase slowly detaches from the floor. You take a couple of steps backward, lips pursed as you observe Regulus concentrate on his work. 

You note to yourself to have a conversation about Regulus’s restlessness with Severus. It could pose a liability and pull the curtains on the entire pasquinade. “Careful,” you keep a tight watch on Regulus’s pinched brows, his hovering wand, and the steadily moving bookshelf. 

“Like taking jelly slugs from a first-year,” he says flippantly, beaming at you as his dark curls sweep over his eyes. 

You give him an exasperated scowl before side-stepping his quip as you descry a faint outline of a door in the plastered wall. You feel a rumble in the ground, muffled noises behind the shrouded entrance.  “Ready your wand, Regulus,” you say grimly, hand reaching for the doorknob, looking back in time to catch his smirk fade into a distant expression, “I believe what awaits won’t be as simple as that.” 

A grave tenor disquiets the room, your free hand already grasping for your wand. Regulus stands at your side, nodding as you take a sharp breath. He offers his back to you, in spite of the looming danger. (A sadistic part of you finds comfort in his presence tonight, but neither of you can truly share the burdens of your harrowing façades. Tomorrow, you play the lone star once more; and he, the dead brother and son. But today, you must simply share the stage.) 

You twist the knob until a click pierces the heavy silence.

You wait with a bated breath, expecting creatures and spells to come hurling in your direction. The room ahead is enshrouded with darkness. You share a terse nod with Regulus as a ball of light appears at the tip of your wands. Regulus moves to take a step forward, but you block him with your arm. “I’ll go first,” you say breathily, curtly glancing at the Death Eater Mask. “It could be cursed the moment we step inside.” Regulus presses his lips into a white line, clearly unhappy with your decision, but relents nonetheless. 

Rough, travertine flooring begins where the woodwork ends; a gust of wind howls into the dark chamber. Wordlessly, you call for your patronus to investigate inside; thin, silvery wisps floating in the air, its light hauntingly beautiful against the unilluminated dungeon. You hear heavy chains dragging across the ground and the harmony of timid footfalls. A drop of water falls onto the cracked stone. Regulus grinds down on his jaw as he readies his wand. 

After an eternity of waiting, you snap your wand to set the torches alight. 

A pronounced chill runs up your spine; a stutter in your breath. You nearly stagger at the sight unveiled before you. If you had been a weaker wizard, you’d have dropped your wand already. “This. . .” you say hoarsely, eyes wide, blood simmering in your veins. 

Children.

Little ones as young as ten-years-old, barely coming up to your stomach, staring up at you with bloodshot eyes. Their skinny arms are covered in grime and wear pathetic rags for clothes. Moss grows in every corner of the room. Emaciated mattresses on metal beds. “Bloody hell,” Regulus growls, chest heaving. “What the fuck?” 

“It’s a prison,” you whisper, horrified. There must be more than twelve children standing before you. Bile rises to your throat. You worry about your wand breaking in half, but the overwhelming sense of dread traps you in position. 

“Are. . . are you with the bad men?” A brave, young girl with owlish eyes protectively steps forward in front of her companions. “No,” you answer gently, bending down on one knee to meet her eyes. You were neither good, or bad, but there is no magic on earth that would make you harm these children. 

Regulus calls your name. “They’re Muggles,” he hisses angrily. “I don’t sense any magic from any of them.” He exhales in frustration. “What the hell are they doing with Muggle children?” 

You grind down on your teeth, nearly dizzy with anger. You forgo a response to Regulus in favor of clasping your cloak around the trembling child. Soon after, you blanket the room in a warming charm. “Tend to their wounds,” you say sharply. “I’ll see what I can do about the chains.” And you will do something about those shackles, if it’s the last thing you do. “We’re going to get you out of here, I promise,” you tell the girl, stolid as you pat her head.

Except, the brass bell rings once more and everyone stiffens in alert. The children begin whimpering amongst themselves. Slow, deliberate footsteps reverberate from the shop into the icy-cold room. The hairs on the back of your neck rise.

“Move out of the way!” you yell, veins straining against your neck, just as you’re blown into the stone walls. 

Regulus screams out your name, but you barely hear anything over the ringing in your ears; through blurring vision, you see the children and Regulus unharmed. Relief floods through you as you sluggishly rise from the floor. There’s a large crater in the wall from the impact; luckily, the tethers to the chains were demolished, as well. “Get them to the safehouse,” you order, blood trickling from your lips. You hardly feel your arms and legs; there’s an ache in the back of your head, your spine feels as though it’s been snapped in half. You’re definitely going to feel this tomorrow. Regulus hesitates to leave, hands laid on the shoulders of the children as he glowers at the newcomer. “Now!” you bellow gutturally. 

A muscle ticks in Regulus’s jaw, but as he finally apparates with as many children as he can, you finally stop holding your breath. “It’s okay,” you reassure the wee boys clinging onto each other for comfort, limping to their side. “I’m rather strong, you know. Stronger than any of the bad men.”

In every duel, you allow yourself to be hit only once—driven by your inhuman desire to feel something other than the  emptiness of your unbroken charade. 

(And for years, you have waited for anyone to say these two specific words: Avada Kedavra.) 

“Go,” you instruct gently, brushing away the tendrils of hair from the little boy’s forehead. “Hide and wait until my companion comes for you.”

“And as for the ill-mannered invader,” you crane your head towards the entrance of the chamber, eyes raking over the tall figure’s bloodthirsty stance and flittering cloak. There’s a lack of silver mask, but you know well the stench of foreboding decay and malignity. At the speed of light, you aim your wand, “Confringo!”

You watch with a spiteful grin as the stranger is blasted across the room. The walls and ceilings threaten to crumble, and you can only hope that Severus won’t be too cross with you in the morning. You point your wand at the uninvited guest’s heart. Nothing will trace back to you, that much you are certain of.

After all, no one would suspect a vapid, insufferable boulevardier to be the greatest spy of the wizarding world.

A firebird caws in the distance.

And, scene.

act iii. where’s your soul? where’s your dream? do you think you’re alive?

“APPEARANCES ARE OF utmost importance.” You stand in the front of the Great Hall, sun rays streaming through the large, stained windows, wooden tables pushed to the walls; accoutered in a black velvet capelet with gold trimmings and vintage dragonhide boots.  The sleeves of your blouse are lined with handwoven, gothic lace; trousers made of the finest yellow satin. It is a testament to your House—the cete of badgers. (You seize everyone’s attention—whether the two Aurors in the corner like it or not.)

After a descanting introduction, you are given center stage before the students of Gryffindor and Slytherin. With a swing in your step and a wrest in your voice, you continue, “That is why the Headmaster, Dumbledore himself, invited me to personally facilitate this year’s Tri-Wizard Tournament. As hosts of the event, excellence is expected of us. Professor McGonagall has graciously allowed me to take charge of your lessons, particularly in the art of dancing.” Your eyes gleam as you offer the young fourth-years a graceful reverence. “And our first lesson begins straight away.”

The crowd of students transfigure into a sea of curious eyes and flabbergasted whispers. You derisively watch the chaos unfold with an amused grin. Yet, you’re not the least bit worried. You’ve charmed even a flock of Dementors before, the creatures having been drawn to your voice, ostentatious stature, and the dark depths of your soul; like a bee to a field of flowers. A class full of awkward teenagers should be more than easy for you. 

“Now, now, children,” you clap your hands as you make your way to the heart of the room, leaving a trail of softening murmurs. “The Yule Ball is a revered tradition, an exhibit of togetherness that has lasted for hundreds years.” You lift your nose up in the air as the girls look at one another, barely able to hide their giddy smiles and discreet glances across the hall. “As such, it is my venerable duty to oversee your etiquette in and out of the ballroom.”

(Sirius rolls his eyes from where he sits besides James.)

“Mister Filch, if you please.” With a flutter of your lashes and a poised smile, you beckon for the school caretaker who flounders to the gramophone. You wink at the young miss Pansy Parkinson who stares up at you in awe. Soon thereafter, you hear the soft melody of Léo Delibes’s Valse. Coppélia, you simper to yourself—a story close to your heart. (You’ve always found a winsome irony in a marionette like you dancing to the enamel-eyed girl’s song.)

“A dance, while enjoyable by one’s lonesome, is best savored with a partner,” you begin vivaciously, eyeing the gentlemen in particular. “Your date for the night must be aware that you’ve chosen them out of your own volition and undue necessity.” Your stare drifts to the coterie of young Gryffindors, tittering mischievously. “Shall we have a demonstration from the House of courage and splendor?”

“No one?” You raise a brow curiously when you’re met with silence and averted gazes. You then utter the scariest phrase a professor could say to their students: “I’ll choose the lucky student myself.” 

You survey the pack of lion cubs, drifting through the tuffs of flashing red hair; gangly boys raucously kicking and pushing at each other to volunteer for your teach-in on ballroom dancing. You flash the students a vexatious grin. “Mister Harry Potter?” you call out to the ashen-faced boy with your hand outstretched. “Why don’t we let the Chosen One set an example to his peers?” 

Hollers and cheers break out across the hall; not withholding the mirthful giggles of the doves on the other side of the room, wonderstruck by his green eyes and lightning scar. You motion for Harry to join you on the pseudo dance floor. The Weasley twins take delight in clapping and wisecracking into his ears until Harry reluctantly rises to his feet, a blooming shade of red on his neck and cheeks. 

“As you approach your partner with the grace of a majestic stag,” you acclaim to the class whilst Harry approaches you with a wry grin and hands shoved inside his robe pockets, “And not a newborn foal.” You place your hand in his, “You may now invite your lady to dance.”

“Or your beau,” you add spiritedly, eyes gleaming as Harry chokes on his saliva.

You pat his back as the music comes to a sweet-sounding crescendo. “Dancing is about connection,” you turn to the students with a stern gaze. “If your posture crumbles, there goes your confidence, as well. At all times, you must maintain eye contact,” you say sharply as you tilt Harry’s chin and correct the arch of his arms. “Remember, it’s not ballroom if there’s no trust. Lean onto one another, and then. . .” You lay your palm onto his shoulder. “The feet should follow the music.”

Unfortunately, Harry runs on two left feet and both persistently evade the music. On the umpteenth time he stumbles on your shoes, he’s appraised by snickers and low whistles from either side of the  hall. The Weasley twins in particular seem thrilled by Harry’s flailing arms and bewildered expression. Along with the two Aurors who’ve skipped their aurorly duties to patrol the castle in favor of heckling their ward. “You’re doing it wrong, James!” shouts Sirius through cupped hands, shoulders shaking in laughter. 

“Why don’t you try it, Padfoot?” Harry retorts back to him; thick hair flopping over his eyes as he grates his teeth. You’re given no warning as Harry extracts himself from your grip and stalks over to where Sirius and James sit comfortably. 

You blink, dumbfounded. “Harry dearest, I don’t believe that is necessary—!”

“Go on then,” says Harry, jerking his head. “Show us all how to do it.” 

To the side, Ron guffaws into his fist, brought nearly to tears. (Earlier he was apprehensive about the class. “We’ve got a whole new professor just for twirling around and all that girlish stuff?” he had asked in disbelief before entering the Great Hall.

“Shut your mouth, Weasley,” growls Draco Malfoy as he shoves past Harry and Hermione to head inside the hall.)

Sirius grins roguishly, having the gall to bat his eyes in confusion. “Who? Me?” He chuckles before forcibly slapping James’s back with the flat of his palm. “No, no. The honor should go to the debonair of his time.” Trenchant eyes flicker with mischief. “Have at it, James. How will the children ever learn without a proper demonstration?” 

“Go on, Sir Prongs!” exclaims one of the red-headed twins. “Show us how it’s done!” 

Alarmingly, the bespectacled man resigns to his fate, a deafening ovation as he shrugs his robes off, generously revealing his broad shoulders in a tight, black turtleneck; a leather wand holster across his chest; long legs framed by pleated trousers. You bite down on your tongue as James draws closer to you, a hint of a smirk on his lips. With an unerring arch of his back, he holds out his hand for you to take, “May I have this dance?” 

Your breath stutters—if only for a moment. One cannot deny that James Potter is deviously more appealing to the eye than the dance partners you’ve had during Narcissa’s galas. Perfectly-carved cheekbones and golden hoops dangling from his ears; bright, hazel eyes girdled by rectangular glasses. “Well,” you say, pursing your lips as you slip your palm into his. “If you must.” 

In contrast to his son, James needs little-to-no guidance from you. You’d have assumed that much, considering that both James and Sirius grew up in pure-blood customs. The warmth of his hand on your back is scalding. He spins you along to the song’s aria; the two of you gliding effortlessly through the soapstone floors. Any more closer to him and you’d be able to hear his heartbeat. “There will be lifts, turns, and dips during a waltz,” you inform the class as you demonstrate a twirl vine. “You will rise and you will fall together with your partner. Understand?” 

James chuckles at the wistful sighs and horrified groans that erupt through the Great Hall. “You’re good with the children, you know,” he remarks cheekily as he gently lowers you to the ground, hand steadfast on your waist. You hear his unsaid words clearly: Sirius thought you’d be downright rubbish at it. 

“Well, Mister Potter,” you say breathlessly, clasping your arms around his neck once more. “To some of the students here, frilly dresses and French designers are their entire world.” Your chin all but perched atop James’s shoulders; the scent of his famed Sleekeazy potion and vetiver—dew on fresh grass on a warm sunny day—fills your senses. You cast a sniffy glare in Sirius’s way, to which he responds with a raised brow. 

“Bit shallow, isn’t it?” he murmurs, chest rumbling and his breath hot on your ear. 

You scoff. “One could argue the same for a young Seeker who’s been given their first ever broom.” 

James Potter has the nerve to smile at you. And as you move to extricate yourself from his hold, James mindlessly lets his hand fall from your waist to your hip—incidentally, where you’ve been nursing a heavy fracture. Sore bruises from chasing vampires the night prior as you were out hunting allies of the Dark Lord from the first wizarding war. Although you had drowned yourself in pain relief elixirs, it seems you’re more sensitive and hurt than you thought. 

Even statues of white gold chip and fade over time—you’re reminded of this fact quite painfully. You roughly push James away from you, hissing in pain as you cradle the left side of your hip. Memories of crimson-stained teeth and rotten, pale skin flash before your eyes. You remember the stench of blood, and the feel of their nails slashing into your thighs. But most of all, you remember their ear-piercing shrieks just before you drive the stake into their chests, one by one, until you have left a graveyard of vampires in the outskirts of an abandoned mansion. 

James furrows his brow immediately as you cave in on yourself. (Even Sirius surges to his feet.) “What’s wrong?”

Occlude! Occlude—you must occlude immediately! 

With a sharp inhale, you close off your emotions for anyone else to see. “It is nothing of your concern, Mister Potter,” you respond blankly, as though your soul is locked far away. “I do believe we’re done here.” You step further away from him. Your attention shifts to the students as you fold your hands behind your back, lips curling into a virulent smile. The weight of your mask is comforting; you’ve forgotten how to breathe without it. “Now, let’s have the students pair up and practice what they’ve learned so far. I’ll have no patience for dilly-dallying and nescience on my watch. You’ll dance until I tell you to stop. You’ll practice until the soles of your feet are sore and raw.”

That, after all, is how you learned.

The class goes by accordingly; you maintain a distance from Sirius and James, turning a blind eye to their burdensome sympathy. (Gryffindors and their bleeding hearts—it always unnerves you how easily the avowed Marauders get deep under your skin.) You nip at the students’ heels, righting their poor footwork; looping the music until you are certain they’d hear it in their nightmares. To your surprise, the round-cheeked Neville Longbottom takes all your instructions in stride. From the moment that you allow Filch to lift the tonearm, the students practically fall to the floor, heaving; some forsaking their long robes and tying their hair in flimsy ponytails. 

As the students retreat from the Great Hall, you slink away into the crowd of Slytherins, desperate to avoid a particular duo of Aurors—no doubt ready to probe you with questions. A numbing panic claws at your chest; black spots swallowing your vision. Emotions—how putrid. The students’ discordant chatter overwhelms your hearing, more than the ringing in your ears. The unyielding, outré stone walls feel like they’re closing in on you. Still, you keep your head above the water, enduring every staggered breath. You must. 

What’s wrong? 

The question echoes in your head. 

Ha! 

You scream inwardly, if they only knew! 

While you had been expecting either James or Sirius to ambush you, you do not expect to see Draco Malfoy shouting your name as you flee down an empty corridor. 

The miniature Lucius Malfoy stands before you, grimacing as he clenches his fists tightly. “Are. . .” Draco’s expression contorts morosely. “Are you alright? Theo and I were worried that the blood traitor upset you.” he spits his concern as if it were acid. Little snakes and their keen eyes. 

“Mind your language, Draco,” you reply cuttingly, eyes flashing as you lift your chin. And for his question, one that you’ve been asked numerous times over the years, you have only ever had one answer. Despite the scars on your back, the tremors in your hands, the aching of your heart, and the endless bruises on your limbs, you tell him: “And do not ask what is not needed to be.” 

“You’re hurt, aren’t you?” he presses further, mouth pinched. “Don’t treat me like a dim-witted child because I’m not!” 

A hand lays on his shoulder, and to your chagrin, Severus makes his appearance, lips downturned and his gaze filled with subdued apathy. Your day is about to get worse. “Perhaps, it is best if you leave this discussion to the adults, Draco.” Snape drones, leaving no room for debate. He tightens his grip on the younger wizard. “I will not be inconvenienced to explain to Minerva as to why you were dawdling in the corridors.” 

In true Malfoy fashion, Draco sneers in disdain. He rips himself out of Snape’s grasp with a scoff. As he storms past you, you sigh and pat his side. 

When Draco disappears into the corner, you release a deep breath as you prepare for the onslaught to come. “Just get it over with, Severus,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, the pounding in your head growing more unbearable by the second. 

You see his nostrils flare as Severus turns to glare at you. “I wonder,” he says through gritted teeth. “If you are actually capable of following direct orders—of using that near-empty brain of yours!” His upper lip curls back into a snarl, as he scours the empty hallway for any prowling ears. “Your stunt made it to the Daily Prophet. You were asked to proceed tactfully, were you not?” 

You lean against the wall, rubbing at the temples of your head. “And I’ve done my part. Every last one of them—dead by my hands. A problem you failed to deal with for the last two months. That I settled last night. Remind me why you’re still chittering into my ear, Severus darling?”

“Do not play coy with me,” he replies brusquely. “I’ve heard the students tattling about it as though it were the most interesting event in their pathetic, insolent lives. The Embris Mansion burnt down to the ground. There are talks of a vigilante, a good-for-nothing do-gooder. You got sloppy!”

“And if I did—so what?” You retaliate, chest heaving as you step into his face. Truthfully, this isn’t the first time you’ve had this conversation with him. Over the years you have left some sort of mark on your work. Not a phoenix, but a firecrest. Wings outstretched in flames. All eyes are on the ungovernable hero, the Firebird—and never on you, the foppy socialite. “Would it be so perverse to want even a slither of recognition, Severus?” 

“Do not forget your duty,” he taunts venomously, the cords in his neck going rigid. “To the greater good you so earnestly fight for. Your duty to your mother.” 

“Do not talk about her!” you all but shout, magic sizzling in the air around you. 

“Then see to it that there are no more mistakes going forward!” Severus juts his chin, baring his teeth in contempt. 

After a few long moments, he continues with a resigned exhale, dragging his palm down his face—as though you are the perplexing one. “This. . . Moody has developed a habit of emptying my cupboards.” 

“And why, pray tell,” you retort gruffly, “should I care for this oh-so special cupboard of yours?” 

“It contains ingredients for Polyjuice potions!” he proclaims angrily. “Get to the bottom of this. I’ll not have a blithering fool like Pettigrew get to the students again. Do what you must, I have no interest in understanding the workings of your mind—as long as you do not draw unnecessary attention to yourself.” 

The sound of footfalls break you apart as Severus nimbly lifts the Notice-Me-Not charm he had cast earlier. Within seconds, you find Remus Lupin rounding the corner. He’s dressed in his usual baggy, gray jumper; jaw clean-shaved, and pinkish scars against his skin. A well-loved quilted coat over his shoulders—handmade by Lily, you presume. You notice the mismatched otter socks peeking from his loafers. Remus saunters down the hallway with tired eyes and a feeble smile as he stops right in front of you and Severus. He has a rather tall frame, slender even, despite his hunched shoulders. 

“Snape,” Remus nods to him, gaze flickering back and forth as he attempts to discern what had transpired—well, you’re certainly in no rush to tattle and cry into his arms. 

“Professor,” he says to you, an ever curious smile on his face. “You’re looking quite peaky. Is something the matter?”

“I am most certainly sound and fine, Mister Lupin,” you respond, irritated, as you wobble on your feet. You are at your wit’s end—how bothersome of it all. “Should you not be on your way to your next class, Professor?” you bite tiredly. 

Remus shrugs, hazel-eyes crinkling in amusement. “Mad-Eye is taking over my next class. I thought it would be good for the students to learn from a veteran Auror. I’m sure he has much more experience to offer than me.” 

You scowl, his humility smothering you painfully. “Well, I’ve no interest in dragging my feet around. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I have a prior engagement with my cat and I’m afraid I’ve left her alone for too long.” 

And as fate would have it, when you make haste for your quarters, you falter in your steps; lurching as your vision goes blurry. Your breath snags in your throat as Remus catches you by the waist. “Perhaps, we should get you to Lily,” offers Remus as he sets you upright, brows pinched worriedly, ignoring Snape’s eye roll in the background. 

“I said I was fine!” You blurt out, cradling the front of your head as you sway backwards; now seeing two Lupins and two Snapes. “Merlin, are all Gryffindors this bloody meddlesome? Must I repeat myself? I am fine—!” 

Turns out, you are not fine. 

The last thing you see before losing consciousness is a pair of brown eyes with flecks of gold, more beautiful than any full moon you’ve ever seen. 

 —

You wake up to a dry, sore throat; the bitter scent of infirmary disinfectant—a Muggle’s touch, no doubt—and concoctions of various healing potions. Your head is still pounding, but somewhat bearable. The room is small, privy to only teachers, you conclude—although, it is the very first time you have ended up in the infirmary. Remus Lupin would feel your wrath, you’d make sure of it. Your back stings as though it were doused in Dittany recently. As you nearly break the flower vase in an attempt to reach for the empty glass, the door creaks open—and in comes Lily Potter with her husbands.

“Am I in hell?” you eye them bitterly. 

“No,” says the youngest matron, dressed in her own version of the nurse’s uniform. Red vest over her white blouse, and a long, plaid skirt with pockets. Soft red hair tied back with a pink ribbon. Albeit, her expression is anything but sweet and delicate. “But you’re in my office, which means you are now under my care—therefore I’d like you to explain why you have vampire toxins in your blood.” 

“And I would like to return to my quarters now, please,” you respond haughtily, referring to the private bedroom professors were offered in the castle. “I’ve nothing to explain to someone who administers the diagnostic charm on my person without explicit permission to do so!” you exclaim, releasing a shuddery breath as your head throbs agonizingly. 

“You will listen to me—seven hours ago you were this close to paralysis!” Lily shouts right back, eyes glaring defiantly—she may have adhered to you in Malfoy’s territory, but no power holds more authority than an acclaimed healer over a patient. “If you had been a Muggle, you’d be dead ten times over.”

“Well, now that we’ve established that I’m alive and well, I suppose we have no more pleasantries to exchange, Lily darling.” You tear the flimsy blanket from your legs, grimacing at the bandages covering your skin. 

“Not before you tell us where those bruises came from,” Sirius demands, voice low and knife-like eyes on you. 

“Must have been the Nargles,” you reply sarcastically. No one would care for a bonny doll ripping apart at the seams and gathering dust on a child’s shelf. “They’re quite frisky this time of the year, didn’t you know? My good friend Xenophilius wrote about those creatures a long time ago. Good read, I’d say.” 

“Are you capable of taking anything seriously?” cuts Sirius with a snarl, tendrils of hair curling around his face; hints of tattoos peeking out from his leather jacket. Vermillion satin shirt clashing against his pale skin. The lingering smell of lit cigars only reminds you of Regulus, and so you tear your gaze away from Sirius. 

“Sirius, let’s not scare her off now, love,” Remus admonishes, softly resting his palm at the back of Sirius’s neck, before he stares at you with honey-dripping eyes. You have a desperate need to run away. They’re an uncharted danger that you aren’t familiar with navigating—and you figure young Harry wouldn’t appreciate you treating his parents like a rabid vampire. “We just want to know what happened, you looked worse for wear when we brought you to Lily and Madam Pomfrey,” Remus placates, treating you like a crow with its wing snapped in half. 

You sneer. “If I am not dead, then these wounds hardly matter to me.” 

Lily gasps, a sound so soft only the wind could have possibly heard it. “How could you say that?” she asks, hand flying to her lips. “Of course it matters, you had lost so much blood while we tried to get the toxins flushed from your system.” She stares at the puncture mark on your arm, before peering over at Sirius. “We nearly couldn’t find a match to your blood type. Sirius. . . Well, he’s a universal donor and he didn’t even hesitate in giving you his—”

“Giving me what?” you echo lowly. “What did Sirius give me, Lily?”

“Blood,” Lily says firmly. “He gave you his blood so you could live.”

“How dare you?” you seethe, chest rapidly rising; digging your nails firmly into your palms as you stare furiously at Lily. “You had no right!” You scream until your throat is sore; your magic overflowing until it shatters the nearby vase of butterfly weeds. 

Rage tunnels your vision; heart hammering against your ribcage as you move to carelessly rip at the bandages over your wounds. “You had no right! You had no fucking right! I would have never done the same for you! Get out! Get out!” 

“Get out!” You hurl the glass at the wall across from you, narrowly avoiding Sirius’s head; anguish tears itself from your voice and you barely notice James flinch from the intensely flickering lights. 

“You think I’d be grateful?” you scoff, a burning heat spreading across your chest. “You think I’d be indebted to any of you after this? Is that what you wanted? What a fucking joke!” You laugh irately as you gasp for air. “I’d rather die!” 

When you run out of items to throw at them—pillows, shards of glass, and crumpled flower stems—you sit on the bed, shoulders violently shaking as you cough yourself sick. 

“I. . .” Lily begins, swallowing the lump wedged in her throat. “I understand. . . But I am the castle’s nurse, as long as you are under Hogwarts’ protection, I am keeping you alive no matter what.” 

“I don’t bloody care,” you snide.

Her eyes flash to James. “We’ll leave you to rest, then.” 

You stay silent, vacantly staring at the reddened welts on your hands. It’s not until you feel James’s arms around you and his chin hovering above your head that you realize you’ve stopped shivering. “I’m sorry,” is all that James whispers into your ear as he lays you to sleep with an inaudible charm. The chill of his magic is the last thing you feel before your eyes flutter to a close. 

—

You wake up in the infirmary once more. This time, you lay stiff on the mattress, absentmindedly gazing at the plain ceiling; your chest falling and rising ever-so slowly. The stink of a Calming Draught is painstakingly familiar. A low humming sound tells you that you aren’t alone—but you barely flinch from their presence, too tired to do anything but close your eyes. “Some boys kiss me, some boys hug me. . . . something. . . they’re okay,” murmurs one Sirius Black, tapping on his thigh as he rests his back on the rustic chair. 

If Sirius wants an encore, he’d have to drag the fight out of you. You’re utterly drained from your emotional palaver earlier. “Didn’t know you were into Muggle songs, Black,” you chortle bemusedly.  

Sirius halts in his singing as a forceful silence falls over the room—you distinctly hear the moment Sirius’s hand drops to his thigh, most likely taken aback by the sound of your hoarse voice. You feel the weight of his eyes on your bandaged arms and legs. A few seconds pass before he responds, his words but a faint breath. “After today, I believe that there is much to be uncovered for the both of us.” 

You don’t bother replying—you’d have Obliviated them instantly if it wasn’t illegal to use on Aurors. 

“We know it was you,” says Sirius out of the blue—your blood turns icy-cold on command, wondering if he’s figured out about the wizard behind the Firebird. “On the first day of term, someone had left a basket of freshly-brewed Wolfsbane potions enough to last him for the entire year,” he explains further, leaning his elbows on his knees as he stares at you unwaveringly. “I almost didn’t believe it, but a Marauder has his ways.” 

(His son with an invisibility cloak and a handy, enchanted parchment.) 

“Thank you,” he says, guttural with emotions. “It means more to Remus than you think.”

“Your gratitude is misplaced, unfortunately,” you rasp, coiling your fists tightly, stubbornly intent on avoiding his eyes—not wanting to get caught in the storm within. You exhale with a ragged sigh. Severus was right, you had been sloppy. And this is what carelessness leads to. “Don’t delude yourself, Mister Black, I couldn’t care less what happens to you or your family.”

Sirius chuckles, like he’d expected such a response from you. “Well, do what you’d like with my gratitude, I don’t care, just know that you have it,” he says, rising from his seat. “It’s past midnight, by the way. Lily’s left you some dinner in case you woke up hungry.” 

Your eyes drift to the nightstand. There’s a steaming bowl of spinach rice with mushrooms, and a plate of honey cinnamon bars. But your gaze lingers on the bouquet of snapdragons and orchids placed in a ceramic vase. 

“She believes home-cooked meals help the patients heal faster,” Sirius tells you, carefully observing your reaction—but there’s none to be found. He purses his lips into a thin, white line.

As he makes his way to leave, Sirius pauses, hand resting on the doorframe. “You know,” he begins quietly. “The thing about magic—it can fool the best of us into thinking we’re indestructible. But, you’re not as inhumane as you’d like us to think.” Sirius veers his head to look back at you. “Take that mask of yours off sometimes, yeah? You’d see the rest of the world clearly if you did.” 

That is all you hear from him before the door clicks shut, and you’re left alone with your thoughts.

How arrogant.

How very Gryffindor of him. 

You push the flower vase closer to the edge of the bedside table, indignantly eyeing the watercolor art. The room reeks of Lily’s kindness. Lions and their constant need to see the goodness in everyone. Take off your mask? You’d give your entire Gringotts account to wear the kind of rose-colored lenses they have—they’re more pestilent than you realized. No matter, it’s high-time you reintroduced yourself to the Marauders, anyway. 

If you take off your mask, they would find nothing but a barren soul.

—

It seems your newfound parasites have forgotten who you truly are—but you have no qualms in reminding them why exactly you’re called the pureblood society’s darling. 

For the week or so, the Daily Prophet features you out in luxurious restaurants, a new partner each night hanging off your arm. International Quidditch players, foreign models, esteemed opera singers, and even Muggle celebrities. Men and women are captured in moving photographs, avidly fawning over you. 

You’ve missed three classes in favor of shopping in France; Flooing back to Hogwarts, stinking of bordeaux and rosa centifolia. Painite gems nestled around your neck, glittery sapphires lining your wrists. On more than one occasion, you’ve seen McGonagall lift her chin in distaste at your behavior. 

“Well, that’s certainly a speedy recovery,” says Lily one afternoon as the owls take the Great Hall by storm. Rita Skeeter’s new article about you is plastered on the front page, apparently you’ve gotten into a catfight with an Italian seamstress. She risks a glimpse of you from the other side of the long table, laughing away with Professor Sinistra. The sound is scraping against her ears, yet Lily can’t help but feel disappointed.

Your desk is littered with mails from admirers, invitations to galas and fundraisers. The students can’t help but notice this fact as they’re brought to the dance floor each morning. (Each day, you rewind Coppélia’s song—her wishes, and her pain—but you plan to ignore the ballad until blood trickles from your ears.)

“Mumma’s just about ready to send her a Howler,” you hear Ginevra Weasley saying in passing after class. The young red-haired girl nearly bumps into Hermione’s shoulder as Ginny dips her head low, prattling excitedly, “Called the Professor a tart, even.”

Hermione stops walking, scrunching her nose. “Really?”

“Yes, yes,” Ginny nods. “But enough about all that—have you seen the news this morning?” 

Hermione looks up, lips wrinkled in thought. “The one about the Professor being seen in Muggle London? I thought that was rather stale for a headline.”

“Not that one,” Ginny says exasperatedly, rolling her eyes. “The article about the Firebird. Remember what happened during the World Cup? When You-Know-Who’s followers came and raided the entire campsite?”

“That would be pretty hard to forget, Gin,” Hermione replies softly. 

“Well, the Firebird’s gone and hunted a few of them,” Ginny tells her, eyes brimming with awe. “Found their hideout and left them half-dead for the Ministry to find. No Malfoy, though, which is a bloody shame.”

At your desk, you sip your jasmine pearl tea with a knowing smirk.

On the first of October, your previous Head of House invites you to the greenhouse for an overdue get-together. Naturally, you greet Pomona Sprout with gift baskets overflowing with glacé treats, packets of tea, scented candles, and dried berries. She huffs in fond exasperation before instructing you to grab a pair of cotton earmuffs and gardening gloves. And, well, you don’t mind playing the part of a slap happy third-year under her gentle care. It’s a role you enjoy more so than others. 

“You’ve been worrying me these days, dear,” Professor Sprout tells you earnestly as she wrestles with the Flitterblooms. Hoo-hoo chicks flutter around in their cage while the uprooted baby Mandragoras screech nearby. You feel the weight of her gaze, much like a knitted blanket draped over your shoulders on a cold, autumn noon. “The other staff have been expressing their. . . concern,  as well.” 

You busy yourself with planting the Wiggentree in its pot, allowing only a moment to raise your walls of Occlumency. You know that she couldn’t possibly be a threat, but you would not allow someone else to expose you bare for others to see. (You loathe the thought of Sirius’s blood flowing through your veins.)

You know that concern is shallow at best, forged from fear of the students being influenced by your frivolous escapades. 

At your silence, Sprout continues on, “We always tell the children that their Houses will be like their second family during their time at Hogwarts.” You hear her draw in a long breath, gingerly placing the flitter tentacles on the ground. “I hope you understand that the same is true for the professors. We take care of each other, substitute teacher or not.” Pomona’s hand is leaden on your shoulder. “After all, you were our student before anything else. The Sorting Hat gave you to me, and what a darling blessing you have been, even until today. When I look at you now, I see the same young first-year student who was afraid of everything and afraid to come out of their shell—but do not forget, I will always be on my children’s side no matter what.”

How poignant that the first person who truly welcomed you to Hogwarts, is one of the only people who can see through you despite your protective barriers.

And so, the puppet show begins—like a lifeless ragdoll, you peel the deer-leather gloves off your hands, blinking away any hints of emotion. You stand tall before Pomona, dusting flecks of soil off your dovetail skirt. “No one has been on my side. Not then, not now,” you say as you snobbishly arrange the brim of your sunhat. “But do not be mistaken, Pomona. I have been fine on my own and a change still remains to be seen.” 

In another life, you would have happily embraced her comfort and affection—but the fate of a lonely starlet is cruel. You’ve made your bed of thorns and wilted roses, and there you shall lay when there is no one left but yourself. 

“Today was lovely, Pomona, thank you.” It is one truth you’ve permitted yourself to offer—a shred of humanity in exchange for her kindness. The dirt beneath your nail beds is real; so is the ache in your back and the sweat dripping from the side of your head to your chin. But you cannot feel any more than that—you forbid yourself. The Mandrakes fall silent, and you bid your goodbyes to the professor.

The sunlight on your skin is real as you step outside, and so is the sound of clamoring students heading for the greenhouse. Sixth-year students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw hurry down the hill. Their unrestrained laughter and carefree smiles are real. And so is the unwashed blood on your hands; the killing curses that have fallen so easily from your lips, and the ghosts that haunt you as the moon arises. Perhaps, you could withstand it all if it means the children would live through a real future without the sins of people like you. 

(But why is it that every time you distance yourself. . . there always seems to be someone calling out to you?) 

Cedric Diggory, your godson, yells for you with a grin that stretches from ear-to-ear. You watch as his yellow scarf swings with each hasty step he takes. Cedric crosses the gap between you in under a minute, strands of wavy, brown hair sweeping over his glimmering eyes. It’s an unsolved mystery as to how you and him were sorted in the same House. 

“Your shirt is wrinkled, Cedric,” you tut, straightening his tie. “Do you go riding Hippogriffs in your spare time?” 

Cedric chuckles wholeheartedly. “Father told me to tell you that you’ve been invited this weekend for a dinner at Hogsmeade,” he says, cocking his head as a cheeky simper erupts across his face. “That is, if you aren’t busy.” 

You raise a brow—sly little badger, he was. Harrumphing uppishly, you swivel to turn your back to him and say, “Tell your father that I’m choosing the venue, lest he chooses some primitive pub in the village.” You draw out the distance between you and Cedric, tossing your parting words into the chilly breeze, “Tell him I’m paying for everything, too.” 

His hearty laughter cuts through the hillside as you make your way back to the castle. Thinking you have the last word, you don’t expect him to yell once more: 

“I’m going to enter the tournament this year!” 

You’re certainly taken by surprise, but you don’t slow your pace. An imperious smirk tugs at your lips—well, at least you know where you’re placing your bets. 

A day before the esteemed guests are set to arrive, you run into Sirius and James—much to your annoyance. It’s just your luck that the evening prior you were hunting down a known member of Greyback’s pack. You played a little cat-and-wolf deep in the depths of a forest, hungrily isolating him from the rest of its family. Though this lycan was unturned, you walk away with claw marks on your back. Still, you hope that Greyback licks his wounds and feels the burden of this particular loss. However, you feel that dealing with James and Sirius will be much more difficult than bringing a werewolf to its knees.

After all, this is the first time you come face-to-face with them, nearly a month after your incident in the infirmary. 

“Auror Black, Auror Potter,” you say liltingly, the rhinestone tassel clinking in your hair as you swirl to face them with a devious leer. “What can I do for you today?” 

Sirius scoffs in disbelief. “So it’s like that, then? Like nothing ever happened?” 

“Partying around, missing your bloody classes, parading all over the castle like you’re better than everyone else. We thought you changed. You know, I actually thought there could be something real to you under all that,” he punctuates his words with a harsh laugh, sneering at your blinding jewelry. “Guess we were the fools, eh?” 

James stares at Sirius, a grim expression flashing across his face, before he shakes his head. “It just doesn’t make sense. What we saw at the infirmary—that’s not something anyone forgets.” He gazes at you with grief in his eyes. “It’s like you’re two different people.” 

“It’s disappointing, really,” Sirius bites, his lips curling into a snarl.

They’ve made it all too easy for you. 

“What are you so frustrated for, darlings?” you say in faux sympathy, stalking towards them as you tap at your chin; a sickly-sweet pout on your lips. “What were you hoping for? For all of us to become friends? We’re not children anymore, my loves!” you exclaim histrionically. “Did you actually fall for my little trick at the infirmary? The care parcel I left your husband? Didn’t you know my mother drafted the anti-werewolf bill?”

Sirius staggers.

“The real me?” you giggle incredulously. “What you see is what you get, dearest—don’t go searching for what doesn’t exist. It’s not my fault you fall so easily for a pretty face.” You tilt your head, fluttering your eyes as you drag your nail up James’s chin. “Not every damsel is in distress, you know.”

Your eyes slice towards Sirius with a coy smile. “Maybe if you had followed your head more often than your naive, little lion hearts—you wouldn’t have driven Regulus to his death.” 

James recoils away from your touch just as Sirius flinches, eyes flashing with anger—Sirius digs his nails into his palms, chest heaving as he stares at you in disgust. You expect another stab in the chest from him, and so you lift your head up high, daring him to say another word. (You hope they stopped trying after this—that they would leave you alone to rot in your stage of lies and dutiful sacrifice.) But you don’t plan for James to step forward, shielding Sirius away from your gaze.

“You are, without a doubt, the ugliest creature I’ve ever seen,” says James, words dripping in sincere revulsion. “Can’t believe I thought anything less than that.” 

You smile widely, despite the tightening sensation in your chest. “Are we done here now, gentlemen?”

They would learn—this is who you are beneath your masks and pretenses. 

The thirtieth of October brings about a cold you’ve never felt before. As you await the arrival of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students, the outside corridors are teeming with students, eyes hungry with anticipation. You lean against the wall, exhausted physically and mentally, hugging your worn-out shawl closer to your shoulders. 

The skies are exceptionally gray today—you’ve had to drag yourself out of bed earlier this morning, limbs heavy as lead. The teacup in your grasp is scalding to the touch—you find that nothing hurts more than the ache in your heart. The children are particularly rowdy at the moment—each time you close your eyes, you see the hatred in James and Sirius’s eyes. 

Has loneliness ever felt so suffocating before? 

When winged horses make their way from the heavens, the clamoring grows louder—yet all you hear are their words. 

‘You are, without a doubt, the ugliest creature I’ve ever seen.’

‘I actually thought there could be something real to you under all that.’

You would not weep—not for yourself, and not certainly for them. 

Sometimes, you wondered if you were hurting too much to even be considered alive. Did your marked flesh even count as skin anymore? Worthy to be cherished with gentle touches and tender lips? How much more did you have to do until the guillotine finally fell? 

When does duty end? And when does life begin? 

Madame Maxine and her drove of Veelas descend from their carriage; awestruck gasps and intrigued murmurs echoing along the corridor. When the Beauxbatons Headmaster comes to stand before you, you instinctively sink into the role of a diplomatic host—that is, after all, why Dumbledore hired you. With a nod of your head and a pleasing smile, you greet the first of your guests to arrive. 

“What a relief that you made it safely to Hogwarts, Madame Maxime,” you tell her in a saccharine-sweet tone. “If you please, Mister Filch here will guide you to the dormitories where you’ll be staying while Hagrid will take care of your horses.” 

You want to go to sleep already. 

Finally, as a large ship emerges from the Great Lake—a sense of relief floods through you. Only one more person to greet and you’ll finally be able to return to your quarters, welcoming feast be damned—you’ve done your part for today. Igor Karkaroff and his students make their presence known; imposing statures and foreboding glares. The castle nearly crumbles from Viktor Krum’s entrance, Hogwarts’ Quidditch players eager to catch a glimpse of the prodigal Seeker—well, you could care less about such a barbaric sport. 

Karkaroff presents you a slimy leer as he presses a kiss to the back of your palm—the dig of his long nails into your skin is a pleasant feeling, to your surprise. “Dumbledore did not inform me we would be greeted by such beauty. We would have arrived earlier, otherwise.” 

You miss your cat. 

(Sirius’s eyes roll all the way to the back of his head when you giggle and melt in Karkaroff’s wretched compliments.) 

You want to die.

—

Chaos erupts the next day. The Goblet of Fire has chosen a fourth champion—Harry Potter himself. No one is more enraged than his mother, Lily. The Aurors on duty, James and Sirius, struggle to contain the students’ horror and verbal lashings. Some have taken to accusing James himself of putting Harry’s name in the goblet in the name of family prestige—predictably, it’s Draco and Pansy who lead that revolt. But you don’t expect for Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan to be swayed by the baseless gossip. So there’s a crack in the pride’s loyalty to one another, you surmise to yourself. 

Like a Niffler drawn to shiny objects, you follow the Headmasters and professors into a room, away from all the ruckus. 

“Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?” the wise Professor Dumbledore asks calmly.

The atmosphere is beyond wintry—you note the biting criticisms in their eyes, particular between Fleur and Madame Maxime. Lily hides Harry from their scrutiny, proud and unyielding despite being shorter than the Beauxbaton champion. Across the room, you find Severus and Remus engaged in a muted, albeit wound up argument. 

Everyone looks to the morose Bartemius Crouch Sr., awaiting his decision with a bated breath. You sympathize with the man—for a fleeting moment—for if looks could kill, Sirius’s tempestuous glare would have dragged him six feet under. 

“We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament.”

Your blood runs cold.

Ludo Bagman appears to be pleased with his colleague’s decision—you see no reason why he shouldn’t be, he’s only ever put his odds in the thrill of the game. “Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front!” 

Dimwitted fool.

You scoff. “In a room full of Headmasters and Ministry leaders, surely one of you can find a way to unbind young Potter’s name from the tournament.”

“Err. . .” Ludo’s gaze flickers from Dumbledore to Crouch Sr. Madame Maxime and Karkaroff nod emphatically in agreement, forcing him into a corner with a ragged chuckle. “There’s nothing to be done, the Goblet of Fire has gone out.”

“Do you or do you not have a wand, Mister Bagman?” you reply, piqued; crossing your arms over your chest. “If the rules were written by a wizard, surely it can be unwritten by a wizard. Teaching an Unforgivable to a first-year would be more difficult than that.” “It is not as simple as that, Professor!” Bagman cries. “But you are welcome to try a hand at it.”

“So we just let a child run to his death, then?” you seethe, nostrils flaring. “I never knew the Ministry was teeming with incompetent men. Shall I steal your job from under your nose, Ludo dear?”

(Harry’s brows pinch in confusion. He does not expect for you to care so much.)

“He’s got to compete. They’ve all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?” says Alastor Moody as he limps across the room, flask in his hand. You fall silent, an unnerving chill slithering down your spine. Something about this man did not sit right with you. You pull the sleeves of your blouse further down your arms. 

“Maybe someone’s hoping Potter is going to die for it,” Moody growls in response to Fleur. “Over my dead body!” James snarls, veins rigid against the column of his throat, eyes simmering in anger. 

“Yes, yes, Potter, we all know you’d die for your son,” Moody remarks offhandedly, taking a large gulp of the liquor in his flask. 

“It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it,” Dumbledore counters in an attempt to placate the tense atmosphere. Lily’s sharp sob engulfs the outraged clamors of the two other Headmasters. “Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore, they will do. . . .”

The glass sculpture of a long-haired mermaid shatters into fragmented pieces as you bump into the table; just about ready to flee before you do anything rash like point your wand at Crouch Sr. himself. Before you exit the room, you catch sight of Cedric’s eyes—worry and uncertainty pooling within his gaze. You slam the door hard enough until the wood splinters. 

Harry Potter is imprisoned by his fate as the Chosen One—and it seems time has imprisoned everyone at Hogwarts, yourself included. 

The first task for the tournament arrives defiantly, without care for Harry and his loved ones. You have only been to the Quidditch field twice—today happens to be the second time. Everyone is bundled in their wooliest sweaters and warmest jackets; although, Hermione did have her portable bluebell flames. You stare at it with envy. 

“Oi! Professor, over here!” One freckled Weasley twin—Fred, you guess—beckons for you to sit by their swarm of red and gold. He pushes Ron away to make room for you beside Minerva. 

“Thank you, Mister Weasley,” you say quietly, sniffles falling from your frost-bitten nose. 

It’s quite odd—you’d have expected to be sitting with Professor Sprout and Amos, amongst your sett of badgers. But it’s not half-bad. You don’t erupt in flames when Minerva holds onto you, shrieking, as Fleur narrowly avoids her dragon, awoken from its trance. You don’t particularly mind either, when the Weasley twins bump their chests and holler into Ginerva’s ear when it’s time for Viktor Krum to face the Chinese Fireball.

“We got a traitor here!” George snickers when you flinch and yelp for Cedric as he fights shy of the Short Snout’s fire, and cheering breathlessly when he eventually captures the golden egg. You glare at George mirthfully, wondering where your fight and heat has gone. 

“Please excuse me for a moment,” you say, rising to your feet as the judges mull over their scores for Cedric. “Minerva,” you nod to her, and she offers you a hint of a wrinkly smile. (McGonagall thinks that if anyone can talk back in the face of a Ministry chairman in defense of her students, then perhaps she’s misjudged a professor or two.) 

Your cheeks grow numb from the cold as you cross the swarm of Beauxbatons students, past the flock of Ravenclaws. Harry’s match is underscored by the deafening cheers; the stands  rumbling from the yells for his name. You’re nearing the territory of yellow banners and black insignias, trumpets blowing into your ears, when the clamor and hurrahs turn into terrified gasps; students rushing back from the edge. You don’t understand the fuss until you look back at the arena. 

Harry’s dragon has broken free from its chains. 

You join Professor Sprout and Severus in herding the students away from danger—spotting James and Sirius across the arena, hastily reinforcing the protective barriers around the stands, uttermost precision in their wandwork. While Harry dances a life-threatening waltz, you hurriedly clear out the space closest to the banisters. Your breath hitches as the Hungarian Horntail wreaks havoc below, inducing quakes and showers of fire. 

But more frightening than any dragon, you hear the bloodcurdling scream of a student.

“Daphne!” 

The Greengrass heiress, Astoria, cries vehemently as Draco holds her back from rushing to the front of the stands. 

You scour the area frantically—there, only a few feet away from you, lies a fear-stricken Daphne Greengrass, staring right into the eyes of the Horntail. Its teeth bare, growls like thunderstorms, and the rising scent of embers and ashes. 

“Daphne, get away from there!” 

You hardly hesitate—you run to her, desperation pushing at your legs, terror holding your heart captive. As the dragon screeches in preparation to breathe fire, the nearest Aurors miles away—each gasp for air is torn from your throat. In a blink of an eye, you grab Daphne into your arms and shield her from the Horntail. The crowd bellows in fright—you close your eyes, preparing for even the most excruciating of pain. 

But there is nothing. 

Just you, Daphne, the Hungarian—and Remus who’s pointed his wand at the onslaught of flames, redirecting it up into the sky as Harry grabs the Horntail’s attention, now zipping freely on his broom. 

Remus looks back at the both of you in relief, drawing his wand back in his pocket. “Are you alright?” he asks you first, a weary tenderness in his eyes. 

You tear your gaze away from him, checking on Daphne instead; cupping her pale cheeks and wiping the tears from her eyes. “Are you alright, Daphne? What do you feel? Come, darling, let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey—can you stand? Here, put your arm around my shoulder.” 

“T–Thank you, Professor,” stammers Daphne as Astoria rushes to her, the pair of sisters blubbering and crying. The blonde-haired girl nods to you and Remus, “Both of you. I–I don’t know how I’ll repay such kindness.” 

“Don’t worry, Daphne,” says Remus, smiling as he offers her a lemon-flavored treat. 

He steps back to make way for Lily to fuss over Daphne, his eyes straying to you, oozing with sincerity as he rubs his handkerchief to your cheek. He grins at you and your heart skips a beat. “My kindness is freely given.”

Has kindness ever felt so real before?

act iv. you wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me. 

“THE CHILDREN ARE terrified, Missus Fawley. Just last week, we had another incident. All the windows in the kitchen—shattered! The little ones couldn’t sleep for days.” 

You hear the orphanage matron’s voice behind the bedroom door. You’re allowed but a moment of playing with your ragged, plush animals, before the matron comes barging inside. (How rude, you think to yourself. Hasn’t she ever heard of knocking before?) Although, unlike all the other times, she has a lady right on her tail. This woman is much taller than Sister Thompson, certainly more beautiful-looking, too. Not that you have anything against Sister Thompson’s wrinkly face and foul smile. 

No, this woman walks with her head held up high, dressed in a burgundy leather coat that clearly costs more than the thin rag you call a shirt. This must be Mrs. Fawley, then. Her black heels click against the rusty, wooden floor; you watch impassively as she bends down to your eye level. She takes you by surprise when she grabs ahold of your chin, slowly turning your head from side to side. 

“So this is the child,” Mrs. Fawley muses, red lips quirked. Haunting blue eyes stare back at you; hair dark as ebony falling to her waist. “You may leave, Sister Thompson. I would like to get to know my future ward.”

The matron widens her eyes. “Missus Fawley, I strongly advise against—!”

“You misunderstand me, Sister Thompson,” says Fawley, a sharp edge to her voice. “That was not a request.”

A strange sense of victory fills you when Sister Thompson bows her head in response, tossing you just one sour glare before exiting the room. The rickety door clicks shut and Mrs. Fawley returns her attention to you with a low hum, eyes raking over your form once more. You wonder what she’s thinking about; wondering if it’s the vast difference between her neatly-pressed clothing and your rumpled dress shirt. Many have visited the orphanage before, but none have spared you a second glance, not with Sister Thompson scaring them all away. (You suppose there is no appeal in adopting a child with temperamental issues who can make other girls’ noses bleed.)

“Show me,” Fawley commands, breaking the quietude; her voice stern, yet hypnotic. Much like the first notes of a pied piper’s song. For a few moments, you don’t understand what she’s asking for, until realization dawns upon you. You drop the plush toy’s limbs—seconds later, the teddy bear waves its hand as though it’s gained a soul. If this had been a wooden doll with a long nose, it would be saying: ‘I’m a real boy!’

Fawley chuckles, leaning back with a pleased look. Your head falls to the side in confusion—when you had shown this little trick to Daisy Anne and Annaliese, they’d begun to throw stones at you, screaming and saying that you were a witch. You don’t try to play with the other children anymore after that. Rather than being afraid, Missus Fawley seems to be happy with you. “My name is Agatha Fawley, special adviser to the Wizengamot, daughter of the Sacred Twenty-Eight,” she tells you, and you don’t have a lick of comprehension. “What do you know about witches and wizards, darling?” “I don’t know, maybe. . .” You scrunch your nose, making the stuffed elephant twirl the bear with just a glance—Fawley tilts your chin upwards, demanding your utmost attention. “That they aren’t real? Or if they are, they should be burnt at the stake?”

Agatha Fawley hisses, a low sound that sends shivers down your spine. You wonder if you’ve angered her. The toys fall back to the floor lifelessly. “Damned Muggles—! Is that what they teach these days?” She shakes her head. “No, never mind. What matters is what happens from now on.” “Are you going to adopt me?” you dare to ask, gaze falling to the floor, heart hammering against its confinements.

“I will,” she affirms and your eyes grow wide, breath stuttering in your throat. “But if we are to become family—there is one thing you must do for me.”

“Anything!” You all but scream in her ear, a plea for her to take you away from the orphanage; far, far away from hurtful words and a room that echoes your loneliness back to you. 

“Never lower your eyes.” She smiles, teeth bared into a snarl, reminiscent of a prowling fox. “You are magic, my darling. And I will be your mother. No one on this earth can make you kneel in surrender.”

You believe her.

You believe her with all your heart.

But, you would learn that even monsters can call themselves ‘mother’ and embrace you with open arms. 

The Fawley Manor is large—larger than the orphanage, and that was a place you couldn’t fully explore due to its largeness. There must be a thousand rooms, as far as the eyes can see. It’s like a princess castle coming to life—akin to the ones you’ve read about in storybooks. Missus Fawley’s home nearly touches the sky. There are tall trees, wide grassfields, and glimmering lakes. You gasp and cover your eyes with your hands as the chauffeur drives past the marble sculpture of naked ladies. (“Think of them as Goddesses bare to the mortal eye, dearest,” says Fawley when you yelp and sink into the leather seats.) Then, the family butler, maids, and chef come to greet you, all smiling at the new addition to the manor. 

You meet Elsie, the house elf—your first real encounter with magic. Well, besides Missus Fawley turning paper into crystalline butterflies in the car. Elsie is a tiny, wrinkly creature who wears five different-colored knitted hats atop her head. She can’t seem to stop shuddering while speaking, too, as if drenched in cold, invisible water. But you look into her big eyes and you decide to be her friend forever. 

“Get settled into your room, and then we’ll have you acquainted with the rest of the staff,” Fawley says after she ushers you into a room—a bedroom just for you, where you won’t have to listen to anyone else’s snoring or fight to the death for a blanket on a cold winter storm. The bed is bouncy and soft, not unlike the cardboard they’d given you at the orphanage. Your shelves are stocked with toys and books. 

Then, you remember that in exchange for all this, you must do your best in school. That is one thing you aren’t looking forward to. 

But, how bad could a school be if it’s filled with magic? 

You happily imagine smelly trolls, dashing unicorns, talking ghosts, and floating crayons. 

For your first week in the manor, you enjoy glazed desserts, fluffy pillows, and silken clothing—and on your second week, you are reminded of your duty to the family you’ve been brought into. Something bigger than studying in a faraway magic castle. Missus Fawley introduces you to her long line of ancestors. You stumble on your footing as the portraits shuffle around and gaze upon you with curiosity, some with a more heated glare than others. They call you a funny term as you walk past. Mudblood. But, Fawley tells you not to worry. You are now her child before anything else. 

The family crest is chiseled with gold; you squint your eyes to make sense of the inscription: Virtus in Arduis.

“Virtue in hardships,” Agatha explains in her dulcet tone. As you featherly trace the emblem with your fingers, Fawley leans down to your height, clearing her throat; her expression impossible for you to read. “I brought you to this family because I saw potential in you. I sensed great magic from your person. But we all have our duties. Magic gives, and magic will take.”

“The wizarding world is in grave danger,” she tells you firmly, gripping the curve of your jaw with an intensity that frightens you. “Will you help me fight for the greater good?”

You blink.

You just got here and now you have to fight for a world that you never even knew that existed?

“Greater good?” you echo in disbelief. “F-Fight? Fight who? I’ve never even fought in my life! Making Daisy Anne’s nose bleed w-was just an accident!” 

“I will be with you every step of the way,” she vows fiercely, the tips of her nails digging into your cheeks. “Tell me, do you understand? You will do what is right without any recognition at all. Think of it as a performance, my love. And I’m preparing you for your role in this world starting now.” 

The ingénue in this act you have to play involves studying endlessly, practicing your wand work until Fawley is satisfied, and familiarizing yourself with every shelf in the library from dawn until dusk. You don’t understand why you must memorize every charm and every incantation—but Missus Fawley reminds you that you are bound to her and your responsibilities. You don’t want to go back to the orphanage, cold and alone—so, you acquaint yourself with parchments and quills, swallowing the discomfort when the nib harshly rubs your skin raw. 

On your tenth birthday, Missus Fawley gifts you with a closet overflowing with chiffon, taffeta, and organza. Lace parasols, pretty shoes, and wide-brimmed sun hats. The chef surprises you with a three-layered cake, the constellation icing charmed to flicker like real stars in the night. It’s the best birthday you’ve ever had. For the first time, you feel like your life is actually celebrated. 

The next day, your adoptive mother says with utmost exigency, “This time next year, you shall be off to Hogwarts, but that means your debut in society is drawing near. The wizarding world will officially acknowledge you as my child.”

“When that happens, vultures will flock to you as though you were a corpse.” Her eyes flash dangerously. “And you will become one, unless you learn how to fend for yourself. The most ruthless of us all can be adorned in pearls and dressed in ball gowns. Appearance is everything in this world—do not let them see that you are afraid.” 

And so, you don’t tell her that she’s petrified you to the bone.

“As the sole heir to my fortune and properties, you must understand how to navigate, not only the wizarding world, but this treacherous domain, as well.” Missus Fawley straightens your back, harshly tapping you once more to spread your legs at a more acceptable distance. “To be envied by all—the perfect host must always be ready to receive their guests with attention and politeness.”

When you wince, or move to massage your sore muscles, she barks at you, “You must always be composed, even in near-death. If you crumble—if you let even a single person know what you’re truly feeling, all this will be for naught.”

The burden of her words is heavier than the textbooks she shoves in your hold. 

“Control them before they can control you,” Fawley explains as the seamstress measures your waist and arms. “Exert your influence in a conversation. Not only in words, but your stature. Present yourself accordingly. Jewelry and clothing can be your armor when you cannot draw your wand.”

You grumble under your breath when the seamstress accidentally pokes you with a needle for the nth time. 

“Smile when flattered, giggle when offered a dance, and curtsy when greeted.” Fawley glares daggers at you when you hiss in pain. “But most of all, do not let any of those cretins know that you are fully aware of the power you wield over them. Anyone can be a puppeteer if they want to be. You’ll just be the greatest of them all.”

(But even a master of puppets has someone pulling their strings from behind the curtains.)

Elsie stays up with you each night, carefully pouring ice-cold water over your head, and playing with the floating bubbles to distract you from the ache in your legs and arms. “Elsie will give Master her hat!” the young elf says one evening, pulling the topmost beanie from her head and laying it on yours. She tells you a bedtime story before tucking you beneath the covers of your queen-sized bed. You fall asleep to the sound of grasshoppers chirping and portraits murmuring to one another. 

Then, you get your first taste of a pureblood skirmish. Missus Fawley had taken you to Diagon Alley, months away from the first of September—a letter in your hand with all the materials a first-year would need for their classes. Safe to say, you’re more than excited. (“Oh, mother, look!” you exclaim, pointing to the various shops—and also remembering the rule of calling Agatha mother out in public. “A sweet shop! Fortescue’s ice cream parlor! Mother, can we go there? Please, please, please!”) Fawley smiles at your wide-eyed wonder, your hand in hers—today is a special one, she decides. You’re allowed a bit of fun. Especially since you’ve shown unfathomable progress in your studies. 

You get your very first wand at Ollivanders—and now this world of grumpy goblins and jumping chocolate frogs becomes even more real. You hardly let go of your wand, a tingle of exhilaration running through you each time you brush your fingers against the finely-carved wood. Even Missus Fawley is pleased with the wand that chooses you. Later, you’ll be given three hours to practice your charms again, but you find that you don’t mind—not when you’ve learned that you can now read books under the covers when Elsie turns the lights off.

As you exit the shop, breathless and flushed with a hunger to explore more of this world you’ve been given access to, you and Fawley run into one of her friends. This must be one of the scary people she’s warned you about. Sharp cheekbones, unfriendly gray eyes, and a stern demeanor. You immediately suck in a breath and school your face just as Agatha has taught you. 

“Walburga!” Fawley greets with a lovely smile, but you notice that it doesn’t reach her eyes, not like when she smiles at you for growing another inch taller. She brings her hand onto your shoulder. “What a pleasant surprise, my dear.” She peers at the two young boys hiding behind her, much like you were doing now. “Oh, my! Is it that time already? I’d forgotten young Sirius was set to go to Hogwarts this year. You must be overjoyed.” 

Walburga is a tall lady, taller than Agatha, even. She hums, lips quirked, chin held up high. “Fawley,” Walburga responds, rather displeased. “Talking my ear off, as usual.” Her trenchant eyes land on you and her smile curves into a sneer. “And who might this little one be?” 

You risk a glance at Missus Fawley before offering the other woman a sweet, half-curtsy. “Madam Black, how do you do?” you smile at her, gaily revealing your name and the gap in your front teeth—the two boys snicker and your eyes instantly narrow into a glare. 

Walburga stares you down harshly. “How adorable.” Her eyes slice to the two boys behind her. “Sirius, Regulus, introduce yourselves.” 

Missus Fawley laughs, a grating sound—much like warning bells—as her eyes flash dangerously at her, hand tightening on your collarbone. “What a relief to know that Sirius will at least have one friend already before they arrive at the castle.” 

“But—oh, dear, look at the time.” Agatha quickly casts the Tempus charm before looking at you aghast, eyes wide as saucers, mouth parted dramatically. “I promised the Daily Prophet a photoshoot today! It is my thirty-first birthday soon, after all. I’d give you tips on how to capture this look, but, Walburga, it seems you’re embodying the housewife fashion perfectly.”

“Ta-ta!” She plants two, airy kisses on Walburga’s cheeks before waving the three goodbye. 

“That,” Fawley whispers into your ear as she snuggles the side of your face. “—is exactly how to do it.”  

You collapse in your bed that night, wondering just what you’ve gotten yourself into and what kind of world you’re about to live in.

How confusing.

All this time, you thought that Missus Fawley had been preparing you for an intense entrance exam. Why else would she make you study twenty-five hours a day and eight days a week? But as it turns out, all you had to do was sit on a chair and have Professor McGonagall put a talking hat on your head.

“Hufflepuff!” the Sorting Hat proclaims, and the table of yellow and black welcomes you with open arms. You sit next to a boy named Amos Diggory. Later in the night, you’ll share a dormitory with a kind girl named Amelia Bones. 

(Hogwarts is the best!) 

The holidays arrive in the blink of an eye and you find yourself standing at the steps of the manor once more. Agatha Fawley waits for you by the door, engulfing you instantly in a hug that shields you from the falling snowflakes and biting winds. Hot cocoa with marshmallows and gingerbread cookies await you in the grand dining room; you even get a crotchety greeting from Isolde Fawley the Third’s portrait. Elsie crumples to the floor and sobs at your arrival. 

“So you were sorted there,” Fawley mutters to herself, a worried expression contorting her face. The fireplace crackles as a winter storm rages outside the manor. You lay on her lap as she absentmindedly pats your head. Stories of your first few months at Hogwarts fall from your lips without pause. “This would go smoother if you had been sorted in Slytherin, however; but no matter—it’s not what I expected, but we can make do. The Diggorys and Bones’ are purebloods, so maybe not all hope is lost. But you need to get more acquainted with the Greengrasses and the Malfoys, Druella Black’s daughters as well.”

You hide your frown against her legs. You really liked Amos and Susan, Bellatrix was just downright mean to everyone, even calling this one girl, Lily, a Mudblood, too. But if mother wanted you to try, you might, but only once. If Bellatrix didn’t want to be your friend, then there’s no helping that unhinged witch. (At least the Prewett twins’ pranks were funny. Bellatrix once snuck inside the Ravenclaw tower to leave a dead pig’s head in the girls’ dormitory just because.)

On the twenty-fifth of December, Agatha Fawley throws a gala just for you—masqued as a fundraiser for Muggle children in need. (None of the families cared about them, you would realize later on.) The ground nearly rumbles from the number of guests she’s invited. From your bedroom window, you spot a few familiar faces. Sirius Black, who stands out from the crowd like a pale bean sprout; his cousin, Bellatrix, who’s already taken to yelling at the staff; Lucius Malfoy, the Flints, and the Parkinsons. Your head goes dizzy. 

As long as you don’t trip during your entrance, everything should be fine, right? Right?

(You one-hundred percent trip in front of everyone as you descend the stairs. The sound of James Potter and Sirius Black’s laughter haunts you.)

But other than that, the Yule event goes by smoothly. You don’t fall flat on your face when greeting Cygnus Black and Druella Black née Rosier, and mother is thoroughly satisfied when you smile in the face of Walburga Black and Abraxas Malfoy. You stay in the corner after welcoming your guests, sitting in your chair like an abstract painting forbidden to touch; whilst the Prewett twins and James teased Elsie until she cried from anxiety. Sirius also goes out of his way to congratulate you for growing all your teeth in. 

You don’t understand why Mother is so scared of these people.

But you’ll understand virtue in hardships soon enough when you receive your first tutoring in ballroom dancing. Instead of sapphire earrings or a trip to France, Missus Fawley has a different gift in mind for your fifteenth birthday. She surprises you with a tutor—you’re bewildered at first, arguing that you’ve consistently been at the top of your class. (“Madam Hawthorne is not here for your academics, my darling,” Fawley explains with her red-lips stretched in a foreboding smile. “Dance is a beneficial skill for any host to have. You’ll practice until your footwork is perfect. You will dance until I say you can stop. And when your feet are aching and bleeding, you will keep dancing.”) 

Each night for your summer holiday, you go to bed, sobbing into your pillows, body trembling from Madam Hawthorne’s cane. 

Everything changes on the eve of your sixteenth birthday.

Like all the years before, Missus Fawley invites the entirety of the pureblood society to the manor. 

You stay with Narcissa and Andromeda, gently placating their concerns when they ask about your unnatural quietness—truthfully, you could no longer breathe in the flounced dress you’ve been forced to wear; the sides of your feet raw from constantly practicing with Madam Hawthorne, head aching from the lights and obnoxious perfumes; stomach gurgling. Bags under your eyes from revising endlessly for your N.E.W.T.S. 

Eyes drooping and neck craning from exhaustion, you don’t at all expect for James Potter to emerge from the crowd; wavy, brown hair sweeping over his glasses, wine-colored suit melting into his dark skin. He holds out his hand to you with a boyish grin. “May I have this dance?” 

You blink, frozen solid for a few moments until Narcissa softly nudges your side. “Y-Yes, if you must,” you splutter, placing your palm in his. 

He leads you to the dance floor as the orchestra plays a song perfect for a waltz along a flower field; your eyes glued to his back. The chandelier hangs overhead as James settles your arms around his neck in one swift motion. You almost step on his feet, spluttering your gratitude when he steadies you by the waist, the heat of his hands permeating your layers of clothing. 

“Isn’t it odd that the birthday celebrant wasn’t dancing all this time?” he says, pulling you in for a twirl. 

“I assume the others were all too afraid to deal with my mother,” you reply timidly. “She’s quite overprotective, you see.” 

“Who? That tall lady over there by Missus Black who’s currently glaring at me?” James chuckles into your ear as you step closer to hear his heartbeat. “She couldn’t possibly terrify me.”

“Lily says thank you, by the way.” 

“Oh? For what?”

“Letting her copy off your Defense Against the Dark Arts essay—she’s downright shite at the subject. Don’t tell her I said that, though.”

You laugh along with him, and you find that you could rest in his arms forever.

But, as your dance with him comes to an end, so does your wistful reverie. 

When most of the guests have left the scene, and when the lights have dimmed, Mother presents to you her real gift—your debut in the wizarding society. She leads you to a room, one where you’ve never ventured before. It’s deep past the cellars, where cobwebs and dust bunnies grow. (Before you enter, Narcissa grips your hand firmly, a look of dread and urgency in her eyes. “Be brave,” is all that she says, encasing you in her arms.) 

In this dark room, you see Abraxas and his wife, Walburga, Cygnus, the Notts, the Goyles, and more people you recognize, all dressed in their finest black cloaks—as though it were a funeral instead of a birthday. In the center of it all, is your mother, Agatha, with a man kneeling in front of her. 

“What is this?” you ask in alarm, frantically searching for answers. The man struggles against his rope, binds, screams and pleas muffled by the cloth shoved in his mouth. The sight of his bruises makes you all but retch. “Mother, what is going on?” 

Walburga is the first to step forward, her lips painted blood-red against her ashen skin, curving into an edacious smile. She cradles the back of your head to her chest. “My lovely dear, it has been the utmost privilege watching you grow. Your mother is certainly proud of you, we all are. Tonight, just as our sons and daughters before you, we offer you our blessing on this very special day.” 

“You know of the Unforgivables, right, my child?” Her voice is a sweet, ruthless cadence in your ear; her touch, like worms crawling on your skin as she places your wand in your hand. You bite down on your tongue, swallowing each breath as the walls threaten to cave in on you. Your fingers forcibly shake in terror and you worry that you might snap your wand in half if you aren’t careful. “The Cruciatus, the Imperius, and—?”

“The killing curse,” you breathe out, ever-so stiff in her hold. You watch as Abraxas kicks the man to the ground; you dig your nails deep into your palm to keep from flinching. 

“That’s right, little one,” says Walburga, tracing your jaw with a morbid sense of satisfaction. She holds your chin in place as Abraxas tears the cloth from the man’s mouth. It’s worse now. You hear his desperate begging and his guttural cries for help. “Muggles,” she spits the word out like venom. “Look at them. They’re filthy. Infecting our blood with theirs.”

“Kill him,” Walburga says, a delicate whisper, as though she had asked for a cup of tea. “Kill him and you’ll have proved your worth to us.” 

“No! No, please!” The man struggles against Abraxas’s arms. “Please! I have a family! A c-child!”

You stagger backwards, nearly losing your grip on your wand. You look to your mother for help. “I—!”

“Kill him, pet!” Bellatrix cackles from across the room, teeth bared viciously, eagerly beckoning for you to come forward. “Make sure you mean it! Otherwise it won’t hurt!”

“You know the words,” says Walburga, lifting your pliable arm—a puppeteer controlling its ragdoll. “Say it.”

The man before you is real. He’s a real person with a real family anxiously waiting for him to come home. His children worried sick for their father. How can they just stand there and expect you to kill him? “Mother, please—I can’t. I w-wont.” Your breathing grows labored, hot tears pricking your eyes; the man screams and yells, and the sound echoes ceaselessly in your ears. “I don’t. . .  I don’t understand.”

Agatha Fawley closes her eyes, and you understand perfectly. 

Each sob wrecks your body and the tears endlessly flow from your ears, you hiccup and shiver; blood pooling from the bite in your tongue. “I can’t do this—please!”

“You will.”

You close your eyes just as a flash of unforgiving green shoots from your wand. “Avada Kedavra!”

The man falls limp to the floor, and so does your wand. Walburga coos and drowns you in a sea of shallow praises, the men offer their congratulations, but all you hear is the sound of a lifeless body dropping to the ground. 

A man who you just killed by your wand, in your home. 

That night, the four walls of your bedroom bear witness to your anguish—you cry until you throw up on the floor, body lurching and quivering on the freezing red oak. 

“Do you get it now?” says Agatha as she enters your room, the faintest of sunlight streaming through the windows. She bends down and cups your face in her palms. “This is your world from now on.” 

You rip her hands away from you, gritting your teeth. “I don’t want to live in your world—not anymore! I don’t care about all this! Magic, wealth, and all these things mean nothing if I have to kill innocent people! You’re a monster!” 

“Good.” Fawley’s voice is cold as she stands up, lifting her chin as her eyes glaze impassively. “That means you’re ready for your next lesson.”

“Didn’t you hear me? I said I was done!” you retort, sore from crying.

“Don’t you see?” says Fawley, pausing underneath the door frame, gaze ruthlessly slicing towards you. “We will destroy them from the inside out. Walburga, Abraxas, Tom Riddle. All of them, one by one. That is our true duty.” 

As she turns to leave, she adds coldly, “Ready yourself. I’ll be teaching you Occlumency during your summer break.” Then she slams the door shut, leaving you all alone in your room. 

When you return to school after the winter holidays, you’re forced to pretend that you hadn’t taken the life of an innocent Muggle. 

‘Do not let them see you are afraid.’ 

“Unfortunately, flaming red hair and hand-me-down robes will not complement my dress—it’s crimson taffeta, you see, handcrafted only by the finest tailors in Italy,” you say dismissively to the ragtag of Gryffindors before you, Vittoria Zabini and Isadora Bulstrode giggling at your side. The Prewett boy visibly wilts and you almost give in—almost. But everyone must play their part in this world. You know that if you show a sliver of weakness, Vittoria and Isadora will be happy enough to report to their mothers—vying for the pedestal you’ve been put on by their parents. 

For the final blow, you scrunch your nose in disgust, slamming your Divination textbook close. “Can you even afford anywhere in Hogsmeade for a date, Prewett?”

(Walburga would Avada you herself if she caught you in such a place with such a wizard. You’re more terrified of what she might ask you to do to Gideon—someone she deems as a blood traitor. You refuse to utter another Unforgivable. You just won’t.) 

“Oh, you cruel wench!” Marlene McKinnon steps forward and before anyone could take another breath, she slaps you in the face. And, finally, you feel something other than the guilt of taking someone’s life.

Your cheek stings from the impact, your ears ringing with the sound of your friends asking if you’re alright and Dorcas Meadowes roaring about how you deserved it—well, you’re not about to disagree. You move your jaw about, cradling the side of your face as you sigh impassively—oh, it’s nothing compared to the etiquette lessons of Agatha Fawley. “My mother will certainly hear about this, McKinnon.”

“You and your mother can kiss my arse!” she shrieks, eyes ablaze.

“Gideon didn’t deserve that, and you know it,” Lily argues fervidly, eyes sickle-shaped as she looks back at the Prewett twin’s dejected expression. “How could you even say that?” 

“How could I not, Lily darling?” you reply off-handedly with a roll of your eyes.

Lily flinches. In her gaze, all you see looking back at you is the Muggle father who had cried out relentlessly for one last glimpse of his children. She stares at the badger emblem on your cloak with disdain, and you with a great deal of pity. “You are, without a doubt, the ugliest creature I’ve ever seen.” 

She has the softest voice you’ve ever heard, but it hurts you all the same. 

You’ve scrubbed your skin raw in the bath, hoping that you’d wash the feel of your sins off your hands—it’s all for naught. Agatha might be a monster in your eyes, but you’re the fool that played right into her act.

You get to your feet, meeting her eye-to-eye. In a low whisper, lips close to her ear, you say, “There are far worse creatures out there, Evans. You’re lucky you’ve been born only a Muggleborn.”

Fortunate that she won’t ever have to play the role that you’ve been forced to. You feel an overwhelming envy towards her—effortless beauty, pure and untainted hands, a kind heart that draws in every one and every person. Compared to her, you must be a dirtied, black swan in a lake that’s only meant for white swans like Lily Evans. 

And she will have more charming princes and truehearted fairies on her side than you could ever hope to gain. 

“Say another word and I will tear your hair from that pretty head of yours,” Marlene snarls, pushing Lily behind her.

Oh, how easy they make it for you. 

You smile in delight. “So you think I’m pretty?”

Marlene lunges.

(You are so tired of it all.)

Every night of your summer holiday, you spend it writhing on the floor, Agatha’s lessons on Occlumency taking its toll. She grows harsher, stricter, and more apathetic than the sun beating down on the manor windows. (“Again!” Fawley demands as you collapse to the ground, drenched in sweat and your head numb from her probing. “Do you think the Dark Lord will be lenient with you? Get up! We’re going again! If you want this to end, you will endure this without error!”) 

While your peers are out swimming in lakes and racing around in Quidditch brooms, you’re stuck within the confinements of your home. But you are not that naive, you’ve seen the headlines of the Daily Prophet. A coalition known as Death Eaters have begun making their mark on the wizarding society. There are rumors of a great, sinister power rising. People go missing everyday, and you worry that this might be the world that your mother has been preparing you for all this time. 

But why you? Why must you carry this burden all alone? Who will pick up the pieces of your battered soul when the weight of your burden crushes you entirely? 

There are times when you wish you never left the orphanage at all. 

A week into your summer break, you find out that your mother is dying. Violent coughing, dizzy spells, jaundiced skin, her eyes bloodshot, and the healer frequenting her bedroom quarters. You’re not allowed inside, of course, but you can hear her feeble voice and the doctor’s stern orders. 

You also learn that she’s absolutely insane—but that is a fact you’ve come to terms with years ago. One night, during dinner, you’d let it slip that you have your suspicions of a classmate being inflicted with a lycan’s curse. Agatha Fawley reacts just about as one would expect her to. 

“A werewolf? In Hogwarts?” Fawley staggers to her office, the tower of neatly-piled documents and research reports from the Ministry now fluttering to the floor. “No, no, no. . .” she utters to herself, panic seeping within her skin. It’s the most frazzled you have ever seen the great Agatha Fawley. You stare at her unraveling from the threshold of the room, unsure of what to do. “Dumbledore has gone mad! That old loon! What was he thinking? Sheltering a beast within the castle!” 

“Don’t worry, my dear,” says Agatha as she reaches for you, a ghastly smile on her face and a near-empty look in her eyes. Your brows pinch together in confusion—you hadn’t been worried about that student at all. “I’ll have that monster out of the castle in no time. The Ministry will have no choice but to listen to me.” 

“That’s it,” she mutters, haphazardly grabbing for her feather quill and blank parchment. “Perhaps a law to forbid werewolves from ever integrating into society. School, house properties—can you imagine if they manage to infiltrate the Ministry? Everything I’ve worked so hard for!” 

“Mother?” you call out hesitantly, crossing the distance, hand outstretched as Fawley slips on her footing, a muttered profanity under her breath. The woman before you is unrecognizable, a sallow casing of a moribund soul. “Mother, please, Remus is no threat to the castle,” you plead, ripping her hand away from the quill. “You can’t do this!” 

“Do not tell me what I can or cannot do!” Agatha seethes through her teeth, chest heaving as she glowers at you. “Everything I have done, I have done for you! Yet, you still continue to fight me? I should have left you in that orphanage to rot while I had the chance!” 

“Well then, why didn’t you?” you scream, pushing her away as the words force themselves out of your throat. “Maybe that Muggle father would have still been alive if you did! Maybe I wouldn’t have to suffer so much! To hell with you and your duty!” 

Fawley laughs to herself, a weak and feeble sound. At first, you think it’s in response to you, but then you watch her drag her palm down her face, unblinking when her fingers appear to be drenched in blood. You take a step forward and there’s crimson trickling down her nose, a pallid contrast against her skin. “Ha,” she chuckles once more, keeling over to the ground as she stares up at the ceiling, blood on her flesh. “Merlin, what have I done? I–I’ve gone too far—even the Gods cannot save me.”

The despair in her voice is confounding. “Come here, my love,” she croaks from the floor, reaching out to you with bloodstained hands. Reluctantly, you sink to her side, gnawing on your lower lip as she cups your face in her palms—how many times have you been in this position before? “I’m sorry,” she sobs, shoulders trembling. “Oh, my darling, I am so sorry. I’m afraid I’ve doomed the both of us.” She traces the frame of your jaw and cheekbones. “My child, my beautiful child. What have I done? Will you forgive me?” 

You realize that this must be the consequence of living in a constant lie. To be an imitation of a human person, with no room for grief, rage, fear, hope or even a semblance of love. You stay silent, drowning in the arms of your adoptive mother. “I am to die soon,” says Agatha with utmost finality, eyes boring into yours. “But you are better than me. Braver. Far stronger than I have ever been. I know this must be the heaviest burden a child can carry, but you must understand that the fate of this world is at stake. I am so sorry, my love, but I must leave this duty to you.” 

She lets her head hang limply. “I-I am tired, as well. I’ve pushed away everyone and anyone for this. To do what is right, to endure what is hard—that is what I’ve lived by all these years.”

“And so must you.” Agatha has been mourning all this time, but not for her life. 

You hate her. 

You hate her with all your heart. 

But even monsters need a heart to breathe. 

A month passes by in a blur, and you are now set to meet the ill-famed Tom Riddle. You know that he was a student of Professor Dumbledore; that Narcissa is extremely terrified of him, and that Lucius Malfoy idolizes him to a fault. (“This is the moment I have been preparing you for all these years,” your mother tells you, shields of Occlumency glimmering in her deep blue eyes. “Do not let him in no matter what.”) Soon thereafter, Missus Fawley apparates the both of you to the Malfoy manor. 

The dining room is bleak, befitting of a Malfoy; curtains drawn, fireplace idly crackling, and hushed murmurs upon your arrival. All eyes are on you, and you’re lucky to have dressed in your Sunday best. At the head of the table, you see Tom Riddle, with Abraxas and Cyprian Nott sitting on each side. You hear something large slithering across the polished floors—your breath hitches at the sight of a monstrous serpent curling around Tom Riddle’s chair. The glass chandelier chimes overhead and you wish it would fall from where he sits on his shrewd throne. 

(You find Regulus Black sitting beside Narcissa, cheeks flushed, body quivering as his skin pales to a deathly color; holding onto his left arm for dear life. And, your heart just physically breaks. You don’t understand why this is the world you must live in.) 

“Come here, my dear,” Tom Riddle hisses, urging you forward with a serpentine leer in his eyes. You feel like a circus lion forced to perform its tricks. 

Tom Riddle is handsome—you notice begrudgingly. A menacing kind of beauty that entices the weak and preys on the vulnerable. (You would not be one of his victims, you vow, raising your own walls against him.) His gaze drills into your own—instantly, you feel his magic snaking around in your head, searching for hidden truths. The sensation is staggering, dizzying, and you’re nearly brought to your knees. You clench your jaw at his Legilimency—obstinate bastard. 

“This one is lasting longer than your son, Abraxas.” Riddle chuckles, his finger tracing the curve of your jaw, as Abraxas forces a smile. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he leaves your mind. You release the breath you’ve been holding for the last thirty seconds. He finds none of your secrets, and you suppress a vindictive grin. Riddle glances at your mother. “How fascinating.” 

You wonder if his intrigue will keep you alive for another day or bring you closer to your death. 

“My Lord,” you greet windedly as you press a kiss to the cold signet of his ring. “What an honor to stand before you today. Although, I could have done with a more polite greeting from you.” 

Bellatrix snarls at you in warning. “Do not speak to the Dark Lord that way, you insolent brat!” 

“Enough, Bella,” Tom rasps, flicking her concern away, barely so much as sparing her a glance. “I’ve no need for a little girl to come to my defense.” She visibly wilts at his dismissive words and you almost feel pity for her—almost. Then, you remember this is the man who treats the Cruciatus curse like a treat to give away freely to children—now, you pity Bellatrix fully. The curly-haired girl twitches at the sight of him toying with his wand, Nagini’s forked tongue flicking in anticipation. 

“Tell me, my dear,” says Riddle, trailing his gaze down to your arm. “Has your mother arranged a marriage for you yet? Much like our dear Cissa here.”

You grow frigid in his hold. “Not at all, my Lord. Mother thought it best if I focused on my studies before anything else.” 

Tom hums in thought, eventually releasing you from his clutches. “I see. . . Then, have you considered other ways of pledging your allegiance to our cause?” 

Instinctively, you hide your left arm from his sight. “My Lord,” you begin, wondering how much longer you can address him as such without throwing up in his lap. “The only reason there isn’t much backlash to your. . . merciful endeavors is because Mother and I have ensured that the Daily Prophet’s eyes are elsewhere. The Ministry is blindsided, and no one expects a mondaine darling to be under your influence,” you say, desperation pouring from each word. 

You don’t want to carry his Mark. Not ever. You can endure it—you can endure it all so long as you aren’t eternally condemned to his name. 

“Take that away, and you’ll face significant repercussions,” you threaten boldly. “I promise you that. They look away because of me.” 

For every village and family terrorized, you had shifted the public’s attention to your facetious behavior. Throwing galas left and right, appearing out in public with various partners—you had done it all to bury the looming war. Rita Skeeter is at your beck and call. For every attack, your face is plastered on the front page. For every cry for help, the Ministry is busy dealing with trivial matters that your mother has proposed—such as anti-werewolf bills. 

And Voldemort would never notice that you’ve been thieving covert information from right under his nose and delivering it anonymously to a rising organization known as the Order of the Phoenix. 

(You’re also not pleased that they share similarities to your non de plume, the Firebird, but you suppose that is the least of your worries.) 

If Molly Weasley comes across a sealed letter on the steps of Grimmauld Place, with complete details and addresses of Death Eater hiding places, it is no one’s business but the Order’s—and yours. 

For every life taken, you remember that Muggle father in your mother’s cellar. It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow—but you’ll dismantle the pureblood society yourself. All of them, one by one. 

Tom Riddle smiles, and you realize that no one threatens him and gets away with it unscathed. 

A day before you’re set to return to Hogwarts for your seventh-year, the Malfoy Manor is pervaded by your gut-wrenching screams. 

There you are, little Firebird with your wings clipped, writhing on the floor of Lucius Malfoy’s guest room—the Cruciatus curse surging through your veins like molten lava threatening to burn you from the inside out. You hear Narcissa and Missus Fawley’s voices blend into a cacophony of panic. They’re shouting for various things: warm towels, bandages, essence of Dittany, and water. Regulus’s hold on you is tight, near-suffocating, even. 

But you don’t feel anything other than the mutilated flesh of your arm. 

You scream, cry, and scream again—you feel his magic over and over again. Branding you. The ink blends into your skin—but it’s not your skin anymore. A part of you now will always belong to him. 

Bile rises to your throat. 

Tears fall from your eyes. 

(How cold is the floor? You don’t even care anymore.)

And, the worst part is that no one can see it. Riddle charmed it perfectly to coalesce against your skin tone. But you see it. You see the skull and the stupid, wriggling snake. You see Tom Riddle’s monstrous glee as he drives his wand into your arm—Abraxas and Lucius holding you down as you thrash and flail. Your only reprieve was your mother was there, cradling your head to her chest, blocking out their malignant laughter. (You can’t believe you never noticed, but your mother had been branded, too.) 

“I’ll. . . kill him,” you say to yourself, blood and saliva trickling from your lips. If it is the last thing you’ll ever do, you will have Voldemort’s head on a silver platter. 

“Don’t be foolish,” Narcissa scolds, tipping your mouth upwards to swallow the drops of Dittany. “None of us have the power to do that. We just have to make do with the life that we’re given.” 

“I promise. . .  you,” you gurgle through the searing pain, gasping for air, clawing at her arms. “I’ll destroy them all.” 

You pass out in her arms. 

When you awake, you’re on a train to Hogwarts, left arm bandaged and hidden under the sleeve of your school robes. 

You don’t bother attending your classes—seeing no more purpose in Transfiguration and Herbology when you’re just a pawn in someone’s, everyone’s plans, apparently. The professors express their concern when you no longer turn in your homework or assigned projects. Once again, you barely see the need to. Your meals during breakfast, lunch, and dinner go untouched. You stay away from Narcissa, Vittoria, Isadora, Lucius, and Regulus. Your only friends, Amos and Amelia, stay away from you, too, having seen news of your promiscuity in the Daily Prophet. You scoff internally—you’ve never even had your first kiss yet. But even that seems like a distant dream. 

You are tired. 

How much longer do you have to play this part? How much more of yourself do you have to give? 

You’re only seventeen—how can you even hope to defeat Voldemort like this? 

The castle walls have dulled, and you drift through the corridors like a wearisome ghost. The once colorful world that you have been brought into now pales in the face of curses, spilt blood, and the Mark on your arm. You wonder what would happen—if you just run away now. 

Why should you be the one to bear the burdens of this duty thrust upon you? Why do people like James Potter and Sirius Black find loyalty and a real family within Hogwarts, and there is no one willing to fight for you?��

Perhaps, you have no one else to blame but yourself. 

Rita Skeeter publishes her article on the growing rift between you and Vittoria Zabini—claiming that you had stolen her beau from her.

You toss the newspaper into the fire. 

Some nights, you don’t bother returning to the Hufflepuff dormitories anymore. You know what they think. You know what they say behind your back. 

For the third time this week, you find yourself at the top of the Astronomy Tower, legs dangling from the edge of the window, eyes blankly staring at the horizon—if you run towards there, you wonder how long it will take before they find you. The cold nips at your cheeks, but you barely feel anything other than a gnawing emptiness.

Your gaze falls to the ground below, thirty, fifty meters from where you sit. 

Maybe. . . 

If you move a few inches forward. . . 

If you just fly. 

You’d be free. 

“Oh, I didn’t know this window was occupied.” You loosely turn your head to find Remus Lupin standing before you with a crooked grin, hands shoved in his pockets as he awkwardly shuffles one foot over the other. He raises his arms up in surrender. “I guess I’ll. . . find somewhere else to brood.” 

I don’t care. 

Go away. 

I want to die.

If I disappear, would you care? Would anyone? 

You rest your head back on the windowsill, hugging your legs to your chest. 

Starlings chirp and fly past you—how liberating it must be, to soar in the skies. But all you can do is watch enviously. Powerless, little songbird with no more lullabies to sing and no more wings to fly with. 

You let your weight shift over the window. 

Maybe if you fall, you could see what it’s like to fly. 

“H-Hey! Don’t—!” Remus quickly snatches your hand and pulls you into his embrace—the both of you tumbling to the floor. You feel his chest heaving, arms trembling around you, and the sound of his rapid heartbeat. His eyes are wide as he looks over your face for any injuries. “Why would you do that? Are you mad?”

You sigh. 

Maybe tomorrow, then. 

“Oi!” Remus pokes your shoulder. “Don’t just ignore me! You scared the piss out of me, you know? Bloody hell.” His shoulders slump in relief, and he takes another peek at you—just to make sure you’re still in front of him. “A-Are you okay?” he asks softly, afraid to spook you further away. “Do you want to talk about it or anything?” 

You shrug. “Nothing to talk about.”

His gaze flickers from you to the window ledge. “I think that’s a big something to talk about, honestly. B-But I get it. Really. No judgment.” 

An unwilling chortle escapes past your lips. Remus Lupin and his marauding bunch of lions would never understand the burden you have to carry each day for the rest of your life.

Remus scratches the back of his head with a wolfish grin. “Hey. . . listen. We don’t know each other all that well—so this is going to sound terribly weird. But would you like a hug?”

He opens his arms wide enough for you to fit—and you stare at him in horror. “C’mon, then. It really seems like you need it. And honestly, I kind of need it, too, especially after a scare like that.” 

You stay silent. 

He shakes his hands, beckoning you forward, golden hair flopping over his eyes. “I don’t bite. Promise. One hug and we’ll go on pretending like we don’t know each other tomorrow. Marauder’s honor.”

“I haven’t done anything to deserve your kindness,” you say with a prominent sneer—certainly not kindness from him. It must be another prank of theirs. You wait for Peter Pettigrew and Sirius to jump out and spray you with garlic juice. 

Remus smiles. “I think you’ll find that my kindness is freely given.” 

You nibble on your bruised lip. 

Could you really? 

Maybe just this once. 

You’re only human, magic as you are. 

You take one step forward. 

Then another. 

Another.

Until you fall right into his arms, and you inhale the scent of honey, milk raspberry chocolate, and cedarwood. The warmth of his arms around you is real. His voice is real. He whispers cruel words into your ear, “You’re alright, love. Let it out. I’m here.” You burrow your head deep in the crook of his neck. The sound of his heartbeat is real. He tightens his hold around you, and the ground underneath feels real. For a few moments, you don’t feel like you’re floating away into oblivion. 

Maybe you’d stay alive—for a few more days. 

To do what is right. 

To endure. 

Perhaps, tomorrow will be easier—if such kindness is real, maybe you’re allowed to seek it for yourself every now and then. 

But your nightmare doesn’t end when you’re awake—it takes you by the throat when you find yourself summoned to the Malfoy Manor on Hallow’s Eve. 

You’re not the only one caught by surprise. One by one, Tom Riddle’s followers apparate into the dining room, stumbling inside with a bewildered expression. Their Dark Lord has called for them in the dead of night—it must be for something important. You stiffen, sinking into Lucius’s shadow. You search for your mother but she doesn’t appear to be anywhere in the room. Someone brushes their hands against yours—Narcissa. She stands by your side, face impassive, her pupils frantically trying to make sense of the situation. 

Then, Tom Riddle finally apparates into the room, startling you for a fraction of a second. Not far behind is Abraxas, Cyprian, the Lestranges, Bellatrix, and finally—

Your mother. 

Fawley looks worse for wear, her skin sinking into her bones, clothes tattered, and her face littered with bruises. Bellatrix drags her across the floor, hair wrapped around her hands. 

You move to stop Bellatrix, anger blinding your vision—Narcissa tightens her grip on your wrist, subtly shaking her head. You rip your hand away from her. 

“We have found a traitor in our midst!” Bellatrix cackles, throwing your mother to the ground—your fists clench, swallowing each lump in your throat with rage blinding your vision. “I caught the bitch helping the McKinnons escape!” 

“No,” you whisper, dread knocking you backwards—it just isn’t possible. The two of you had always been careful. Bellatrix hits her again, and you have to restrain yourself from marching forward and cursing her from where she stands. 

One moment of weakness, that is all Tom Riddle needs. He finds you in the crowd with ease. The crowd of Death Eaters part like the red sea, and you steel yourself with Occlumency before you are sharply pulled forward, the mark on your left arm blistering as though a hundred needles are driving into your skin repeatedly.

“If the mother is a blood traitor, the child is sure to follow!” Bellatrix hisses, spit flying into the floor, her eyes gleaming with maniacal glee.

Voldemort cruelly holds your jaw in his hand, nails digging into your flesh, threatening to break through your bones. “Is this true?” he asks, drawing blood from your skin. “Tell me!” 

“No!” you cry out, kicking and punching to get away from his hold. “It’s not—let me go! That is my mother! You’re hurting her! She’s sick!”

“That,” Riddle’s eyes flash with hostility, breath hot on your skin, “is a betrayer to our cause.” 

“She’s not!” you scream.

“How did she find out, then?” Voldemort flings you to the ground—immediately, you rush to your mother, gathering her in your arms. Tom Riddle cocks his head and you’re blasted into the walls—you feel his Legilimency trying to force its way in, exploiting your pain and shock. But you won’t let him in. He’ll have to pry your memories from your cold, dead body.

The pain is searing—you’re being torn apart from limb to limb. Your mark is burning, head throbbing from a concussion, and still fighting against Riddle’s magic. Through your blurry haze, you see Lucius holding Narcissa back from running to you. “We’re not traitors!” you cry out desperately, crawling pathetically to your mother’s listless body. “I swear!”

Voldemort sneers just before he points his wand at your mother. “Crucio!”

“No! No! Stop it! Please! Please, stop it!” you beg on the ground as your mother helplessly writhes on the floor, the Cruciatus curse reducing the once austere Agatha Fawley to a whimpering mess. “You’re killing her!”

Tom snarls, “Good.”

Bellatrix digs her claws into your neck, her laughter resounding throughout the manor—you swallow the sobs down your throat as she drives her wand into your flesh. “Your mummy over there is done for. But you—our precious jewel, you can still prove your loyalty to our Dark Lord.” 

She puts your wand and closes your fist over the wood—your eyes grow wide as you thrash in her hold, screaming as she forces you to look at Fawley. “Kill her. And you may live.” 

“Just say it,” Bellatrix whispers in your ear. “Two little words. You’ve already done this before, pet—the second time should be easy enough!”

“No!” you knock your head back into her nose, slipping away as her hold loosens and she screams profanities at you—but to your misfortune, Voldemort captures you, like a defenseless bunny running into a starving snake. 

“Mum, wake up, please!” 

You cry out helplessly, sobbing as Voldemort forces you to watch the life gradually fade away from her blue eyes. Her magic envelops you—and you remember warm holidays spent by the fire, Muggle storybooks before bed, surprising you with breakfast in bed for your birthdays. It’s a warm feeling, a stark contrast to Tom Riddle’s invasive magic. Her voice echoes in your head one last time.

“Thank you for showing me what love feels like, if not for a moment. I am sorry I could not show it as a proper mother would.”

“Kill her!” Voldemort rages into your ear. 

You watch as Fawley’s eyes drift to a close, an act of resignation. “It’s okay, my darling,” she whispers tiredly. “I. . . can rest now.”

For the second time in your life, you point your wand at someone’s heart—this time, it’s your mother’s. 

“What are you waiting for?” Bellatrix asks, twitching menacingly. “Kill her! Before I do it myself!” 

There’s a faint smile on her face. 

“I’m. . . sorry.”

Those are Agatha Fawley’s last words before you take away her life.

The incantation falls so delicately from your lips, an act of mercy for the woman you once called your mother and your greatest tormentor. 

But your eyes are on one person and one person only.

Tom Riddle. 

“Avada Kedavra!”

He will know your pain.

Not today, not tomorrow.

But you’ll destroy them all, one by one.

a/n: THERE IS KISSING IN THE NEXT SCENE I PROMISE.... AND TRUST MY LILY LOVERS WE WILL GET OUR REDEMPTION ARC SKDJHFGKJH and sirius lovers too,, but yall are well-fed every day so.. next part has the yule ball, likee,, there's no way THAT becomes angsty.. if you saw a plot-hole, no you didn't just CRY and enjoy sdhgsdf... come tell me what you thought!! (if you have any constructive criticisms, just come to my dms BUT PLS BE VERY GENTLE.... oh and don't hesitate to tell me if i accidentally wrote anything super specific like height, skin color, etc.!!) i promise to better in the final part!!!! (there's only two parts to this fic.) I LOVE YEW I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS STORY AAAAAAAAAAAA

[hwanchaesong]

Folklore: A Trilogy (August)

Childhood friend!Jake X F!Reader

Synopsis: Ever since you left home to pursue the city life, you really did think that everything was over. Then you returned, and you still see him there. Will something rekindle and burn inside you once more?

word count: 24.6k

genre & warnings: fluff, angst, smut, childhood friends, kind of slowburn, summer love/fling au, this fic is taylor swift inspired (maybe you'll also see other song references but who knows), mentions of bullying & childhood trauma, cursing, drinking, party/festival, country side & small town settings, fights, jealousy, built up sexual tension, implied situationship, lies lies lies, sop (with bf!sunghoon), cheating (zont zo this, stay loyal!), oral m&f rec, fingering, nipple play, dry humping, overstimulation, creampie, kitchen sex, bedroom sex lmao, multiple unprotected (wrap before you tap!) sex scenes, appearance of other idols, & reminder!! the idols' characters here do not mirror real life! not proof read! etc etc mdni

a/n: this is the first part of the Folklore: Trilogy, which focuses on Jake aka our August. also the longest fic that i have ever written for now 🥲 and yes, i changed the 'aesthetic' moodboard bc i am obsessed with this kind of layouts lately 👺

ps. likes, comments, reblogs are all appreciated! let me know what you think y'all. thank you so much and enjoy! 🩷

🎧 playlist

You stretched your back, muscles cramping from seven hours of traveling, drawing in the conventional briny ocean breeze that passes through the air as you stepped onto the sandy sidewalk, opening the brown gates and the creaking metal alarmed the people inside the building of your arrival.

"Well, aren't you home earlier than expected?" your mother greets you, giving you a welcoming hug when you enter the house and you take notice of something delicious wafting around your nostrils.

"Yes, there wasn't much traffic on the way here," you returned her embrace after dropping your bags on the floor, "and I smell something good." you remarked, heading towards the kitchen to find your dad bustling in front of the stove and your little brother mixing something in a bowl.

"They're chefs now." your mother jokes, following you in the kitchen and making small talk when the men of the house told you two to sit back and relax, to let them do the work this time.

"Wow dad," you peeked over his shoulders and you almost drooled at the delicacy he's concocting, "your cooking skills have greatly improved."

"Me too!" the youngest of your family spoke, walking over to you and nudging you with his elbow, "Look, I made your favorite dessert."

You lovingly ruffled his hair and ignored his complaints, knowing that he secretly loves it, "You're doing great as well, Riki."

You assisted with setting the table, sitting down in your usual spot and helping yourself to a large portion of food, wolfing the grub with the utmost gratitude because seriously, dorm and university meals kind of suck.

While eating, your mother decided to bring up a topic that you dare say, plain horrendous and tedious, "Now that you're here, you should come with us to the town fiesta before your summer break ends."

You groaned, not liking the idea of spending your beloved summer around other people, only wanting to be a couch potato, to sleep, eat and play games all day long.

"Don't be like that!" your father chides, eating a spoonful of the tiramisu that Riki made before speaking, "Besides, your old friends will be there. Aren't you excited to see them?"

Old friends. Pft.

Can you even consider those people your friends when all they ever did during your elementary and highschool years was to approach you whenever they needed something?

You hated them, really, they are one of the many reasons why you were determined to depart from your hometown. You only come back here from time to time because of your family. The moment you set foot into the city, you've already cut those stupid, snarky bitches in your life.

"Come to think of it, Jake will be there." Riki added, then you paused.

Jake? The aussie boy whom you've spent most of your childhood with? The same Jake who gifted you the largest teddy bear that he won in a shooting range in a local carnival?

You cautiously peered at your brother, asking him a mindless question for good measure, "Jake with a government name of Sim Jaeyun?"

"Yep, good 'ol Jake. Do you know that I'm taller than him now?" he snickers, visualizing the older boy's rage if he hears that comment.

"He's still here?" you asked once more, because surely, you thought that he's gone by now. Back to Australia to pursue a career there, it's what he has informed you before going your separate ways for college.

"Of course, where else would he be?" Riki side-eyed you then realization flashed on his face, "I get it."

"You get what?"

"You missed him." he wiggled his eyebrows teasingly that it had you slapping his shoulder in an attempt to terminate his annoying ass down.

"I don't! I was asking because he told me that he w-"

"Excuses, excuses." he cuts you off, waving his hand around dismissively, "I'm so gonna tell him that you missed him so dearly."

"Really?" you crossed your arms over your chest, a challenging aura radiating off of you, "Go ahead then, guess I'll give the clothes I bought to Sunoo and Jungwon."

He whined, you gave him the cold-shoulder, he pulled your hair, you yelled at him and you nearly went nuts when he licked your spoon filled with the last tidbits of the chocolate goodness. (which he knows is your pet peeve.)

Before a fight breaks out, your parents ushered you both to your respective rooms, saying that they'll take care of the dishes. Rubbing their foreheads and saying something along the lines of 'sibling dynamics never change.'

While showering, you pondered over the invitation, maybe you should go. Check out what's new, totally not because of a certain someone... you think?

Jake was your closest companion back then, a kind person with a heart of gold. If anything, you'd call him your true friend. He made you laugh, shared his food with you, and did everything together; attached to the hip like you two were born from the same seed.

Not until he told you that he's moving back to Australia to attend a university that he's been dreaming of since he was young.

You remembered crying yourself to sleep that day, then you made the decision to study in the city because there is no way in hell you'll survive college life here without your one and only friend.

So it really was a surprise to you when Riki revealed that he's still here. Does that mean that moving out was nothing but a mistake on your part? Does that mean that you could've stayed here and lived a peaceful life instead of hustling in a swarming city?

You shook your head, 'Y/N, don't be silly.' If you didn't explore outside your small town, then you wouldn't have the chance to meet him.

A giddy smile crept up your lips at the thought of your boyfriend. One day, you'll bring him here and he'll definitely love the area, especially the lake when it's frozen so he could skate on it, then you'll be there beaming then-

You slapped your soapy cheeks with both hands, scolding yourself for daydreaming, 'Stop being a delulu! It's only been a few months since you started dating him!'

You quickly rinsed and dried your hair, changing into some of your comfortable childhood pajamas and letting yourself fall into dreamland.

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

"What the fu-" you must have resembled that one Morty meme when he woke up, because who on earth is making all the noise downstairs when it's... oh, it's 1 PM. Dang, you slept that long? Like a log even.

You went to the bathroom and freshened yourself up, and when you deemed yourself presentable enough, you headed down to check what the commotion was about.

You definitely heard Riki shouting, but there is someone else. A voice that is eerily familiar but is somehow foreign to your ears.

You steadily walked into the living room, ceasing when you detected a mop of long black hair sitting next to your brother's shorter one.

"Huh?" you unconsciously uttered, catching the attention of the boys who are currently playing Mario Kart.

"Y/N?"

The rotation of the earth seemed to slow down when you saw him again.

There he was, the old friend that saved you from a gloomy childhood.

"Jake?" you hesitantly called out, making him smile, nodding his head in your direction before standing up and lurching towards you for a bone crushing hug.

"Y/N!"

"Jake!"

You hugged each other for what felt like hours, disconnecting when Riki cleared his throat, standing up from his position on the couch and retreating in the kitchen, "Imma go and fetch us some snacks, call me when you're done being lovey-dovey."

You rolled your eyes at your sibling's sass, returning your attention to the sunny boy in front of you.

"How are you? You look great!" he beams, tightly holding your hand in his while he scans you from head to toe.

It kind of made you self conscious, wishing that you should've made an effort to dress better but hey! He's your sweet, lovely Jake, you’re assured that there's no ill intention behind his stare.

"I’m good, busy with college and all. How about you? You look fine as heck!" you answered him with all the sincerity that you could muster, especially at the last part of your statement.

He looks great, like really great. You’ll even say that he’s transformed into an actual disney prince.

You do hark back to him being one of the rare good looking bunch of kids , but boy, did you not expect puberty to hit him like a bullet train.

Given that Riki is taller than him (man did not lie), his visuals are insane. He retained his puppy-like eyes, prominent cheekbones that were the result of his baby fats disappearing, his tall nose and jawline that are now sharper than a knife, and his lips.. his godforsaken lips. It's fuller and thicker, and not to mention, his beige skin is glowing.

He's a totally different person from what you can remember, and the more you observe him, the more you discern how much of a man he became. Only did you realize that you were blanking out when his phone rang, and being the nosey person that you are, you couldn't help but peek at the caller.

'Yuna.'

Oh, so he has a girlfriend. Well, you should have expected that. A pretty boy like him would surely bag any girl that he wanted.

"Right, I'll be there in ten." he ended the call and turned to you with an apologetic smile, "Guess we'll continue this talk later."

"I don’t mind, no problem."

Perfect if you say so, it'll give you some extra time to relax and sink the newfound information in your brain, that your childhood friend grew up into a dashing, debonair man.

"Here, give me your number so we could easily communicate." he hands you his phone, allowing you to type and save your contact.

"You're leaving?" just then, Riki emerges from the kitchen, holding a tray of munchies and setting it on the coffee table.

"Yeah, sorry man, I need to do something."

Riki side-eyes his friend with a sarcastic hum. (you think that side-eyeing people is his new habit from the amount of times he did it within a short span of time.)

"Do something or do someone?" Riki haphazardly asked, making Jake glance at you nervously, an awkward chuckle erupting from him.

"It's not like that," he glances at the clock, clicking his tongue and bidding his goodbyes, "I gotta go now. Y/N, I'll text you later."

He waves at you both, bolting through the door and Riki lets out a sardonic laugh, "Look at that fuckboy, so ready to get his dick wet."

"Hey," you pinched Riki's cheek, earning yourself a pained drone from him, "watch it. Since when did you learn vulgar words like that."

He swats your hand away, "Since birth. Ouch! Stop it!" he protests when you start pinching him more, not appreciating his raw sass.

"But really, he's a fuckboy now?" you inquired, flopping on the couch and grabbing a cookie from the plate, chomping on it while you watch Riki pour some juice for you two.

"Why? Are you jealous?" he teased, doing that same taunting eyebrow wiggle that you hate so much.

"I will literally choke you." you threatened, making him raise his hands up in surrender.

"Simmer down." he sat next to you, exiting Mario Kart and opting to play some anime on Netflix, "I don't know if it's true or not, but word from others is that Jake's been screwing girls since last year."

"Is that so?" you nonchalantly replied, listening to your brother gossip but then you got lost in your own thoughts.

The rumors are bad, but you somehow can't bring yourself to believe it. In the short amount of time since you've left, maybe some things have really changed. You wouldn't know, you weren't here to witness it.

You shrugged and watched the anime playing on the tv, something about a reincarnated slime. This is a good distraction instead of waiting for Jake to text you.

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

You don't know what came over you when you heard your phone go off, the message notification sound making your heart skip a bit. You hurriedly got off your vanity and laid down on your bed, gripping the phone and opening the text.

'Hey Y/N! Jake here, this message is kinda late, so sorry, I got caught up with something.'

You smiled and saved his number, typing in a reply... which you didn't give much consideration to and now you are regretting your uninhibited decisions for sending that.

You (8:45 PM):

Got caught up by your girlfriend? Who was she again, Yuna?

Jake (8:46 PM):

You saw that?

Noo, it wasn't like that I swear. I helped her fix her brother’s computer. She is just a friend, nothing more, nothing less.

Again, you don't know what came over you as you rolled over your bed, staggering at the fact that he's explaining himself even though he’s not required to. And you guessed you took too long to reply when your phone buzzed, signaling that he's calling you.

You straightened your back, clicking the green button, "Hello," his voice sounded gruff over the speaker, "are you mad? Promise, she's not my girlfriend or anything. Please don't be mad."

Straight to the point, you see, and his chatterbox personality still comes out whenever he gets mousy about something.

"Jake, chill out." you giggled when you heard his relieved sigh from the other side, "I'm not mad at you, I just did something for a while." you lied, "Besides, why would I be angry if you got a girlfriend?"

There was a beat of silence before he spoke, "I mean, we did make a promise back then so.." he trails off, and the flashback about your salad days takes over.

"Promise me that I'll be the only girl in your life!" you cried, smacking little Jake on the head.

"Ack!" he yowled, his tiny hands flying to the stinging area of his skull.

You were being unreasonable, but the thought of losing Jake to that ugly girl in class 2-A made your younger self throw a tantrum. Wailing like a toddler while stomping around the empty playground.

"Y/N! I didn't do it on purpose! She touched me first!" Jake tried to explain, sprinting to you when you accidentally tripped on a rock, face planting on the dirt, "Are you okay?!"

You hurriedly sat up, not wanting to look weak despite your crying and looked at him, staring at his teary eyes, maybe you are being unfair to him.

You sniffled, wiping your tears away before mumbling, "Just promise me."

Jake sighs, dropping to his knees in front of you and holding his pinky finger out, linking it with yours forcefully but with care, "I promise you, in the name of all my ancestors, that you'll be the one and only girl in my life!" he exclaims, giving you a toothy smile that immediately soothes all your stupid concerns.

"Well, except for my mom and Layla... and maybe some relatives."

You bit your lower lip, heart rate speeding up, "You haven't forgotten about that? We're like, what? Eight?"

"I take my pinky promises seriously!" he declares, making you laugh heartily at his mindless yet captivating jest.

"So, wanna catch up? Let's hang out at the beach." he suddenly proposed, catching you off guard. You peeked at the clock, it's nearing 9 PM but oh well, you're old enough to do this, unlike before that you had to sneak out of the house just to meet up with him.

"Yeah sure. Just give me a few minutes." you agreed and he happily cheered, the call ended after that and you hurriedly stood from your bed; Fixing your hair in the mirror, making sure to spray a decent amount of perfume and tiptoeing out of your house, trudging the road for a seven to ten minutes stroll to the beach.

When you arrived, Jake was already there, fixing a blanket that you assumed he brought so the two of you can sit comfortably instead of getting sand on your buttocks.

"Hello, kind sir." you greeted him like a princess, bowing to him gracefully.

"Hello to you too, mademoiselle." he takes your hand as he mimics the bow that you did.

"You speak french now?" you razzed, resting on the blanket first and tapping the space beside you.

"I was trying to go along with whatever skit you're doing." he says, his tone sprinkled with some attitude but nonetheless still sat beside you.

The atmosphere was tranquil as you both stared at the clear night skies, letting the evening wind blow through your faces, bringing a sense of solace that you really missed.

Until your mouth itches and you break the congenial quietude, bringing up the topic that has been bothering you.

"Say Jake," you started, staring right ahead and disregarding his sparkling eyes that he directed at you when he heard your voice, "you told me that you're going back to Australia for college. It really was a surprise that you're still here. What happened?"

He averted his gaze when you went and returned his stare, "Nothing. Just.. something came up, so my parents told me to stay here instead."

You frowned, your guts telling you that he wasn't telling you the entire truth, but you ultimately decided to let it go for now. You don't want to make him uncomfortable by pushing him to open up to you, knowing that it's been a while since you two had hung out.

Heck, you think- no, you believe that he's closer to your brother now.

You let out a sigh, giving him a covert smile and patting his back, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Nah, it's fine." his mood shifted into a lighter one, seizing your hand on his shoulder and clasping it into his, "Aside from that, I'm glad that I didn't leave, because if I did," he squeezes your hand, his warmth seeping through your bones, "I wouldn't be able to see you again."

For the nth time that night, for whatever mysterious reason, you went and reciprocated his actions, squeezing his hand tighter, sitting next to him closer, and smiling blithely at him, "Welps, I'm here now." you whisper, and you swear you saw something twinkle in his irises.

"You are." he smiles back, releasing your hand and slinging an arm over your shoulders, "That is why we need to make the most of it, okay?"

You hummed, leaning on his side and snuggling under his hold.

You’ll later say that you missed him, that’s it. You missed your friend, the person who stuck by your side despite your annoying and messy ass.

There's nothing wrong with spending time with a person that you had regarded as your human diary, the person that you once held feelings for. That was all in the past, for now, you'll catapult your qualms away and enjoy the moment.

When it was getting colder, Jake offered to walk you home, laughing like some elementary schoolers while trudging to your house, talking about the dumbest shit you had done during your juvenile years.

It was nice, it was always nice being with him. A sense of warmth within you knowing that you're safe when you're with him.

The reminiscing went to a halt when you stood by your humble abode's gates, "Welps, I'll see you again soon." you stood awkwardly, like you wanted to say more, to do more, but you don't know what words or actions there are to say or do. 

Finally, Jake took the initiative and stepped towards you, enveloping you in his arms and wishing you a good night before parting your own ways. 

As you lay down on your mattress, drowsiness lulling you to sleep, you couldn't help but think about the light pressure on the crown of your head when Jake hugged you.

You chose to remain ignorant, along with the thunderous thumping of your heart in your chest.

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

"Oh my god! He's a hottie!" Sunoo exclaimed, gaping at the picture on your phone.

"Let me see!" Jungwon dropped the other side of the shirt that he's been vying for with Riki, making the younger stumble on the floor, the other dashing on Sunoo's spot on the couch.

Your brother groaned, rubbing his stinging buttocks that made contact with the cold wooden tiles, "That fucking hurt."

"Language, Riki." your scolding fell on deaf ears as he continued muttering curses under his breath, directing such vile words to his friends.

You, Riki, and his childhood friends’, Jungwon and Sunoo, are currently in the living room, busting out the souvenirs that you bought for them when the topic of your boyfriend was brought up. (courtesy by the pocketz.)

They were whining to you, begging you to show them a photo, to which you shyly presented your phone up, your lover's social media account opened and ready for them to rubberneck at. It was safe to say that they were awed by his visuals, except for your bratty younger brother.

"I'm much more handsome than him," he comments, draping his body all over the boy who's holding the gadget and looking at the image as well, "bet I'm taller than him too."

"Shut up. Is height your only way of hyping yourself?" Sunoo rolled his eyes, shoving Riki off of him and letting Jungwon grab the phone and have his turn of stalking your boyfriend's instagram account.

"Wow, Y/N, your man looks like he came out straight from a manhwa." Jungwon stated, "And no, sorry Riki, I love you but there is no way you're more handsome than this guy."

"Whatever." Riki gave it up, choosing to hide the shirt that he's keeping tabs on from the corner of the box that made Sunoo shriek, yelling that he already called dibs on the piece of fabric.

Jungwon returned your phone back to you, going over to his friends and joining the chaos.

You chewed on your lower lip, staring at your boyfriend's picture. He does look ethereal. Standing in a field, looking sideways to subtly flex his side profile, and to top it off, the mixture of bright orange-blue hues of the skies highlight his sharp, charming visuals even further.

Your dopey smile was difficult to fight off, suddenly missing him and wishing for him to appear out of nowhere so you could hug and kiss him.

"What's the commotion all about?"

A wild Jake appears, infiltrating your home with a grin and scanning the area before sauntering to the venue of the ruckus You quickly close your phone, tossing it on the table and giving the aussie a side hug when he flumps on the unoccupied space beside you.

"These boys are bickering over the clothes that I bought." you explained, answering his question as he scrutinized the three idiots who kept on fighting over a hoodie, ignoring his existence in the room. "Apparently, they love these kinds of styles."

"I bet they do. Look at them going crazy over a pink hoodie." Jake derides, kicking Jungwon on the butt and chastising them for not even sparing him a glance when he popped up in the room.

"Sorry, didn't see you there hyung." Jungwon nonchalantly says, the other two temporarily paused and muttered an uninterested 'hello' before going back to their serious business of sorting outfits.

"Wow, really these guys." Jake sighs in displeasure, a grimace on his face as he watches the youngsters, "How long have they been at it?"

"About.." you trailed off, peeking at the time, "two hours now. It's getting kinda boring."

Jake pondered for a while, after a minute or two he turned to you and fished out his car keys, dangling it in front of you with a smirk on his face and hazel orbs full of mischief, "Whaddya think of a ride around town?"

You blinked at his spontaneous behavior, shrugging and pretending to think about the suggestion even if you already had an answer, "Sure. I mean, there's nothing much to do here."

Jake cheered and made a dash towards his car, mumbling something about revving it up and you have to come quick. You shook your head endearingly at his excited demeanor, truly like a puppy.

You went to follow him but not before telling the boys who are, until now, arguing over the mundane things about your souvenirs, "Y'all, I'm going out for a while. Look out for the house while I'm gone, and don't destroy anything while mom and dad are not here too."

You stood there for a while, observing their squabble, then you chose to drop the formalities since they're too centered in their own world to even give you the time of their day.

"No, I'm telling you, this is my size!"

"You're too puny for this, c'mon man, be serious."

"I ain't the size of your dick."

"Wha-! Say that again you fuckhead!"

Truly a pandemonium, you purse your lips and rubbed your forehead, shooting your parents a text about your whereabouts and leaving the house altogether because some children just won't listen.

Something scintillated within you when you saw Jake patiently waiting outside, leaning on his car and playing with his phone.

You took your time to extensively admire him, finally seeing him in a holistic perspective.

Him, standing there with his leather jacket, clad in an all black outfit down to his shoes. His charcoal tresses flowing the same way as the wind and oh, how he glows under the glittering rays of the afternoon sunlight is blinding you.

He's flawless.

"Yoi!" you snapped out of it when he called for you, opening the passenger door and motioning for you to get on. 

You hurriedly went in, suspiciously not making eye contact, making you miss the knowing look he sent you. Now, you tried to relax, sitting on the leather seat but my god... his scent is so strong inside, it invades all of your senses, making your hands clammy.

Jake went and sat in the driver's seat, laughing when he saw you struggle to put on the seatbelt. He bent over to your side to help you out, brushing against your hand in the process.

"Your hands are sweaty." he remarked, then raised an eyebrow, "Are you.." he peeked at you from under his long hair, batting his lashes at you, "Nervous?"

Well that did the trick. You were caught red-handed and you’re not quite sure on what to or not to do, stumbling over your words to try and explain yourself.

"Hey, hey, calm down."

You took a deep breath. He's close, too close as he's still hunched over to you. Faces mere centimeters from each other but you need to be brave, gazing into his mellow eyes and feeling yourself settle when his hands enveloped yours, "It's just me, okay?"

"Right." you giggled nervously, "But no, I wasn't nervous. I was only out of it. You know, 'cuz I'm tired." you tried to play it cool like you weren't losing your mind just a few seconds ago.

He, at long last, moved away from you, letting go of your hand and starting to drive away.

"Really now?" he asked, a sly smirk on his lips but it was wiped off and was replaced with a pout when you, shockingly, flipped him off. (he did not expect you to do that, earning you a whiny "Since when have you been so violent?" from him.)

In your defense, flipping someone off is not a sign of violence, but rather an off-handed way of showing affection.

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

The trip went smoothly, you weren't anxious like a shivering chihuahua anymore, allowing you to appreciate the beauty of your hometown.

There were a lot of recently developed things.

New buildings, new attractions, and you even saw a glimpse of the upcoming jubilee; the stalls and decorations are a total giveaway.

"Woah, I was gone for a bit and changes like these happened already." you remarked, surprised at the amount of transformation in your settlement.

"Like they say, change is inevitable." he replies and you couldn't agree more. "By the way, can we go somewhere as our last destination?"

The sun was starting to set, the time for you to go home was getting close because your parents made you promise to join them for supper. But it's okay, one more location with Jake won't hurt.

So you agreed, letting him drive while you close your lids, enjoying the salty breeze from the ocean and letting the current of air brush your hair and skin, relishing in the serenity that you barely experience in the city.

After a few minutes, the vehicle went to a halt, hearing Jake murmur a small 'We're here.' made you open your eyes, and you were greeted by the familiar view.

"Oh my god, Jake!" you grinned, running towards the small, dinky wooden house that stood in the middle of the wild grasses and flowers. A rush of happiness flowing in your veins at seeing your 'secret base.'

You gasped when you entered, Jake following closely behind, you couldn't believe what you were seeing.

"Yeah," he bashfully puts his hands inside the pockets of his ripped jeans, biting his lips whilst he inspects your expression, "I took care of our secret base all this time. Corny, I know, but I really wanted to keep this in good condition."

He rambles and you listen, walking around the expanse of the room and true to his words, the four corners of the house are basically spotless. Despite the rust forming around the edges of the metals and a portion of the wood being eaten by some kind of insect, everything is still the same.

"Are you kidding me Jake?" you spun on your heels and ran to him, pulling him into a bear hug and burying your face in his chest, "This is like, the best thing that ever happened to me ever since I came back here!" you exclaimed, staring up at him gleefully.

He lets out a relieved sigh, returning your amity with the same fervor, "I'm glad, I thought I was way overboard with this."

"Pft. No way!" cue you trying to do his Australian accent, breaking the hug and proceeding to jovially push him away, "But genuine question here, why did you go all the way and take the job of being the caretaker for this supposedly tree house." you jokingly quoted the word 'tree house' with your fingers, making Jake hoot in laughter at the hidden agenda of your sentence.

"We really did our best to make this a tree house, unfortunately, we were too dumb to figure out how to build a damn house. Good thing your father is a good carpenter." he chuckles, recalling the memory of how and why the miniature flat was built.

"No, but really, the thing was.. I, ah fuck-" he runs a hand through his silky strands of inky locks, his ears turning red and your heartstrings were pulled by his adorable mien.

What your younger brother told you suddenly echoed in your brain, "Jake's a fuckboy now."

Yeah, he might be, considering the amount of girls that kept on clinging to him while he toured you around the metropolis. You saw a glimpse of it, his flirty persona, but right now, you firmly believe that he's still the same Jake that you knew.

Jake Sim, the guy who befriended you when no one else was willing to because apparently, you were a freak during your girlhood. The same guy who always protected you, stopped you from making poor life decisions that you'd probably regret sooner or later.

The same guy who took you to prom during your senior year, the one who gaped like a fish when he saw you all dressed up, a large grin on his face while he complimented you throughout the night nonstop. The one who never left your side and danced with you during the said event, not glancing at any other women's direction and focusing on you and only you until he couldn't take it anymore and kissed you on your front door.

Jake Sim, your first friend, first kiss, and inescapably, first love.

"Tell me." you urged him, cupping his face and staring right through his worries, "You can always be honest with me."

Jake visibly gulped, his hands moving on its own and engulfing yours that are planted on his cheeks.

"I wanted to preserve the memories." he admits, his eyes softening at your astonishment, "This was the place where we started our family, with our daughter Layla."

You snickered, "Layla.. how is our daughter doing?" you asked, suddenly curious about the adorable dog's whereabouts.

"So now you remember her?" Jake rolled his eyes, but still answered you nonetheless, "She's doing fine actually, she missed you a lot."

"She did?"

"Yeah, she missed you." the volume of his voice dropped, almost purring, raspy and feathery, tickling your insides, "Even her father missed you, if we're going to be blunt here."

"And who is the father?" you inquired, not noticing that Jake guided your hands towards his shoulders, his own palms gliding down your hips and gradually tugging you close to his body.

"Me, I'm the father."

You were too engrossed at the melodrama-like scene that you're starring in, not having the ability to discern that your faces are inching towards each other every ticking second.

*ring ring*

Like a wake up call, thanks to your phone, the two of you jolted and immediately separated, breathing heavily and thinking 'What the hell just happened?'

You answered your phone, your mom is getting dramatic because it's late and she's hungry, telling you to go back home right at this instant.

"Let's go, I'll drive you back." Jake's voice was distant, seeing that he's already outside, waiting for you to exit the house.

The journey back to your residence was a complete 180 of the atmosphere from when you both left. It was taciturn and morose, so much that it made you want to walk back home instead.

When he parked right outside your gates and you were about to offer him goodnight and farewell, he promptly gripped your wrist, preventing you from escaping the auto, "I'm sorry, back there, I.. I didn't know what came over me."

"No, no, it's fine. It was an accident." you say, but then you heard him mutter something, but you couldn't quite hear it. So you asked him to repeat himself.

"I said," he took a deep breath, "I want our friendship to be just like before. If that's okay with you."

You smiled, flicking his forehead as a way of telling him that everything is okay, "I would love that, you doofus."

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

Jake watches you enter your home before going off on his own apartment but not before stopping in an vacant road and banging his head repeatedly on the steering wheel.

That was so shitty and uncool of him.

Almost kissing his friend— his friend that has a boyfriend.

He sighs, shutting his eyes and repeating a mantra in his brain, 'Don't do that ever again.'

He barely managed to save the night, a poor attempt at that, thankfully, you're nice enough to let things pass and accept his proposition of rekindling what's supposed to stay in the past.

This is fine. It's foolish of him to think that he's something more to you. So he'll accept the fact that you'll always see him as your friend.

Even if he wants to love you, even if loving you is a complete necessity for him. He'll bury all of those, hidden in his box of filtered feelings and emotions, because once he lets go of his restraints, he'll lose you.

Dear lord no, the mere thought of losing you makes his stomach churn in a not so nice way, evoking the bile to rise in his throat.

Again, he convinces himself that he doesn't need anything else but to have you in his life.

"Jake, keep your shit together." he opens a compartment, looking intently at a bracelet made out of shells tucked safely in a clear glass box.

Wanting you was, is, and will always be more than enough. 

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

Undeniably, your parents nagged you for being late to the family dinner, but you paid no mind to them, opting to eat your food at the speed of light and locking yourself in the privacy of your room, throwing your body on the comforts of your bed.

Once inside, you felt like you could breathe again, all the substandard smoke inhaled from earlier finally out of your lungs. You were dizzy from everything that happened today, and you want nothing more but to combust at the mixed emotions that are brewing up.

You almost kissed Jake, for fucks sake. The thing was, you liked the way he looked at you, the way he held you, the way h-

You gasped when your phone rang, guilt running through your whole system when the screen lit up with the words: 'Hoonie 🐧'

You took a deep breath, collecting yourself for a moment before grabbing your device and answering the video call with a giddy smile and shaky hands.

"There she is, my baby, the love of my life, my wife, m-"

"Hoonie!" you whined, cutting the voice off which made the person on the other line chuckle, his loving eyes glimmer when he saw you blush.

"What? Am I not allowed to shower my baby with love?"

You giggled, lying properly down the bed and lifting your arms up so your phone would be directly facing you, letting you admire the man that you proudly call yours.

"Of course you can. How's your practice over there?" you asked, wanting to know his life’s events.

"It's fun actually, I was really nervous at first but guess what, the coaches here in Canada are so nice and they taught me new techniques so I can improve further! And, the pancakes here are so fucking delicious." he's basically rapping, you think, but you still find yourself getting drowned by his voice, the way he excitedly tells you everything about his training camp in another country is endearing. Although, you frowned when he suddenly chips his rants off, a sad sigh escaping his lips.

"Why, what's wrong?" worry graced your expression, making him coo at how adorable you are.

"Nothing. I just wish you were here with me right now."

You watched him sit up from his own bed, leaning onto the wooden headboard and intently studying you, "I wish I could come home to you after practice, then we could cuddle and kiss.. and maybe eat some pancakes too."

You laughed at his unseriousness, really, he could say the most romantic words out there yet he'd still sprinkle it with his weird uncle humor. Well, that's one of the many reasons why you love him.

"You're crazy about those pancakes aren't you?" you watched him nod his head, his eyes crinkling as he probably feels pride swelling within him for making you laugh.

"I'm crazier about you though." he winked, a boyish grin on his lips and you couldn't help but kick your feet like a kindergarten student with a crush.

"Gosh! Now you're just making me miss you more!" you grumbled, lying sideways and hiding your maroon colored face in your pillows.

His melodic chuckles resound in your ears, and you peek at him when he softly, sweetly tells you that he misses you too, tons and lots.

"No but really, aside from dying on how much I want to hold you," you chuckle at his dramatic sentence, "one of the agendas here is because a little birdie told me that you don't want to go to your town fiesta."

You groaned, "I'm gonna tell mom that you called her a little birdie."

"Hey missy, no tattling allowed here." he clicked his tongue before continuing, "But no, it was Riki who told me. And, I think you should go because I heard that it's a special celebration in your town that only happens once a year. Besides, you can't let Riki run around there alone, what if he accidentally stabs himself with a spoon?"

This time, you groaned and whined, explaining to him the many reasons why you don't wanna go. It's hot, there's too many people, and Riki is old enough to handle himself. Really, like a child throwing a fit which made your boyfriend massage his temples, and as you were on your number five reason why you didn't wanna go, you halt when his voice dropped an octave on the other line.

"What if I give my princess a little something tonight if she decides to go?" he says, and something about his tone sends shivers down your spine, especially the way he called you 'princess.'

A pet name that he uses only for certain circumstances.

"What?" you asked dumbfounded, knowing the purpose behind his words but your brain is not fully processing the situation.

"You see, I can feel it when my princess is kind of frustrated.." something in his eyes darkened as he looked at you through the screen, one that shoots arrows down to your core, "because I am too, honestly haven't touched myself for days because it's never sufficient when it's not you."

You almost choked when he let out a deep moan, and you could see the muscles in his biceps moving and bulging. The sound of his sheets rustling is very much an obvious sign that he's starting to play with himself.

"Hoon- I.." you trailed off, rubbing your legs together to generate some relief, every second you hear a guttural groan from him the wetter you become.

Oh fuck, you two were just being lovey-dovey a while ago and now it's getting real nasty... and you're loving every single second of it.

"Yes princess?" he says huskily, looking at you with hooded eyes, waiting for you to speak up.

"Help me, please." you pathetically whimpered, snaking a hand down and inside your shorts and underwear, instantly feeling the sticky juices of your pussy.

"Sadly princess, I can only do that when you say yes to the proposal, yeah?" he replied, tone webbed with feigned sympathy as he smickered at your helplessness.

Your eyes slammed shut, legs twitching and your core in desperate need of release, "Fine!" you concede, taking a deep breath when you heard your boyfriend's triumphant chuckle over the line, "Can you please just-"

"Now, now," the man uttered, biting his lower lip to keep himself from tittering at your desperate demeanor, "listen to me well and do everything as I say, okay?"

You nodded your head as an affirmation, impatiently gathering your wetness that was pooling in your heat, lathering them all over your labia.

"That's my good princess, now can you touch your clit for me?" he instructs, his heavy breathing echoing in your brain as you do what he said. A light moan escaping your lips when your finger nudges your bundle of nerves.

"Circle them around, honey, write my name on that pussy." your lover on the other line shudders at the thought of spelling his name on your glistening part, he'll definitely do it himself the next time he sees you.

"Ah! H-hoonie, need more." you cried out, keeping your voice at minimum so the other occupants of the house won't hear what's going on inside your room. "Please, I need more." you continued whining, writing every syllable of his name on your clit, an unspoken proof of him owning you.

At this point, you're having a hard time maintaining the grip on your phone, forcing yourself to look into the camera, resigned pupils begging for your boyfriend to do something. And when he did say to plunge two fingers in, you immediately obeyed, curling it into your g-spot, imagining it was his deft digits that are pleasuring you, it had you writhing around your sheets, but it's not sufficient. Not adequate to send you to the edge. 

You fucking need him. You need Park Sunghoon himself.

"I-I can't Sunghoon, this is not enough I-"

"No baby, you can and you will." he rasped, and you can barely hear him stroking himself rather harshly, surely he's also imagining your soft, small hands on his cock as he works himself into his orgasm. "Let go princess, cum all over your fingers and I'll make sure that a grand prize awaits you."

You gasped, reaching euphoria with his encouragement, along with his insanely attractive groans while releasing his load into his hand. You moaned his name wantonly until you're panting and the only thing that you could think of is him, and the said award that you'll get when you see him after the summer break. 

Your phone slipped from your grasp, exhaustion seeping in and you don't wanna move anymore. You'll clean yourself up tomorrow, opting to listen to the praises that your boyfriend is giving you, finally sleeping with a satisfied smile when you hear the words that will forever make the zoo in your stomach crazy.

"I love you, my Y/N."

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

Giving in to your boyfriend made you lament, and as much as you want to hate him for compelling you agree to this stupid festival, you couldn't bring yourself to do it because apparently, your bouncy brat of a brother who entered your bedroom in the wee hours of the morning (10 am) and his joyful celebration of you coming to the stupid event was enough to make you think that yeah, accepting that proffer may be worth it.

Still, you weren't prepared for it. You only packed the essential clothes necessary for the entire summer break. And it did not include any extravagant, shiny dresses or outfits that are suitable for parties.

Thus, that is how you found yourself walking down the cemented pavement to go to the nearest clothing store after having your not so peaceful brunch. With your brother and his friends going off about how amazing the night party at the beach for the festival would be, you couldn't help but listen to them yap.

You yelped when a car stopped beside you, and you were so ready to dash off or scream if some masked man tried to kidnap you. The familiar black tint of the vehicle made you stop and rethink the overreaction that you're about to pull, then the window of the driver's seat rolled down, revealing none other than Jake himself.

"A pretty lady walking under the sun without an umbrella at like," he paused to look at the imaginary watch on his wrist, "one pm, that's uncanny."

You scoffed, crossing your arms, "The only uncanny thing here is that," you pointed at his face, squinting playfully "wearing sunglasses inside a car, what kind of idiot does that?"

"Hey! This is for fashion!" he yelled, offended at your snide remark, completely forgetting the character he's in. "Anyways, get in. Where are you even going?"

He gets out of his car, opening the passenger seat for you and signaling for you to enter. He stands there patiently, waiting for you to move even though he was clearly upset at your joke, evident by the pout on his lips. You couldn't help but smile, flowers blooming in your chest with how sweet he is.

You amicably walked in his direction, pinching in his cheeks, "You're spectacular in those sunglasses. Now let's go to some clothing store because I have to prepare shit."

While getting yourself comfortable inside his car, you saw him fight back a smile at your compliment, his pronounced cheekbones failing to hide his grin at the last moment.

The drive resumed without a hitch with you explaining the reason for your impromptu trip, and being extra, he just had to go to the mall because, and you quote, "The mall has more options, don't be such a grinch about it." end of quote.

Now, you're having regrets part two of today's adventure because how on earth are you supposed to act when two elderly couples have mistaken Jake as your boyfriend? And he was so casual about it! He could at least act a little flustered because you were always caught off guard!

What does that make you?!

"You don't have to be so shy about it." he pokes fun at you, dragging you around the mall after telling you that he knows a good store that sells really pretty clothes.

"I am by no means shy. I was just surprised that's all, and h-"

"Here we are!" he exclaims, cutting your sentence short when he pushes you inside the shop.

The bell rang, indicating your arrival and you could hear a faint 'Welcome' from the back, probably the only employee for the day, considering the small space of the clothing store.

The ambience inside is nice, the interior was giving Parisian vibes, but you couldn't admire the place for long when Jake shoved a bunch of clothes in your face.

"Here, try some of this on and let me see." he says with an eager smile, you just have to bring out the full potential of your neocortex and thalamus and you'll be able to see his wagging tail.

"You mean I have to model you these?" you raised an eyebrow, entering a dressing room and burrowing through the clothes, picking only the ones that caught your eye, shaking your head when you heard Jake shout about him being the fashion king of your town. 

The first outfit was a simple plaid red skirt and black long sleeve top, to which Jake said that it looks like you're going to a painting class.. it was a no.

Second outfit was a drag, he says, black sleeveless overall that you paired with a white crop top. Certainly, you'll have to remove the entire fabric if you want to pee, which is a good point.

You are now slightly fuming, wanting this shit to end, not until you saw an appealing, off shoulder white dress with golden linings on it. The subtle floral pattern embedded adds to its beauty and you think, yeah, maybe this is the one.

You threw it on without much thought, exiting the fitting room and showing it to your friend who was checking the prices of some of the clothes, "What do you think?"

Jake turned around from where he was standing, and it seems that time has been possessed by a turtle. His eyes widened, raking in your appearance and etching  it into his brain, never to consign into oblivion.

Now, Jake is a devoted Christian. He goes to church to pray, thanking God for all of the blessings he has received in his life. He heard the pastor describe heaven and angels, and as a child, he thought that he'll only see that in the afterlife. Never would he expect that he'll experience nirvana and see a spiritual being whilst alive, all in the shape of you.

He was so mesmerized by you that he didn't even realize you were talking, repeating your question from before. Then his small sphere broke when an unfamiliar voice spoke.

"I think you look great in it, ma'am."

"Oh! Uh-I, thank you..?" you trailed off, looking at the boy's name tag, "Yeonjun?"

"Yeps! That's me!" the black haired man chirps, "Well then, are you getting that? Which I think you should because it really suits you."

You put a hand over your chest, thanking the employee before excusing yourself so that you can return in your previous clothes and pay for the dress.

Meanwhile, Jake was stupefied. He didn't get a word in and he was about to shower you with compliments! He scowled at the tall boy standing in the corner, and when he felt the menacing glare of the aussie, he raised his hands up in surrender.

"I'm sorry man, had to speak to her because you were acting like a statue earlier." Yeonjun explains, but the smirk on his face didn't sit well with Jake.

"Where do I pay?" you appeared out of nowhere, the dress hanging on your arms, effectively breaking the tension between the two men.

"Right this way, ma'am." Yeonjun gladly guides you to the cashier area, giving you a flattering grin while he punches the price of the outfit. Before he could say another word, you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist, pulling you flush towards a sturdy body and a black card being dropped in front of the worker.

"I'll pay for it, no buts." Jake's authoritative behavior took you by surprise, thinking real hard on what made him act like this.

You discreetly looked at him, and my god were you blown away by how.. hot he looks when mad?

Wait a minute.. is he?

You heave when you're suddenly hauled out of the store, too busy in your own daydream to actually notice that he's done paying, gruffly grabbing the paper bag from the counter and storming out like an emotional old lady in a telenovela.

"Hold up, Jake!" you forcefully remove your hand on his own, sizing up his weird attitude before asking him what's up, and why the fuck is he upset out of the blue.

He faced the other direction, tuning in on him as he murmured under his breath, and you think you heard some curses like 'motherfucker' and 'cunt' and you had to compose yourself, or else you'll have no choice but to slap him silly for acting so tiresome in the middle of a jam-packed mall.

You sighed, putting your hands on your hips, a stance that mothers use when they're drained of their child's tantrum, "My fucking god, Jake, if you don't tell me what's wrong I'll leave you right here at this instant."

"That cashier sucks!" he bellowed, turning on his feet to face you with a frown, "He thinks he's a hotshot just because he's tall and he's muscular but argh!" he threw his hands up in the air, now sporting a petulant expression whilst crossing his arms over his chest.

"I get it." you giggled, raising an eyebrow at him that had him further frustrated, "You're jealous because he's handsome?"

"Yada yada," he rolls his eyes at your antics, not accepting such despicable reasons, "I'm a walking disney prince, he's no match for me."

"Alright, calm down Jakey." you laugh heartily, finding his baby girl stance absolutely precious, "Get that frown out of your face, you'll get wrinkles!" you went closer to him, brushing your hands all over his face to emphasize your point, not stopping until you saw a glimpse of a smile on his lips. And when you're content, you link arms with him, looking for the nearest ice cream shop, your treat, to cheer him up.

After ordering and settling down in Baskin Robbins, (the only ice cream shop in the mall), you excused yourself for a while. Going to a mini stall that you passed by a while ago to buy a certain necklace.

A silver necklace with the initials 'J' on it. You already made up your mind on purchasing it, a small gift for your friend. Staring at the jewelry now, you know that the adornment will shine on Jake the best.

You smile fondly, silver suits him, you think. Elegant and sophisticated, and the miniscule topaz stone in the letter that represents his name is the selling point for you, truly a necklace made for him.

After thanking the owner of the stall, you returned to the ice cream shop with a pep in your step, but your jolly attitude died down when you saw Jake with a girl at your table. And it appears that he’s enjoying the conversation with the pretty woman. 

'Well, fuck that, I ain't going back there when he's having so much fun without me.'

Your seething aura seemed to reach Jake, shivers running down his spine and his eyes were immediately drawn to the side, orbs widening in alarm when he saw you glowering.

Jake thought that the scariest moment of his life was when he was walking Layla early in the morning, and his dog choked on a piece of bone that was lying around in the neighbourhood, but as of now, he begs to differ.

His fear was audible in all ways, the girl in front of him noticed, making her follow what he was so riveting on and shit, that made you rage even more because it's fucking Kim Chaewon.

The girl who made your childhood a living hell. Your personal bully, the same girl who destroyed the sandcastle you built on the beach at the tender age of 6, the one who took everything away from you, the main cause of your departure in your hometown.

You felt so betrayed, the one person you thought she couldn't snatch from you, right in front of your eyes, was stolen.

You tried not to be affected by the scene, but you couldn't help the tears that pricked into the corner of your eyes when Chaewon smirked at you, and you'll be damned if you let yourself cry in her presence.

You turned on your heels, walking away and ready to commute back home but not before shooting Jake a disappointed look, ignoring his panicked expression.

Jake felt dread, guilt dropping down on his stomach when he saw hurt in your eyes, what's worse is that he's the cause of it.

He stood up right away, ready to follow you and explain the situation. That it wasn't what it looked like. He was about to take off, then he felt a hand grapple his wrist, a coy countenance can be seen on the culprit.

"You're seriously going after her?" Chaewon inquired, a mocking laugh escaped her lips, "What are you even gonna say?"

Jake retrieved his hand in a ruthless manner, sneering at the girl, "That nothing is happening here, she got it all wrong."

"Nothing?" she leered, batting her eyelashes like some bratz doll, "So fucking with me while she's gone and avoiding me when she’s here were nothing?"

"Listen here Chaewon," Jake aggressively leaned in, whispering through gritted teeth with a venom laced tone, "you do not say a word to Y/N, or else." then he left, running in the same direction that you took, making the blonde girl scoff.

Chaewon grimaced at the two cups of unfinished ice cream, setting her elbows on top of the wooden table and stagily resting her chin on her laced fingers, her attention stockpiling at a certain paper bag that's sitting on the left side of the comfy booth.

Scheme and trouble are her capital when it comes to instigations, "Game on, Sim Jaeyun."

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

"Y/N! Wait up, please, let me explain!"

You were well aware of Jake's pleads which made you walk faster, unfortunately, races like this meant that the one who has the longer limbs wins, and that wasn't you.

Jake caught up to you in no time, forcefully pulling you into his arms and enveloping you into a tight embrace, not letting you go even if you fight and hit him, accepting all of the profanities that you throw at him, he deserves that much.

It feels like you're in some k-drama. Getting back hugged by your childhood friend in a place where people are nowhere to be found, the skies turning into shades of gray and black, and frankly, you're getting tired of struggling knowing that you already lost the fight since he's so much stronger than you.

When he felt you go limp in his hold, he slowly turned you around so that he could examine you properly, a miscalculation on his part because seeing you in such a defeated state made him want to bury himself six feet under the ground until he's sure that he's paid the damages he had caused you.

"Y/N, please just one chance," he cupped your face, peering at you with such beseech, "please hear me out."

When you didn't speak, he took that as a chance to elaborate his case.

"I know it's wrong of me to interact with her, but she suddenly sat down in front of me. She caught me off guard and I was about to tell her off."

You let out a scornful laugh, pushing him away from you, "So you're saying that she's about to leave?"

He nodded, hope skirting his features but you wiped it all off with your next sentence, "Then why do you need to be so friendly with her, huh?!"

"I don’t want to make a scene there, Y/N. I have t-"

You raised a hand to stop him from saying more, having heard enough of his bullshit for the day, "Cut the crap, Jake, just- give me some time to think about.. t-this." your voice cracked in the middle and the sound reverberated through Jake's heart.

Watching you turn your back away was the hardest shit that Jake has to endure, especially since you're only a hair's breadth from his grasp.

Jake runs his hands over his face, attempting to rub the moisture away.

He has to fix this- No, he will fucking fix this even if it means that he has to go from heaven to hell.

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

You went home with a heavy feeling in your chest, ignoring the questions from your family and skipping dinner, (which is a big deal because your mother cooked your favorite food) since you don't have the appetite to join them for a delicious meal. You're tired, and all you wanted to do was cry yourself to sleep in the comforts of your mattress.

You dropped your body in the cotton sheets after washing up, dressing yourself in a simple tee and shorts.

It was eerily quiet, then the horrid memories that you clobbered in the back of your head started to swim back into the surface, your hands automatically went to your hair, gripping it hard as you choked back a sob.

A stuck gum in your precious, long hair that had caused you to cut it short, which made your classmates call you a tomboy.

Your artwork that was destroyed because this jealous girl just had to spray some black paint on it, causing you to lose a painting competition.

That one time when you had a crush on this guy named Soobin, but then he rejected you when you confessed because a certain someone made rumors about you wanting to have sex with him wherein reality, you only wanted to have a date with him.

Being called to the principal's office because you were accused of cheating during finals, which you never did but for some reason, 'evidence' of your wrongdoings appeared, and you lost the chance to become the class valedictorian.

The root of all these shitty things that you experienced: Kim Chaewon.

All the pent up humiliation and anger were released. The thought of Jake, the person who was supposed to be your shield from the disarray being involved with the person that you disliked, no, hate the most is killing you inside and out.

You sniffed, shutting your eyes and letting the tears flow freely as you clutched your pillow close to your chest. How you wished for your boyfriend to save you from this dark hole that swallowed you once more.

"Sunghoon, I need you here please."

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

You were rudely awakened by the repeated taps on the glass, a suspicious silhouette moving around the see-through curtain. You observed the shadow for a while until you decided to take action. 

You sit up, quietly grabbing a lamp on the bedside table and cautiously tiptoeing towards the window, you slightly jumped when the intruder knocked again.

You took a deep breath, raising the lamp on your left hand and slowly pulling the curtains to the side. You yelped when you were met with Jake's face pressed onto the glass of the window, clad in an all black outfit and you had to physically stop yourself from laughing with how hysterical he looks.

"Jake?! What the fuck?!" you whisper-yelled, putting the lamp down on your dresser and quickly unlocking the window, ushering him to get in before someone sees him and calls the police.

"What are you doing here?! And in the middle of the night? Do you have any idea that people might see and talk about this?!"

"I have ice cream. You didn't get to eat yours today." he shoves a plastic bag in your face, not minding your words as he huffs and puffs, probably out of breath since he had to climb the tree behind your house and go over the roof so he could slink into your bedroom. 

Yes, because life is not that easy and clichéd that a tree would be conveniently placed right in front of your window on the second floor of your home. Jake has to work for it.

"I don't want it." you uttered, trudging towards your door and opening it, beckoning your head downstairs, "Please leave, I'll be nice enough to escort you out."

You weren't looking at him, you don't have it in you to take him in because you're weak. You're not strong enough to stay mad at him, you know that one gaze into his starry eyes and you're gone, and you couldn't afford to do that.

Still, you should've checked at least once because hearing the plastic being dropped on some furniture and his incoming footsteps made you assume that he's done, that he's leaving, which was not the case.

A surprised gasp left you when Jake's hand grasped yours that was holding the knob, closing the door with a slight thud and he easily towers over you. An uncharacteristic intensity in his usually warm sepia orbs made your knees buckle, your heart rate speeding up when you realized that his masculine body had you trapped. Most importantly, his musky perfume makes you dizzy, clouding your ability to make sound judgment.

"I came here to see you, so no, I'll politely decline the offer of me leaving so soon." he murmurs, his hot breath cascading down your cheeks, and you got even more flustered when his free hand gripped your chin, leniently guiding your vision towards him.

"Please, Y/N, baby. Will you listen to what happened earlier?" he rasps, earnestly peeking into your own eyes as he searches for an answer that he desperately needed.

You'll condemn his perfume, his minty breath, his insanely attractive voice, and the sudden romantic ambience of the room. You'll inculpate anything at this point except your fragile self, because is it supposed to be your fault if Jake has the ability to render you defenseless against his overwhelming power over you?

A shaky sigh escapes you, nodding your head absentmindedly. The pet name surely had an effect on you, to which you could only describe as a grand circus playing around your whole nervous system.

"Jake.."

"There is nothing going on between me and that bitch, okay? I only care about you," he pulls your interconnected hands from the knob, bringing it to his lips and gently pecks your knuckles, "I'll drop anything just to be by your side, you know that right?"

"Please baby, I'm so sorry. I will never get in touch with her ever again. I'm so fucking sorry, I don't- I hate it when you cry, I hate it when you're sad. Please let me make it up to you. Please let me show you how much you mean to me."

You're not an impulsive person, as you'd like to believe, you tend to think first before doing something that you might regret in the future, but as of now, none of that matters.

For once in your life, you took the initiative, connecting your lips with Jake's, pouring all of your feelings in one emotional kiss. He wasted no time in returning it, turning his face sideways to deepen the liplock.

So this is what it felt like to kiss your plush, glossy lips. This is what it felt like to hold you in a way that is more than just some fucking friends.

This is what it feels like to have you. Intoxicating, addicting, and astronomically out of his wildest dreams.

Jake was brought back to reality when he felt you suck on his lower lip, opening his eyes in a haste and pulling away from you.

"I don't think we should d-" he starts, but you hush him by placing your index finger above his lips.

This is.. wrong. You are in a relationship, right? You two shouldn't be doing this.

"Jake," you whisper his name with such mirth, "show me how much I mean to you.. please."

That was the last thing Jake needed, throwing out whatever rationality remained in his brain in exchange for the yearning that he desired for so many years.

He groaned when you willingly opened your mouth for him, allowing him to slip his tongue in, licking every corner of your cavern. You let his wet appendage graze your teeth before moving your own to clash with his. Both are battling for dominance in this erratic exchange of saliva which he inarguably won, and you couldn't keep your moans at bay when he sucked on your tongue.

Pressing his lips into yours once more, a heated make-out ensues with him leading the way, wrapping his arms around your waist and compressing you between his body and the door, wanting to lessen the distance. He wanted more, he needed more, and he sure as hell will make the most out of this.

He'll act as a clueless villain if it means that he'll be able to steal the most precious gemstone that's already owned by someone.

But who fucking cares?

How could one say that it's wrong when everything feels so right? No one is qualified to dictate shit when the pieces of the decimated past are starting to recoup themselves, turning into a masterpiece called a forbidden tryst.

"Keep it down baby, don't want your parents to barge in here don't we?" he muttered against your lips, head moving to your clavicle and you instinctively craned your neck to the side, giving him the permission to paint you with the most colorful hues of blue and purple.

Jake breathes through his nose, inhaling your rousing vanilla and strawberry fragrance. This is what he's ever dreamed of. You, in his arms, marking you as his and only his.

One rainy day, he woke up only to realize that he wanted to be the man to make you happy. He wanted to cook meals with you, travel around the world, take candid photos of you and set it as his wallpaper. He wanted to be the person that you'll meet at the end of the church aisle.

The recollection of when it started was totally blurry.

Was it when you cried over that dimpled man back during 8th grade? Or was it when he saw you in your ball gown for prom? He has no idea, but he does know that he's prepared to give and let go of everything just for you.

Jake clutches on your waist even tighter, nuzzling his nose in the nook of your neck and leaving lightweight kisses up to your mastoid. He smiled when he heard you giggle, biting your ear lobe teasingly, "Still ticklish I see."

You poked his side in retaliation, making him jump and shriek a bit, "So are you."

"Why you little-!" Jake carried you like a sack of potatoes, dropping you on the cushions haphazardly yet you felt his palm on the back of your head, acting as an insulation so the impact won't hurt you.

"You'll be sorry for that." he says with a smirk, wedging himself in between your legs, and before you could reply, he kissed you deeply, proceeding to attack your neck with pecks and bites, sucking in the spot that had you gripping his hair.

His hand started to explore your body, tracing your shape and going inside your shirt, stopping right under your boobs. Jake lifted himself off, his eyes speaking for himself, silently asking for consent if it's alright to remove your clothes.

You nodded and started peeling off the shirt, the fabric getting comically stuck on your forehead (that's what you get for wearing clothes from your junior high days). You both laughed at the witless situation, and despite all that, you felt him help you out of the predicament but not without leaving a kiss on the exposed lower half of your face.

When the shirt is finally out of the way, you hastily remove your shorts as well, leaving you in nothing but a pair of panties because yes, you did not put on a bra, finding it ridiculous to wear one inside your own house.

You suddenly felt conscious when you noticed that Jake was unmoving and you found yourself covering your upper body, a movement that made the boy snap out of his daze.

"No, baby don't cover up," he grins sweetly at you, gulping down his nerves, "sorry, you're gorgeous, I can't help but admire."

You bit your lower lip, glancing at him and tugging at his own clothes, "Then be fair, give me something to admire too." you shyly said, avoiding eye contact when you saw him grin.

Jake instantly shrugged every piece of his attire, baring his all to you, and your eyes almost popped out of their sockets because what the hell?

Of course you knew he was well built, his fitted outfits leave nothing to the imagination at times, but fuck you to the moon and back, you did not expect him to be this muscular. He has abs! For goodness sake, you weren't prepared, and it shows since Jake has to boop you in the nose to get you out of your daydream.

"I know the view is amazing," he gently laid you down, positioning himself on top of you, "but tonight is all about you, darling."

He pulled you in for another solid minute of make-out session, this time though, he touches you with more vehemence. Snaking his hand on your chest, gripping your left boob and lowering his head down to give the other the rightful attention it deserves.

You moaned his name when he suckled on your nipple, tongue circling around the areola and occasionally biting to add more to the sensation. He used his fingers to twitch and pull on the other nipple, his other hand trailing over your stomach, down to the navel until it reached your heat. He experimentally dipped a finger, gathering your juices and groaning at how wet you are for him.

"Baby, you're dripping and I've only done the bare minimum." he mutters, releasing your nipple with a pop and staring down at you with desire written all over his features, "You really want me that bad?"

"Yes Jake," you answered without any hint of doubt, "I want you, please, do something." you begged, and who was he to say no to his beautiful baby.

"Your wish is my command, princess." he grinned, going into full action as he slid down, coming face to face with your core.

Princess.

There was only one person who called you that. It should hit you by now that this is taboo... but it's just one night.

After this, you'll move on and act like nothing happened. Isn't it?

You weren't able to delve deeper into your thoughts when you felt a finger inside your pussy, a warm mouth lapping at your wetness and sucking on your clit harshly. Your back arches when another digit goes inside you, going at a moderate yet wonderful pace every time it curls and hits a spot that has you curling your toes.

"Right there!" you moaned, getting closer to your orgasm, Jake sensing this made adjustments to his ministrations, basically going into feral mode. His deft fingers pumped in and out of you vigorously, his sucking, add to that the small nips in your bundle of nerves are getting too much for you to handle.

"Cum for me." he uttered, and the mini encouragement and vibration from his voice had you undone within a few seconds. Gushing into his face which he happily guzzled on, not stopping until you told him to stop, sensitive from the overstimulation.

He went up to your face and you could see the shiny slick on his lips, "That felt good?"

You smile, pulling him in for a kiss, tasting yourself in his tongue, "Very much, but what about you?"

"Baby, didn't I tell you that tonight's all about you?" he shakes his head, using his own limbs to spread your thighs open, allowing him to slot himself in the middle, goosebumps rising on your skin when you feel his tip prod at your entrance.

"Then what are you waiting for?" you taunt, wrapping your legs around his waist, pressing him closer to your soaking cunt. "Take me, Jake."

You really have a way with words or maybe you have this effect on him like magic, whenever you talk, all he could think about is making you his.

Inch by inch, he inserted his big, fat cock inside you and you know, because you feel it. The way he stretches you out just the right way, the vein on the side of his dick pulses every time you clenched on him, and when he finally bottomed in, you both let out a sigh that you didn't know you were holding.

Jake grits his teeth, putting the tip in and he thinks he's crazy because it's just the head but your pussy is sucking him all in and it almost made him cum.

He calmed himself down, if he's intending to pleasure you as much as he could, he's sure as hell to make himself last longer than usual.

He lets you adjust to his length, taking in a slow pace when you whisper for him to move. Gently rocking his hips into yours, making sure that he wasn't hurting you in any sort.

Then you begged for him to move faster, harder, truly, you're making this more difficult than it's supposed to be. He could hardly contain himself, but the more you egged him on, the more he let loose.

"Ah!" you cried out when Jake did a rather ruthless thrust, his tip hitting your cervix deliciously and it was getting him drunk off of you. He got a taste of you, and it'll be difficult to stop. He rammed into you mercilessly, the creaking of the bed was the least of your concerns now as you're more focused on the delightful feeling he's giving you, unconsciously scratching his back.

Jake hisses at the pain, but it motivated him to no end, knowing that you love what he's doing to you right now. Knowing that the reason you're acting like this is because he's doing you, as of the moment.

Your warm, wet walls hugged his cock so nicely that it made him believe that your pussy is made for him. Truly, every time he pushes in, you get tighter and it feels like paradise.

Nothing matters but the hushed moans of his name on your lips, he doesn't care about anything other than how good you feel.

You weren't in a good condition either, you're losing grasp of what's real, drooling mindlessly at the delight you're receiving. The man on top of you gives it his all, fucking you with all his strength as his length hits all the perfect spots inside you, making your eyes roll and see stars at the back of your brain.

Jake really tried to hold on, but your sudden release made your walls squeeze his cock, a low groan coming out of him as he cursed and complimented you on how well you're doing for him.

"Baby, I'm close." he warned you, sweat forming on his forehead and dripping down to your cheeks, and he finds it so hot when you dart your tongue out to lick the salty substance away.

"Inside, Jake. Please come inside me."

"Are you sure?" he slowed down a bit, peering into your eyes for confirmation.

Then you cupped his face, smiling at him lovingly, "Yes, I trust you."

That was all it took for him to release his seed inside you, thrusting shallowly to ride out his high until he collapsed on top of you, rolling over and slipping out of your walls when you halfheartedly complained about how heavy he is.

He finally did it.

Jake felt like a champion, one chance was enough for him and he's thanking all of the deities out there internally for giving him the opportunity to show you the love he's been meaning to shower you with.

He felt his body stiffen when you laid your head on his chest, telling him to stay, but what terrified him the most was when he listened to your request and naturally wrapped his arms around you.

Jake focused on you, combing your hair using his fingers as he watches you drift into dreamland.

You look ethereal like this, glowing under the dim light of the street lamps outside and how he wishes for you to continue being with him like this until you're grey and old.

He'll slip out of bed later, (couldn't risk getting caught by your family in the morning), and write you a note to make sure that you won't feel like shit when you wake up. For now, he'll relish in the blanket of your warmth and even breathing.

The boy sighs, his hand moving to your back, fingers lightly tracing his name over your smooth skin, 'J A K E '

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

It was supposed to be a one-time thing, but then Jake finds himself in your window again the next night, and you let him in every single time. The moment he steps inside your room, no more pretending, straight to kisses and you getting railed into your mattress.

It was like a routine you both fell into, but as much as the guilt gnaws on your conscience, it was too good to let go. A drug you couldn't get enough of, you both have fallen into this wild goose chase but it's very much late to back out.

That's what happens behind closed doors when the moon shines, the strenuous task begins during the day.

Seriously, how are you guys supposed to act in front of your family and friends when there is 'something' going on.

It was exhilarating though. Sneaking knowing glances across the room, sometimes with a matching wink, the subtle thigh touching, following each other into a room without any people just to steal smooches.

It was all fun and games until someone had to make the situation even more arduous, courtesy of your brother whining about going to the beach without your parents aka friendly bonding.

It should be easy, acting like normal best friends and playing around in the water but noo, of course even a simple hang-out would turn into a battle of 'the first one to gape like a fish loses.'

By all accounts, it never crossed Jake's mind that you'd be daring enough to wear a swimsuit that shows a lot of skin, because you're usually a conservative little girl. So he was astonished when you exited the changing room, sporting the sexiest red two-piece, shaking his head in disbelief when you discreetly threw a smirk on his way.

He knew you were playing a game, displaying your ass for him, swaying your hips while walking towards the chosen spot for today's hang-out.

Jungwon whistled, Sunoo made a surprised pikachu face, and Riki paid little to no attention to you when you sat down on the blanket with them, under a big umbrella that you rented out shielding you from the scorching sun.

"Is this what the city air does? I dig it." Jungwon says, giggling when Riki hollered in disgust, side-eyeing you before making a comment about how he'll smack Jungwon in the head if he remotely said anything like that again.

Jungwon raised his hands up in defense, looking over Sunoo's direction for assistance, "I was complimenting her! Help me out here, man."

Sunoo raised an eyebrow, doing his infamous googly eyes at his friend, "You did sound like a pervert there but yes, I'll agree that Y/N looks great." he turned to you and gave you a thumbs up, to which you returned with finger guns.

Jake quietly nursed his bottle of cold beer, not participating in the conversation until the three stooges pointed it out.

"Yoi, one beer is all it takes for you to go mute?" Jungwon mused, Riki followed up with the teasing, saying that maybe Jake hasn't been getting laid, thus, the cranky disposition.

"Wha-! No, lemme tell you that I've been getting it so well nowadays." he defended himself, but not without giving you an inconspicuous glance.

"I don't wanna hear your sexcapades," Sunoo stood up, pointing at the ocean excitedly, "I think it's time to play, no?"

The other boys agreed except for you, telling them that you want to take a look of the scenery first before joining them in the water.

"You sure?" Jake asked, and you gave him the positive signal and he shrugged, "Suit yourself."

It was his turn to make you flustered.

Now, you have seen the guy naked, but it was during lights out, not in broad daylight, so the gulping that you did was unplanned. Staring at him while he removed his plain tee, bearing his toned muscles and abs for you to ogle at.

You glared at him when he threw a smug look in your direction, thanking the gods that the other younger boys were oblivious as fuck, mainly, their priority was the race to the water because the loser will buy them milkshakes later.

"What are you playing at Jake?" you questioned, standing up from your seat and doing your very best to look at him square in the eye, forcing yourself not to look down.

"Baby," he says, walking closer to you, licking his lips when he focuses on your cleavage, "you started this didn't you? Make sure to finish it then."

You weren't able to utter another word when he walked away and joined the others in the sea like nothing even happened, like he didn't make your heart race with exhilaration.

You huffed, turning on your heels to ambulate around the area, unaware of Jake's predatory gaze on you.

You watched the soles of your feet sink into the sand, leaving footprints behind, your brain contemplating the whole scenario that is sure to bring a storm into the fragile house made of cards. Starting from when you and Jake began this.. affair. Then your thoughts drifted to Sunghoon, you mowed at the unearthly concept, your conscience punching you in the face.

Your boyfriend is probably out there, tiring himself out during practice, doing his best to improve his skating skills so he could show off and make you proud when he wins all the gold medals for his competitions. While you're here, doing the unimaginable with a man that is supposed to be just a friend.

You paused, hugging yourself as some kind of comfort. Maybe you missed Sunghoon so much that you unconsciously went and found some kind of intimacy, any kind of affection that will satisfy you while you're away from your lover.

Will you really put the blame on that? Yes, it's pathetic but you have already crossed an unforbidden threshold, a thorny one that bleeds you dry but the more you drown in it, the more you get hooked.

You shook your head, trying to get a clear vision of how this is supposed to end, too lost in your own thoughts that you didn't notice a pair that was trudging towards you, that is until their voices startled you out of your reverie.

"Uh yes? How may I help you?" you inquired cautiously, looking around just in case, and you felt stupid for not covering up because you can definitely feel their stares on your exposed skin.

"Relax pretty, we won't hurt you." the guy with a mullet spoke, smirking at you, the taller boy beside him nodded before adding a statement in.

"We noticed that you're alone, it's kind of dangerous here you know?"

"I'm a local, I know my way around here." you replied in a monotonous tone, letting them know that you're not interested in whatever they want to do with you.

"If you're a local," the mullet boy came closer to you, invading your personal space which made you frown and back up, "then how come that your face is not familiar?"

You took a deep breath, getting ready to shut them down when a towel was draped around you, a protective arm slinging on your shoulder and pulling you into a cast-iron body.

"Because she's keen on keeping her privacy, to avoid harrowing guys like you."

You'd recognize that voice anywhere, but you were surprised to hear such menacing articulation from him, very different from the usual sugary one that he always uses.

"Well hello to you too, Jake." the taller guy with brown hair greeted the aussie, a friendly smile on his face yet his passive-aggressive tone threw his calm demeanor away.

"Hello, EJ and Nicholas, didn't expect to see you here." Jake responds, matching the taunting attitude of the duo.

You clung to Jake, not minding the droplets of water if it means that you'll feel protected.

"Oh, is this your new bitch?" the one called Nicholas laughed, giving an amused applause and a low whistle, "You really have great taste, Sim."

You heard a low growl erupting from Jake's chest, his muscles tensing and you saw how he clenched his fist, getting ready to throw a punch if the need arises, "Don't you fucking disrespect my girl."

"Ah!" the ponyo look-alike named EJ mused, like a lightbulb went off in his brain, "Your girl? She's your girlfriend?"

"No way!" Nicholas sniggers, a surprise etched on his face, not believing what he was hearing, "A fuck boy like you settling down with a girl like her? That's some fucking news man."

One moment Jake was beside you, then he was gone, launching a full blown strike into Nicholas's face, and putting your scouts honor on the line, you’re sure heard something crack.

"Jake!" you cried out, fear creeping into you as you tried to simmer Jake down.

"A girl like her? A girl like her?! Fucking asshole, take that back!" Jake yells, about to attack the other man again but a divine intervention transpired, namely your brother and friends who came to the rescue.

They noticed that you two were gone for a while now, and thank god they decided to hunt for you both or something very bad might have happened.

"Oh my! Hey! Hyung, calm down!" Jungwon and Sunoo held Jake back while Riki got in between, helping Nicholas up, asking for forgiveness to deescalate the fight.

"Don't apologize to that asshole, he fucking disrespected your sister!" Jake shouts, breathing heavily through his nose, struggling to contain his anger.

Nicholas scoffs and wipes the blood from his busted lower lip, "I was stating a fact, that she is your bitch."

Silence ensues when Riki harshly shoves Nicholas, his friend EJ catching him before his ass makes contact with the sand. You've never seen your younger brother display an act of dominance before, rage brewing in his glare as he spoke in a threatening tone, "EJ, you're the sensible one here, get this fucker out of my face before I do something that we'll regret."

"This runt-" Nicholas was about to retort but he was dragged away by EJ, effectively stopping the brawl.

Jungwon and Sunoo sighed in relief, finally releasing Jake from their grip. Riki then went to you, softly patting you on the head as if he's saying that he's got you, that no one is allowed to mess with you except for him. Then he turned to Jake, "Thank you for defending her, hyung."

You all decided to go home after that incident, the mood totally ruined and you can hear the boys plot revenge as payback while you're changing, and you had to stop them right there.

As a compensation though, you and Riki invited them to stay for dinner, to which they happily agreed, not wanting to miss the opportunity of having free food.

When all of you stepped foot inside the reassuring space of your home, the sullen spirit from before was lifted up by some video games and snacks that your parents provided, letting you guys have fun while they prepare dinner.

You watched as Sunoo, Jungwon and Riki yell at the top of their lungs, accusing one another of cheating until one of them actually does it and everyone loses their minds. You laugh, then suddenly you were hyper aware of Jake's presence beside you on the sofa when his knee accidentally touched yours.

Your eyes discreetly slide over to his hunched form, the dim lights of the living room somehow highlights his sharp features even more, yet it made him look softer. You always had a habit of being obvious it seems since Jake turned to you with a questioning look on his face, silently asking you what's wrong.

You have to make up an excuse asap, and the lacerations on his knuckles provided the best one.

"I think we should treat that." you pointed at his hands, crummy reason but you'd stick to that rather than admit that you have been admiring him like a creep.

"Oh this? It's fine, it doesn't hurt that much." he looks at his knuckles, waving off your offer but you insist, telling him that it's the least that you can do after acting as your knight in shining armor in your damsel in distress. Thus, you find yourself alone with him in the bathroom, Jake sitting on the cover of the toilet while you rummage through the cabinet for the first aid kit.

"Found it, here." you ushered him to show his hand to you, placately tending to his wound, cooing at him like a mother hen whenever he hisses at the sting, making him chortle at the way you're acting. When it's all done, he thanked you, ready to leave but for some reason, you tugged him back to his position and placed your lips on his in a flash.

Jake was suddenly rigid, not really knowing how to react at first but he is nothing but a weak man when it comes to you, so he did what he does best, show you how much power you have over him, kissing you back as hard as he could. Then your next words made his head spin, like he's drunk off of you.

"I haven't thank you enough, Jake." you murmur against his lips, lowering your head to have your mouth reach the skin on his neck, sucking and biting it until you have left a visible mark. Your hands slithered over his clothed body, feeling his abs as you got on your knees for him, "Let me take care of you this time, hm?"

How can he even say no to you, he's going crazy right now. Your doe eyes begging to him, to let you pleasure him. Your silky voice calling him baby like he's the only boy you've ever called with that name. Your small hand on his crotch, palming him over his jeans. He couldn't say no to you.

"Go on then, I'm all yours." he rasps, relaxing his whole body and enjoying the show that you'll gladly perform for him.

You smiled and bit your lips, excitement coursing through your veins as you began to unbuckle his belt, lifting himself up to help you remove his pants and boxers so you could get to work.

His length sprung up a bit, having been freed from its constraints, still a bit soft but your mouth still waters from its sheer size. Your adventures with Jake always end up with him pleasuring you, never really giving you the chance to appreciate him like how you've always wanted.

You gently grabbed his manhood, your finger tracing the prominent vein on the side down to his balls, causing a sharp inhale from the man above you. You licked your lips, gazing at him from under your lashes, "What do you want me to do, Jake?"

God fucking shit.

Jake could cum just from your innocent teasing but he has to hold himself back, he must enjoy this, because he’s aware that this will be the best blow that he'll ever receive. He hasn’t experienced it, but he’s about to and if it’s you, he knows damn well that it will be out of this world. 

He takes hold of your hair, gathering your strands and creating a ponytail, letting you kiss around his crotch and groin, then he stops you with a rather harsh tug on your scalp.

"Take me baby, use that pretty mouth of yours, and only your mouth." he instructs, giving emphasis to not using your hands which you immediately obligue, massaging his balls with your tongue until he tells you to stop.

Jake went and grabbed his dick, the tip leaking with precum and had half the mind to smear it all over your glossy lips, "Spit on it, then use your hands."

He doesn't need to elaborate more as you collect whatever moisture you can get inside your mouth, spitting on his member and lathering it all over his cock, moving your palm up and down, the slick making your movements smoother.

He can't wait anymore, not when you're allowing him to do things to you. No more restraints as he grabbed your chin, your mouth forming an 'o' shape and gave you this look, quietly informing you that he's done playing. You nodded, finally taking him in your mouth and you couldn't help the pride that swells within you when he suppresses his groans.

You coughed up a bit when the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, some tears forming due to gag reflex, but Jake was unforgiving, whispering about how good you take him and that you should do more if you really wanted to thank him for everything that he's done for you.

You began to bob your head up and down, relaxing your jaw and hollowing your cheeks so you could take more of him, ignoring the pool of spit that formed on the corner of your mouth, letting it drip down your neck. 

You started off slow, gradually increasing the pace. You used the tip of your tongue to zone in on the smaller and more sensitive areas of his member, pausing the bobbing of your head so you could pay attention to his angry, red head. Wrapping your lips around it and sucking, like a child with a lollipop, slowly.. slowly, enjoying his grunts and praises about how good you make him feel.

Jake felt his dick twitch when you used your hand, wrapping it around the base of his cock, adding pleasure to the parts that couldn't reach your mouth (because he's big af), and he felt himself losing control, a small apology leaving his mouth before he sets the rhythm himself. Holding your head steady as he stood up, his manhood not leaving your mouth and he started thrusting mercilessly. His dominant side always gets to you, and he knows because he's hearing those gagged moans as he used you like his personal fuck toy.

"I'm close baby." he warns, and he looks down, and fucking hell, the image has been burned into his brain. Messy, you're basically crying and drooling around his cock, your hands helplessly holding onto his thighs for support while you struggle to breathe through your nose. 

Truly, the best view he's ever seen.

He staggers, not bothering to pull out of you, releasing his seed inside your mouth, not giving you a choice but to swallow all of it.

Jake exhales, satisfaction painted on his face while he slides out of your wet cavern, finally giving you the opportunity to catch your breath.

He knelt down in front of you, his forefinger smudged the strayed mixture of his cum and your saliva on your chin, swirling it around before inserting his digit inside your mouth, a smirk forming in his lips when you obediently sucked on it.

"That's my girl, now let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

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

"Bro, hey! Are you listening?"

Felix, one of Jake's friends from Australia snapped his fingers in front of the said man, breaking him out of his daze as he turned his attention from his phone to his friend.

"Pardon?" he asked, shiny eyes blinking while smiling innocently.

Felix rolled his eyes, pointing an accusing finger at the younger, "You've been fixated on your phone the whole day. Say, you're waiting for your girlfriend to text you, no?"

"I'm not!" he fights back, "And how many times do I have to say this, she's not my girlfriend!" he grumbles, running a hand through his hair.

Jake has always been a popular guy in this town, and obviously, after the incident at the beach, rumors fly through gossip faster than light.

"Jake and Y/N are together!"

That's what they all say, and as much as he loves the sound of you two dating, he's worried that the.. girls that he's been with might go crazy and attack you. He doesn't want you to get hurt, but all that he can do is deny everything. Heck, even Jungwon, Riki, and Sunoo helped in putting the baseless fire out.

"Doesn't look like it to me." Chan then interrupted the discussion, emerging from the kitchen with bottles of coke in his hand, setting it on the table and letting the other boys refresh themselves from the heat of the summer season.

"That's what I've been saying." the freckled boy agrees, finally having someone side with him.

Jake was about to retort again after gulping his sugary cola, but he stopped when he received a notification from you, saying that you need a ride and you're currently at the parking area behind the mall. He jumped from his seat, bamboozling his way out of his friends' apartment, bidding his friends a hasty goodbye.

Jake went back for a second, his head peeking from the door, "Oh and Felix." 

Said man was startled, pointing at himself with a confused look on why his name was called all of a sudden.

"Yeah you, to answer your question earlier. No, I won't be going to the club or party or whatsoever. Hooroo!" and he was gone.

The two boys who were left in the living room looked at each other and shrugged, "Not his girlfriend, he said."

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

You were near having a panic attack, who would've thought that going to the mall to buy a new dress (because your last one was sadly lost and never found), would cause such chaos?

Tons of girls are either asking you about how you got together with Jake and how lucky you are or just plainly wanting to pull your hair out for stealing their prince charming... and you had enough of their bullshit.

You stood there in the parking lot, waiting for the very main cause of your dilemma to come and pick you up. Just then, a familiar stygian Kia entered the empty lot, stopping right in front of you then Jake himself appeared right out of the vehicle.

You wanted to scream at him for causing you so much trouble but a lump was caught in your throat when you saw his disheveled appearance, clearly rushing here to get to you but still managed to look exceptionally good.

How can one look like a painting da Vinci himself made even when his hair is all over the place and the collar of his denim top was not fixed at all?

Fear not, only he, Sim Jaeyun, can pull it off.

"Y/N! Are you okay?!" he dashed to you, holding you by your shoulders and examining you thoroughly if you were hurt. He swears, if he sees one tiny scratch on you, he'll haunt whoever caused the damage.

You almost cried at how sweet he is, but you opted to bury your face on the crook of his neck instead, surprising him but he returned the embrace nonetheless, entwining his fingers on the strands of your hair and setting his chin atop of your head. Apologizing for whatever happened to you, knowing that he was the root of all of these.

"No," you detached yourself, staring down at your white sneakers and how it complements Jake's brown leather shoes, "I guess I was shocked because I was literally being mobbed in there. Felt like a celebrity for a second." you tried to joke about the situation but Jake remained sympathetic.

"What are you even doing out here?"

"Well, I still need a dress for the festival.. which is tomorrow."

Jake facepalmed, laughing at his stupidity because how could he forget?

He held your hand in his, tugging you with him and ushering you inside his vehicle. When asked where he was taking you, all he replied to you was giddy "Secret!"

Soon, you arrived at his flat, and you were awed because it's been too long since you visited in here. Certainly, it still looks the same and the memories came rushing in like a wave.

Running around the house, chasing Jake with a spatula because he thought it was a great idea to scare you while you were in the bathroom, planting an oak tree in his small backyard, making him promise to take care of it even if he’s hoary and hunched.

You followed him to the steps, a delicate smile on your lips when you saw the rust on his door, surely a sign of the aged building. Upon entering, a familiar border collie ran up to you, sniffing you before wagging its tail in pure joy, making you squeal because she remembered you.

"Layla!" you hugged the little bundle of joy, rubbing her fur zealously, "You've grown so much! I missed you!"

Hearing your voice must have set off something from the dog as she threw herself over you, basically begging to be babied like how you did before. And you are willing! Except that she’s hogging you, her whole weight pushed on you which made it hard to breathe. 

Jake, who was standing at the side, watching the wholesome interaction with glittering expression sensed your distress, "Layla! Come here!" he called the dog, using the treats that were stored as a way to entice the furry creature, which definitely worked.

"Sorry about that, she gets excited really easily." Jake went to you and helped you up when Layla was busy with her snacks, "Told you she really missed you." he adds, making you chuckle.

"I can see that. Well, what do you need to do that requires you to kidnap me here?" you asked, gazing at him curiously which made him nervous.

"Right." he scratched the back of his neck, giving you a sheepish grin, "Would you mind if I go to my room for a bit?"

You puckered your lips in curiosity but didn't question him any further, telling him that it's fine and that you'll wait. When he got out of his room, he was holding a pink paper bag, shyly walking up to you and handing you the item.

"What is this?" you accepted the bag, fishing whatever it was residing in there, then your eyes shimmered in recognition, hastily pulling it out and an attire was presented to you.

An elegant, satin red dress. An outfit that looked exactly like the one that you were eyeing back when you were 15, the age where you wanted to act like a model or some actress, and the red dress in a catalogue made you feel like you could reach such dreams.

"Do you want to try it?" he asks and you nod your head, heading towards the bathroom, leaving Jake and his nerves for him to calm. But you wouldn't let him, how could he when you got out of the toilet wearing the shade of autumn that represents all of his thoughts and emotions for you.

You walked closer to him, merrily twirling around to show off, "What do you think?" you look at him expectantly, skittish for his reaction.

Jake gave you a once over, hands in his pockets as he raked in your appearance, from your head to toe, and he tried his best to come up with a coherent answer. "You are," he inhales, removing his hands from his pockets and throwing it up in the air and placing it on either of your shoulders, "ethereal."

His heart beats strangely fast, which is a natural occurrence whenever he's with you. It always happens whether he likes it or not, something that he has no control over. He fixes his gaze into your gorgeous eyes and he soaks in them. 

Everyday he swims to the thoughts of you, diving deep into the complexity of his feelings and hoping that when he ascends, you'll finally be able to see him in a different light.

"Say Y/N, would you like me to chaperone you during the fiesta?" he queries, and you couldn't help but laugh at his old method of asking you to be his date for the party.

You gathered his hands on your shoulders and held them into yours, transferring your warmth into his own skin as opposed to the cool air that starts to surround the house due to the darkening of the skies outside and the whirring of the air-conditioner, "I would love to."

Then your phone sets off, what a way to ruin the moment but you were pulled back into reality when you saw the caller.

"I'll be right back." you gave the man a tight smile, trudging down the hallways and out to the backyard to give yourself some privacy, unbeknownst of Jake's footsteps that followed you due to your anxiousness, but he made his presence hidden, and his blood boiled when he realized who it was that you're talking to.

He heard snippets of the conversation, and as much as he knows that he's in the wrong, the jealousy rises up to his stomach unprovoked, choking him until he's out of air.

"Yes, Hoonie, I'm having the best time here."

Best time because he's with you, making you feel like you're the only woman in the world.

"I do, I'll send you a photo of the dress soon."

The dress that he personally bought.

"Alright, take care. Uh-huh, love you too, my figure skating prince."

Well, that's fucking it.

The green eyed monster got the best of him, rage seeping through his bones and.. and he thinks he needs a glass of water to settle down. He runs to the kitchen, reaching for his favorite mug and filling it with ice cold water, letting it run down his throat and he wishes he could just dump it down on his brain to cool off the fiery envy that swiftly creeps up on his whole being.

He jumped a bit when you called his name, startling him when you were there, standing by the kitchen door with concern gracing your features, "Are you okay? Is something wrong? You don't look too good."

A barrage of questions and he answered it all in his brain in fear of saying something that might potentially hurt you.

Is he okay? No.

Is something wrong? A lot. You. Him. This. Whatever the fuck this is.

He doesn't look good? That’s where you're wrong. He always looks good.

His internal battle and fuming facade had you worried, taking steps closer to him in an attempt to console him. He was fine a few minutes ago, now he’s acting like this? 

The moment you stepped into his sanctuary, touching him on his biceps, all his walls broke down and he immediately pulled you closer to him, connecting your lips together in a hot, messy, searing kiss.

He held you by your waist and you automatically wrapped your arms around his neck, granting him the license to trap you between his sturdy body and the marbled counter.

On the other hand, when your boyfriend called you, taking in his soft voice, his longing words. Hearing him tell you how much he misses you and how everything will be easier only if he has you by his side.. and his never ending canadian pancake jokes, this time with maple syrup.

It reminds you that you are taken, but you let yourself fool around for too long and you're stricken with guilt. Sin written all over your heart and soul because Sunghoon's own heart was getting broken without him even knowing and Jake's will sooner or later be shattered as well.

You walked back inside the building, determined to put an end to this fallacy as soon as possible. You've let yourself fall into the rabbit hole, and you believe that you have been only missing your other half to the point where you willingly rekindled an old flame, thinking that this summer thing would be the answer to your loneliness.

But you proved yourself wrong yet again when you let yourself be submerged into Jake's honeyed touches and spicy kisses.

You couldn't simply say no to him, not when every crevice of your body has been explored by him, savored and shaped to perfection exactly to his liking.

You moaned his name when his hand massaged your boobs over the thin dress, his thumb adding slight pressure to where he's sure your nipples are located. His tongue never stopped invading your mouth, asserting dominance that you've never seen from him before.

He hoisted you up the counter, spreading your legs for him to slot his tiny waist in, and when the need for oxygen was needed, you both parted ways and the string of saliva between your lips made the tips of yours ears red.

Jake's heated gaze had you embarrassed, his left hand on your thigh started moving, deft fingers tracing faint lines on your skin and you barely made out the words.. 'M I N E.'

You were inclined to return his stare, and all you could do was to revive the long forgotten yearning that you had left a year ago, everything that has been existing inside his hazel orbs.

There were a lot of uncertainties. What if you didn't leave your small town to pursue a city life? What if you stayed here instead? Will the changes be different like how things were right now?

No lingering stares across the room, no skinships concealed by friendship, no more denying of what you two really are because.. fuck this all. Friends do not know the taste of each other, a simple platonic relationship doesn't give you a whole orchestra playing Taylor Swift's Wildest Dreams like that one scene in Bridgerton.

No, friendship doesn't make you feel like you're in heaven but love does.

This was supposed to be a one time summer fling, when the leaves turn into the color of wine that you had been nursing late at night, a past time that you developed whenever you're troubled about what you're really going through with Jake; you shall leave it all behind.

You will, but for now, the necessity to bury yourself in Jake's iridescence is your utmost priority.

You pulled him in again for a kiss, this time with a plan.

"I don't think this will reach the bedroom." he murmurs, his hands all over your body as he tries to feel you more, palms finally back on your thighs to lift your dress up, revealing black laced panties that had him groaning and inevitably, harder down there.

You giggled, pecking his cheeks while you started to unbutton his denim shirt, tracing your fingers over his golden skin, "I don't mind, do whatever you want. Also, leave this on." you say, admiring his chiseled muscles under his top.

He curses under his breath, you really know how to rile him up. You know him too well, and he's down bad for that.

Jake has always been a good boy, and he doesn't need to be told twice. If you told him to do whatever, then he'll do just that. First, he plans to fuck you in that tiny little red dress.

His hand traveled to your panties, chuckling when he felt a wet spot in the middle, his middle and forefingers playing with it, "Damn baby, haven't done anything yet you're this wet?"

You whined at his teasing, moving your hips for more friction but Jake pulled away, causing you to protest which seemed to please him, given by his smug countenance. He clicked his tongue and raked in your appearance, in a complete disarray and he's glad that he can affect you this much.

"I need you to be patient, baby. Can you do it for me?" he mumbles, voice dropping a pitch lower and it makes you wetter because it's so damn hot, not like his predatory leering helps your condition. Although, as much as you wanted to test his leniency, you decided to listen to him this time around, sitting still and watching him do his thing. 

Your obedience greatly pleased the man, leaning down to give you a peck on your top lip, lightly nibbling on it before pulling away. 

His hands move on your arms for a second, moving up to your shoulders. His calloused palms, probably from doing sports and playing the violin, are clement against your smooth skin, goosebumps running along the path that was traced. 

Jake seems to be in a trance, hyper fixated on your body as he glides the straps down, guiding your arms so he could remove them through the straps, causing the upper portion of the dress to get loose in the process. 

The action reveals more of your supple chest for him to gawp and you let out a gasp when Jake buried his face on your cleavage, trailing smooches on your chest and when he can’t take it anymore, he straightens himself up and he completely removes the bodice of the dress. 

He takes the initiative to bring your bodies closer together, spreading your thighs wider and bunching the dress on your waist, until his hard on can be felt on your clothed womanhood. 

Jake then resumes his ministrations, hands going over your belly, outlining your rib cage and his fingers traces the shape of your breasts, the sensations are building up fast and the agitation is starting to get to you. You made that apparent when you wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing him closer to give him a silent signal of where you want him to touch you. 

He only chuckles, dipping his head near your jawline to trail kisses over it, reaching your ears and whispering sly statements, “We’ll get there, princess. Hold on tight and enjoy the ride, okay?” 

“But Jake..” you whined and he shuts you up with a filthy, open-mouthed kiss where his tongue dominates your mouth, he takes that as an opportunity to engulf your boobs into his large hands, tenderly kneading and squeezing, tracing your areola in the process to make you squirm. 

You moan into his mouth when his fingers rub your erect nipples slowly, increasing in speed and pressure as seconds go by. Your moans getting louder when he adds some twisting and pulling, pleasurable but not enough to cause pain. 

Jake can’t help the groan that escaped him due to your incessant grinding, directly stimulating both of your lower areas. Your damp panties have been clinging on your pussy, your juices soaking even his jeans, specifically the area of his raging boner. 

Jake disconnects from the liplock, observing your tousled appearance and despite his wobbly vision, he can confidently say that you’re insanely otherworldly. 

The vermillion tint on your cheeks, blown-out pupils and bruised lips. Truly, the epitome of the goddess of beauty, his one and only. 

“Jake?” you questioned, in a hazy stupor with your labored breathing, “What happened?” 

Jake shakes his head, leaning down to rub the tip of his nose on yours, giving you a butterfly in the stomach-inducing feelings, “Just that you’re gorgeous.” 

He chuckles when you squeaked at his compliment, removing his hands from your boobs in lieu of grabbing your ass, further pressing you on his hardness before leaning down on your chest, his warm breath hitting your mounds that had you shuddering. 

You clutched on his shoulders for support when he began sucking on your nipple and gyrating on your covered wetness. You felt him flatten his tongue on your boob, covering an ample surface, turning into the hardened edge of his wet appendage flicking the nub repeatedly. 

A brave lioness is what you are, primed for battles and victory yet you are nothing but a lady in desperate need of release in Jake’s presence and skillful tongue. 

Soon enough, when your clit has been prodded far too many times by the rough fabric of your undergarment and your erected buds have also reached their limit, your back arched in pleasure, your orgasm washing over you like waves. 

Jake continued his movements, ceasing only when you whine in overstimulation. 

“My baby did a good job.” Jake praises you, patting your head and smoothing the bird’s nest on top of it. A spent smile is painted on your face, slumping onto the tiled countertop to catch your breath, then your eyes almost bulge out of its sockets when you hear Jake say that you’re not done yet.

He merely raised an eyebrow, getting rid of his pants and personally manhandling you into a position of his liking but is also comfortable for you. He pushed your panties to the side, too impatient to remove it and lining the tip of his leaking cock in your entrance. 

“I still haven’t cum yet, princess.” he mutters, holding your thighs apart as he plunges into you, inch by inch, “You’ll help me, right?” 

You nod your head, hands going over to his chest and he immediately grapples it in his, groaning in pleasure when your gummy walls sucked him in, but he held the overwhelming urge to do it one go as he wanted to feel you in the most intimate way. 

“That’s my good girl.” he moans, bottoming out of you. He stays motionless for a few minutes, giving you adequate time to adjust. Then he started moving, freeing your hands to grip the sides of your hips, his pace was tamed at first but he went feral when you beseech him for more. 

His thrusts gradually escalate, fast-moving and solid, making you feel so full. Every drag of his member on your slick creates squelching sounds mixed with your mewls, it rings in your eardrums, and the result is you getting wetter. 

You’re basically lathering his counter and skin with your juices but Jake couldn’t care less, frowning in concentration as he does his best to pleasure both of you. 

“Don’t stop.” you mumble along with other incoherent sentences, his darkened eyes glimmered, ramming inside you with all his might, adjusting a bit so he’s able to hit your sweet spot, and when he finally hits it, his reward is your chants of his name. 

“Don’t worry, babe.” he grunts, tilting to match your face to grace you a saccharine kiss, his pace unrelenting and merciless, not wasting any minute as he bullies into your wetness without any care in the world, “I don’t plan on stopping.” he mumbles against your lips.

The knot in your belly gets tighter each time his cock grazes your g-spot and you purposefully clenched around him, causing him to unconsciously dig his nails into the flesh of your thighs. 

The euphoric feeling was too much for you to handle, closing your eyes and dumping your head on his shoulder. 

Jake’s gasps and low grunts are echoing in your head, slightly opening your eyes when you feel a rather pleasant yet burning sensation, realizing that he’s rubbing your clit. Adding onto the stockpiling gratification. 

You heard Jake curse, expressing how breath-taking and marvelous you are, in every aspect and facet. You tried peeking at him in spite of your incoming cloud nine, and in your drunken stupor of paradise, your enticement towards his sweaty neck invoked you to lean in and suck on his skin. 

Jake moans in delight, a specially harsh thrust was given to you in the process, taking you by surprise as it strikes the perfect site that had you tingling and creaming all over his member. 

You accidentally bite a bit too hard on his neck, marginally leaving teeth marks that’ll surely take at least a few days to heal. 

Jake’s hips stuttered, groaning rather gutturally at your dripping, warm cavern’s involuntary clenching, seizing his cock and as much as he wishes for the intercourse to carry on for a little longer, he has also reached his limit. 

He releases his seed inside, painting your walls white and warming your core. He keep his languid strokes to ride your highs, halting when the dopamine dies down.  

The smell of sex drifts in the kitchen. Sweaty, hot, satisfaction and fulfillment surrounds the place. Both of your strained breathing reiterates the events that have transpired. 

You made the first move, lifting your head from his shoulder and pushing his sweaty locks that got stuck on his forehead, smiling at him giddily, “That was amazing.” 

He wheezes at your pronouncement, “I know. You are amazing.” 

“Why is it always me?” you complain, not accepting his never ending praises towards you. Besides, it wasn’t you who’s doing all the work in your.. endeavors. 

“Because,” he engulfs your hand in his, kissing your knuckles and fingers one by one, “that’s what you are. Amazing.” 

You roll your eyes at his flattery, then the joy you’re feeling turns into sorrow when he pulls out of you, some of his cum oozing out of your hole. The emptiness nearly made you whine but you fight off the impulsive thoughts of doing so. 

After cleaning up and making sure that you’re presentable for other people to see, Jake offered to take you home and you accepted. Throughout the ride, you two are singing at the top of your lungs, ranging from love songs to rock songs, tittering when the other’s voice cracks. 

When you’re finally home, you are reluctant to separate with him, but he assured you that he’ll see you tomorrow. As he should because he is your date for the event. 

Bidding goodbyes was a herculean task, managing to do it when your parents themselves went out of the house due to their anxiety at the car parked in front of the house for 10 minutes. 

You steer away from your family’s curious questions, telling them that you are tired (the truth) and you crave some alone time to rejuvenate. 

 It is a very particular day, like you two have discovered something new that veered your social link to a blithe yet brooding one. The possible consequences of your poor decision-making was washed away by fatigue, thoughts of Jake and the excitement of tomorrow’s event lulling you to a dreamless yet deep sleep.

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

You watch the youngsters run and jump in thrill at the vibrant and bright atmosphere of the location for the town’s long awaited celebration, sighing through your nose but  still laughing at their energetic vibes. 

“Takoyaki!” Riki exclaims, nudging his friends and quite literally yowling at them when they disagree at his suggestion.

“I want some candied apples.” Jungwon points at a certain stall, Sunoo’s eyes following suit and the smile that he’s sporting is the biggest you have ever seen. (desserts do have that kind of effect, maybe that’s why they always have a room in the stomach.) 

“Really? So early in the evening and you want sweets?” the tallest among the guys deadpans, turning to you for help, “Knock some sense into these idiots.” 

You pinched the bridge of your nose, nonchalantly waving Riki off, “Put on your big boy pants and deal with it.” 

You ignore your brother’s bleating, facing Jake who is beside you the entire time and fretting over the fact that your mother and father left you to look after the boys to have their ‘alone time.’ 

“Jake?” you called for his attention when you noticed that he wasn’t responding to your hardcore yapping, only to find him immersed at you. 

“Jake? Is something wrong?” the thumping in your chest accelerates as he peers at you with dreamy eyes, permeating with fondness and yearning. You are not entirely sure on how to react, standing there like a statue until the man in front of you scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry.” he laughs bashfully, “You are simply glowing, a rare jewel. I can’t stop admiring you.” he admits and the blush on your cheeks darkened. 

Your appearance is not something to be confident at, you look decent at best if you say so. 

You wore the red dress that Jake gifted you, paired with rubber shoes of the same hue. Your hair is styled in a dutch braid, decorating your strands with various pins and ribbons for the aesthetic, and finally, a natural make-up for added radiance. 

You literally see no reason for him to goggle at you, but then again, you can’t and don’t perceive yourself in Jake’s point of view. You’d be shocked if you learned how angelic you are in his world. 

In Jake’s standpoint, the tinge of cerise complements your sublime beauty like no other. It brings out the tincture of your eyes, the carmine of your cheeks, the cherry of your lips and it greatly enhances your flushed complexion. A mermaid you resembled because of your hair, relatively constructing an illusion of enchantment.

That is why he cannot fully fathom why you’re denying his words, simply because Jake is confident about it. He frankly believes that there is no other like you— unparalleled and stellar. 

“Be serious for once.” you say, thwacking his shoulders with a snigger.

Jake frowns, facing you and catching your hand in his, he opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a shrilling voice, one that had you reeling in consternation and abhorrence. 

“Well, well, well. The power couple has revealed themselves.” 

Great, the night is young and it’s already ruined by none other than..

“Chaewon.” Jake utters her name with such revolt, shielding you from her as he protectively shifts you behind him, “What do you want?”

“You wound me.” she places a hand on her chest, faking a sad expression before she wheezes and narrows her overly eye-shadowed eyes in your direction, “Hello again, Y/N. Won’t you come and greet me as well?” 

Your whole body trembles when you hear her call your name in a sweet, sickening manner with an underlying condescending tone. It wreaks havoc in your supposed to be zen state, the rain in your glossy orbs threatens to fall any minute the more the interaction is prolonged. 

Jake senses your dilemma, and he knows that he has to do something, anything to not let this get out of control. He needs to wrap this up asap. 

“Chaewon!” Jake roared, seething and perturbed, “Get out of here while I’m asking nicely.” 

The girl hoots in laughter, obnoxiously even, holding onto her tummy, “You’re hilarious, Jake. Why are you acting like nothing happened between us?” 

Time seemed to come to a pause at her revelation. Surely, that wasn’t what she said, right? 

You must be mistaken because Jake? The boy that you trust the most, the only person who is aware of your trauma towards Chaewon’s wrongdoings.. something transpired between them? 

Your head that is hanging low amidst the whole ordeal tilts to spare the girl a glance, which you shouldn’t have because you have now witnessed the most gut-wrenching sight: Chaewon wearing the white dress that was supposed to be yours. 

She peeks and notices your gaze on her, whirling around to show-off with a haughty smirk, “Pretty isn’t it? I’m really happy that Jake gave this to me.” 

“Jake gave that to you?” you whisper, and like a bat with supersonic hearing, she makes-out what you just said without any problem.

“Yeah!” Chaewon giggles, and she dropped the bomb that exploded all over your conviction and solidarity, “I mean.. From all the nights me and Jake have spent in his bed, I think it’s only natural for him to give me some gifts.” 

Your eyes widened in anguish, meeting Jake’s with resentment. You don’t even need to explain yourself, your betrayed expression articulates all the emotions that are fermenting in your being, spoiling the gaiety and leaving a bad taste in your mouth. 

You bitterly tugged your hand, grimly retiring in this shithole wordlessly. Jake’s pleas were blocked out as the ringing in your ears is too noisy, currently focusing on how excruciating it is to wear your rose tinted glasses.

Seeing in a bird's eye view, the earthquake of indulging in your desires, the red flags; rejecting the clues and signals in place of shooting stars and red roses.

There is nothing wrong with harboring intense, burning feelings for someone. There is nothing wrong about it except…

You choked back a sob as you stood still in the middle of some empty street, covering your mouth with your palm while you used your free arm to hug yourself, a coping mechanism to the either the cold breeze or the icy realization of your own breach of trust.

To the person that you are tied to. The lover whose heart is reserved for you but here you are, cracking his entirety unbeknownst to him. 

Truth to be told, you are apprehensive about the entirety of your solstitial days. You are no doubt in the utopia of cloudy marshmallows and lustrous sequins, such vista is brought to you by your paramore, Jake. 

Your affairs are not accepted by society, deemed illegal by the law and an unforgivable misdeed by the gods. Yet you couldn’t, for the hell of it, deny the fact that you are over the moon, spending time with your revived ardor that you thought had passed away. 

Reflecting on your decisions brings you on a disparaging trip to guilt land, your sins are not reasonable, will never be decipherable but love has always been like that, isn’t it?

Working in mysterious ways, playing with fate and destiny, using cupid as its puppet and people’s heartstrings as marionettes until it cooks up its desired results. 

But must it be so ferocious? 

You are having a meltdown, drowning in these poisonous thoughts when a distant voice clears your smoggy psyche. 

“Y/N!”

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

Jake fumbled. He fucked up. So bad. 

He was motionless for a minute, wide eyed and panicking as the noise around the ongoing celebration helped him block the cringe-y voice of the girl, whose presence if he must say, is irking as hell. 

He watches as your lovely figure walks further away, getting smaller the more distance you put between you, and it’s nauseating. The agony was fucking too much, not foreseeing the events.

He was meant to be with you the entire night. Eating delicious foods from the stalls, winning you a giant teddy bear, watching the grand fireworks whilst he kisses you under the radiance of the natural and artificial stars. 

And whose fault is this? 

Jake turns to the culprit, her innocent facade pissing him off to no end.

“What the fuck, Chaewon? Have you finally lost your marbles? Didn’t I tell you to leave me the fuck alone?!” he yells, his emotional intelligence gone because the mere thought of losing you is not worth the effort of suppressing his anger. 

“What?” she asks, crossing her arms in disdain, “I only came here to say hi and to show the dress.” 

The scene appears to catch the attention of the bystanders around them, and multiple pairs of eyes scrutinize the pair, which is not good for the sake of it all. 

Jake inhales, praying to anyone out there to give him the patience that he’s currently lacking, “How many times do I have to say that I’m not interested in you? We fucked once and I was drunk! That’s the end of the story!” 

“So fucking around with Y/N is better? Have you forgotten that she has a boyfriend? You really want to spend your precious summer with a whore?” she rebuts, and what she labeled you was the last straw. 

He ruthlessly gripped her arms, no caution nor forgiving, “Listen here, you do not call Y/N a whore ever again. She is so much better than you and,” Jake scoffs, eyeing her with disdain, “you do not even come close to her level. So, I would really fucking appreciate it if you zip your shitty mouth, or else I will make your life a living hell.” 

Jake lets her go, clenching his fists and hiding it inside his pockets, glaring at the teary-eyed woman but he certainly does not fucking care. She can bawl her eyes out and spread gossip about him, but he won’t let any disrespect towards you pass. 

He turns around, quickly changing plans as he thinks of ways on how to make things up with you, but before that, he took a shot of belittling the girl, “Now that I see it, that dress is ugly as hell. You can keep that, it's only beautiful if Y/N wears it.” 

Jake then runs off, in a mission to find you. 

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

“Y/N!”

It took you a minute to process what’s happening. One moment you are alone and the next second you’re engulfed in a warm hug. Must be a divine intervention or something, your knight in shining armor coming in at the right time to save you from the sorrows of your own faults. 

You pushed him away rather forcefully, vigorously wiping the remnants of your tears away but Jake has seen it either way. 

He cups your face, mellowly speaking, “Please don’t cry, baby-”

“Stop!” you cried out, placing your hands on his chest to put a tiny gap in the middle, a feeble attempt at refusing his support, “Stop calling me that if you don’t mean it. I-I.. Please, I want to be alone.”

You’re beginning to go into hysterics, sobbing uncontrollably now that you have been slapped by reality. 

“I don’t want you to be alone, and,” Jake steeled himself, not accepting your rejection, “I mean it. You are my baby so please Y/N, let’s talk this out.” 

You shake your head, struggling against his firm hold. The complexity of the whole situation embroiders dark threads in your snowy fabric, commencing the madness in you, and you’re so damn afraid if you’ll be able to surpass this test. 

“Jake, I don’t want to- Please, stop, I can't do this anymore.”

You are too busy wallowing in despair that you failed to notice Jake’s terror stricken guise. All of his brain cells are working overtime to think of something, anything to dissuade your incoming rash verdict about your.. circumstances with him.  

Jake slides his palms onto your shoulders, lowering his forehead down the crook of your neck, shutting his eyes and relaxing for a second. 

It’s now or never.

“You can’t do this anymore while I've been here, doing it ever since.” he mumbles, decibels reaching your ears and it makes you confused.

You stay rooted in your spot, listening to his shallow breaths, “Doing what?” 

“This Y/N.” he lifts his head up, meeting your weeping orbs as his lower lips tremble, wavering and hopeless mien, “I did not pursue Australia for the sole reason of staying here, because I thought that you’d continue college in this town.” 

Wait. You are the reason?

“I wanted to be with you, then I learned that you applied to a university in the city and I was too late. I wasn’t able to go with you because I hesitated. And that was the biggest mistake that I will forever regret.”

Jake didn’t give you the time to butt in, he prattled on and on, explaining and disclosing every bit of information that you have to know.

Chaewon and him did have a history, but he was drunk and was in need of some sort of intimacy because all he did was miss you while you were gone. Yes, shitty excuse but that was the truth. He apologizes hundreds of times for that, verbalizing that he avoids her like the plague after their one time encounter, and that she’s the one who kept on persisting in a relationship with him. 

He doesn’t want to do shit with her and he is willing to spend a lifetime making it up to you if it means that you’ll forgive him. 

You mutter his name in hopes of cutting his reverie to tell him that it’s okay. That he doesn’t need to be unfair to himself and that you also have made an awful blunder yourself. So, you tried again but then he blurted out the words that rewired your verdict.

“Y/N, I love you. I am so fucking in love with you. You inhabit my day, possess my nights and I-”

You finally placed your lips on his, shutting him up for good. You can’t contain your selfishness anymore, and you’re going to hell for it.

“Jake, I understand.” you whisper against his lips, “No more talking. Just kiss me.” 

And he did. A passion filled kiss in the dimly lit middle of the road, and soon enough the two of you are giggling out of your wits, running towards his flat to savor each other beneath the raving moon and stars. 

Ablaze sheets and shushed confessions of affection, lustful chants of pet and nicknames, hot and ponderous breathing. Lips molding, tongues dancing, limbs intertwining — love was made multiple times that night. 

Jake felt his turbulent ambitions being nurtured into a calm sea. 

When he holds your sweaty body close to his after the last of the many rounds of ardent copulation, he pecks the crown of your head, thinking that he’s got you. 

Imagine the bewilderment and fretfulness that he undergoes when the next morning, he wakes up and you’re not by his side. The slot beside him is where you’re meant to be. 

So, why are you not here?

He is like a thundercloud, fixing himself up and taking a dangerous, speedy trip towards your house only to gain the certitude that you have left. 

“Yeah, she came back home during dawn, grabbing her suitcases and catching the earliest train back to the city. She didn’t say anything to us, just that she needs to go back as soon as possible.” Riki clarifies groggily, your brother rubbing his eyes sleepily, overlooking Jake’s fall from grace. 

He thanks the younger and when the door is shut, he’s out. 

He was in a sinking boat the whole fucking time, his white knuckle grip on the handles was useless as he’s the only one dying with it. 

You, his gospel, are once more absent to guide him, and he is left alone to fend for himself. 

Jake enters his car in a daze before laughing to himself, beyond miserable and breaking down. You can’t even be bothered to give him an acrid goodbye. Was he not worth the time? Was he not worth it? 

He slams his hands on the steering wheel, his eyes going over the hidden compartment where the bracelet with your initials sits. Looks like he won’t be able to give you that, no?

“What do we do now, Sim Jaeyun?” 

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

Your sudden disappearance deeply troubled Jake. His gut tells him not to contact you first, listening to his intuitions and twiddled on his thumbs. 

He waited for a call, message, anything to let him know that you have not abandoned him, but not once did he receive one. A complete dissonance and in a flash, the pigments in his face that you have sprayed were drained. 

He prayed for a sign to the deities because he’s tired of waiting, ‘Give me a reason to stop chasing after her.’

And what he asks, he gets. 

One day, when he was rolling around in his bed, stalking your social media, he saw that you updated on instagram. He immediately opened the app, but he was crushed like an insect at what he saw.

It was a photo of you and your boyfriend. Seems like your ‘ice skating prince’ won a tournament, no trophies at hand since his prize is already in his arms— you. 

Jake lies down on his back, his arms covering his eyes and he lets the salty tears that he’s been keeping at bay for the longest time freely stream down. He granted himself the license to cry this time, to have a moment of weakness as he grieves at the newly formed memorabilia of adulation and picturesque remembrance.

You should have at least given him some sort of magnanimity, a heads-up perhaps? 

Yes, it was necessary so he could’ve commenced the digging of the graves. One for his dying gray heart and one for his wilted, parched crimson roses. 

Jake is no stranger of the naked truth, that he was the other guy in the portrait. The snake and not the proprietor but even for a trifling moment, despite the bleak and slim chances, he believed that the silver lining exists. 

He was so sure that the inkling sentiments, skinship, companionship throughout the summer would mean something to you.. If not, then why would you be so cruel to give it to him? Why would you be so heartless to let him think that he could win against someone that is unrivaled when it comes to a space in your heart and life? 

He spilled his booked sentiments, you let him savor you, allowed him to follow you to the depths of nowhere only to pull back at the last minute, leaving him stranded at the end of the cliff. 

So he did what must be done. He jumped in the deep, dark ocean of precariousness. Hoping that at the end of his expedition, a treasure would be waiting for him. 

Jake did find fortune alright; rusted, grotesque, and counterfeit. 

He was a deep-dyed, utter fool. Pathetic at its finest for falling for a person he could never, ever have. 

Indeed, a complete defeat. What was the name of the victor again? Ah, right.

Park Sunghoon. 

taglist:

@deobitifull @dreamiestay @shiningnono @anormieee

[dinogoofymutated]

Omg I love your headcanons/fics!! I really need to ask if you'd be willing to write an addendum for the jealousy headcanons for Wolverine? Of course no pressure if you can't/don't feel like, just thought I'd try to ask! :) Hope you have a nice day/night, and keep up the good work! 💗💗💗

Jealousy Headcannons!- Multi/GN!Reader - Wolverine, Morph, Angel, Sabretooth. You got it man!! Had a version of this requested for Logan so many times lol. I went ahead and added more characters to round it off into a full multi character hcs. Logan doesn't explicitly punch anyone in this one, so sorry if anyone was looking forward to that! (Sorry though, his is pretty similar to cable's) I'm also testing the waters while writing for Morph. I know everyone is starving for fics with them, but I'm not really used to writing for they/them characters (despite the fact that I try to avoid pronouns for the reader, weird I know, but its mostly due to me using you/your.) forgive me if I slip up with their pronouns, and let me know if I do so I can fix it! TWs: Violence (not towards reader, but some pretty mean names are called tho) Men can be creeps/harassment. Unnecessary changing scene with Warren bc I love non-sexual intimacy like that. Flirting, Barfights again but this time it's a little bloody (sabertooth) Drinking mentioned.

Wolverine

Okay, so Logan here is a bit of a mixed bag when it comes to jealousy. I really feel like it depends on the situation? In general, he trusts you more than just about anyone. When someone flirts with you, he's generally just very grouchy and most of the time, quiet. He glares a lot, and if you meet his gaze he'll raise an eyebrow, basically asking if you need an out, and then he'd act accordingly.

Buuuttt. If he's in a bad mood or has had a tough day, he's more likely to resort to threats and intimidation to handle any romantic attention you might receive. He gets more physically protective and will usually have an arm slung around you at all times.

That's not to say he only gets jealous of romantic attention though. I feel like he also get jealous of anything and anyone taking up your time, really. he'd probably stay quiet until he just kinda snaps and drags you away from whatever has your attention for smooches and cuddles. Don't let him fool you by telling you he's not cuddly, he totally is.

"Back. Up. Bub." Logan's rumbling voice is venomous, a growl of warning as he bows up on the man in front of you. The two of you had been out on a mission together, which normally would have gone perfectly fine. Unfortunately, you'd ended up running into some old acquaintances of his. Both of you were bristiling at the contact, but you knew that coaxing Logan into a fight was just what he wanted. The man had been making moves on you the entire time- and although you were practically an expert in ignoring the flirtation from asshole guys, you were beginning to get more and more uncomfortable with it. It was when the man had started to make sexual comments about your body that Logan snapped.

"Who you callin' bub, pipsqueak?" The man smirks, looking down on Logan with arrogance. Anxiety had begun to worm it's way into your stomach.

"You better learn to watch your mouth." Logan growls. His fists flex as his claws unsheath, the adamantium practically itching to dig into the guy's skin. This was escalating fast, and you needed to stop it now. You both needed to complete the mission without any complications, extra fights included.

"Logan, Please, can we just go?" You say, grabbing his wrist and tugging before he can launch himself at the man. Logan's angry face remains intact, but you can see the way his shoulders slightly loosen. He glances at you, before backing off from the man with a snarl. You sigh in relief as Logan turns to follow you as you drag him away, just thankful you've avoided a problem at that point.

" 'bitch's got you on a hellava tight leash. Who knew the wolverine would be so whipped over some cheap whore." Logan stops abruptly at the words, sighing deeply as he looks at you, rage burning in his eyes. Whatever reserved attitude you had about this fight was basically gone, evaporating at the insults. You let out a long sigh, before you pull your hands away from him and shrug your shoulders. Logan grins at you wickedly.

So what if he came home with a few more bruises than normal? His knuckles would heal- but the ass whooping he gave out would damage that guy's ego forever.

Angel

Warren is the silently jealous type. No matter how bad he's being cooked with jealousy, he's really just going to keep an eye on you from afar. Growing up as a rich kid, I feel like his dad was very strict on manners and how not to make a public scene, which has kinda carried over into his adulthood.

If someone just won't give it a rest and keeps trying to pursue you, Warren will be not low-key about it. He'll come over and set his hand on your back, or sling his arm around your shoulder, or if he's feeling really cocky, Shake the person's hand and introduce himself as your boyfriend/husband. He'll only outright tell them to back off if they start to get out of hand and he knows you're getting really uncomfortable.

"I just don't like him." Warren says, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom. He's still in his suit from before, the red and bright white standing out starkly compared to the muted warm tones of your shared bedroom. You laugh at him as you begin to change.

"What? Why? I think Pietro is kinda funny." You ask, beginning to take off your shirt. Warren sighs in a petty way.

"Yeah, exactly." He mumbles under his breath, walking over to help you when your head gets stuck in the neckline like it always does. You give him a kiss on his cheek when you're free, not quite having heard him.

"Can't I dislike him just to dislike him? I don't need a reason." Warren speaks up this time, and you can't seem to hold back your amused smile as he digs his hole deeper. "-but, if I did, I'd say he's just too friendly with you. I don't like it." You can't help but laugh at that as you finish changing into more comfortable clothes. He turns around on autopilot, letting you unzip him from his suit- careful not to catch his blonde hair with the zipper.

"It's not like he's taking me away from you, Warren." You say, pressing a kisses to his exposed neck and back as you help him navigate his wings through. Warren huffs a little, his wings twitching as his voice goes soft.

"I never said that. I know he's not. I trust you enough to know so. I just..." He trails off, stepping out of his suit and left in his boxers. He lets you pull his shirt over him, stretching his wings in the confined space of the bathroom when its on correctly. You cock an eyebrow at him now that you're facing him, waiting for him to continue. He doesn't, simply looking away from you to avoid your knowing gaze. You let out an amused chuff before closing in on him.

"It's okay to be jealous, Warren, but I promise you, I'm not going anywhere." You say confidently, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He sighs again, but smiles as he looks at you with a soft and loving gaze. His arms wrap around your waist as he rests his forehead against your own, closing his eyes as the two of you begin to sway a little.

"Yeah, I know."

Morph

I really think that Morph is more of an insecure jealous type, but they're more likely to hide it behind humor. If you're being flirted and don't seem to be overly uncomfortable, they're probably going to fade into the background. They know that you love them, and they trust you, but they're so used to being second best for everyone they know that they just feel like they're bothering you. Later on, when whoever is flirting with you leaves, Morph will shift into them and start joking about it. Don't let the humor fool you, they're hurting right now. Just give Morph some extra love and kisses and reassurance and they'll feel better eventually.

Now, if it's clear that someone is bothering you, Morph won't be afraid to roast the everloving shit out of them. They take the moment to really embarrass the person, and if you're in a bar he'd totattally shift into the dude just to offer a drink to everyone and then dip, sticking the asshole with the bill.

You really didn't like clubs. They were busy and loud, but you had a friend celebrating her birthday in one, so who were you to turn down the invite? You certainly couldn't go without your favorite shapeshifter by your side either. The only problem was that Morph wasn't the only one who had eyes for you that night. Morph hadn't said anything in the moment, but you knew stuff like this bothered them. Even while walking home from the club, they still seemed to be trying to brush it off.

"Hey, Good-lookin. You interested?" Morph says, having shifted into the guy who had been flirting with you earlier. They're leaning against the side of the payphone like a goofball, having waited there as you called the school to let the others know you were finally on the way home, tipsy, but still hoping the fresh air would sober the both of you up. You roll your eyes as you giggle at them, shoving their shoulder and sending them stubiling.

"In that guy? No way!" You laugh, walking past Morph before they quickly catch up to you.

"You gotta admit, he was pretty handsome for a POS." They joke, puckering their lips and making kissy faces at you.

"Mmhm. suuureeee." You hum, pushing their face away from yours as they laugh.

"Come on, you saying' that tall dark and handsome isn't your type?" Morph shifts from the man at the club, and into the blonde, blue-eyed Warren worthington, wings hidden underneath the supposed coat. "-Or maybe you'd prefer blondes. I hear Warren's quite at catch." You huff at them, and shake your head again. Something in their tone of voice just seems to set off alarms in your brain, and they doesn't seem to be acting as genuine with you anymore, a vulnerability creeping into their voice no matter how hard they were trying to hide it. This goes on for a rather solid minute, Morph shifting into different people you know and asking who you prefer with a laugh and a fake smile. You shake your head every time, but it's starting to become more than just a bit. You begin to lose your patience, your own hurt seeping through the cracks.

"You're into the gruff, muscly, Logan, right? Hafta' be if you're still-"

"Kevin." You finally cut them off with a stern tone of voice, grabbing their wrist as you abruptly stop walking. They flinch at the name, eyes blowing wide with concern as they shift from logan, then to the dark haired version of themselves- before then settling on the form you know so well.

"... Not the government name." They mumble, more caught up in the strict way you said their name rather than the words themselves. You grab them by the collar of their leather jacket, pulling them close to you as you look into their eyes.

"How many times to I have to tell you I love you for you to believe me?" You whisper after a moment, voice coming out a little broken. Morph's seems to panic a little, making a concerned face as their hands catch hold of your wrists gently.

"I- no, that's not what I..." Morph says, trying their best to fix the situation. They can't seem to come up with the right words, their eyes avoiding your gaze as their mouth opens and closes with no luck. You cup the side of their face, bringing them back to face you.

"I. Love. You." You say purposefully. "Not some guy at the club- you, Morph. Any part of you that you want to give me, Any form you want to take. As long as it's you, I don't care." Morph relaxes at your words, sighing as you bring them closer to you, resting their forehead against your own.

"Yeah?" They ask, eyes fluttering closed.

"Yeah." You reply, finally leaning in to kiss them lovingly. They return the kiss softly, only separating from you when you begin to drag them down the sidewalk with you once again, hand in hand.

Sabertooth

He does not handle jealousy well at all. Honestly, I wouldn't put it past him to put someone in the hospital. It doesn't matter if they're just flirting, or if they're actually bothering you, he's going to start some shit. The man loves to start fights, and he couldn't care less what the reason is for. I will say though, he's gonna be a lot less smiley if the person insults either of you. He may be a shitstarter, but he doesn't take disrespect, especially not disrespect towards his S/O.

He's never mad at you for it. If anything, he's glad you gave him the chance to take some anger out. He'll encourage you to wear sexy and revealing outfits because he wants to see you wear them, and also because he's gonna beat the shit out of the first guy (and every guy, honestly) to look at you the wrong way. ESPECIALLY if you have boobs. Those are his boobs. He wants them to be popping out of your clothes 24/7 but no one else is allowed to look at them. Did he just see someone glance at you? Say goodbye to your teeth, motherfucker. (and your balls too.)

Victor loved shitty dive bars, as gross and unsanitary they may be. He liked to bar hop a few of them every other night, and although you weren't necessarily the dive bar type, you did enjoy spending time with him. Normally you'd just wear casual clothes, but today you had wanted to dress up a little bit. Nothing too fancy, but your shirt was a little low cut compared to what you normally wear. Victor had been loving it, especially since he got to have you as his eye-candy. That was what you were going for, and you succeeded! The only problem was that he wasn't the only one appreciating the view.

You were sitting at the bar, watching Victor win another round of pool while sipping on your drink. A man had sat next to you earlier, but you didn't think anything of it at first. It was a busy saturday night, and there weren't that many seats open at the bar. At most, you had a uneasy tingling on the back of your neck, feeling that someone was watching you.

"What's a fine thing like you doing in this shitty place?" The man suddenly asks. You send him a questioning glance, almost baffled at the flirting. He must be new here, because every other regular of this place knew for a fact who you always come here with, and no other man is stupid enough to try their luck with you while he's lingering around.

"Who, me? Enjoying some peace and quiet, obviously." You say in a sarcastic tone. The man chuckles next to you.

"Aw, not interested, sweetheart? I swear I'll make it worth your while." You make an obviously disgusted face at that, beginning to wonder who this guy thinks he is. The tingling feeling you feel hasn't let up, in fact, it's only gotten stronger. The hairs on the back of your neck are standing up, and you can't help but feel like something is seriously wrong here. You brushed it off on the alcohol, but Victor had always been a bit more perceptive than you. He barely glanced over in your direction before he was storming over. For a split second you think he's mad at you, until he violently grabs the man next to you by the collar, his claws scraping across his collarbones and causing him to yelp as he shallow cuts begin to bleed.

"Did I just see you staring?" Victor huffs, glaring so hard you swear the man shrinks underneath his gaze. Every bit of confidence he had a minute ago had vanished completely.

"W-what? I... Uh..." The man stutters, unable to say a complete sentence through his fear. Victor turns to you slightly, his grip not letting up for a second.

"He say something to you, Doll?" He asks, and you wonder if you should tell him the truth. You almost felt bad for the guy in his grip, knowing that he was probably just stupid and new to this bar. You shake your head in response, even though the stranger had been giving you off vibes since the moment he sat down. Victor grins at you, a loving excitement in his eyes as his grip only gets tighter.

"Aww, you don't have to lie, sweet thing." Victor chuckles, and you grimace when you realise that he totally saw that lie coming a mile away. Vic turns back to the man, his smile dropping instantly as his other hand slips the guy's phone out and slams it on the counter of the bar. "Open your camera." Vic snarls. The man starts to panic now, squirming to get out of his grip.

"N-no! Let go of me Man!" The man stutters. Vic only begins to grin again.

"Nuh-uh. I want you to show my baby the photos you've been taking all night." Photos? You didn't know anything about any photos. Your brows furrow as the man begins to whine and panic, squirming to no avail. Vic smirks at you as he send you a nodd, and you grab the phone and open the creep's gallery. There has to have been over thirty photos of you from just tonight, sitting at the bar, ordering your first drink, even one from when you had gotten up to use the restroom.

"Oh, gross!" You say, recoiling from the phone and wiping your hands on your shirt, not wanting to know where this guys hands had been all night. The man in Victor's grip has gone completely pale, freezing at the sight of Vic's terrifying smile. He reaches over towards the phone with his free hand, picking up the device before crushing it with his bare hand.

"Why don't you head outside, honeybee. I'll take out the trash while you're gone."

[bbyleiah]

PREDATOR.

| serial killer Toji comes across you in the creepy hardware store you work in. He initially found you annoying, as you always somehow managed to get in his way but then he became infatuated with you..completely obsessed and set on tying you to him forever. |

cw : serial killer!Toji , black reader, kinda graphic murder scene description, heavy stalking, heavy degradation (bitch, slut, whore, etc.), physical harm(she cuts him, he puts her in a chokehold), threats, manipulation, spitting, choking, blowjob, shoe riding, wet dream, lots of dirty talk, pet names (bun, peach/peaches, little mouse), naive reader, kinda dub-con, nipple play, dry humping, marking, lots of slapping (tit-slapping, pussy slapping, he slaps her in the face once), mating press, fluids, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, dacryphilia, sadist!Toji, masochist!Reader, and probably way more warnings I forgot abt 🥹 (there’s some soft parts in this fic too ☝🏽)

word count : very longgg, so get comfy 🫶🏽

sn : this is my contribution to kinktober 🤲🏾 read at ur own discretion

You were completely exhausted towards the end of your shift at this hardware store. You’d been here since 11am and it was now going on 9pm. Your feet hurt so bad from standing at the register and you had enough of the weirdos that frequented your store. “Only 30 minutes left..” you muttered to yourself with a sigh as you glanced at the clock.

You’d hoped no more customers would come in during your last few minutes but of course luck wasn’t on your side. Two men came in, one after the other seemingly shopping for different things. One of them seemed like an average creepy suburban dad, wearing khakis and a polo shirt with one of those bushy mustaches. The other man was spooky.

You couldn’t even see his face due to the fact he had a hood hanging perfectly over his head, he was dressed in all black from head to toe. Black boots, black pants, a black zip up jacket that seemed heavy duty, and the man was huge, towering over the shelves in the store. You definitely hoped he’d get whatever he was looking for and leave soon.

You knew you shouldn’t be judging books by their cover but this job was boring and you were a people watcher at heart, it was the only thing that kept you entertained. The suburban dad came up to the register first, purchasing simple things like tape, paint, and nails. “You found everything okay?” You asked, putting on your customer service voice and smile.

“I sure did! Say, what’s a pretty thing like you doing working so late?” The male spoke with a flirtatious lilt that immediately made you uncomfortable. You didn’t even look attractive at the moment, dressed in your work uniform with your curly hair in a messy bun, slight eye bags under your brown eyes, looking beat and worn down from your shift. Men always had the audacity. “Uhm just getting a hard work’s pay, you know?” You tried to laugh it off.

“Mm, hardworking and beautiful. Sounds like a treat. You wouldn’t have to work so hard with me~” He continued his advances, licking his lips as he eyed you. You wanted to throw up, this interaction was disgusting. “No thank you.” You replied as you began to ring up his stuff faster so that he’d leave quicker. “Ah, don’t be so mean. I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.” He purred as he got more into your personal space.

Before you could respond, you saw the man’s face get bashed into the counter. You screamed in horror, it happened so quickly you could barely register it happening. “Fucking creep.” The spooky man spat out in disgust as he let the man go, watching him drop and slump onto the floor. Your eyes were wide in shock and fear as you stared up at the tall violent man.

“Don’t worry, he’s not dead.” The man told you, all nonchalantly in that deep raspy voice of his that sent shivers up your spine. You were too scared to respond or move, just standing there like a little deer prey in headlights. You still couldn’t fully see the man’s face, only seeing his lips and his chin, it appeared that he had a scar on the corner of his mouth.

The man placed his items on the counter casually, ignoring the blood now splattered on it. “Do I have to ring these up myself? Or are you gonna do your job?” He questioned you. “N-No! I got it!” You squeaked, immediately snapping back into work mode as you scrambled to ring up his items. Your hands shaking and tears forming in your eyes.

This man was intimidating beyond belief. You could just feel him staring you down as you haphazardly rung up his items. “Relax little mouse, I’m not gonna hurt you.” The man suddenly said, it seemed like an attempt to comfort you but it honestly only freaked you out more. Especially the pet name he used. You did some breathing to calm yourself though and regain your composure.

Toji wasn’t surprised at how terrified you were of him but he didn’t care. He honestly didn’t mean to attack the guy but Toji was already riled up from a previous altercation he just had and that prick irked his last nerve. Toji felt like the guy rightfully deserved to get his face bashed in. Toji was slightly intrigued by you though, you were mostly well composed despite being scared shitless. It was obvious you were just an innocent little thing though, oblivious to the fact that a serial killer was standing in front of you.

“H-Have a great rest of your night” You stuttered out, not looking at the man as you handed him his bag. He hummed in response, grabbing it from you before he began to leave. You noticed his bruised and bloody knuckles as he grabbed the bag, that man was definitely dangerous and another reason why you should quit this job.

“Wait!” You called out to him once you realized something, it was stupid but you weren’t always the smartest. He stopped in his tracks, looking back at you. “Uh..my shift is over and uh..what am I supposed to do with this guy..?” You sheepishly asked the scary man as you pointed to the unconscious man on the floor. Toji was amused by your question. “Leave him there.” Toji said before he left fully. Leaving you there dumbfounded.

“What the actual fuck?” You said out loud, talking to yourself at this point. You had enough of this shift and this job in general. You let your manager know about the situation and you clocked out and left, leaving the man there just like the dude told you to because there wasn’t much else you could do anyways.

You called your bestfriend on your walk home, ranting to him about everything that happened. “So he just bashed the guy’s head and dipped?! Like nothing?” your friend Oliver exclaimed through the phone. “Yes! I was scared to death. Literally shaking in my boots. I still have no clue what creepster dude even looks like” you huffed.

“Well he kinda sounds like a pussy throbber to be honest…but! he’s psycho which is a major red flag. Plus you know there’s a serial killer roaming around. It’s all over the news.” He hummed. “Ew! He was not a pussy throbber!” You denied even though you blushed a little. “There’s a serial killer roaming? Since when?” You asked, clueless.

“Bitch, do you live under a damn rock?. They’ve been killing people for weeks!. Lord, you’re such an easy victim too, so oblivious to everything.” Oliver sighed while shaking his head even though you couldn’t see him. “Uh actually I have a taser and I took self defense classes. I’d say I’m a pretty tough victim.” You defended. “Girl, you’re delusional.” Oliver cackled.

You knew he was probably right, it was proven by how you were walking alone in the middle of the night right now. Taking alleyways as short cuts which was stupid but you’d walked this path plenty of times and nothing has happened before so you doubted anything would happen. You were so wrong though. You ended up walking towards a fight it seemed, an unfair one at that. The tall male figure beating the shit out of some guy.

You stood there stupidly and watched, even though you knew you should’ve turned around. You let out a scream when you saw the tall male slit the other guy’s throat before stabbing the male repeatedly in the face. The killer immediately snapped his attention on you after hearing your scream. You felt like your heart stopped in that moment, going into panic mode as you instantly turned around and began to run for your life.

You had tuned out your phone call with Oliver, who was still on the line and worried sick. Even though you were running, no one was chasing after you. Toji groaned in annoyance, “Pesky fucking mouse.” He said as he ran his bloody hand down his face in frustration. Toji had never been caught while he was murdering someone before, he was too smooth and precise with his kills but apparently luck was not on his side today at all.

This kill was pretty reckless too but he still hadn’t expected to be seen, and of course it had to be you. Typically he’d kill anyone who got involved with his kills but he knew you were harmless so he was gonna leave you be..for now. You were sobbing once you finally made it to your apartment complex, completely out of breath from sprinting with all your might.

You’d managed to actually respond to Oliver and ease his worries once you stopped freaking out. He still was concerned though and said he’d come visit in the morning and take you to work. You wiped your tears, taking off your uniform and getting into a hot shower. Hoping the shower would soothe you and get you to stop trembling. It helped slightly, but you were still traumatized.

You could barely sleep, tossing and turning in your bed unable to get the visual out of your mind of someone being brutally murdered in front of you. Part of you had the right mind to tell the police about what you saw, but the other part was terrified the killer would come after you next. So you decided the best decision for now would be to stay quiet and out the way.

You probably got about two hours of sleep before you woke up to Oliver banging on your door, hugging you tight the minute you let him in. “I was so worried!. Are you okay? Like actually okay?.” He asked you. You shook your head, “No I’m not, I couldn’t even sleep. I can’t erase it from my mind. First the psycho at the store and then the killer, it’s like the heavens are against me.” You pouted, tears starting to fill your eyes again.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry this happened to you. I’m here now though and we’re gonna get rid of all that bad juju.” Oliver hummed as he cupped your face before hugging you once more. Oliver proceeded to make breakfast for you and help clean your apartment, cracking jokes and being his usual charismatic self. It definitely brought your mood up and eased your mind. You were lucky to have Oliver.

“Alright I wish a motherfucker would try and bother you today. Ain’t no one surviving with me around!” Oliver said as he began to show off his fighting moves while the two of you walked to the hardware shop. You couldn’t help but to laugh, “Oo super scary, so feisty. People are gonna be too spooked to even look at me.” You amused him as you laughed.

“I know, I know. It’s what I do baby.” Oliver said playfully as he winked at you. Little did you know, someone was watching you. Toji was merely keeping an eye on you to see if you squeaked to anyone about what you saw last night. He was surprised to see you smiling and laughing it up as if nothing happened. He assumed you likely told the guy you were walking with, which wasn’t a smart choice. Toji debated whether he should kill the guy or not.

Truthfully he didn’t know what to do about you either, he knew he should kill you because that was the smart thing to do to save his ass and cover his tracks. However, Toji was too intrigued by you. He didn’t know why, maybe it was how pretty you looked whenever you got scared, or how harmless and clueless you appeared to be. But Toji didn’t have it in him to kill you. Toji continued watching the two of you, fascinated by your relationship. It was obvious you two were close, Toji didn’t know how he felt about that.

It’s not like Toji knew you personally so he didn’t care who you spent your time with, but part of him was irked at how happy this guy seemed to make you. You were dreading your shift today, but at least Oliver was gonna stay with you the whole time that was the bright side. Luckily your manager handled the guy that was on the floor, sent him to the hospital and had the blood cleaned up.

There wasn’t too many customers today which was great for you, you just people watched with Oliver and joked around. His presence was always refreshing. Towards the end of your shift a man walked in. It appeared to be the same scary man from last night, although this time he had his hood off allowing you to see his face in all its glory. Oliver gasped, “That man is hot as fuck!. I thought you said only creeps shop here?” He whispered.

“He is a creep! That’s the head smasher!” You exclaimed to Oliver. “Ohh, you lied then. He is a pussy throbber.” Oliver said, making you pop him and he began to laugh. Toji only showed his face because he wanted to see if you recognized him as the killer from last night. It appeared that you only recognized him as the violent customer you encountered so he was grateful for that.

You had to admit to yourself that the man was very attractive but that didn’t excuse the fact that he was terrifying and violent. “New coworker?” Toji asked, talking about Oliver as he came up to the register. His question caught you off guard, “Uh no..it’s still just me. He’s my friend.” You clarified, although you didn’t know if you should be telling this info to this creepy man. “Mhm, her bestie. Had to come protect my girl, things been a little crazy lately.” Oliver hummed as he shamelessly eyed the man down, embarrassing you.

Toji didn’t pay him any mind at all, his attention solely focused on you. The pretty little mouse that’s been getting in his way lately. Oliver noticed Toji’s predatory stare on you. He cleared his throat, “So uh, what’s your name big guy?” Oliver asked him. “None of your business.” Toji responded deadpanned. “Ouch..anyways, you think my girl is pretty?” Oliver cut to the chase. Your eyes widened, a blush filling your cheeks. “Shut up Oli” You muttered to him.

Toji was getting seriously irked with this ‘my girl’ bullshit. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much but everytime your friend said it Toji wanted to cave his teeth in. “You talk too much.” Was Toji’s only response to Oliver, not answering his question. It made you frown a little bit, not like you cared about the guy’s opinion on your looks but it would’ve been nice to hear.

Oliver rolled his eyes, “Welp, this guy’s a dead end. We’ll try the next sexy man because you need to get them cobwebs off that pus-“ Oliver went on before you quickly slapped your hand over his mouth. You were completely embarrassed now. Toji was highly amused, a small smirk creeping onto his face. “I’m so sorry about him, oh my gosh. He indeed does talk too much..” You said to Toji, your face flushed. Toji thought you looked adorable all embarrassed and shy.

“It’s alright. Although I wouldn’t recommend trying the next man, too many crazy people out here these days.” Toji said, even though he himself was the ‘crazy people’ he spoke off. “That’s true..” you sighed as you were reminded of what you witnessed yesterday. “Can you pass me some cigarettes too?” Toji added to his items. “Ugh, nasty. Definitely glad you dodged that bullet.” Oliver muttered in disgust. Toji’s jaw ticked, he was beyond irked with this kid.

Toji hadn’t even been smoking much recently but he’s been too stressed lately and needed something to take the edge off. “I’ll get them for you.” You said and you attempted to grab the pack he asked for but they were high up in the contained case. “I gotchu.” Toji hummed as he suddenly came behind the counter, standing over you and reaching to grab the cigarettes. “You can’t come behind here-“ You squeaked out but got quiet once feeling his intimidating presence over you.

“So you are like a little mouse.” Toji actually grinned as he looked down at you, after hearing the noise you let out that sounded similar to a squeak. You felt your breath get caught in your throat as you looked up at him, locking eyes with the man. His eyes were so dead, void of anything. Just black pools with no soul. “Your eyes are scary..” You mumbled out without thinking. “That’s a compliment little mouse.” Toji replied as he grinned still.

“You afraid of me?” Toji taunted, his voice low as he leaned closer to you, his nose brushing against yours and his breath fanning against your face. You were trembling, you were terrified to say the least. But something about him was intoxicating. “I-I am..” you managed to breathe out. “Smart girl.” Toji hummed in response. Toji didn’t know why he felt the urge to mess with you but you were just such a treat to his deranged mind. So easily frightened and breakable.

You were so pretty too. Freckles scattered across your perfect brown skin, hair curly and thick and falling over your shoulders, mesmerizing brown eyes filled with so much emotion and life. You were everything that he wasn’t, and he liked that. “What’s your name?” You asked him softly, repeating the same question Oliver had asked him. You were so curious to know now. You doubted he’d tell you but you wanted to take the chance.

Toji was silent. Just staring you down as he contemplated wether or not he should tell you. He wasn’t meant to be known, especially not by an average person like you. But for some reason he wanted you to know his name. Toji moved his mouth towards your ear, his lips brushing against your earlobe and giving you goosebumps. “Toji.” He whispered darkly into your ear, only for you to hear. You felt lightheaded at this point from interacting with this man.

Toji then pulled away and turned around, grabbing the items he purchased and leaving the store. He pulled his hood back over his head as he walked off into the darkness. You were speechless, mind still processing everything. “Well shit, maybe he isn’t a dead end after all.” Oliver spoke up, he watched the whole scene unfold quietly. “He wants youuu, gonna creep under your bed and snatch you up.” Oliver teased with a cackle.

“Hush!” You said as you popped Oliver on his arm, embarrassed. Although the thought that Toji might want you wasn’t so bad, even though he was clearly a walking red flag that you should probably stay far away from. You finished off your shift with no complications this time and you walked home with Oliver. The two of you hugged as he dropped you off at your doorstep.

You sighed and did your usual night routine before you collapsed into bed. While you were sleeping though, Toji had expertly broken into your apartment. He knew he had no reason to be in your home but it was just too easy and too tempting for him. Toji was covered in blood, having killed three people tonight but he made sure not to leave a single smidge of blood inside your tidy home.

Toji stood at your bedroom door, the door wide open. He watched you as you slept peacefully, the slow rise and fall of your chest so fascinating to him. Toji didn’t know why he was so fixated on you but he couldn’t stop himself from stalking you. Part of him figured the reason he was infatuated with you was because you were so regular that you gave him a glimpse of sanity. Toji was very mentally deranged and you were the opposite of that.

You felt that lingering feeling of being watched while you slept and it raised a panic in you but you were too afraid to open your eyes to check and see if the feeling was real or not. Toji tilted his head, a small grin pulling to his lips as he saw your breathing pick up. He was curious to see if you’d actually wake up and attack him. Excitement grew inside him as he awaited a reaction from you. It was like he was a demon feeding off your fear. It was so euphoric for him.

The energy of whoever was watching you overtook the room, making you feel suffocated in their presence as fear consumed you. Tears began to well up behind your closed eyes, clutching your blanket closer to you as tried to pretend sleep like a toddler hiding from a ghost, hoping the creep wouldn’t get you if you continued your act. Toji cooed at the sight, it was truly adorable how naive you were, thinking so lightly of the dangers around you.

It only made him want to mess with you more, addicted to how easily frightened you were. Toji took a few more tentative steps towards the bed, the weight of his footsteps sounding through the hardwood flooring. The sound sent chills down your body, a quiet sob slipping out your mouth before you could stop it. Toji’s keen ears heard it though, a sadistic grin forming on his lips at the cute noise. It satisfied his twisted soul.

“good night little mouse.” his low voice whispered darkly and tauntingly into your room, you felt like your heart stopped in that moment. You immediately recognized the voice, now regretting ever encountering the man who frequented your hardware shop. Toji swiftly exited your apartment after that, he knew by now that you knew it was him. He purposely wanted you to know though, wanting to scare you shitless.

But also, wanting to assert his claim over you. You were his new fixation, his current drug, he still couldn’t fully understand his entrancement with you but all he knew was that you were his now and that you needed to know that too. You felt like you could finally breathe once his presence was gone, letting out a shaky exhale and instantly bursting into full on tears. You didn’t know what else to do but cry, if you were smart you would’ve called the police but instead you called your comfort person again, Oliver.

You incoherently rambled to him about your dire situation, your words all choked up and jumbled from your nonstop tears. He didn’t waste any time coming to your aid, not needing to hear much more. You turned on all the lights inside your apartment as you anxiously waited for Oliver to arrive, the lights providing you some sort of false comfort from the monster that now lingered in your shadows.

The relief that washed over you once Oliver came was immeasurable, he held you and gave you a shoulder to cry on. “That fucking creep. I’ll kill him for you sweetie. I swear.” Oliver huffed, worried sick and filled with rage at the thought of you being in harm. You sniffled and snuggled deeper into Oliver’s embrace, eventually falling asleep from the exhaustion of crying and the distress from being terrified.

You awoke the next morning to the sound of Oliver talking to someone in a hushed manner. You rustled in the bed sluggishly as your heavy eyelids fluttered open slowly. “Oli?” You softly called out in your sleepy voice that was slightly hoarse from your crying. He perked up at the sound, also gaining the attention of the police officer he was currently talking to. “Oh great you’re up! I was just giving this officer the description of creepster.” Oliver said as he came over to you, frowning at the sight of your red puffy eyes.

“Morning ma’am, sorry to hear about the occurrence that took place in your home last night. Your friend has been a great help with all the information he’s provided. I just have one more question, do you happen to know the name of the man that broke into your home?” The officer asked you politely, notepad in one hand and pen in the other, hovering and ready to write. It seemed he’d already written a decent amount on the paper.

You were silent, processing everything still and debating whether to give his name or not. You didn’t know why you were debating it at all, you had no reason to not give up his name, in fact you should be screaming it at the top of your lungs. But for some reason you couldn’t, something in your gut told you not to.

Worries of him coming after you and doing something terrible to you if you revealed his name spooked you too much, and then there was some weird part in your brain that felt like his name held so much power and he told it to you specifically for a reason, almost like a sworn secret between the two of you, or maybe that’s just what your naive mind wanted to believe. “Sweetie?” Oliver interrupted your thoughts softly as he gently grabbed your hand. “Oh, sorry. I don’t know his name.” You finally answered the officer, who let out a soft grunt in disappointment.

“Well that’s okay, I appreciate both of your cooperation, we will get back to you as soon as we get a lead on the guy.” The officer said assertively and politely before he exited your apartment. You could feel Oliver’s stare bore into your head, “You don’t know his name?” He questioned you again. You shook your head, “I don’t. I’m gonna shower.” You changed the subject, getting up and making your way into your bathroom.

At the same time, Toji was lingering around your apartment again, unknowingly to you. He’d been there since early that morning, watching when the police arrived until the moment they left. He’d wondered if his little mouse squeaked on him. Not that it mattered too much if you did, Toji had full confidence he’d never get caught, he was too skilled and experienced. It wasn’t his first time dealing with police and he knew it wasn’t his last.

Now the real problem was your little friend. ‘Always in the way’ Toji thought, irritated with the chatterbox that always seemed to be by your side as your pathetic knight in breakable armor. Toji wanted to kill him, he could already taste the satisfaction that would fill his nerves at the thought of your friend’s blood splattered all over him. He couldn’t act so recklessly at the moment though, and he knew you probably wouldn’t like him so much if he brutally murdered your little sidekick.

Not that Toji cared much about if you liked him or not, but he still couldn’t risk his chances of winning over his cute petrified mouse. You were such a distraction for him lately and you didn’t even know it, he couldn’t get you off his mind for a single second. Always thinking about you, your teary brown eyes, soft chub cheeks, parted plush lips, that innocent fearful look on your face, your shaky breaths and pretty sobs, fuck he was addicted to you and this was just the start of it. His addiction was only gonna get worse until he had all of you completely to himself.

Toji had other business to take care of though than to continue obsessing over you, going on about his tasks for today but he was sure to come back to his little mouse later. “Why did you lie?” Oliver prodded you for answers, following you around the apartment as you cleaned. “I didn’t lie, stop saying that.” You replied, tone agitated as you were growing tired of him accusing you.

“Yes you fucking did. Covering up for that psycho. Are you crazy? They could catch him!” Oliver exclaimed. “I’m not crazy! He could kill me! Did you think about that? Or are you still trying to play captain savior? I don’t know his fucking name so leave it alone!” You finally snapped as you glared at Oliver. He sighed, “I’m sorry..I know you’re going through a lot right now but I just don’t want you to get hurt. But..if you say you don’t know his name then I’ll believe you.” He resigned.

“thank you” you sighed also, “I appreciate you being here for me so much Oliver, it’s understandable that you wanna help as much as possible but there’s only so much we can do.” You said honestly. “You’re right, I just hope that fucking weirdo stays away from now on.” He said while running his fingers through his hair, feeling stressed about the situation as well.

“Wanna eat ice cream and watch romcoms?” He suggested after a moment of silence, you smiled at the offer. “I’d love to.” You happily agreed, plopping down onto the couch and patting the spot beside you signaling Oliver to join, to which he excitedly did. This was great to temporarily clear your mind from the current dark cloud in your life. You called out of work today too, not wanting to take the chance of encountering Toji again and needing a break from that nightmare of a job.

Toji was not happy at all to see an unfamiliar face that wasn’t yours when he entered the hardware shop that night. He was already riled up and this was aggravating him even more. He didn’t even bother to buy anything, ignoring the customer service greeting from the middle aged stout man that now stood behind the counter, Toji just left the store almost as soon as he came in, his feet bringing him to your apartment. He saw that your friend’s car was still parked outside, making his jaw tick in annoyance.

He pulled out his phone and called your number that he gained without your permission, using his sources that made his way of living a much smoother process. You were still on the couch, with a now fast asleep Oliver laid on your lap when you heard your phone ring. Being the ditz you were you didn’t even check the caller ID, just answering the call without a single thought. “Hello?” You greeted. “Tell him to leave.” Toji demanded lowly on the other end of the line.

Your breath caught, goosebumps forming over your skin as fear filled you again for the 4th time this week. “How did you get my number?” You breathed shakily into the phone. “Don’t worry about that. Get your little friend to fucking leave while I’m asking nicely.” He gritted in response. Tears filled your eyes, you were sick of crying now but it seemed that’s all you knew how to do lately.

“No. You need to leave me alone. I didn’t do anything. What do you want from me?” You exasperated, you kept your tone hushed though not wanting to wake Oliver. “I want you. Just you, my pretty prey just for me to play with.” He hummed darkly, his words giving you shivers and shocking you. That’s the last thing you expected to hear and you hated that the untamed part of your brain seemed to like the sound of it. You tried to shake that feeling away though.

“Why me?. I’m nobody. Just leave me alone please.” You pleaded, tears streaming down your cheeks now as you sniffled softly. As much as Toji loved to hear you cry and beg, he was getting annoyed. “Look dollface I really fucking hate repeating myself so here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna kick your boy toy out or I’m gonna let myself in and pour his pulsing bloody guts all over your nice shiny hardwood flooring. You want that sweetheart?” He wasn’t even giving you an ultimatum, he was making a statement that he intended to fully act on.

You gasped in horror, “Y-You’re sick!” You spat in disgust as you began to sob. Oliver had awoken now, instantly getting worried seeing your current state. “Time’s ticking sweetheart. I’m giving you 5 minutes. tick tock tick tock.” He taunted in a haunting manner, instantly raising your anxiety the moment he hung up. “You need to leave!” You blurted to Oliver, your eyes wide in a panic as you literally tried to physically grab him and push him out.

You didn’t even process his words asking ‘are you okay?’ and ‘what happened’, your mind just solely focused on kicking him out before your personal monster came to kill him. “Just leave! I’m okay but please just leave!” You practically screamed at him as you cried. He was baffled as he stared at you in confusion and shock, you looked crazed at the moment and it scared him a little. “Woah..I’ll go..just relax, okay? I’m here for you if you need me just give me a call..” He replied in a calming soft tone that eased you a little but still didn’t stop the racing of your heartbeat that was fueled by fear.

You let out a breath of relief once Oliver finally left but that relief was short lived when Toji creeped into your apartment soon after. He was still covered in all black from head to toe, hood over his head covering most of his face in a dark shadow and blood soaked into his clothing, just barely noticeable due to how well it seeped and blended into the dark shade of black he wore. “You just beat the clock little mouse. Congratulations.” He teased, it was not amusing at all to you nor was it celebratory.

“Aw peach, don’t act so petrified and down, I’m not gonna hurt you.” He cooed, seeing the shell shocked teary eyed scared look on your face. To be honest Toji was thrilled to see your face, it instantly brought him peace for some reason unknown to him. He was so riled up moments ago but now he felt a smidge of sanity and comfort being in your presence. “Y-You’re a liar..you were gonna hurt Oliver.” You managed to mutter out shakily.

“Eh, that’s because I don’t like him. I like you though little bun, more than you know. So I’m not gonna hurt you, unless you want me to.” He said honestly with a smirk that you could see appear on his visible lips. Toji then took his hood off, allowing you to see his face and all its glory, it was truly such a curse that he was actually attractive. You naturally got lost in his features, admiring his looks against your better instincts.

Toji noticed you eating up his looks with your eyes, making a smug grin form on his lips. If he wasn’t a psycho stalker who was obsessed with haunting you, you would’ve swooned at the sight. “You like my face, peaches? It’s all yours if you want.” He teased with a grin. Your face scrunched up in disgust, “Ack, you’re deranged.” You insulted, he only grinned more. “Aw, that’s putting it lightly sweetheart.” He hummed as he sat on your couch, making himself comfortable as he manspreaded.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing, him acting all cozy in your home as if it was his. “You tell the police about me little mouse?. Saw them here early this mornin’, you tryna get rid of me already? The fun just started though bun.” He questioned almost in a mocking tone with false sentiment, faking a pout as he looked at you. You were baffled, “You saw them? Why are you watching me and my house? You fucking creep!” You exclaimed.

He rolled his eyes, “That’s not important. You know you’re terrible at listening and answering questions. I’ll train you well though.” He talked as if he didn’t hear anything you said, completely ignoring your questions. “You won’t be training anything. You need to leave me alone and get the fuck out of my house now!” You demanded as you marched over to him, full of anger, feeling sick and tired of dealing with this.

“Aw, you look so adorable all angry peaches. You really want me to go? make me leave then. Come on, give it your best shot. I won’t fight back I promise.” He taunted with an amused grin. You hated his condescending tone, it was so belittling and made you want to punch him. You knew you wouldn’t stand a chance against him though, but you weren’t about to let him win without at least attempting to fight.

So without a second thought, you charged at him, using all your strength to get him off your couch. He was true to his word and didn’t fight back at all, which it’s not like he had to because you couldn’t get him to budge at all. He was like a boulder, an immovable statue, you attempted to push, pull, drag, and even hit the man, but nothing worked. Toji honestly had to hold back from laughing at your attempts, he had to admit though he admired your spirit and will to put up a fight even though you knew it was fruitless.

It was starting to frustrate you as you grew exhausted from exerting your energy to get him to leave. “You done yet?” He asked you in a bored tone, noticing you getting tired and moving slower. Tears pooled in your eyes once again from the frustration. “I hate you! Just leave me alone!” You sniffled as you glared at him with your teary eyes. “Awe, you know things would be much smoother for you if you didn’t fight against me so much sweetie.” He cooed.

You weren’t trying to hear that bullshit, since fighting him wasn’t working, you were gonna go to desperate lengths. You ran into your kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife you had. Toji perked up, “This is so typical. A knife little mouse is like a needle to me.” he sighed. You blocked out his words, charging for him again but with more spite this time.

He fought back this time, standing up and towering over you, dodging you as you attempted to stab him, no precision in your movements just going for it with the hopes of getting lucky. Your wild movement ended up paying off, because you managed to cut his arm, it wasn’t any serious damage but it felt like a victory to you. “shit.” He muttered. That small pride you had quickly dissipated though when Toji snatched you up.

He ended up pinning you down underneath him onto the floor, gripping your wrists in a painful hold as he held your arms above your head. “My patience is running very fucking thin with you little mouse so I suggest you start acting right unless you want me to show you why you should be very fucking afraid of me.” He stated, his tone serious and menacing as he stared you down, face inches apart from yours.

You were pouting, tears falling from your eyes, breathing heavily from trying to fight him. You felt so trapped in this situation, trapped by him, it was never ending. “Now, drop the knife peaches, while I’m still being nice.” he told you, forewarning you of the consequences you’d face if you didn’t listen to him. You obeyed, dropping the knife and letting it clatter onto the floor. “Good girl, wasn’t so hard was it?” He hummed, looking into your spiteful eyes.

“Are you getting off on this? Stalking me, harassing me, ruining my life? Does it satisfy that fucked up brain of yours? Preying on me like some deranged animal, you’re a monster. I’ll never be yours, not even in your sick perverted dreams. You piece of shit.” You said to him, full of hatred, voice not having any edge to it but full of intent to hurt him. It didn’t hurt him though, it amused him actually. “That was a nice monologue bun, you just came up with that? I’m impressed.” He teased.

“I’ll humor you though. I do get off on it, love seeing those tears in your pretty eyes, hearing you scream and sob in fear, the way you tremble and how your breathing slows down and picks up, how naive and unaware you are, I’m addicted to it. Especially now, you should see yourself right now bun because fuckk…you look so petrified I just wanna eat you alive.” He expressed, leaning close to you and breathing in your scent, exhaling into your neck and making you tremble and whine quietly in fear.

“smell so good little mouse, it’s intoxicating.” He sighed as he pressed himself against you more, you felt helpless underneath him trapped in his hold. “T-Toji..please just leave me be, I won’t tell anyone I promise.” You whined, attempting to plead again. “Fuck, it sounds so good when you say my name like that sweetheart, can you say it again for me?” He was too caught up in your voice, your body, your scent, your presence to even hear your pleas anymore.

His cock was painfully hard in his pants, so turned on by you and your being. You could feel his dick pressing against you as he was positioned between your spread legs, it was making your mind jumbled up, now struggling to focus on the situation at hand. “You feel how hard I am for you peaches?. God, I wanna ruin you so bad. Feel your cute cunt squeezing and pulsating around me.” He practically groaned as he began to rock his hips against yours.

You could barely process what was happening, it was lost on you how you ended up here after just trying to stab this man. But you hated to admit that it felt so good, your pussy betraying you as it throbbed in need and soaked your panties in your wetness. “Look at you, letting a monster, your stalker, dry hump you on the floor, such a dirty pathetic little slut. A little attention to your pussy and you shut the fuck up.” He degraded, you moaned embarrassingly in response, your hips starting to push back against his desperately as you chased an orgasm.

“I-I’m not a slut” you defended yourself as you whined, Toji scoffed. “Yet you’re humping me like a bitch in heat. Are you just a slut for me then? Is that what you’re trying to say peaches?” He spoke directly into your ear, the feeling of his lips and breath against your earlobe sending shivers down your spine. “Never for you!” You managed to spit out despite the pleasure that was currently clouding your mind.

Toji’s jaw ticked at that, “For that Oliver kid then?. I’ll slit his throat you know. Right in front of you. Make you watch as his blood slowly pours from his body.” He threatened, you whimpered shaking your head frantically, not wanting that to happen at all. “Don’t hurt him, please.” You sobbed, Toji just rolled his eyes in response. Despite the horrific convo, your hips never ceased their movement, rocking desperately against Toji’s as you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist.

You felt sick for giving into pleasure from such a monster but you couldn’t stop, it felt too good and there was a part of you that you tried to deny that got off on being afraid of Toji, like some twisted adrenaline rush. “Say that you’re mine then, and I won’t hurt him.” He pressed as he wrapped one of his hands around your throat, squeezing slightly and making you moan.

Toji didn’t know why he was so hooked on you to the point of jealousy, but he had to have you as his or else he’d kill anyone who would even think to take you away from him. “Come on, sweet girl. I know you can say it for me.” He uttered as he rocked his hips harder against yours, his clothed cock bumping against your clit in the most delicious way. With pleasure clouding your mind, you couldn’t even make proper judgement any more, all you wanted to do was cum and appease the man who was able to give you that relief. “I-I’m yours, all yours, please” you cried as you bucked your hips against his feverishly.

Toji’s eyes nearly rolled back hearing you say those words, it satiated him to the fullest. He wasn’t gonna let you take those words back either, from now on you were his officially, whether you liked it or not. “I knew you were a smart girl, all that fight for nothing. You just wanted to give me a hard time, hm?.” He cooed as he squeezed at your throat again, a proud grin on his face. You just nodded and moaned in response, solely focused on the orgasm you were chasing.

Toji moved his grip to your jaw, squishing your cheeks together as he leaned down to kiss you. You wanted to avoid the kiss, you didn’t want to go that far as to kiss your psycho stalker you felt you had a least enough morals for that. Toji of course didn’t care one bit about you trying to move your head, tightening his grip on your face as he pressed his lips messily against yours.

You whimpered at the feeling of his fingers digging painfully into your soft cheeks, he took that opportunity to slide his tongue into your opened mouth. His tongue tangling with yours and exploring the caverns of your mouth, you hated that you moaned into the kiss, your body betraying you.

“I don’t know why you continue to fight me when you know you won’t win. Just accept your fate bun, your soul is now tainted, forever entangled to mine. If you even think you can escape me, forget about it because I’ll always capture you again. My sweet beautiful mouse..made for me.” He spoke in sickly sweet tone as he kissed you in an affectionate manner that made your skin crawl.

You hated how his words seemed like reality, you didn’t want to believe it but it seemed that you were bound to this man now and that you would never be able to get away. That thought alone seemed dreadful and you wanted to erase it from your mind. Toji trailed his kisses down to your chest, roughly pulling down your shirt and bra and starting to kiss and suck at your nipples. Your back arched and you moaned at the attention to your erect nipples, his teeth grazing and biting at them making you whine out his name.

“Fuck, I love it so much when you say my name peaches. In that whiny pathetic voice of yours, makes me crazy, you know?” He groaned against your skin as he continued to push his hips against yours. “Y-you’re already crazy you- ah sick fucking bastard.” You said, your words holding no edge to them due to your moans as Toji tugged at your nipples.

“You like it though, don’t you? That’s why you’re letting me treat you like a dirty whore. You get off on me stalking you bun? Hm? You like that I can hurt you if I wanted to? I could easily kill you right now. Snap your neck, strangle you, stab you, how’d you like me to kill you peaches? I know you’ve imagined it, picturing it vividly while your little clit twitches in need at the visual. You’re the one that’s sick. A whore for a killer, what would your mother think of you?” He provoked, his words bringing tears to your eyes and turning your brain to mush.

You came at that moment, your body trembling as you cried and came in your panties, making a sticky mess. Toji whistled as he watched you fall apart, a grin on his face. “So pretty peaches, love seeing you like this.” Toji muttered in adoration as he watched you cry, he licked up your tears like a sick pervert, groaning in pleasure as he did at the salty taste. He came too, his cum pouring into his jeans in ropes, soaking the black denim. You immediately felt regret and shame afterwards, continuing to cry as reality sank in.

“Awe bun, I’m not so bad really. Cheer up.” He half assed comforted as he squished your puffy cheeks. “I hate you!” You sniffled as you looked up into his eyes. “I know, but that’s just a phase. You’ll get over it.” He dismissed nonchalantly as he got off you, standing up and pulling off his hoodie. You couldn’t help the way your eyes widened seeing his sculpted body in the fitted tank top he wore underneath, ‘why the fuck does he have to be so visually perfect?’ You thought.

You frowned though seeing the bleeding cut you left on his arm, you should still feel happy about successfully hurting the psycho but you were too soft hearted. “Does it hurt?” You asked softly. He scoffed, amused slightly at your question. “Cute. But no, it doesn’t. This is nothing to me sweetheart.” He said honestly. You still felt a tad concerned about the blood running down his arm but you decided to take his word on it that he was fine.

“Clean me up if you feel so bad bun.” He said with a sly grin. “Clean you up?..” you repeated, clueless. Toji pulled you up so that you were on your knees, his hand laid on top of your head as if you were a pet. “Come on, put that tongue to good use. Since you love to mouth off.” He pressed as he pushed your head close to his crotch. You felt so small, so inferior, as he had you in this position and demanded you to do something so nasty and degrading. But that sick part of you did enjoy it and wanted to do it, and you hated that part of you.

You let out a shaky breath before you ran your tongue along the soaked tainted fabric of his jeans. It was so rough against your tongue, you could taste the remnants of his cum along with a metallic taste of blood and you had no clue who or where the blood came from, giving you chills at the thought and the taste making you cringe. You instantly stopped and pulled away, wanting to rid the taste from your mouth as your saliva built up due to you not wanting to swallow.

Toji laughed at the disgusted look on your face, he was laughing at you and that realization made you feel so humiliated and sick. “Aww, such a good pet for me. Doesn’t it taste good, Hm?” He teased as he patted your head as if you were a dog, it made you even more embarrassed and infuriated you. You were pulled back into the reality that this was a sadistic psycho in front of you that you hated with every fiber of your being.

With the anger and humiliation fueling you, you stood up and spit in his face. Satisfactory filling you as you watched the spit run disgustingly down his chin. Toji froze, his eyes closing as he breathed in a slow heavy breath. “How’s that taste?” You retorted back with pride at catching him off guard and gaining the upper hand for just a second. Although you felt fearless at the moment, something about how calm he was made you nervous. The way his soulless green eyes pierced into you, unwavering; left you on edge.

Before you had enough sense to run off, he grabbed you quicker than you could think. His large arms trapping you in a painful chokehold and lifting you off the floor as you kicked and trashed, hands clawing desperately at his arms. Toji just hummed into your ear as you struggled to breathe, choking and gargling over your screams that barely seemed to make it out.

“You did this to yourself you know? if you just were a good little mouse you wouldn’t end up like this. Constantly provoking me knowing I don’t want to hurt you..tch, such a shame.” He spoke in an almost disapproving tone, speaking so calmly as if he wasn’t literally crushing your air supply. “F-Fuck You!” You managed to choke out in response. “Soon.” He hummed before he pressed a soft peck to your temple. You wanted to gag, he truly was sick and deranged.

Toji waited until that moment he felt your fight start to die down and your eyes start to flutter close to let you go, dropping you onto the floor like you were nothing. You went into a coughing fit, caressing your throat as you tried to suck in as much air as possible. “If you play nice, I will too.” He told you, he was being honest but he could tell by now that you were stubborn, so was he though.

You scoffed, wiping your tears as you stood back up “I don’t want to play with you. I’m tired of this shit. I should’ve fucking told the police your name, should’ve told them every fucking thing. Should’ve got rid of your ass.” You ranted as you walked aimlessly around your now messy apartment, walking just to ease your emotions. Toji watched you, wiping your saliva off his face with his tank top as he did.

“Aw bun, you didn’t rat on me to the cops? That’s so sweet, knew I could count of you.” He sweetly said with a fake grin that was mocking. “You can’t get rid of me though sweetie, even the police can’t keep me away. I’ll always find you and trap you, so you might as well get used to me.” He said seriously, dropping the sweet act. You felt like pulling your hair out, this man was actually driving you crazy.

You decided to use your brain for once though and start thinking more rationally about this situation. You knew you couldn’t fight him anymore, you had lost that battle enough and you didn’t know if you’d survive the next time. You knew you couldn’t escape him or get him locked up, so scratch that idea too. You didn’t want to comply to this creep…but it seemed like the only option for now..but if you were gonna do it, you were gonna do it on your terms.

“Alright let’s make a deal.” You offered suddenly after your thinking session. Toji had cleaned and patched up the cut you gave him while you took your time thinking to yourself. His interest was piqued, raising a brow as he looked at you “What kind of deal?” He asked. “About this..companionship? no that’s not it, this hostage situation? yeah that’s better.” You began to ramble. “Get to the point.” He urged you, not having the patience for your antics any longer.

“asshole..” you muttered. “Anyways, I’ll be ‘yours’ or whatever the fuck. But you have to listen to me, no more hurting me physically or making threats to me or anyone close to me, and no more stalking me either.” You stated, arms crossed as you stood in front of Toji who was sat on your couch again. Toji scratched at the faint stubble that was starting to grow on his chin as he considered your offer.

“Hm, seems boring but not bad. I have some terms too though, I have to know all of your whereabouts and who you’re with, I also get to come and stay in your home as I wish, and I get to fuck that tight cunt of yours. How’s that deal sound?” He stated back, declaring his own wishes. You stared at him in disbelief, “sounds like bullshit! You’re not touching me, fucking pervert!” You huffed. “No deal then.” He chuckled as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Why can’t you just compromise with me?. I’m literally giving you what you want.” You sighed, exhausted with the whole situation. “I am compromising, you’re the one still being stubborn. It was your idea to make a deal.” He shrugged. “Also it’s ironic that you’re acting like you’d rather die than have me touch you but it seemed like you were enjoying yourself quite a bit when you were grinding that desperate cunt on my dick.” He reminded you with an amused grin, the reminder filling you with embarrassment all over again.

“It was a moment of weakness…shut up about it. Just agree to the deal, there will be no fucking though. Understand?” You stood on your terms, unwilling to bend to his again and let him win. “No deal.” He replied once again, standing up and grabbing his hoodie. “I’ll be back to see you again bun, hopefully you’ll come to your senses by then.” He grinned and placed a kiss on your forehead before he left your apartment, leaving you standing in your living room speechless.

You took a shower, wanting to wash off any trace of Toji left on your body and wash away your sins. You were spaced out underneath the hot water, the steamed filled bathroom creating a warm blanket on your skin. You had so many thoughts and no thoughts at all at the same time, Toji’s entrance into your life had completely mind fucked you. While you had always wished for something exciting and new to your boring, mundane, routinely life, this was not what you wished for or expected at all to add spark to your life.

You’d like to think that maybe this was all for a reason though, that this all had some purpose even though the purpose seemed pretty fucked up. You turned off your shower and got out, getting wrapped in your fluffy cozy towel and then curling up into a ball onto your bed. You didn’t bother to get dressed as you drifted off to sleep after yet another draining day. Unfortunately though, the man you desperately wanted peace from also plagued your dreams.

“so pretty for me peaches, crying so sweetly while swallowing my cock. You were meant for this, hm? taking my cock down that little throat.” Toji purred as he held your hair in a tight grip, holding your head in place as your nose pressed against his pelvis, his trimmed pubic hairs tickling your face as you gargled around his cock.

Your eyes rolled back, choked moans and whines leaving your drool and precum stuffed mouth as Toji’s booted foot pressed and rubbed against your cunt. The friction pushing you to the edge as you rutted pathetically on his shoe like a cheap desperate whore. “dirty fucking slut, you like being treated like this, don’t you? treated like a braindead bitch, only good for one thing.” He degraded you harshly, thrusting hard into your throat, his balls slapping painfully against your chin.

You tears pooled from your eyes as you let Toji use you as he wished, like his own personal slut made special for him. You’d never admit to liking the treatment you received from Toji, too ashamed of your deep rooted masochism. But that part of yourself that you were in denial about and tried to fight against was the reason you hadn’t fully pushed Toji away yet, he was bringing that side of you to the surface and it scared you.

You woke up from your deep sleep with a whine, rolling and stretching around in your cozy bed. “Sleeping naked and moaning my name in your sleep..” Toji tsked, the sound of his voice making you sit up with a gasp. “It’s like you’re doing this on purpose peaches. You’re lucky I do have some sort of morals, or else I would’ve had my way with you since your unconscious self clearly wants it.” He teased, a grin resting on his scarred lips as he leaned against your doorframe.

“Why are you always fucking around?” You groaned in annoyance, wrapping your blankets closer around your indecent body. “Because I can be, you’re already getting tired of seeing my face bun? That’s a shame, here I thought you wanted to cum on my face because you loved it so much it made your pussy drool just from the sight of it.” He said in faux disappointment while shaking his head.

His words and wittiness never failed to baffle you. “I hate you.” You muttered, repeating those words you felt so deeply. He laughed, “I know sweetie, that’s the best part though. You hating me but being unable to get rid of me, like an annoying piece of gum stuck to your shoe. Although I don’t think you actually hate me that much, you just want to convince yourself of that.” He responded. You just stared at him, “and you said Oliver talked too much..” you mumbled.

“Get out so I can get dressed, I’m tired of your presence.” You told him. “Say please.” He requested immediately, that annoying grin still on his face. You sighed, “Please.” You obliged, no longer having any energy to fight him or argue with him. To your surprise he actually listened and exited the room after you asked politely. You weren’t gonna give him any brownie points though, he was still a psycho that was stalking you.

You freshened up and got dressed in a baggy t-shirt and some leggings, wanting to be comfy since you had no intentions of going out today. You put your coily hair into a puff on top of your head and then walked out your bedroom to find Toji sitting on your couch. He seemed to enjoy being on your couch as he made himself comfortable and even started watching tv. “Don’t you have a job or something? Or your own damn house?” You asked, slightly irritated but choosing to not let his looming presence get to you.

“Aw, finally interested in me bun?. I do have my own house, just prefer being in yours. I guess you could say I have a job if killing people counts as a profession.” He answered casually. You stared at him wide eyed, “That does not count! You’re a murderer!” You exclaimed. “You’re just now catching that?. Sweetie, I knew you were a little slow witted but come on now. You literally saw me kill someone.” He said as he looked at you, watching how your expression turned into one of horror as realization hit you.

“Oh my fucking god! Oh my god! You’re the serial killer Oliver was telling me about!” You couldn’t believe it, even though part of you always knew, the confirmation was terrifying. You felt almost dizzy at the realization that this whole time you were dealing with an actual serial killer, not just some really dangerous mentally unstable stalker. “You really lack awareness skills..I don’t know how you’ve survived until now.” He muttered, genuinely surprised at how clueless you actually were.

“…are you planning to kill me?” You knew by now it was probably stupid to ask, but you didn’t know so you had to make sure. “Little mouse, If I was planning to kill you I would’ve done it the moment I met you. No, I don’t plan on killing you nor do I plan on hurting you.” He told you honestly. You felt a little relief hearing that, “You’ve already hurt me though? My neck is literally bruising.” You stated, calling him out. “In my defense, you pulled a knife on me and tried to stab me.” He said as he held his hands up halfway in an appearance of surrendering.

“Touché” You couldn’t refute his stance since it was valid. You hated how casual conversing with him was becoming though, especially with him being in your house it was all beginning to feel a little too ‘domestic’ but maybe that was his goal to make you get used to him and comfortable with him. You tried to ignore that feeling though, trying to constantly remind yourself of the fact that Toji was a terrible monster.

You went into your kitchen and began to cook breakfast for yourself, well it was just for you until of course Toji made himself known. “smells good, whatcha’ making?” he hummed as he came up behind you, his body towering over you as you stood in front of your stove. It gave you Deja vu to the moment the two of you shared in the hardware store, when he told you his name. The moment that tied you to him. “food.” You responded bluntly.

“Don’t be so mean peaches, it doesn’t suit you.” He said, the soft manner he spoke in currently was too soothing to your ears and you knew it shouldn’t be affecting you the way it did. You sighed, “It’s just eggs, bacon, oatmeal, and biscuits.” you finally answered properly. “Mm, sounds amazing. You making some for me too? you know sharing is caring.” He hummed as he wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning down to comfortably rest his head on your shoulder.

This position felt way too intimate and you hated the way it gave you little flutters in your chest. “Make your own food.” You huffed softly. “I can’t cook.” He responded honestly, which took you aback a little because you weren’t expecting that response. “What do you eat then?” You asked out of curiosity, you just received silence and no answer in response. “When’s the last time you ate?” You questioned as you now turned your head a little to look at him, feeling concerned now.

He just shrugged, “Not too long ago. It slips my mind sometimes.” He said as if it was nothing. “That’s not okay. How do you not remember when you last ate?. You need to eat something.” You frowned, your natural empathetic nature coming out as you actually felt worried about the dangerous man holding you. Toji smiled seeing you worry over him, “You’re so cute bun, all sympathetic for a killer.” He cooed before he pecked your cheek.

You blushed but tried to hide it as you focused your attention back on the stove. “Shut up. I’ll make some extra for you..” you muttered. “Aw, see I knew you liked me bun.” He chuckled as he squeezed you affectionately for a second before letting you go, going to sit at the island to watch you as you continued cooking. You finished cooking pretty fast though, making a plate for yourself and Toji.

Those domestic feelings came back as you handed the plate of food to him, everything just felt too personal and intimate and it was messing with your mind. Toji actually politely thanked you for the food to your surprise, “So you do have some manners.” You remarked as you sat with him and began to eat. “I told you I’m not all that bad peaches, just gotta warm up to me.” He grinned before he started eating as well.

Toji ate as if it was the best meal he’d ever had and it honestly flattered you a lot. “I should marry you, so you can cook for me forever.” He suddenly said as he finished eating. “You’re actually crazy if you think I’d ever marry your ass.” You laughed while shaking your head. “I am crazy though, you know this. You reconsider your little deal yet?” He reminded you. “I’m not changing my stance, you’re not fucking me.” You stood on your terms.

“You just love to be difficult. I bet I could fuck that out of you, make you all pliant and obedient. Turn you into a babbling mess, fucked stupid. When’s the last time you even got fucked, hm?” He asked, genuinely curious. You gasped, “That’s none of your business!. Why must you always be so perverted? Creep.” You avoided the question, feeling flustered from his crude words.

“So I’m gonna take that as an obvious answer that you haven’t been fucked in a long time. You love being in denial, don’t you? You want me so bad, you just don’t want to admit it yourself.” He called you out, you honestly didn’t have any comebacks because he was right despite you not wanting to admit that. “You think you know everything but you’re wrong.” You huffed, wanting to keep your pride even though you knew you’d lost that long ago when you first got caught in Toji’s trap.

“I’m never wrong peaches. You’re just a coward. Always the ever so frightened little mouse, even afraid of your own self. It’s a shame really.” He said while shaking his head in mock disappointment. His words stung, offending you more than you expected them to. The truth did hurt. “I’m not a coward, I fought you didn’t I?. That’s enough evidence that I’m not cowardly. I’m just not a sick fucking pervert like you.” You spat, anger building in your tone due to feeling belittled.

Toji was amused at how easily riled up you got over a few words, he knew he’d hit the nail on the head. “You are just as sick as me though bun, I’m just more open about it than you are. You’re a dirty fucking slut, wanting to be hurt and humiliated by me, treated as if you’re nothing but a flesh toy for pleasure, isn’t that right?. That’s what you were dreaming about earlier weren’t you, love? dreaming about me having my way with you, turning you into my little pet. Oh how I’d love to make your little dream into a reality bun, to mold your cunt into the shape of my cock.”

Toji went on and on, his hand moving to grip your face as he spoke those filthy words that had your pussy pulsating in need. You didn’t want to give in but god did he make it sound so good, your body desperately craved it despite your better instincts telling you no. “Tell me you want it.” Toji uttered lowly against your lips. You felt like you stopped breathing for a second, the world freezing around you as you got lost in the moment with Toji so close to you and persuading you to give into your deepest desires.

You decided to not listen to your incessant back and forth thoughts for once and just allow yourself to make a decision solely on your inner feelings that wanted to desperately to claw out. “I want it..” you breathed out, sealing your fate. Toji didn’t waste a second as he pressed his lips against yours with vigor, grabbing you and pulling you into his arms as he pushed his tongue into your mouth.

He lifted you onto the kitchen countertop, making you gasp as your glass plates fell onto the floor and shattered during the process, Toji not bothering to move them. “The glass!” You tried to point out, your words getting muffled due to Toji kissing you hard and messily. “clean it up later.” He brushed off as he gripped your thighs harshly, trailing his feverish kisses down your neck, dragging his tongue along your neck up to your jawline. It honestly seemed as if Toji genuinely wanted to eat you up.

Toji ripped your shirt, startling you as the fabric tore with ease, you pouted a little as you watched Toji toss it aside since you actually liked that shirt. You couldn’t dwell on that thought for much longer though as Toji began to mark you as his, sucking and biting those pretty red and purple blemishes across the expanse of your body. You whimpered and squirmed every time he bit you, the sting of his teeth digging into your skin and the coating of his saliva afterwards when he’d lick and suck over the forming bruise.

“it hurts” you whined. “good, it should hurt. You deserve it for being such a fucking slut.” He degraded as his hand came down hard to slap your boob, causing you to let out a sob. “You look so pretty like this, covered in my marks, tears filling up those brown eyes. So perfect for me little mouse.” Toji cooed, a complete contrast to his previous tone as he continued to harshly play with your boobs, tugging your nipples and slapping them until you were fully crying.

“Ah, there she goes. My pretty crybaby.” He grinned sadistically as he watched you cry. He smoothed his hands over your now sore boobs as he kissed at your tear streaked cheeks. He was so hot and cold, constantly changing from being cruel and mean to being the slightest bit of sweet and caring, it messed up your head. The switches making you dizzy. Toji removed your panties and leggings, his eyes taking in and admiring every part of your body once you were fully naked underneath him.

Toji wanted to memorize every inch of your body, engrain it and paint it inside his mind. You felt a little self conscious under his intense stare, especially since he was still clothed while you were completely bare in front of him. “stop staring. pervert..” you muttered, embarrassed as you attempted to cover yourself up with your hands. “don’t try to be modest now, move your fucking hands or I’ll cut them off.” He threatened, tone menacing as he stared you down with those dark evil eyes.

You trembled a bit in fear, moving your hands away as your lip quivered due to your tears. Though you were scared shitless, you were so turned on, the fear making your pussy clench around nothing as your arousal started to drip out. “good girl.” He praised, making you swoon for a second because it felt so good to be praised. “look at this cute cunt, weeping to be touched. So fucking wet and I’ve barely touched you. Such a fucking touch deprived whore.” He tsked as he ran his fingers through your soaked folds.

He spread his fingers, admiring the sight of your creamy essence clinging to them. You moaned at the feeling of his rough padded fingers playing with your pussy, your legs subconsciously spreading wider as Toji began to rub circles onto your clit with his thumb. “such a sloppy pussy.” He said as he pushed a finger into your needy cunt, your walls eagerly swallowing up his thick finger.

Your eyes fluttered at the stimulation of Toji’s finger filling you up, you truly were touch starved and sensitive, already getting bliss from the pleasure of his fingers rubbing against your plush walls. You shamelessly rocked your hips onto Toji’s finger, matching the pace of his thrusts as you moaned. Toji almost groaned at the sight of you losing yourself over a single finger.

“Fucking cock hungry whore, just one finger and your pussy is dripping all over my hand. You gonna cum just from my fingers fucking into this useless cunt, hm?” He was relentless as he shoved another finger inside you, curling them just right to make you cry out. His hand came down again, this time slapping your pussy repeatedly. The wet smack smack smack sounding throughout the kitchen as he battered your poor pussy, making you twitch and sob at the agonizing pleasure.

You were so wet, your fluids soaking Toji’s hand and dripping onto your pristine kitchen countertop. Your clit throbbing and pussy clenching each time Toji slapped your cunt, while his fingers pressed against that sweet spot that had your eyes rolling back. “So pretty for me, making a mess of yourself bun.” He sighed in awe as his eyes took in your state.

Your body all marked up in red and purple bruises, tears pouring down your puffy cheeks, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth, legs trembling and toes curling, hair strands falling from that puff on your head, slick coating your thighs and dripping everywhere. Toji was so enamored by the sight that he felt he had to document it, pulling out his phone and pressing record.

“You should see yourself bun, so fucking slutty and pathetic. Fucks sake, I should show this video to the world. Let everyone see just how much of a greedy bitch you are.” He taunted as he captured your filthy state on camera. You whined, shaking your head as you cried. “N-No! please don’t.” You begged as you moaned and cried nonstop. “Awe peach, look at you being so polite and asking so nicely. I’ve already trained you so well.” He spoke in that sweet condescending tone of his as his fingers never ceased their movement inside your wet cunt.

“I could show your little friend Oliver, reveal to him how much of a pain kink whore you are. He’d probably be so disgusted to find out that such a cute dollface like you is just a slut that loves to be treated like worthless pet.” He laughed, his threats were empty ones but he loved how panicked and upset they made you. You cried harder at his words, hands moving to grab the phone from him and throw it aside.

Toji didn’t like that at all, slapping you in the face the moment his phone hit the floor. “Fucking disobedient bitch. What the fuck did I tell you about those hands?” He growled angrily at you, you could barely process his words as you were cumming hard, cunt spasming on Toji’s fingers as you sobbed loudly, face stinging due to the slap. You don’t remember the last time you came that hard, Toji slapping you pushing you over the edge. Your head was buzzing as your creamy climax coated Toji’s hand, seeping through the cracks of his fingers.

“Did I say you could cum?” He asked, glaring down at you as he slapped your thigh, you whimpered. “m’sorry.” You pouted as you looked back up at him, meeting his eyes with your teary ones. “You never fucking listen, just a braindead whore.” He said, tone agitated while shaking his head. “I don’t think you deserve my cock, been an insolent girl with no manners.” He reprimanded, you truly felt like he was scolding you and it made you feel more desperate to please him.

“no no, ‘m so sorry, please please. I’ll be good, I promise.” You pleaded unabashedly as you tugged needily at his pants loops, you wanted him to be inside you so badly you felt as if you’d die if he didn’t fill you up. He had successfully brainwashed you, making you crave him insatiably. Toji smirked as he listened to you beg, his chest swelling with pride at the fact that he got you to this point.

“You’ll be good?. You think you deserve it? I don’t know if your words are good enough.” He teased as he pushed his cum covered fingers into your mouth, making you taste yourself as he shoved his fingers down your throat. You moaned and gagged around his fingers, “I’wll do anyfthing, pwease, I sw’er” you sobbed, words muffled and slurred around Toji’s thick fingers as you continued to beg.

“Aw, you’ll do anything bun? you’ll be mine forever?” He asked as he smiled down at you. You nodded instantly in response, “that’s my girl.” He cooed prior to placing a kiss on your forehead. You felt giddy about the small show of affection, smiling around Toji’s fingers. Toji pulled his fingers from your mouth, undoing his pants and pulling out his hard cock that was dripping precum down the veins of his heavy cock.

You were practically drooling at the sight, hips moving to eagerly push against the tip of his pretty cock that curved a little to the left. “so needy.” He murmured as he tapped the tip of his cock repeatedly on your abused red puffy clit, your back arching slightly at the stimulation to your sensitive clit. “n-need you inside, please” you sniffled as you begged once more. “yeah yeah, I heard you shut the fuck up.” He dismissed as he finally shoved his cock into your hungry walls.

You moaned out, head thrown back as his cock filled you up to the brim. “Fuckk” Toji groaned as he got consumed in your tight cunt squeezing around his cock. “Feeding this cock deprived fucking pussy. shit.” He gritted as he began to pound into you, not waiting for you to adjust to his size at all as he slammed into you mercilessly. You were getting fucked stupid, mouth parted with no sounds coming out, hands holding onto Toji’s shirt and nails clawing at his chest as he fucked you like his life depended on it.

Toji hissed at the sight of his cock bulging in your stomach, pressing his hand down on it to feel the movement of his dick inside you each time he pushed in and out. “You feel that peaches? My fat cock rearranging your guts? Feels so good doesn’t it princess?” His words falling on your deaf ears as your pussy soaked his dick, the squelching sound growing louder with each thrust as your juices dripped down to his balls. “Ah, my little mouse is finally quiet. All it took was some good dick to shut you up.” Toji huffed a laugh as he observed your fucked out state.

He pushed your legs up over his shoulders, folding you up into a mating press as he seemingly began to slam into you harder, the tip his dick battering your cervix and making you let out a scream. Toji loved hearing you scream, his eyes rolling back at the sound as he groaned into your ear. “Sound so fucking pretty ngh fuck— love this slutty pussy, could fuck it all day.” He moaned as he relentlessly pounded you into your countertop, his balls slapping painfully against the cusp of your ass.

“I should fuck a baby into this needy cunt, tie you to me forever. would you like that bun? Hm?” He breathed into your neck, by now Toji was just as blissed out as you were, saying things he’d never usually say but you felt so good wrapped around him and looking so pretty that he felt like he’d risk it all. “m-mhm, w-wan’ ah mm— wan’ it please” you hiccuped out in between whiny moans. Toji kissed your drool slicked lips, moaning into your mouth as he tasted your saliva. He was truly obsessed with every inch of you, wanted to eat you up, mold your body to his. He felt like he was in heaven being inside you.

“so good for me, taste so fucking good sweet girl. You wanna have the child of a serial killer? Gonna be a good momma?” He spoke in between your messy kisses, his ruthless thrusts never ceasing as your pussy swallowed up his cock with each stroke. “yes! yes! I’ll b-be a g-good mhph- momma” You were too cock drunk to register what you were saying, responding instinctively without thinking.

Your mind and body was solely focused on the drag of Toji’s cock against your walls, his rough hands gripping you and leaving his handprints in addition to your already beautifully marked up form, his breath ghosting your skin, his lips slotted perfectly against yours, his dark sweaty hair that fell over his green eyes, the scar across his lips that seemed mesmerizing every time he moaned and grunted in pleasure. He looked like a wet dream, better than any of the ones you’ve had.

You were a babbling mess as you felt your orgasm build up intensely, back arching as you wailed in deep pleasure “m’ hah- m’gonna-“ you could barely get the words out as your body trembled, pussy clenching and spasming around Toji’s cock. “Do it whore, be a good little bitch and cum all over my cock.” He grunted as he brought attention to your clit, drawing figure 8’s into it and slapping it as your pussy gushed around his cock.

You sobbed, screaming once more as you came hard, squirting and making a mess all over Toji’s lower abdomen and your kitchen countertop. Your whole body shook as you climaxed, it was the most intense orgasm you’d ever had. “there it is, good fucking girl.” He praised as he continued fucking you through your orgasm, his pace unrelenting. You were completely fucked out, body practically going limp as you whined in overstimulation.

It was honestly amazing to you how Toji still had so much energy, pounding into you just as hard and fast as he was when he started, if not harder as he chased his own climax. “you’re so perfect like this, my personal cum dump. Pliant and breedable just for me.” He panted, his balls growing heavy as he neared his orgasm. He was lost in the easy glide of his cock in your sloppy cum soaked cunt, the white ring around the base of his cock and the way more slick gushed out of you with each thrust was enthralling to him.

He couldn’t look away from the sight, along with the way his cock bulged so prominently in your cute tummy and how your pussy throbbed around his cock as if it was begging to be filled with his cum, it sent him over the edge. Toji let out a guttural groan as he came hard, pouring thick white ropes of cum into your spent cunt. “oh fuck-“ he moaned as his thrusts slowed, his hips still moving as he fucked his cum into you. You were just a whiny whimpering mess, eyes closed as you laid there and let Toji use you.

Toji finally let your sore legs drop from his shoulders as he came down from his high. He pulled out slowly, his low eyes watching intently as globs of his cum poured out from your pretty cunt. “You still with me, bun?” He asked you as he ran his fingers through your sensitive folds, pushing his cum back into you with his fingers. “m-mhm” you hummed in response as you trembled slightly in oversensitivity. “s’ too much.” You whined as you weakly tried to push away Toji’s hand.

“shh, it’s okay little mouse. jus’ gotta make sure this cum stays inside this sweet cunt.” He coaxed as he continued his ministrations. You shook your head, letting out a soft sob as another orgasm hit you suddenly. You were way too sensitive and the moment Toji’s fingers hit that spot you fell apart instantly. “Awe bun, you’re so sensitive, cumming so quickly.” He laughed as he found you adorable. He decided to stop torturing you though as he pulled his fingers out, putting them into his mouth and licking the mixture of your fluids off of them.

Toji then picked you up, carrying you to the bathroom as you slumped against him. You still had half the right mind to think that you probably shouldn’t trust Toji at all while in your current vulnerable state but you had already gone this far so you felt you had no choice but to go along. To your surprise, Toji started a shower for the both of you. He actually cleaned you up with care, contrasting to how roughly he treated you as he fucked your brains out.

He even put your bonnet on your head for you before the two of you fell asleep. All this domesticity was jarring to you for a multitude of reasons, but you were currently too exhausted to confront it so you decided to leave it for the morning. Unfortunately for you, your sleep got interrupted by knocking at your door around 4 in the morning. You groaned in annoyance as you tossed and turned a bit.

“sweetie! It’s me! I just really wanted to check up on you after last time!” You heard Oliver’s faint voice call out from outside your apartment door, it made you open your eyes once you registered his voice. You sat up, only to get pulled back down by a groggy Toji who had been sleeping next to you. “leave him.” Toji muttered half asleep. You blinked a few times to process if all of this was real or not.

All you could think was ‘how the fuck did I get here?’ even though you knew the events that brought you to this point you were still baffled. “he’s worried so I can’t just leave him, I’ll talk to him and tell him to go.” You told Toji prior to getting up again, he let you go this time. You grabbed the first clothing item closest to you to cover up your naked body and it just so happened to be Toji’s hoodie. It draped over you like a warm blanket.

You walked to your front door, opening it only slightly to talk to Oliver. “Oh my god, I know it’s really late but I was worried sick so I had to come see you. Are you okay?” He asked you in that concerned tone of his, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you. “yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry I snapped on you last time, that was uncalled for. I was just…stressed you know.” You apologized and reassured him.

He sighed in relief, “I’m just glad you’re okay. That creepster hasn’t come to bother you again has he?” He checked in. You chewed at your bottom lip as you contemplated your answer, “no, he hasn’t surprisingly.” You lied smoothly. Oliver raised a brow as he sensed something off about you, “…you do know I can always tell when you’re lying, right?” He stated.

“Did he hurt you? threaten you? what happened? you don’t need to cover for that asshole. He needs to pay for messing with you!” He expressed in deep concern. “Oliver! It is okay, nothing has happened and honestly you shouldn’t be involved. This is my problem and I’m dealing with it.” You tried to brush it off, you just didn’t want Oliver to get hurt due to your situation. “Dealing with it how?” He questioned you.

You opened your mouth to answer but got cut off by Toji butting in. “Y’all done talking about bullshit yet? I’m tryna sleep.” His agitated voice spoke from your bedroom. Oliver’s eyes widened, “He’s in your house?! What the fuck is going on?!” He exclaimed as he pushed the door open fully to see you. His jaw dropped seeing you dressed in Toji’s hoodie along with the fresh bruises and marks that covered your body. “You-…what did you do?” He asked in disbelief.

“Oliver..you should leave.” You told him as you look away from him, staring at the wall as shame filled you. “No! I’m not going, he needs to fucking go. That bastard ruined you!” He yelled as he grew angry with the situation. “I was already ruined! Just go! it’s for the best that you just go, I know you want answers but I don’t have them for you right now..please just go. I’ll tell you everything eventually, I promise.” You expressed genuinely as tears began to fill your eyes.

Oliver was speechless. “this was not how this was supposed to go…I-..I should’ve never let you lie to that officer.” He scoffed as he slowly eased his way out of your apartment. You didn’t have much more to say to him either at the moment, “bye oli..” you said softly before you closed the door on him. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you needed to release as you let everything settle in. “he’s really upset with me..” you frowned as you came back into your room to Toji.

“He’ll get over it.” He dismissed with a shrug as he pulled you into his arms. You still felt terrible about it since Oliver was your bestfriend but you hoped that you’d be able to make amends. You fell back asleep with Toji once you relaxed again but it seemed as if dreamland didn’t want you because you got woken up again but by something much worse.

Bright helicopter lights flowed through your window and police car lights emanated outside. “Come out with your hands up! You are under arrest!” an authoritative voice blared over a loud speaker, causing you and Toji to jump up. “shit!” Toji swore as he ran his fingers through his hair. “well bun, looks like I let my guard down for you a little too much.” He chuckled half heartedly.

He seemed so nonchalant about this predicament but you were panicked, screaming when a swat team broke down your front door and burst in. “shh, it’s okay, relax.” He comforted you as he held you and gently rubbed your back, you began to cry as you held onto him tightly. “Step away from the lady! We have a warrant for your arrest!” One officer shouted as they crowded into your bedroom with flashlights and guns pointed at the two of you.

Toji’s jaw ticked in annoyance, “You’re scaring her.” He stated as he held your shaking form tighter. As much as he loved seeing you terrified, he only enjoyed it when he was the cause of it. “Step away and put your hands up! Or we will be forced to use excessive force!” The officer demanded, ignoring Toji’s comment.

He sighed, “I gotta go bun..but I’ll be back to see you, I promise.” He whispered to you softly and placed a kiss on your temple before he let you go and surrendered himself to the police. You cried as you watched them handcuff Toji, you knew Oliver was the one who told them about Toji’s whereabouts. You never thought you’d cry and feel a little heartbroken over Toji being captured since he deserved it, but it stung your fragile heart.

“Don’t cry little mouse. Remember what I said?. You can’t escape me, I’ll always come find you. You’re mine forever.” He had that familiar sadistic grin of his on his face as he spoke, getting roughly pulled out by the swat team once he finished his last words. You’d hoped deep inside that those words rung true.

[lqveharrington]

Behind the Scenes | V.

summary: Being Vox’s girlfriend requires some patience after twelve hour work days.

pairing: Vox x fem!reader

includes: Vox and Velvette bullying one another, VALENTINO BEING A MENACE, mentions of Angel’s job, drinking, fluff, yelling, Vox being a baby, cursing, implications of being a prostitute, suggestiveness, both of them being teases (that’s it, let me know if i missed any!)

a/n: i think writing hazbin fics is my stress outlet 😭

You were Vox’s. And Vox was yours. Every demon and sinner in Pride Ring knew due to Vox taking time out of his busy work day to shower you with compliments in every press interview or host show when you were brought up. Especially when Vox would be the first one to find you after you finished modeling for Velvette’s show, making sure the paparazzi had photos of him praising you with kisses and soft touches.

Of course, you reciprocated every moment… In the public eye. Behind the cameras and screens, Vox was very much loving. But he did work for almost twelve hours each day, which required patience from you whenever he came home to you in a sour mood.

“Do you need me for anything else, Vel?” You glance back at your phone as you pour red wine into your glass.

“No,” She scribbled down measurement adjustments for another model’s design, looking back up at her screen after hearing an electrical shock from your side of the phone. “But do tell your boy toy that you have a dress rehearsal early tomorrow morning, and that you have to be there on time.”

Vox wrapped his arm around your waist, glaring at the young overlord through your phone. “Fuck off, Velvette.”

You feel him resting his head against your shoulder as he presses soft kisses on your neck, your dead heart fluttering. “I’ll be there on time.”

“Good.” She rolled her eyes at your boyfriend’s actions before ending the call.

“What’s your damage today, handsome?” You ask before sipping on your drink, red lipstick staining the clear glass. You watch as he mutters something incoherent, static emitting from his hat. “Vox, talk to me.”

“That bitch Carmilla won’t meet up, and it’s been several days since our last update on Vox technology.” He sighs as he moves around you, his voice crackling with electricity. “Shareholders have been up my fucking ass all morning about it— Valentino keeps trying to get me to watch his stupid porn feels featuring Angel.”

He removes his suit jacket as he complains, walking toward the large living space including a minibar. Vox pulls at his tie and reaches for the whiskey underneath, “Now Velvette wants to be an ass and complain about me wanting to spend time with you—“

“My love,” You hand him a glass from the cabinets, letting your hand linger on his for a bit. “Vel’s my boss, and I’m her best model. She needs me for these rehearsals.”

“You’re really taking her side?” He tilts back his head and downs the drink in one go, pouring another.

You roll your eyes at his childish behavior, “I’m not taking sides, I’m pointing out a fact.” You sit on the stool by the bar, letting him slot himself between your legs. “If anything, I’m listening to you describing your day.”

“Mm.” He let one hand come down and rest on your hip, rubbing soft circles. “Tell me about your day.”

“Boring, tiring. Pretty much the same every day.” You grab his wrist to ensure he doesn’t go any lower or any higher. “According to your assistant, I do have a lot of things planned tomorrow. So that should be exhausting.”

Vox linked your hands together, “Sounds stressful.”

“Not as bad as yours every day.” You press a kiss on his palm. “I was gonna watch a movie while waiting for you, but now that you’re here—“ You shift your wine glass in your hand as he puts his own glass down, letting him trail his hands to your waist. “Want to join me?”

“Of course.” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips before trailing after you. “What movie are we watching?”

“Whatever the first thing I find.” You let Vox sit on the couch before doing the same, swinging your legs over his lap. “You need a new rotation on Voxflix, I’ve watched almost everything.”

“I’ll get on that.” He mumbled as he ran his hand up and down your leg, occasionally squeezing.

You hum and shift your gaze to the television, scrolling through the different movies. “How do we feel about—“

A ringtone filled the air, both of you freezing at the noise.

“Vox—“

“Give me a second.” He let you pull your legs away and pulled the ringing from his screen to his phone, camera-ready voice leaving his mouth.

You sigh but find a movie worth watching, pulling your knees up. Around halfway through, you decided that the movie was meretricious, heavily judging the poorly made movie more than the other ones you’ve watched. You typed your review on your phone, giving the movie two stars before—

“—THEN GET SOME LOW LIFE SINNER TO DO YOUR FUCKING JOB FOR YOU!” You heard Vox scream from the kitchen, making you wince for the poor soul on the other end. “AND IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE SHIT I GIVE YOU, JUST KNOW I HAVE YOUR FUCKING SOUL IN CONTRACT!”

You pause the movie and get up, taking slow steps to your hotheaded boyfriend. He shuffled across the kitchen, walking back and forth as his fans kicked on. His white shirt was unbuttoned and his sleeves were rolled up like he was going to commit a crime.

“YOU LITTLE PIECE OF—“

“Vox,” You come up from behind and wrap your arms around his chest, resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s outside of your work hours.”

“Fucking—“ He rubbed his temple as he heard the sinner go silent on the other line. Vox took one hand and laced it with yours, “You’re lucky my wife is generous you ungrateful fuck.” He ended the call before muttering more curses, turning you in his arms so you were facing his front.

You let your hands move up to his shoulders, massaging the heavy tension in them. “Am I your wife now? Is that what you’ve been telling those sinners?”

“Maybe.” He let out a loud groan from the sensation, fans still running. “The fucking bitch in accounting is—“

“You’re not working right now, stop.” You give him a pointed look. “I need you to relax.”

Vox wrapped his arms around your waist, walking you backward toward the living area once more. “God, I’m in love with you.”

“I love you too.” You chuckle as he peppers kisses on your face. You let out a noise of surprise when he pulls you into his lap, hands gripping his shoulders for support. “Vox!”

“Yes?” He pressed kisses to your exposed collarbone.

You sigh in content but grab the corners of his screen, giving him a cheeky grin. “Tomorrow, my love. Velvette will murder the both of us if I show up late with bruises.”

“I’ll pay her to let you have a day off tomorrow.” He slipped his hand up your shirt, sharp claws bringing chills to your skin.

“So now you’re paying to be with me?” You raise a brow, stifling a laugh when he stops all movements. “Am I some kind of—“

“Of course not! Do not finish that sentence.” He pushed you down on the couch, covering your mouth. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You laugh at how protective he is over you from himself. “I know you didn’t mean it like that, I was kidding.”

Vox dropped his head down to your shoulder, “You’re such a tease.”

“I’m the best.” You squeeze his bicep. “But seriously, Vel will have our heads strung outside the tower.”

“Whatever.” He flipped you both over, letting you rest your head on his chest. “I’ll have you all to myself this weekend.”

You hum, pressing a kiss on the corner of his screen. “I’m sure you do, handsome.”

“My love, I will cancel all your plans this weekend if you tell me I can’t have you.” Vox traces his finger down your spine. “Don’t tell me you have any.”

“I don’t…” You turn your head as he runs his claws through your hair. You feel yourself warm as he wraps a blanket over the both of you, flicking the television to play with a snap of his fingers.

“What do we rate the movie today?” He played with the ends of your hair, face pulling a grimace at the movie’s corny script.

“Two stars.” You mumble as your gaze shifts to the television. As the television fades to black in an awkward transition, you see Vox staring at you rather than the screen. “What are you looking at, weirdo?”

“My beautiful girlfriend.” He squeezed your hip. “Who I love very much.”

You let a small laugh slip through your lips, grinning brightly at his words. “I love you very much too, weirdo.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[vicocaaisha]

Thrill

Baek Harin x Reader Fic.

Synopsis: You chose thrill over comfortness. You knew she would only bring trouble, but it's her who you really like.

Warning: SMUT, slapping, fingering, mature scenes in general.

CHAPTER ONE // SUJI’S ENDING // LAST CHAPTER

“Get a move on!” You heard your homeroom teacher. Gulping as you see Wooyi walking towards the other left-out students.

You were going to join Wooyi, but they are already completed with five students already. With no choice between Harin and Suji’s group.

Looking at Harin, you saw her rolling her eyes, getting impatient. You clearly know that she wants you in her group; you wondered how that would go.

Fortunately for you, your other classmate beat you to Suji’s group. With no more choice, you walked towards Harin’s group. If looks would kill, you’re probably dead now because of Eun Byol’s stare. Whatever, you just have to keep up with this shit.

Suji seemed tense; you felt so guilty. She’s a nice girl, she probably made you feel like you’re worth the risk. But it seems for you, you love the thrill from Harin over Suji’s comfort of love.

“Alright, I’ll lead you to your designated rooms.” You heard your teacher say as he started to walk towards the hotel, and your classmates followed behind him.

Fuck.

Was the first word that came to your mind once your teacher told you that you would be rooming with Harin. Harin only.

How come you didn’t foresee this! You knew Harin would never share a room with your classmates. You only shook your head.

“Do you have a problem with us in one room?” Harin said, teasingly. “I mean you can always sleep on the floor, it looks comfy enough.” She added while smirking at you.

“No, I just thought that you would have a room for yourself only.” You replied timidly, trying not to show your dying insides because of the excitement you felt having Harin by yourself.

“Well, I’ve wanted you for so long.” Harin said as she started walking towards you, caging you in the room. You really felt at that time that the room was sooo tiny. “Now, I get you to myself.” You can possibly read her thoughts behind her eyes, she wanted you, so bad.

You really don’t know how to react. When you were in a relationship with Harin, she never really showed any affection or sexual interest to you. You never really kissed, how come she has sexual interest with you now? Or you’re just assuming things.

With that, you opened the unlocked door and ran outside. That’s one way to cockblock the love of your life. You regretted that quickly, especially when you saw Eun Byol blocking your way.

“Having fun fucking my plans?” She asked as she shoved your shoulder.

“What the fuck? What did I do now?” You were so stressed about Harin and now this bitch is causing you more stress.

“Don’t mess up my way with Harin! I wanted to be in a top university so that I could date her and now you easily get your way with Harin? What does she even see in you? You’re not even that big time unlike Doah, her father is a–”

“Oh my God. I don’t have time for this; I’m not your therapist that you could yap to.” You said walking the other way. This girl is so messed up. It’s not your fault that Harin likes you or Harin’s probably just playing with you.

“Hey, wait!” You heard Eun Byol but you just flipped her off as you walked inside in the elevator. Thankfully, the elevator’s door closed off and she didn’t get to enter.

You were going to the cafeteria to buy a hot chocolate or coffee, but you saw Suji’s group. They were gathered around her.

Suji is visibly sulking, it must be because of you. Hm. Your thoughts were confirmed when Yerim looked at your way; she looked at you as if you broke the law.

Damn, you can’t even stay in one place because you’re avoiding a lot of people at the same time.

With no choice left behind, you decided to just walk outside of the hotel, since it has a nice view anyway that would keep you from getting bored.

Your thoughts were so scattered from Harin whether she is playing with mind right now, disappointing and leading on Suji, Eun Byol making you an enemy of hers. Ugh, you joined this field trip to have a good time and now you’re on your own!

The sun is setting, it’s getting cold. You’re so dumb for wearing a skirt and a t-shirt that is also very thin. So much for having a good outfit.

You decided to sit near the lake. Sitting on a big rock, you felt as if you were being stalked. Okay, this is either Harin, Suji, or that bitch, Eun Byol, plotting your death.

Testing your luck, you decided to call out the pair of eyes you’re feeling from.

“Okay,” you paused for a second, thinking whose name you’ll call out. “Harin.”

You sighed, “Come out, I know you’re somewhere behind the rocks.” you said trying to sound annoyed.

“How’d you know it’s me?” Harin asked, feeling her presence behind you.

“I know you’re a stalker, duh.” Your sass came out of nowhere.

“Harsh.” Harin said as she sat down besides you. The wind blew past the both of you, inhaling her scent. You felt the butterflies grow wild inside your stomach. You never really moved on from her, huh?

“Penny for your thoughts?” Harin asked you.

“Sure, a thousand won per word.” You tried to joke.

“I’m serious.” Harin deadpanned.

“Okay then, are you serious with me?” You tried to fireback, but when you looked at her, she was staring at you.

“Yes.” She said with that face again that you hated. Her emotionless face, you can’t read whether she's just playing some sick joke again with you.

You sighed loudly enough for her to hear, “I really like you, Harin, and to be honest I like Suji too. I’m scared of picking you and then when you get bored of me, you’ll just leave me as if I’m just an old doll.”

“I, I’m…” You can feel that Harin is getting uncomfortable from her loss of words, “I don’t know, Y/N. I don’t know how to express my feelings.” Harin confessed.

“It’s okay. I really like you, Harin. Even if you treated me like shit before.” You said, staring afar the sea.

There was a long silence, an uncomfortable one. The silence finally cut off when Harin talked, “I’m sorry.”

“Mhm.” You tried to acknowledge her apology.

“Can I make it up to you?” Harin asked. You looked at her eyes. It looks like she is really sincere.

“I only want you to explain to me what you really feel, Harin.” You knew she struggles with showing her feelings so you expected her to walk away after saying those words to her.

“I like you too, Y/N. I swear.” Harin replied. She answered you? That was shocking.

“It was at first that I…” She paused, hesitating again. You figured you let her talk out her feelings and you stayed silent.

“At first, I wanted you to be mine because everyone in the school is fond of you. I know, I treated you like a trophy and when I was satisfied with everyone knowing I have this power even on you, I left you afterwards.” Harin stands up, walking towards the sea and picking up some pebbles to throw on the sea.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. I mean it.”

“How come you like me now?” You asked her.

“Suji.” was the only word she replied to you. You were confused, what’s with Suji?

“I saw Suji and you…” she cleared her throat before continuing, “kissing.”

Oh?

“Was she your first kiss?” Harin asked, getting aggressive on the pebbles she was throwing.

You stayed silent, not knowing what to do. Suji is your first kiss. There’s no denying that.

“Silence means yes?” Harin asked.

Getting uncomfortable in the position you were currently in, you bid goodbye to her.

You thought you finally escaped that awkward situation. Well, it’s a wrong assumption because as you were walking away, Harin yanked your hands and trapped you in between her and the big ass stone behind you.

“H-harin, I need to go.” You said, your face getting flushed from the position you were in.

You struggled as you were trying to break free against her hold. Her restraint against your hand, which was in the same level as your head, is getting tight.

“Tell me, Y/N, did you fuck her?” You can feel Harin’s voice getting ragged as she was whispering those words to your ear.

You were definitely getting horny from this.

Harin is so possessive. You didn’t even know how it ended up like this.

Harin kisses you as if there is no tomorrow. You can feel her one hand snaking underneath your skirt, playing with your panty.

“H-harin!” You accidentally moaned out loud when you felt her fingers play your clit with your panties on.

“Shush, baby, you don't want Suji to see us like this, right?” Harin teases you.

“H-harin,” you said, getting breathless and trying to stop her from fingering you out in public, “I don’t want my first to be like this.”

That sparked something in Harin’s head. You’re a virgin? Harin thought to herself. Oh boy, she definitely is happy learning this new information from you.

With that, Harin pulled you and practically ran towards the hotel room she reserved for the both of you. You forgot that there was some activity your class had to do that night, so everyone saw the both of you running as if someone was chasing behind.

Harin is excited. When you entered the room, she wasted no time and undressed you immediately.

You were left in your panty and bra. Thankfully, you always wear a set of underwear. Well, who cares? Harin is crazy about you, and now that she sees you in your undies, that feels heaven to her.

She basically threw you on the king-sized bed, and she started to remove her top. Leaving her in a bra and still wearing her jeans. God, she looks so good with her toned stomach.

She hovered over you; kissing you, hungrily.

You felt her hand behind your back, and she easily detached your bra. How is she good with this? Was she with someone before? Your thoughts got cut off when Harin started to suck on your left boob.

“A-ah!” You can’t contain your moans anymore because she’s sucking off your tit and massaging your other tit with her soft, delicate hands.

“Be loud for me, baby.” Harin said in a seductive tone. Kissing your body gently while lowering her head towards your heated core.

She slowly and gently removed your panty. You are getting impatient with what she’s doing with you. You never felt this incredibly horny before.

“God! Just do it already!” You said so suddenly that you earned a laugh from Harin.

“You have to earn it, baby.” Harin said as she slapped the side of your thigh.

You know that Harin is such a bitch, but you didn’t know that even in bed she is even more bitcher. You wanted it so bad that you obeyed her and rolled over to your stomach.

“Pick a number, baby.” Harin giggled. She’s enjoying this, such a sadist bitch.

“One.” You answered, trying to get this over with.

“What about five?” Harin said, caressing your tender butt.

“Oh my God! Just do it. Let’s get this over with.” Your patience is very thin, and it doesn’t help that you were so horny that you just wanted to finish this sadist part and get her started to finger you.

“That’s ten, for being a brat.” Harin said.

You were going to say another sly remark, but Harin beat you to it when she smacked the hell out of your butt. Gosh, that hurts, but it somehow felt good?

“Count.” Harin demanded as she slapped again.

“Two!” You squeaked, “Three!” You continued as she continued being reckless to you.

“...ten.” You said in a whispered manner. You were so tired over that, but it also felt good, to be honest.

“Sleepy, baby?” Harin asked you because of your tired expression that is written all over on your face, “We can continue it tomorrow.” Harin teased you as she massages your butt with her handprints all over it.

“No, please finger me, Harin-ah.” You tried to plead.

“Tell me what you want me to do with you.” Harin said, getting in position in between your legs.

“Just do whatever you want with me, Harin.” You said, slowly.

“I want to sleep now. Can we do that?” Harin said," Oh, she thought she was smart with that reply. If you weren’t so worn out from the slaps, you would have taken control over the shit she’s trying to do.

“No, I want you to eat me out, finger me, use me however you want, Harin.” You said in a low voice.

“Use you?” That’s a word she can do every day to you.

“Please.” With that, she dived onto your core right away. She was very aggressive. You tried to help her by guiding her head where you wanted her to eat you out.

You were practically pulling her hair so hard because of the pleasure you were feeling right now. This is definitely better than you masturbating.

“F-fuuuck!” You dragged out your words.

You thought it was getting better and better until she inserted two fingers into your hole. You’ve never inserted your finger before in you and now she’s rushing. Gosh, that hurt so bad.

You were a whimpering mess when she bit your clit too. Why is she so rough with you! You thought to yourself.

As time passes, the pain that you are feeling finally turns into pleasure.

“O-oh! Right there! There!” This is the most pleasurable you ever felt in your life. Where the fuck did she learned this?

“F-feels soo good!”

Harin suddenly stopped licking your clit and went up face to face with you, still fingering you using the same motion that kept hitting your g-spot.

You kept your eyes shut because of the so much pleasure you were feeling, but you can feel Harin’s stare under the moonlight that is the only source of your room’s light.

“Did Suji make you feel this good?” Harin taunted you. She knows the power she holds over you, and she’s not scared to push it.

You didn’t seem to understand her question, too fucked to understand.

You yelped when she removed her moving fingers inside. You opened your eyes, seeing her slurping your wetness that was coated around her fingers. That. Is. So. Hot.

“Please, let me finish.” You squeaked, desperate to have your climax.

“Answer me, did she fuck you like this?” Harin smirked at you.

You were so put up with her bullshit.

You pushed her down to the bed and were now on top of her, “No, I already told you that this is my first time!”

You started to grind on her thighs. You weren’t satisfied, though. Still, it’s better than nothing!

Harin is impressed over you taking control. She’s not the type of person who submits easily, obviously.

Harin knew that you’re getting tired because your movements became slow. She decided to help you out by rubbing your core with her fingers.

“Mhhm! Mm-oore, please!” You embarrassingly moaned right after she started rubbing you.

Harin is satisfied with what had happened tonight, so she didn’t tease you anymore and just let you reach your climax.

“Fu–ck! I’m so close, ooh!” She was hitting that spot again where it makes you want to pee. With a few more pumps of her fingers, you reached your climax.

You were so out of breath and so tired. As the pleasure slowly fades away, you can feel the sleepiness and soreness start to come over you.

You were falling asleep, fast.

Clink

You hear a lighter sound, and then you smell a cigarette smoke. Harin must be smoking again.

“No smoke, please.” You said. You were expecting her to ignore or leave you now that she got what she wanted.

No words were spoken out of her, and instead, you heard the bin open. Harin must have thrown something.

You felt her lay beside you. Removing the hair that was on your face.

“I’m sorry.” was all she said as she was fixing your fucked up hair. You didn’t reply, just enjoying the soft quietness and the fact that she didn’t leave you after getting what she wanted.

“Are you asleep?” Harin asked as she was positioning to cuddle you. You laid in silence, not having the energy to talk anymore.

“The truth is, I was jealous of Suji. That day when I saw her kissed you…” Harin said, hoping that you were awake listening to what she’s saying.

You were awake.

“Right there, and then I realized that I like you. It’s not an infatuation. When I saw how happy you were with her, I just needed to have you right away, but I can’t because I’m not good at showing my affection.” Harin continued.

“I think I love you, Y/N.” Harin felt more comfortable speaking her feelings now that she thought you were asleep.

“Mhm, take me out on a date first.” You replied groggily.

Harin was dumbfounded when she realized that you had heard her whole confession.

Oh, to be loved softly by Harin.

I'm alive!!! Just went through the worst break-up, and that's why it took me so long to update. Sorry for making you wait and enjoy!!!

Requests are open ^^

[mattsfavbitchhh]

goodbye chris - c.s

cheating!chris x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, crying, alcohol cheating ( don’t do it ! ), angst with no happy ending

a/n: i felt we needed more chris angst fics, y’know?? anyway, hope you guys enjoy !!

word count: 730 words

not proofread

y/n's pov

4:32 am

and chris still isnt home, again. he's been doing this for the past week. ive texted him, ive called him, ive checked his location. he's still at this at this fucking house

do i go or not? i guess i should right? he's been doing this for week, i have to go. i grab my keys and my sweater, preparing to go to the house

i walk out the front door and start my car, i shiver because of the winter snow falling from the beautiful skies. i get in my car and start driving, in silence

i decide to turn on my playlist on the aux, it plays "reckless" by madison beer

"how could you be so reckless with my heart?"

i stop at a red light and start to ball my eyes out, with my sweater catching my salty tears. i get a sense of anger in my veins and run the red light, not giving a shit

i reach the house and park my car, and walk inside. my nose is immediately filled with the smell of weed and other drugs. my ears deafened by the loud shitty music playing loudly

i see drunk people dancing, people smashing their faces into eachother. i notice a closed door and wonder if chris is in there

i open the door and my eyes are meant by a scene i'm not supposed to see, chris fucking another girl

the girl gasps and chris turns around to see me in the doorway with a look on my face he'll never forget

i turn at start speed-walking to my car with tears at my waterline, i hear chris yell my name, but i ignore him

"y/n! i-i can explain!" chris yells.

"chris no the fuck you cant! you just hooked up with another girl when you have a girlfriend! do you know how fucked up that is?!" i yell back at him

"please y/n! listen to me, im sorry!" he yells, his voice cracking

"you dont even mean it. you're drunk." i say mumbling under my breath

chris grabs my wrist and turns me to face towards him,

"look i know what i did wasn't right an--" chris explains but then is cut off

"what? and you'll never do it again? that's what they all say, until they break your heart again." i say to him while starting my car and getting inside. i reverse out of the snow filled driveway, and speed down the street

chris' pov

i stand there watching her drive into the night, with a heart full of pure guilt. i did this. i caused this on myself. i went to the bar almost every night this week. i hooked up with some random girl. its all my fault.

i go back inside the house and grab the rest of my stuff from the room

"who was that?" the hooker i hooked up with asks

"none of your damn business bitch." i say rudely to her, as walk out the room and outside the house.

i grab my phone from my pocket and an call an uber home

y/n's pov

i stop at a red light and take my phone to text madison and nick about what happened. madison offers for me to stay as long as i need stay over at hers, i take the offer and tell her i'll meet her at house in 30

i get to the sturniolos home and quickly head upstairs to grab my stuff, of course saying hi to matt and nick. i grab all my stuff i need, start walking out of chris and i's shared old bedroom. but that's when i hear the front door open and chris comes stumbling through the door

i open nick's door and tell him chris' is home and he lets me stay there until he hears chris close the door of the bedroom. i hug nick and tell ill text him when i get there and leave his room

i scurry downstairs and give matt a hug goodbye and start walking towards the front door when i hear chris say my name again but i run out door. i start my car, and back out of the driveway and head to madison's home.

taglist:@certifiedstarrr @flouvela @sturnsbitch @adie-blogs @flwrs4sturniolo

©mattsfavbitchhh

just so you guys know there will a pt. 2 i js need to gts.. it will prob be out next week....i hope

[rose-gold-chains]

Pairing: Vessel x Female OC X IV

Word count: 2418

[WARNINGS: NSFW, pet names, unprotected sex, very light dom/sub, praise, pussy eating, blowjobs and aaaall the nice things]

Minors, do not interact!

First fic in the fandom, please be kind. Feedback is appreciated.

“Are you done?”

Vessel's harsh voice snaps you out of your trance, and you subconsciously shake your head a little, as if to force your brain to focus. 

“I-- what?”

He comes behind you, bends a little so you can feel his warm breath on your ear and your neck before he speaks, “you're looking at him like you're ready to drool.”

He nods his head towards IV's general direction, the boy blissfully unaware of what he's causing between the two of you, towel drying his face after a demanding show, a stubborn drop of sweat sliding down his bare, unpainted back. 

And you like Vessel, you do. 

Might even go as far as to say that you're falling in love with him. 

The banter is immaculate, the sex is mind blowing every time, and the care he pours on you after is something straight out of a romance novel, but- there's something in the way IV moves that is just too entrancing, too beautiful, too hot: his soft body, strong hands, warm voice, the way he's so effortlessly sensual, even though he's none the wiser most of the time. 

He has that something that makes you want to stare for hours on end, makes you want to imagine, to… 

Vessel's arm comes around your torso, pulling you towards his chest, effectively caging you in, “he's pretty, isn't he?”

You can feel his calm heartbeat reverberating against your ribcage.

“I-- yeah, I guess.”

“Bet he'd be even prettier on his knees for us.”

That took an unexpected turn.

“What are you saying, Ves?”

“I'm not saying anything, just picturing a scene.”

××

After the brief conversation with Vessel, the image of IV kneeled in between your thighs as Vessel holds his head in place is constantly plaguing your thoughts: the velocity at which it has heat pooling right at your gut is unlike anything you've ever experienced before, making you feral in a matter of seconds as soon as it pops into your brain. 

And it does pop into your brain a lot. 

Everytime IV walks into your line of vision, more or less. .

It's not helping that Vessel hasn't done anything to take the edge off: you haven't been properly fucked in days, and you're slowly but surely slipping into madness. 

It takes you three more days before you snap: Vessel has been riling you up all day, whispering filth in your ear and making empty promises, touching you in ways that he knows make your skin tingle with lust, and then never doing anything about it.

“Vessel, we need to talk,” your voice is higher than you would like, but it's not something you're willing to overthink now, “right now."

“Can it wait? I'm headed out with the boys for a pint in a min.”

“No, it cannot wait.”

He turns is back to you and walks towards a free room, closing the door behind him when you're inside as well, “so? What's up love?”

The fact that he's so collected while you're slowly going out of your mind almost makes your blood boil, “I wanna know why you're not-- why we're not--”

He smirks, the bitch, “why we're not what, angel?”

“Why are you going out instead of fucking me! You've been an absolute tease the whole day and now you're just-- going out for a pint? You haven't fucked me in days, I'm-- I have needs!!”

“Oh, that's what's going on, huh? My baby wants to be stuffed nice and full?”

He's walking towards you at a slow pace, eyes dark and focused, and you feel yourself walking backwards towards the unmade bed behind you- not quite cowering away, but more anticipating what's to come. 

The line of his cock is faintly visible through his trousers and it's tantalizing, making your mouth water and your legs weak, “...please, Ves.”

When the back of your knees hits the bed you know you're done running, so you let yourself fall with a soft thud on the rumpled sheets, your thighs spreading slightly on their own accord. 

“Look at you, desperate little thing that you are,” his voice is honey and charcoal, wraps your brain in a spell, “I'm gonna give you exactly what you need, baby. Just wait here a second, yeah? Undress yourself while I go grab some stuff for us.”

You nod dumbly, and as soon as the door clicks shut again, you make a quick work of removing your clothes, neatly folding them to the side because you know he wants it that way and you're not about to make mistakes when you're finally about to get what you've been needing for so long. 

You're naked on the bed when the door opens up again, sitting with your back to the wall patiently just the way you know he loves, but the scene before you is very different than what you were expecting: sure, Vessel is there with and arm full of supplies - a bunch of towels, a few bottles of water, your favourite vibrator, a mostly full bottle of lube - but it's not the only thing he brought with him. 

Behind him is IV, looking like an absolute vision: he's wearing nothing but a pair of black briefs and a silver chain around his neck and his head is hung low, like he hasn't had permission to look anywhere but his feet. 

“Close your mouth angel, it's impolite to stare so openly,” Vessel's voice is calm, soothing. 

“IVy, love, go kneel near the bed, yeah? Head down, hands where I can see them.”

He follows orders in silence, kneeling prettily to the side of the bed, eyes glued to the floor, hands neatly resting on his thighs.

“Told you he'd look so pretty kneeling for us.”

IV doesn't speak, but the blush that spreads across his face and chest is something akin to art. 

The bed dips slightly as Vessel gets on, crawling to you, capturing your mouth in a kiss. You moan deep from your core as he caresses your body, his fully dressed figure encompassing your much smaller frame as he explores your skin like it's his first time. 

He travels down your body with his mouth, kissing, biting, leaving faint marks for his eyes to rake over and admire, “you're so gone already, baby, so eager for it. What do you need right now?”

It's a simple question, but finding the answer has never been so hard: you need him to fuck you like he's starved for it, need to come over and over until you're too sore and tired and sated to walk. But you also need IVy to put his hands on you, his mouth, his cock, in any capacity Vessel would allow. 

“Need to come,” is all that comes out of your mouth. 

“How do you want to come? Need me to give you options?”

“Please.”

“So, I could fuck you with that pretty purple vibrator you love very much, and then me and IVy could clean up the mess you make. That's option one. Option two would be making you come with my mouth, and then have him do the same. Option three.. I could stuff you full of my cock over and over until you cry, and then cum inside you. And lovely IVy here could clean it all up for us, and make you come again with that pretty mouth of his.”

As soon as option three leaves his mouth, your body has an instant reaction: you whine, high and desperate, legs falling wide open, back arching, “please, please, please!”

“Do you want him to watch as I fuck the sense out of you?”

“Please.”

“Do you want him to touch?”

“I-- yes.”

“You heard her, IV, come up on the bed. Speak, so you can thank her for being so kind.”

He stands up, and his thick cock tents the front of his briefs. 

Now that he's allowed to look at you, his stare is so intense it might as well be burning holes into your skin, “thank you for allowing me to watch you, to touch you. I promise I will be doing whatever I can to make you feel good-- I- thank you so much.”

“Such a sweet boy,” Vessel cups IV's face gently, pecks his lips once, “so polite,” their kiss deepens as they both tower above you on the bed, hands wandering over each other, grabbing hair and caressing smooth skin, and it's truly a sight for sore eyes, an honour to be able to witness something so soft, so intimate, yet so feral and animalistic. 

××

The moment Vessel is undressed and sliding into you feels like clarity after days of fog, it feels like coming home, it feels like being pieced back together. 

And to make the experience even better, IV is there. Once the dam has been broken, he can't help but touch you all over: his hands are calloused yet soft, strong yet delicate, and just from this you can tell he's a generous lover - he takes note of every noise and movement, repeating those that elicit the best reaction just so you can feel all the pleasure. He touches Vessel, too, tugs on his hair, watches as his cock disappears into you over and over - he remains obedient, though, never speaking out of turn, never touching himself even though it's crystal clear he's been dying to, cock struggling against the cotton of his briefs and leaving a sizeable wet patch where the tip is. 

He twists one of your nipples just as Vessel pushes into you just right, and the first orgasm is ripped out of you, crashing into your bones like a tsunami, making you shake, making the world blinding for a hot second. 

“Good girl, look at you. You needed this so much.”

Vessel never stops his thrusts, keeps chasing the same high, hips snapping fast and hard enough to make the bed shake, eyes shifting from your sweaty face to IV's and back. 

“You look breathtaking like this,” it's the first time IV has dared to speak, apart from the occasional moan, and the reverence in his tone is something that would make even the strongest man, weak. 

He's right, though: Vessel looks positively sinful like this, skin glistening and brows furrowed in concentration, chasing his orgasm, hair sticking in all different directions from the sweat and both your hands and IV's messing with it. 

It takes him a few more minutes to finally, finally reach his high, the pace brutal and punishing as you lie there, sore and oversensitive, letting him use your hole as a makeshift fleshlight, merely a tool, a means to an end. 

When his cock twitches violently inside your abused hole, you know he's done for- a pained moan is ripped out of his guts and he's coming, painting your insides white, hiding his face in the crook of your shoulder as he tries - and fails - to catch his breath through an orgasm that seems to last forever. 

“IV, love,” Vessel's voice is so hoarse it almost sounds painful, “com'ere.”

IV, the goodest boy that he is, shuffles towards Vessel's outstretched arms, and lets himself fall into his chest, effectively taking the spot you occupied until a few minutes prior. 

“You've been so good, so patient. So obedient.”

IV whines low in his throat, and if you thought he was attractive before, seeing him so pliant despite his painfully hard cock can only solidify that belief. 

“You submitted to me so, so beautifully, and I feel like you deserve a reward. Clean her up, make her come, and I'll do the same to you.”

He guides IV onto his back, then guides you to stand right on his face, spread open and vulnerable, facing towards his feet. And then, when he shimmies his way down the bed and slides IV's soaked briefs off, it clicks: you're about to watch your boyfriend suck cock for the first time, while you're being eaten out. 

Funny how life works, sometimes. 

The feeling is something you've never felt before: sure, you've had people go down on you - Hell, Vessel makes you sit on his face as often as he can just because he enjoys taking you apart so much - but IV is methodical with it: his tongue laps at you the moment you're close enough, and his arms are anchored to your thighs, pushing you down, effectively cutting most of his air flow as he moans at the taste of you mixing with Vessel's cum dripping out.  

He encourages you to rock back and forth, to set your own pace, but he's still strong enough to make sure you don't slip away for even a second, that you have no reprieve from the constant onslaught of white hot pleasure his skilled mouth is inflicting. 

IV's rhythm only falters the moment Vessel takes his cock in his mouth: he's been hard for so long he can't help but buck his hips up as best as he can, and the whines that are ripped out of him, muffled by your flesh, reverberate against your core. 

It's a chain reaction of lust and pleasure, of mouths sucking and tongues teasing and hands gripping hard enough to bruise. 

Vessel sucks IV down with ease over and over, cheeks hollowed and eyes closed like he's enjoying every second of it, savoring every noise IV makes and watching you get your fix as well. 

You're so distracted by the mix of sensations that your orgasm sneaks up on you, merciless and powerful, making your thighs shake and your body slump forward when the worst of it is gone. 

The taste of your orgasm is enough to send IV tumbling over the edge as well, nails digging marks into your thighs, as Vessel swallows every last drop he has to give, “fuck-- oh my fucking God!”

××

Vessel, the sweet, gentle soul that he is, takes it upon himself to clean you and IVy up as best as he can - never failing to whisper sweet nothings to you both as you collect yourselves, making you both eat something and drink plenty of water. 

“Thank you for doing this for us, Ives.”

“Thank you for trusting me with it, with her. It was-- fuck. Just--”

“Yeah,” is all you can say, and it comes out as a satisfied sigh, “it was.”

“Should we make it a weekly thing?”

And if Vessel isn't complaining, who are you to say no? 

[misguidedasgardian]

The Winter Sun (FINAL EPILOGUE)

FINAL

MASTERLIST

Summary: Your family in King’s Landing…

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Targaryen Reader 

Warnings: Cursing, medieval and asoiaf customs, AGE GAP, Cregan is 12 years OLDER than reader), arranged marriage, might miss some warnings

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: Xk

Notes: ay ay ay, sorry for that, I swear Aemond is not coming back, it's just a scene I had in my head for forever, and I had to get it out of my chest, he can’t do anything and won’t do anything, he is fucked. 

Anyways, this is it, the END, for this amazing story, I thank all of you who read this and gave this story their love, its been an amazing ride, and i can’t believe the reach we accomplished, anyways I’m going to miss writing this fic, because I liked how it turned out, and it was my comfort.. Thanks to all of you! and see you in my next story!

I'm crying as I write this :(

The castle was roaring with life, the great families had arrived, and even though it was a bit tense because of the loyalties of the past wars, people were trying to heal, to leave everything behind them 

Even though you didn’t like the idea, all your children were to their own machinations, you knew the castle was the safest palace, but you still felt a bit uneasy to let your girls walk around alone, but you sent a King’s guard with them. 

Rhaenys found a beautiful spot in the gardens, she was enjoying the smells and the beautiful flowers in the gardens, and took her notebook with her to draw

She saw from the corner of her eye some people approaching, once she raised her head, she saw that it was two young men, probably her oldest brother’s age

“Well, hello my lady”, Rhaenys saw them approaching and gave them all her attention, smiling at them and waving gently, “How are you this day?”, she could not hear them, not answer them, so she just smiled and nodded, “well?”, the man insisted

It was a young man, heir to House Baratheon, the son of a cousin to the lata Borros, and his friend from House Trant.

She smiled apologetically, trying to communicate with him with her hands, but the guy wouldn’t understand her 

“She is an idiot, she might be dimwitted”, laughed the Trant boy

“Well, I don’t need her to be smart”, the other one laughed, “its enough that she is a Targaryen”, he said looking down at her

She could not speak, or hear, but she was really good at reading lips, so she could understand what those boys said about her. She whimpered, tears filling her eyes. She stood up from the bench and ran away from them, unknowingly, her Great Uncle Corlys had heard the whole thing, and pursed his lips in disgust 

“Get Rickon and Jonaerys”, he said to one of his faithful servants who walked with him at his old age, the boy nodded and ran to get the boys. 

Once the young Velaryon spotted the two Starks, he led them back to Corlys, and the old man told them what happened with Rhaenys and the Baratheon, to see their reaction, and it didn't disappoint. A hunt began for the baratheon cunt, as they call it

“Its him!”, pointed the Velaryon boy, and the Baratheon saw with horror how by the corner of the Hallway appeared two enraged Stark-Targaryen running towards him.

“Son of a bitch!”

“I will kill you!”, they used the fact that they were near a balcony… they grabbed him between the two of them and pushed him towards it

The Baratheon boy was screaming, so scared he almost peed his pants as Jonaerys and Rickon grabbed him by the arms and legs and swung him over the rail.

But they wouldn’t really kill him, they didn’t let go of him as he swang heads down and could look in terror five stories down

“You think you can insult our sister?”, growled Rickon as he shook him

“No! No! I’m sorry!”

“If you ever go near her again I will kill you!”, threatened Jonaerys

“You are not good enough for her!”, said Rickon then, and the Baratheon only promised and begged to be lifted up 

They finally relented and the poor boy scrambled to get to his feet and ran away, stumbling away through the corridor.

Corlys just looked at the scene, smiling and pleased, no one is to mess with little Rhaenys, she was not dim-witted, she was smart, only had a hearing impair

“Your sons are savages!”, said Baldric Baratheon, pointing at Cregan Stark, “they threatened the life of my son and heir Crispian”

“I’m sure they were just… boys being boys”, he explained, “you remember what that’s like”, he said

“Do you consider grabbing him and swinging him over a balcony just “boys being boys”?”, he asked, and Cregan turned to meet the eyes of his two sons

They both started talking at the same time

“That cunt called our sister dim-witted!”

“He bothered Rhaenys, and called her names!”, they explained at the same time

“What?”, growled Cregan, turning to the shivering boy hiding behind his father

“Those are just words, your pups almost killed my son!”, fighted the Baratheon. He was right, he was deserve to be pushed out of the balcony, but the Baratheon was enraged, Cregan looked at Jacaerys who was there to serve as an judge in this situation

“The boys should wait outside”, he suggested, and with a nod from Cregan’s head his boys left the room, the Baratheon soon followed

“Your grace”, called the Baratheon, “my son was almost killed”

“My daughter was dishonored”, said Cregan

“Reparations must be made”, continued the Baratheon, and Cregan looked at him in panic

“This is a new country, for all of us”, started Jacaerys, “we are enjoying a period of peace, and we must keep it so, two great families cannot by divided”, both men nodded, agreeing to his words

“So I propose a union”, said the Baratheon, Cregan just looked at him, “between your youngest, your silver-haired girl, and my son and heir”

“The silver-haired?”, said Cregan with disgust, “you don’t even know her name! you only care that she looks like a Targaryen don’t you?”, he asked, “over my dead fucking body my pup will marry that talking twig you have for a son!”

“Stark!”, growled Baldric

“Enough!”, called Jacaerys, both men stopped and looked at the Prince, “we will not leave this room until this animosity is behind us”, you finally dared to speak, as you had entered the room slowly and silently

“I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding”, you said softly, all three men turned to look at you, “from what I gather, Lord Crispian did not know of our daughter’s hearing impediment”

“He called her dim-witted”, you only shook your head

“And our sons threatened to throw him off a balcony, I think he learned his lesson”, you said softly. You wanted to kill the boy as much as your sons did, but you could not cause a war between houses because of it, you knew House Baratheon was just returning to the fold after their allegiances in the war 

“Very well”, said Jacaerys, and the Lord of the Stormlands nodded, not contented but he realized a marriage alliance wasn’t in the cards for this meeting, and the girl was still young, of twelve name days only

“Over my dead body any of my pups will marry a Baratheon!”, grunted Cregan as soon as you entered your chambers

“Maybe one day a Stark could be friends with a Baratheon”, you suggested, “only friends” 

“Never”, grunted Cregan, “not even after a hundred years”, you only giggled, but nodded, “and he believed that skimpy kid could be a good match for OUR DAUGHTER!”, he said, again outraged, “the audacity! the words of his house should be… “Ours is the audacity””, he mocked again, and you couldn’t help but giggle, “What?”, he was angry, but smiled nonetheless, to you, he would always smile

“You are cute when you get frustrated like that”, you suggested, and he smirked, “They won’t marry”, you said softly, to calm him, it worked

“I know I know, but still… the audacity of that man”, he growled, and you couldn’t help but giggle again. You watched the frame of your husband walk around the room like a wolf in a cage, and you loved the fact that several layers of clothes were missing, well, it was summer and they were in the south, he no longer wore his cape and his thick vest, only a light black doublet over a thin chemise 

He was so handsome

He stopped when he saw your eyes blown out like those of a kitten, he knew that look… He only smiled

Years had passed, his dark hair now had a bit of snow in it, he had lines in the corners of his eyes, and lines cutted his face, laugh lines you hoped. He never looked so handsome.

“Come here”, he whispered, and you obliged, “I love to see you all lady-like”, you, as did he, dressed differently in the capital, preferring colorful dresses made of silk, of tull, or other thinner fabrics. 

He was delighted when his hands could feel your skin even though the thin layer of clothing. 

“And I love to see you in your southern look too”, you teased

Oh and you loved each other right that evening

You and Cregan, besides attending tourneys and banquets, needed to held meetings with other Lords of the Kingdoms, specially from the Reach, to gather more supplies for the coming Winter 

Meanwhile your children would enjoy a life in the Keep.

Besides seeing on first row how knights would sung at eachtoher with long wooden spears, which they all enjoyed...

Corlys reached Rhaenys, intrigued by the little girl you had named after your dear aunt, he would gift her books and she would beam at him, until he had her teach him how to communicate with her, and they would spend whole afternoons communicating, telling each other stories, specially Corlys, since he had seen so much from his journeys, Orys would join them, interested more than anyone in the life Story of the Sea Snake

To those who were close to the sea snake, would say that his great niece and nephew brought light back into him, to the 76 year old man who thought he had lived it all 

Those same afternoons would find Rickon, Jonaerys and Baelor practicing their swordsmanship in the courtyard. 

Daemon would look from the battlements, with a critic eye, to be exasperated enough by the young men that he would get hands in with their training, dismissing the King’s guard 

Daemon was a practical man, and he took no time in naming Jonaerys as his favorite successor, he would also give incentive to the lordling to have some time with his darling daughter Visenya, who would also watch them train.

Baelor and Visenya were supposed to be betrothed to one another, but they loved each other as siblings and rejected the union, and Daemon would happily get his nephew betrothed to his daughter instead.

Baelor found himself also learning how to communicate with Rhaenys, because he believe her to be the most beautiful girl he had ever seen

You spend half a year in the Red Keep, and it was blissful, but Cregan wanted to return, with joust reason, and, with  bit of fear, you started to believe Jonaerys wanted to stay, he turned into a squire for Aegon the young, and he would practice everyday with Daemon and the King’s guard, you didn’t say anything, but you just started preparing mentally for your son to tell you he wanted to stay here, back up by Daemon no less.

So when you communicated the Queen, and her King consort, of your departure in the next two weeks, it was no surprised that Daemon would cling into your second eldest son, but what surprised you the most, was most certainly Baelor’s decision 

“I want to go with them”, said Baelor, and you looked amazed, surprised, the responsibility was huge

“Are you sure?”, asked Jace, Baelor only nodded

“I would love to squire for Lord Cregan, I believe is for the best, what of Princeling would I be if I don’t… fly off the nest? see the Kingdoms one day I will rule, learn how to be a Lord, a fighter, to care for other people?”, Cregan was pleased, as he placed his hand on his shoulder

“We will care for him”, your husband promised, and Jacaerys only nodded. The decision was made, so we had two weeks to prepare after Jonaerys told Cregan what you already knew, that he wanted to stay here, in the Red Keep, in King’s landing, with his seventeen name days already.

You had your dragons, he could return anytime he wished. 

So when the time came to say goodbye, and your last day in the capital, you hugged Jonaerys tightly against you

“You can always come back, you know? in your dragon”, you whispered, tears in your eyes

“Yes mom”, he whispered back, “But I want to do this, there is something that wants me to stay here, and I must follow my heart”, you only nodded, caressing his handsome face

“I love you”

“I love you too”, you then stepped aside for Cregan to come near his son and hugged him tightly against him

“Your mother is right, your home will always be in Winterfell”, he whispered, and Jonaerys hugged him tightly 

“Thank you father”, he whispered back.

You saw him take two steps back and stand right next to Visenya and Daemon, who had come to say goodbye to you in the docks. 

Corlys suggested taking you up to White Harbor himself on his ship, only because he wanted to spoil Rhaenys and Orys, unbeknownst to you. He believed Orys would have liked the sea as much as he did, and in the end, he was right. 

So he invited you all to stop by Driftmark.

Your children loved sailing, Torrhen would not stop drawing parts of the ship that impressed him the most, Rhaenys and Orys would stuck by Corly’s side as he barked around orders to his sailors, Cregan and you would gaze upon the horizon, and Robyn would be riding her dragon over your heads, as she used to do. Your darling daughter had an adventurous soul, she would spend more time in dragonback that she would on firm land, she had flied over to the wall, to bear island, everywhere, even without your permission, and you had no doubt that in this journey, all those times you couldn’t find he, she had been flying in every direction to see what was out there, you feared that when she was older she was going to fly away and never come back. You could see she wanted to see across the narrow sea and beyond… 

When you arrived in Driftmark you met Joffrey, who was acting as Lord of the tides, he inherited the title after Luke’s death all those years ago, and apparently, he was doing a great job, he had married a Velaryon girl, and had children of his own. You spend some days there, where Corlys would gift your daughter jewels that used to belong to his long lost wife, and you would gaze upon the treasures in his hall, treasures from all over the world, certainly capturing the attention of your five remaining children.

Soon after, you sailed to White Harbour, where you had to fight hard to take your daughter and son back from Corlys’, they wouldn’t want to part ways, so the Sea Snake ended up accompanying you back to Winterfell, since his late wife Rhaenys couldn’t fulfill that promise she once made to you, he was there to be the grandfather your children never had. But there, you were also accompanied back with the Mnderlys and their daughter, who was set to marry Rickon, their daughter was beautiful, and the same age as your son, she was a sweet girl and you knew they were going to be very happy, as your son started courting her on the road, gifting her things he found, like flowers and such. 

Winterfell looked as beautiful as it was when you first saw it, and you could finally breathe at ease. You looked back at your children and you found them happy they were back, but you knew some of them were going to grow bored after everything they lived in the capital. except for Baelor, who looked at the ancient castle like you probably did when you saw it for the first time.

When you gazed at the ancient building, you  truly believed it had been here for thousands of years, and it was going to stand for another thousand, after you and everyone you knew turned to dust. 

You were received with awaiting arms by the people of Winterfell, and the people of Winter’s Town that came out to receive you amongst cheers. 

Soon you were installing yourselves back into the castle after more than half a year away. But you wandered out of the castle, into the tallest battlements, so you could see the valley around the castle, the winds were getting colder by the day…

Winter is coming…

“I remember when you arrived here”, Cregan whispered as he hugged you from the back, you giggled, “it was autumn, just like right now, in a day just like this one, you appeared through the doors, your dragon behind you”

“I offered myself to you in marriage”, you remembered fondly

“I remember I said to Sara years before that the only way I was going to marry again was if a maiden came flying up here”, you chuckled, and he did too, kissing you in the side of the face

“Would you look at that”, you admired, and he chuckled again. You turned around to look at him

“it was always you”, he whispered. Looking down at you and caressing the apple of your cheek with his thumb, “my sweet wife, the one that gave up everything for an uncertain future in the wild North, alongside an old and grumpy wolf”

“It was never uncertain, it was always you”, you repeated his words. And you sealed your words of love with a long kiss. Expressing all your happiness with an intimate gesture. 

That first Winter you spent together was what brought you together, and the wilderness and cold of the North is what kept you together.

For Cregan you were the sun that shone even in the darkest of Winters. The dragon that with his flames light up the hearths of his home and his heart

You were his Winter sun

Jacaerys reigned the seven Kingdoms after his mother, it was a short but fruitful reign. He died after ten years of a heart condition

Rickon married Jayne Manderly, they had four children to continue the line of House Stark, and lived in Winterfell until his lasts days

Jonaerys stayed in King’s Landing, but always flied back to Winterfell to see his brother and his parents, he married Visenya, together they had a set of twins, a girl and a boy, and lived in Dragonstone happily

Torrhen became a builder, reinforcing buildings all across the North, he married a Mormont from Bear Island

Orys became Joffrey’s squire, and together they went into many adventures, into the sea and Driftmark, he later married a Velaryon girl and lived in Driftmark

Rhaenys married Jace’s son Baelor, many years after she will become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and gave the realm three children and heirs who continued the Targaryen Line

Robyn at first visited his brother Orys and accompanied him in his travels, she then adventured herself as an explorer in the back of her dragon, she traveled all over the world and seen things no other man of Westeros had, unknowingly continuing the legacy of Corlys and Rhaenys. In her journeys, she came across a Celtigar, and she married him, coming back to live in Westeros, much to her family’s delight. 

Sara had three children of her own, and alongside her stepdaughter, she lived happily in Torrhen’s square 

Reader and Cregan lived happily in Winterfell, fearing when their children left their home, but other than that, they lived happily, spoiling their grandchildren rotten. 

And everyone lived happily ever after 

FIN

taglist, one last time!

@severewobblerlightdragon @missusnora @stargaryenx @poppyreader @chainsawsangel @court-jester-stuff @batprincess1013 @eddiepicker 

@lyannesworld @arujee @kamisunshine @​​mss-nthng @partypoison00 @grimistangel @elleclairez @may-machin @prettykinkysoul @justagurlwithships @champomiel 

@laura-naruto-fan1998 @zoleea-exultant @devotedlythoughtfulanchor @zoleea-exultant @llleon666 @dark-night-sky-99 @bitchigoteverythingissues @harrypotteranna23-blog

@esposadomd @ajanauia @phantomtea19 @let-love-bleeds-red @kishie8 @dreamingofyourmoons @esposadomd @sandronebabyy @kemillyfreitas @​​trifoliumviridi @dreamingofyourmoons @darling-jace @biblichorr @ivvypg @mendes-bae @borikenlove @tssf-imagines @praline357 @alitaar @prettykinkysoul @aelora-a @a-mexican-waffle @ateliefloresdaprimavera @alexa4040 @lrboyd @anditsmywholeheart  @weaselyss  @scarlettqueen190 @deeeeexx @cloudroomblog @dreaming-of-the-reality @yentroucnagol @crazymusicgirl104 @toodlesxcuddles @thanyatargaryen @mxtokko @bellstwd  @elaena-aerrin @glaciuswduo @holb32

[musedblues]

All Things Must Pass

a/n: IDK CHAT this is 100% projection. long story short, i promised @almightyellie and @userjohndeacon a sessa fic, started it, then proceeded to have the worst june ever. and i accidentally ended up turning this entire plot into my therapy. sorry for the devastation but...  happy ending?

description: since starting college angus became your very best friend. just as you begin to wrap up your academic career, shit hits the fan for everyone. friends to lover's type shit but make it excruciating. angus x fem reader. 

warnings: explicit sexual situations, death, mentions of suicidal ideation, brief scene ft. harassment, over all morbid tone. God bless whoever takes the time to put up with this plot lmao

18k

MINORS DNI

///

The Party

"Would you hurry up! I want to get there before all the good booze is gone." Angus drummed on his steering wheel as you rushed into his passenger seat. He'd been honking outside your dorm for five minutes, despite the couple times you poked your head out the window to yell at him that you were coming.

"I got ready later than I wanted, I was actually trying to study. You know we're at college to learn shit, right?" 

"Yeah, and I'm trying to learn how to get drunk fast tonight. Every moment of this precious life is a lesson to be learned if you let it, kid." Angus jested, as if being a few months younger mattered in your mid-twenties. 

"You used to be fun, Angus. You used to be so carefree. You used to bitch so much less profoundly. That philosophy class has done a number on you." You laughed as you teased him, watching your friend grin in response. Angus was your favorite pain in the ass. You were his, he said so often. He was your ride to everywhere. You were his built-in tutor for everything. He was your emergency contact on every official form. All because he was lost the first weekend here; and you just happened to learn directions to the furthest class on campus moments before he asked an ever-emptying hallway of students to show him the way.

"Look. This is the last party Kiara is throwing before she graduates, and before our month of finals. I just want to have the best night possible." Angus reasoned. He went on to ramble about how uptight you had been about school lately, and how you needed to let lose tonight all the same. Angus was right.

Your first year of college was spent in elation, when you realized you'd finally escaped the confines of your family. None of them ever had your best interest in mind, and rushing off to freedom was how you spent your 20th autumn. Your second year of college was spent really nailing down your major, hedging all your bets on studying something serious that would keep you afloat your entire life. Something you could depend on for yourself and no one else. But the fatigue of your intense studies set in by the third year, leading you to seek out more extra curriculars to take the edge off. 

It was Kiara's idea to take dance lessons. She was your partner in every tango and waltz. She was your biggest encouragement to take the extra ballet class. And she'd been really pushing you to audition for the team that would travel to Europe to compete in an annual competition. Between your friend, and your instructor, you'd been swayed to stay longer at practices- and to work harder for auditions at the start of the summer. But that meant your studies became even more of a challenge, with your brain focused on achieving more goals than you'd set out to tackle. 

"So, what are we doing tonight?" Angus rallied, as he pulled against the curb of Kiara's townhouse. 

"Having a good time!" You enunciated each word as Angus chanted along with you, smiling his stupidly perfect smile. You'd always loved the sight of him happy, carefree. Happy looked especially good on your friend Angus.

You trailed behind your friend as he bound toward the steps of the party, and held open the front door for you. The air was misty with hints of rain, summer couldn't settle in quick enough.

Kiara's home was big enough for four or more people, but she planned to share it only with her cousin- a lawyer on her way from Chicago, whom none of you had yet to meet. To the left of the entrance hall was the living room; packed with acquaintances and strangers clinking red solo cups together as a Hendrix record played. To the left was the kitchen, where Kiara stood showing off an island full of drinks and organized snacks. Her springy brown curls were pulled back in a neat ponytail and she was dressed better than anyone, as always. 

"There they are!" She smiled and pointed to you and Angus, before waving you over to her massive refrigerator. 

"Extra cold beer and expensive liquor for friends only." Kiara swept her hand to suggest you pick your poison, as she swatted away a stranger from reaching in all at once. You laughed and thanked her for being extra thoughtful, not surprised by her set up. She was the most detail-oriented human you'd ever met. Once Angus had a bottle of beer in either hand and you were content with the last of some old chardonnay, you followed Kiara out to the patio. 

There beyond the steady flame from the fire pit, sat Soren and Tom. Both already high off their asses. They waved as you approached and lit up a fresh joint. And just like that your group was glued together. You'd all wound up in San Fransico from different parts of the country. And you'd all ended up tight knit throughout a year of run ins at pubs and races to class, despite the difference in some of your grades. Fate continuously lobbed you each together. And over the past few years; time always carved out at least one day a week where the five of you could hunch over laughing past midnight like a band of fools.

"How's your job at the cafe going Soren? Paying your book fees back in a timelier manner now?" You rose a brow and looked to your friend. His blonde curls hung to his shoulders; his eyes red by way of the night's events that had only just begun. How he was dependable enough to hold down a job you were unsure, but impressed by all the while.

"I haven't been late once in the two months I've worked there. For work, or my fees." The guy boasted, taking a hit from the blunt he kept promising to pass around but never did. Your group set down their bottles and glasses to give Soren a small round of applause. 

"What about you Kiara? Are you set up for your internship?" Angus asked, both beers already gone. He rose from his perch on a lounge chair to reach in a nearby cooler for another drink. 

"Oh yeah. I start next week, and I graduate three days later. It's getting real, gang. We're getting grown up." Kiara pouted out of sentiment, and nervousness, you noticed. 

"One day closer to death." Tom concluded, "Gotta make the most of it!" The guy lunged, stealing the blunt that Soren had been hogging, laughing at the blonde's appalment. You admired Tom's waggish disposition, eagerness to keep you all on your toes. But even dark eyed, dark humored Tom started to lament about how fast time was flying by this third year of school. 

"I'm gonna graduate, get a house and a few cats. I'm gonna start working at the vet clinic and be rich enough to start my own in ten years." Tom declared, so sure of himself. You watched your friend mean every word that came out of his mouth, which was rare for the often-unserious fellow.

"Did you know," Angus began to rally, raising his bottle to make a point. "In Egypt when a family's cat died, they all shaved their eyebrows off as a sign of respect. Haven't figured out why yet. But I was reading-" 

You groaned a laugh, decidedly tuning out the rest of Angus' sentance. You loved that he always had a recently studied story to share. They fascinated you, usually. But tonight, Angus rambles about history repeating itself was filling you with dread. You weren't keen to consider the past tonight. And your own lack of clarity about the future was growing vaster every day. 

Remembering your promise to let loose here, you politely excused yourself from Angus' on-going speech to find more to drink. Surely the fridge inside had something strong enough, something to really set you off for the evening. 

A bottle of whiskey seemed promising but there were no mixers. You settled for a couple shots, and chatted with a girl who lived down the hall from you. She did two more shots with you and introduced you to her girlfriend. The pair were nice enough together but wouldn't shut the fuck up about a recent trip to France and their decision to move there. Couldn't anyone talk about anything besides their plans for life, tonight?

In the living room, strangers picked the worst vinyl's from Kiara's collection to spin. You sighed as some physics major beamed at the sound of Neil Diamond groaning from the speakers.

Thank God you hadn't been left to linger too long alone. Angus was tapping at your shoulder eventually, holding up a bottle of your favorite rum you hadn't realized was available. His smile grew mischievously as he beckoned you to follow him away from the crowd. This was when the real fun always began.

The spare most bedroom was home to a smaller record player and a more prized collection of vinyl's. Kiara never minded your spinning these, knowing how delicate and careful you were with them. How you were more dazzled by some of her favorite collections than she was, on occasion.

Angus was quick to lock the door, keeping out the people who inevitably started knocking to use the en suite bathroom. Kiara had two more. They'd figure that out. You chose an older album, struggling to turn it up louder than the shit they were blaring from the living room. Angus had already taken an absurd swig of rum from the bottle by the time you'd finished fidgeting with the volume dial. 

"Geeze, save some for the rest of us buddy." You snatched the drink for your own turn, already buzzed, but looking to see stars tonight. Angus was well on his way, it seemed, laughing a little too hard at your jest.

"Finally, good music and decent booze. And you, I guess." You smiled up at Angus, taking a big drink as he grinned back your way. He accepted the bottle back as you began to drone on about the shit music the crowd was playing. You rambled about how you feared they lacked a certain amount of passion for talent. You lamented still how easy it was for people to know passion better than you ever could. How unequivocally everyone spoke tonight about their passions and futures and plans. But how even given your efforts to want the same things, you didn't feel that same certainty everyone else seemed to.

"You gotta get out of here." Angus stalled before you, tapping his pointer finger against your temple. He was always getting you to snap out of your silly spinning what if's and why's.

"Sorry. I know, we're supposed to be having fun." You remarked, grabbing back the bottle to catch up to Angus level of inebriation. He went on to make some foul retort about passion, a joke about the last time he managed a one night stand.

"That's the same gusto you're so proud of that got you only frowns the day you asked out three poor freshman before lunch."

"Win some you lose some." Angus grinned, taking a generous swig before passing the bottle to you. You were both well drunk by then and enjoying the solitude from the masses. Kiara threw the best parties because she had the biggest house. And that gave you a lot of opportunities to seek out space all the while, which was the more valued asset, you thought. Your longsuffering roommate was always in the way. And if your one was an obstacle, Angus' three others were too much to bear. Nights like these were sacred for so many reasons.

"I'm better with silent queues, anyway. I've never successfully talked my way into a date."

You chuckled in your friend's direction, rolling your shoulders to the beat of the new vinyl you picked out. You dreamed a little of adding this song to the list of ones to choreograph in the future.

"No, I'm serious! The people I've successfully hooked up with in college have all happened when I decide to keep the talking to a minimum. A little body language goes a long way, I swear!"

"Angus you know I love you, but I'm struggling to believe you." He was too awkward. Not in a nerdish way. But something about his countenance could be enigmatically naive. He'd been through a lot in his young life, enough to hold a certain wisdom in his posture. But he still seemed to have so much to learn.

"No?" Angus stifled a laugh, seeming to make a decision with a nod. "Well what about this?" He set the bottle of rum down on a chest of drawers.  Angus turned, giving you a sly look over his shoulder, before spinning to face you all the way, letting his eye's rake up your figure. He did have the most alluring set of eyes, and you liked to imagine what was going through his head as he peered across every inch of your body.

"You come here often, darlin'?" Angus rose a playful brow, reaching to sling an arm over your shoulder. You huffed a sorry laugh and shook your head in disapproval.

"It worked until I talked, didn't it?" Angus bit his lip, lifting his brows again to get you to giggle. Even if it did, you'd never tell him.

You drank more and argued over what records to play. You laid on the floor near the speakers and settled into silence when a particularly good song came on. Angus hummed along and made you smile. You drank more and made each other laugh until you cried, slumped against the wall by the loo. Music still pulsed from downstairs, but you noticed fewer voices rallied from downstairs, fewer knocks on your door too.

Then you mistakenly noticed the clock. 

"Oh God Angus it's midnight?" I have a test in the morning." You slumped further down the wall you'd been leaning against, covering your head in your hands. "I was already prepared to fail, now I'm gonna be tired and stressed."

"Hey," Angus called, reaching out to pull your hands from your face. "Look, you either know it or you don't. No amount of studying or sleeping now is gonna help. You've already studied so much. I'm sure you'll do fine. Really!"

You sighed and said you knew he was right. But you couldn't understand why you felt so much more unsure than all of your other friends. You arguably studied hardest out of the five of you. You had the same goals. But Tom seemed so certain that his ten-year plan would work out, no matter any set backs. And Kiara was already accepted into her dream position. Angus never complained once about fearing a test or a grade. And Soren God bless him, took it day by day, but he was doing reasonably well for lack of planning. You voiced to Angus how it scared you that life didn't always turn out perfectly despite all your best efforts.

Your friend frowned, and seemed to struggle for a response. Maybe he was too drunk. Or maybe there just was no answer. With the shake of his dark curls Angus decided to wrap an arm around your shoulder. You felt him kiss the crown of your head, something he did when there was nothing left to say. No advice to give. But when he still wanted to show his support. His closeness was a comfort like no other. He knew just how to be near you. And then you realized he was right in a way, before. Angus was pretty good when it came to wordless connection. 

As you realized this, you broke from your leaning against him to cast your eyes to his face. Angus blinked, letting his arm stay draped around you, letting his fingers draw patterns against your shoulder. His lips formed a small smile as Angus watched you consider his features. His eye's stayed easily peering into yours, and somehow it was like you really saw him for the first time.

"I'm afraid I believe you now." You huffed a humorless laugh, drunk enough to speak without thinking. And how Angus was quick enough to register what you meant, you didn't know. But you saw his eyes look into yours with an understanding you'd never uncovered in your three years of friendship. It might've given you a shiver up your spine. Or you might've just been that drunk. But the longer you looked into Angus' eyes and the quieter he remained, the faster your heart started beating. How much had you had to drink?

You couldn't tear your gaze from his, noticing his mouth begin to move to speak, but no words came. Maybe he stalled, or maybe he was still trying to find the right thing to say. Or maybe he was that drunk. But there was something happening to you that hadn't happened in the entirety of your knowing Angus. Your heart rate had never quickened, drunk or not, in his presence. Your mind had never gone so blank, staring into his eyes. You could've gotten into your head about it. But there was no time to think. Because all of a sudden, he was kissing you. 

It seemed to come out of nowhere after all these years. But it seemed so obvious in the moment. His lips stalled on yours as his fingers moved to brush against your neck, the ghost of a clutch. It was as if he couldn't move until you pushed him away or kissed him back. You chose the latter.

You let your lips bruise into his. You let your hand fall above his knee. You let your fingers curl into a grip. And that seemed to give Angus the green light to really kiss you. His lips parted and his hand molded around the back of your neck and his other arm dared to encircle you. You let your free hand find his shoulder. As Angus flexed to pull you closer to him, you leaned in to kiss him fiercer, knocking the guy over in the process.

Angus let both his hands tangle in your hair as you kissed him against the bedroom floor. It seemed your hands and his moved without a thought or a care, aided by alcohol no doubt. Your fingers found themselves dancing along the hem of Angus t-shirt as his traveled to grab at your hips. The record that was playing was skipping and scratching, begging to be turned. But your every focus was on your very best friend right now, how far his tongue was down your throat, how much in a hurry you felt to tear his jeans off. 

You couldn't believe how fast it was all happening. You couldn't quiet process that Angus slender fingers were creeping underneath your skirt. You couldn't seem to kiss him hard enough. It wasn't long before he rolled to pin you against the floor. It wasn't long before he was actually shagging you in the spare bedroom of your friend's townhome. Angus slammed his hips into yours and breathed hard against your neck. You let your nails dig into his shoulder blades as he finished, and strained to catch your breath as he collapsed at your side. 

If you were confused about things before, you were confounded at this point. But it was one in the morning. And you had a test to take. And no time to think of anything else at all. 

"I'm sorry for doubting you earlier." You broke the deafening silence in the room by turning to grin at Angus. He laughed, a real but breathy and exhausted chuckle. Silence settled in again, until you suggested getting up off the floor. At a languid pace, Angus moved to fasten his trousers, and stumbled into a crawl. You managed to move up right faster and decidedly dragged your friend toward the bed in the middle of the room. Sloshed and spent, you each fell asleep rather quickly. But you didn't drift off without a deepening storm of questions brewing in the back of your mind.

///

A knocking stirred you from dreaming. But the harsh early sun from the window caused your eyes to snap shut in a hurry. This bed wasn't yours. Angus was next to you. His curls tickling your cheek. His arm like a heavyweight across your stomach. 

Despite the knocking, your eyes couldn't keep open. Your brain still clung to dreams.

You relished the way your friends body molded against yours. You struggled to recall the last time you felt so calm. So relaxed. It was too easy to fall asleep again.

And then you were shaken to reality once more. 

"Wake up, please-" Angus was whispering your name with urgency. He wasn't at your side, not like before. He was standing. His arms no longer held you close. But his hand clutched your arm, and it stayed there as you sat up to meet his eyes. They were bloodshot. His brows were pushed in, darkening his gaze. His usual faint grin was turned into a frown.

Angus swallowed and dug his fingers into your shoulder. 

"You gotta get up. Tom's dead."

///

Kiara was slumped against the kitchen table when Angus finally got you out of bed. You rushed to her side in a panic, as she kept her head down. Angus stalled near the entry way of the kitchen, hands on his head, breaking out into a pace.

Soren was hanging up the phone on the wall, he'd just called off work for the very first time ever. You wanted to tell him you were proud of him for not having done so sooner. But now wasn't the time. One of you was missing. And he wasn't coming back.

Kiara lifted her head from the table, her once pinned curls now disheveled. Her face was wet with tears as she sucked in a deep breath. 

"Angus can you tell the strangers sleeping on my sofa to get the fuck out, please?" Kiara's voice was hoarse and worn. Soren sat across from you as Angus left the room on a mission, and you begged someone to tell you what the hell was going on. 

Kiara said she opened her door to the police at five this morning. She was Tom's emergency contact, after all. She said he decided to walk home instead of crashing here. He only lived a block away. He should have made it. But he was drunk. And a pickup truck didn't hit their breaks in time. And just like that, none of it mattered. His bed was never slept in. His degree was never earned. His plans out the window. A fifth seat at the pub and dinner table permanently empty. 

Angus returned to announce he'd gotten everyone to leave. But a well-meaning girl straggled in the kitchen behind him, asking the group of you if there was anything she could do for you. Angus turn to yell that she go like he so kindly asked her to in the first place. Soren started sobbing then, slumping from the chair at your side, his blonde locks weighing your lap down. You sat in shock, carding your fingers through his hair. You locked eyes with Angus across the room, watching the way his teeth dug into his lip to keep from crying. You had a lot to talk about. But now wasn't the time.

As you turned to look to Kiara, your eyes fell onto the clock. 

"I- I have a test." Your voice cracked; a cry lodged in your throat that you weren't ready to let escape. 

"What professor? I can help you get an extension, if you want?" Kiara sniffled. 

"I... I don't want that. I want to get it over with. I don't want to leave here but I don't- I don't know." 

"Hey, it's okay-" Kiara reached to rest her hand on your forearm. You struggled to breathe but kept rambling despite yourself. 

"I don't want to put it off, I'll be way more stressed than I already am, but I don't want to leave here, Kiara..." You begged her to help you make sense out of your panic. That's what she was good at. 

"It's okay." She demanded with authority, nodding to silence you. "Go take it. Come back when you're finished? I'd really like for us to all be together tonight." She sucked in a shaky breath and cast her gaze to Angus, who was nodding in agreeance. Soren lifted his head from your lap, face red and eyes glossy. He mentioned needing a change of clothes, barely able speak without breaking down again. 

"I'll take you to campus." Angus gestured toward you. "And I'll grab your stuff, Soren. Stay with Kiara and we'll be back to help clean this shit up and decide what to do next." Angus asked where his friends dorm key was, decidedly designating himself the errand runner. 

Kiara steadied her breathing and thanked him, Angus was always clear minded in crisis. Then she announced that she planned to call Tom's parents. If not to break the news to them before the police, then to find how the family planned to send him off.

Your beautiful hoarse voiced friend demanded you go do your best, as you stood to leave. You gave her a crooked grimace of a smile, every sense clouded with shock and confusion and dismay.

Angus followed you out to his car, where he drove you back to campus in complete silence. Neither of you said a word, neither of you made a sound. There was too much to talk about and not nearly enough of the right kind of time. 

///

Finals Month

You failed that test. Miserably. Maybe you should have waited. But you knew the stress of waiting would've worn on you just as much as the shock had, the morning you took it. That night you spent at Kiara's was quiet. 

That night you all let the sound of dinner cooking echo through the house. That night you all sat around the living room, trying not to fixate on the spot on the couch where Tom usually sat with his legs crossed. That night Angus held your hand, and the way it usually would've brought you comfort was then matched with conflict. Still, you watched as his fingers tapped against your knuckles and clung to his grip for all it was worth. Despite the way your nerves danced on end, you held his hand. Despite the missing friend, the rest of you sat together. 

When you found out you failed the test the next day, you weren't surprised. But you were motivated to get more serious than ever. You only stopped studying the rest of the week, to make meals. And when you finished the first round of finals, you let dance class be your reward.

Kiara was there at the studio, but she wasn't dressed for it. She only wanted to wait up to give you a lift to the pub after, having called you all to plan a meeting this evening. As dancers flooded into the building, you thanked Kiara for coming to watch you, for being there somehow. You promised to dance hard enough for the both of you, that practice.

Then it was time to start the lesson, relishing the way the music pulsed through the floor. You'd never been so thankful for a hobby, it came just in time for you to clear your head. As you moved your body to the beat of some Bowie song, it wasn't like you were coming to any grand conclusions. But something about locking in and moving with the music made your mind stop racing all the while. 

And then there was the part of you that savored the compliments you received when you landed a spin or were asked to offer instruction to others. You were really fucking good at this, and you knew it. 

When class was over, you struggled to ride the high of the adrenaline dancing usually gave you. The music stopped and you had no reason left to pound your feet into the ground, nowhere left to direct your grief and sadness and worry.  But then Kiara was boasting about how well you did and sing songing her familiar plea for you to try out for the European competition. The instructor overheard and walked up to encourage you all the same. 

"You really should. Auditions are in a month." The teacher flashed you his coy smile, letting his hand rest on the small of your back. He was like that. But you didn't mind. The thrill you got from his compliments as a leader outweighed the way his flirting could sometimes make you cringe.

"I'll think about it!" You assured, giving Kiara the 'let's get out of here' look. 

///

At your usual pub, Angus and Soren were sat in silence, each casting despondent glances toward the table. A chair was empty between them. Funny how hard this kept getting. How often you were reminded that Tom was gone, and how shuddering it was to realize he wasn't coming back. You didn't realize how slowly grief worked. How every new day a creeping mourning swallowed your mind more wholly than the last.

Once seated, you flagged down a waiter for some drinks and frowned when Soren asked how your class went. You didn't really want to talk about it. It didn't seem important at all, all you could think to mention in the company of your friends was how one was gone. Wasn't that so fucked up?

"His mom called today. She says the funeral is tomorrow." Kiara came right out with it, causing everyone to cast their eyes toward her. She hadn't mentioned the phone call she had with Tom's parents when you all reconvened that night. No one had said much of anything at all, that night. 

"What the fuck?" Soren spat. Tom was from Alaska. None of you had time to plan to be at a funeral in Alaska in less than 24 hours. 

"This morning, she told me they had family in town for some other reason. And want to just 'get it over with' so, fuck us, I guess." Kiara released a shaky breath, turning to thank a waiter who slid glasses onto your high-top table. 

"We can do something for him, just us." Angus spoke up, arms crossed tight around his body. He looked up for the first time since you got here and looked right at you. You smiled, glad to see him, content with his latest idea. Angus smiled back and kept his steady brown eyed gaze on yours. And for one fleeting moment you forgot you were being swallowed whole by sadness. But just a moment.

"Yeah. We should have a memorial. Anything you want me to bring?" Soren sat up, nodding over and over at the idea, glad for a progressive plan in his friend's honor.

"A bunch of fuckin' weed. It's what he would've wanted." Kiara laughed. And so did the rest of you.

The rest of the hour you spent drinking was full of a little more hope than any of you had felt in the past few days. You managed a few laughs from each other in the midst of planning a memorial. Through giggles, you all strived to turn conversation lighter. There was an unspoken chugging toward ending your hang out on the semblance of a high note. And you understood why. But something felt so wrong about laughing. Something felt so shameful about droning on about school, with each other. Didn't they feel that? How couldn't they? Would bringing this up kill the mood for better, or for worse?

You didn't know how to conduct yourself the longer you thought about it. Suddenly the whole world and the meaning of life stretch out before you and started to muddle together to fill you with dread. 

"Hey." Angus voice was closer than before. You realized your friends were all getting up, and the dark eyed boy was standing beside the stool you sat in. "Hey, come on." Angus rose his finger to your temple and gave it a couple taps. That meant it was time to focus on something else entirely. Time to get out of your head. You nodded and stood to join him as he walked, watching the others head into the foggy night, holding the door open for you.

"It's the last Friday of the month you know." Angus spoke to you gently, his reminder catching you off guard. You didn't really know what to expect, from Angus now. You didn't really know what you expected from yourself, either. 

"Oh, yeah."

"Do you... want me to come over?" He seemed to worry. The lanky brunet shifted the weight between his feet and let either of his eyes dart between yours. You saw his breath in the fog of the misty evening. You couldn't imagine ever telling him no. 

"It's the last Friday of the month. You always come over. I just... almost forgot this time." You admitted. There had been a lot going on. And you hadn't really been paying attention to the calendar. 

"Did you... forget? Or..."

"I forgot. Come on, let's go." You spoke confidently because you were telling the truth. But you realized what he'd alluded to... having recently fucked without acknowledging it in anyway. And you were not ready to have that conversation. 

Angus rose his brows, shrugged his shoulders and decidedly stepped in time with you. You'd hoped he'd start talking about something else. But he didn't. He let an awkward silence weigh itself between you as he drove you to your dorm. Angus didn't speak the whole ride there. And neither did you. But he drove you home, and followed you in. And that counted for something, right?

Silence followed you each to the sofa, where you sat on the edge, staring at the blank telly screen. 

"Should we watch something?" Angus finally called, leaned back against your decorative pillows with his arms crossed tight. 

"I dunno." You realized. It was later than usual. Your roommate was asleep. You weren't sure how to act, alone with Angus now.

"Put on an album, maybe?" He suggested. His voice sounded light years away. And you couldn't figure out if it was because he was sat so far back. Or if he was upset with you. Or if you were simply starting to lose your mind.

"I dunno." You repeated. The upsettingly familiar weight of silence crept between the pair of you once more for what felt like a lifetime. 

"We really should talk about it. Shouldn't we?" Angus spoke up, voice breaking up your minds spiral of thoughts that had been getting you nowhere. 

You truly didn't know. There was too much happening you hadn't had time to process. A thousand new truths and realities danced around your brain, seeping down to quicken your heart rate. Even if you should've, you couldn't talk without crying. You actually couldn't help that tears started to pool in your eyes now, feeling demanding to free itself from within you. 

Your elbows met your knees and your hands blocked out the light of the room. You tried to steady your breathing with a deep intake of air. But cries were all that released out, despite your attempt to bay your overwhelm. 

You felt him shift at your side. Angus was up. You sat trying to pull yourself together as you heard Angus move about the room. Suddenly you sensed the telly was switched on and the lights were off.

"I'm sorry. Come here. I'm sorry." Angus called, his weight shifting the sofa once more. "We'll just watch whatever is on. I'm sorry." His hands grabbed to move you back toward him. Angus pulled you to rest at his side, and you couldn't help but accept the invitation. You rose your feet from the floor and buried yourself beside him, sniffling away your tears. Angus held you tighter than you ever recalled him having done before. Angus carded his fingers through your hair, and apologized again. Wasn't this enough? You wondered. Couldn't the pair of you just settle together without words? The more intently you latched against his form, the more purposefully Angus seemed to hold you. Wasn't that all either of you needed to know right now?

But he wouldn't stop apologizing. 

"It's okay." You replied, pulling your face away from Angus' shoulder to meet his eye. Your friend wore a look of consternation, jaw clenched, brows furrowed. There was clearly so much he wanted to say. But he didn't. He just shook his head of curls, and pressed his lips together, casting his eyes to his lap. You brought a set of fingers to his jaw, turning his head to face yours. 

"I promise, it's okay." You said again, nodding and letting your thumb brush across the apple of his cheek. You watched your friend of many years debate saying what was clearly on the tip of his tongue. You waited for Angus to stop shaking his head and just come out with it already. He'd been wondering if you should talk. And if he wanted too, he should've. Right?

"I just... I really want to kiss you again." Angus said, like he was certain to be condemned for admitting so. You felt your mouth try to grin despite the way your lips anxiously pursed.  You watched the way Angus searched your expression for any kind of reaction. But you didn't give him much time before you leaned in to brush your lips against his. This kiss was delicate. This kiss was slow. Your hands did not wander. But you each shared the moment earnestly, for reasons you still weren't ready to uncover.

When Angus stalled to break your connection, he stayed close. His gaze was steady on your lips, as if he were trying to figure out why they were just pressed against his own. But you just couldn't talk about it tonight. So instead, it was your turn to pull Angus close, as you leaned back into the pile of throw blankets. You held Angus' head of curls against your chest as he decidedly let himself relax there. 

You didn't know what show was playing. You didn't know what time it was, or when you both fell asleep. You didn't hear Angus leave the next morning. And you didn't know what you were going to do about the way his leaving broke your heart a little more than it'd already had been.

///

You spent the weekend working. Cleaning houses a couple days a week was enough to keep money in your pockets, especially if you had appointments in the rich neighborhoods. You blasted music through each house, and scrubbed to the beat. Like dancing, this was therapy. Every time you remembered Tom was dead, you'd scoured the grout a little harder. Every time you remembered the way Angus dug his fingers into your hips, and how much you liked it, you vacuumed with more gusto. Every time you remembered how poorly the results of your latest finals had been, you turned up the music.

Then came the memorial your friends set up.

It was perfect. You burned a fire in the pit out back, shared a couple joints, and went through old pictures. Each photo unlocked a memory someone had a story about. Kiara found a few flowers to plant around the evergreen near the corner. Flowers that would grow back every year. For Tom. Angus didn't say much that night. And you didn't either. And you could tell the other two noticed. 

///

"Claire is finally completely moved in!" Kiara chirped. She sat across the dance floor with you, stretching her fingers to meet the tips of her toes. The townhouse she bought with her cousin in mind was finally home sweet home for both girls. "You'll have to meet her! Angus and Soren already have, I called them to help move a few heavier things."

"Yeah, sounds good." You struggled to respond, only half listening. Your brain was busy focusing on the way your body worked to stretch out every imperfection, every negative thought and feeling. But the way Kiara called your name next forced your undivided attention.

"Look, I get that things have been fucked up recently. You know I know that." Your friends voice shook a little, and a pain rang through your chest at the sound. She lost a friend too. "But you've been especially weird. What's going on, huh?" Kiara sounded almost angry. But then you recognized it was simply hurt spilling over. And you'd been caught. And you couldn't brush her off. Not when she was looking at you like that.

"It's just..." You breathed in, struggling to know where to start, totally unprepared to have been put on the spot here at the studio. And then your instructor was calling everyone to get ready for class. Thank God.

"Later, okay?" You stood, extending a hand for Kiara to grab. She did so and shrugged her way to the middle of the dance floor with a puzzled expression ever glued on you. And that's how it stayed all night. She watched your face for a crack in its resolve. You just danced. You turned every 'what if' away from your mind and let the music flood your system. You ignored Kiara's curious glances and danced like your life depended on it.

When the hour was up and the group was heading out, Kiara made a beeline for you. But so did your instructor.

"Stay later?" He beamed, nodding your way as he walked off, having already decided for you it seemed. 

"I can wait up for you!" Kiara lifted her brows in a hopeful manner, stalling to put her shoes back on. 

"I don't know how long I'll be." You realized. Halfway trying to get her to give up, and halfway telling the truth. You knew Kiara was simply trying to check in with you. But if you hadn't even been ready to talk to Angus about everything, it sure didn't feel right to bring it all up to Kiara on a whim.

"I don't mind waiting. We could go for drinks or something. I just think-"

"Kiara... no. Please, I honestly can't do this tonight. Not with you." You spoke a little too quickly, a little too fiercely. You immediately regretted shutting her out as the words spilled from your mouth. And then you watched your friends face turn into a grimace.

"Don't be cunty to me when all I'm trying to do is be there for you." Kiara spat back before bending down to pick up her shoes. 

"Ki, I'm sorry-" You hurried to plea as she began to turn for the door. 

"I'll call you when I'm less pissed off." She waved her hand for you to stay back, to stop following her toward the door. As she began to push out of the exit, she stalled to turn back and say one last thing. "No, actually, you need to call me when you get over yourself." And with that she was gone. And she was right. But you had absolutely no time to process that interaction before your instructor was snapping for your attention. 

"You girls seem close." The man teased with a twisted sort of smile. You let out a huff of a laugh, uncertain how to otherwise respond to this man you knew absolutely nothing about outside of his dance credentials. He could kick higher than anyone you knew. And he always got a little too into the salsa, no matter his partner. 

"Anyway, you know we're all dying for you to nail next month's audition for the traveling team. I wanted to share some pointers with you, if you're serious about try outs?" The man reveled, smiling as he waited for you to respond. The studio was so quiet without the chatter from the others. Without the thuds from their feet parading across the floor. 

"Yeah, that would be so generous of you." You nodded. With your finals having gone horrifically so far, your newly forming plan was to nail this audition, hedge your bets on your newfound talent to land you a decent career while you were young and able. 

For the next half hour, as Chopin's Nocturne No. 2 filled the room, your instructor was straightening your posture after spins. You ignore the way his hands lingered at the bend of your waist. He watched you glide from one movement to the next, praising what you got right and coming over to correct your mistakes. He turned your head in the right direction. He moved your arms to fan out more evenly. He let his fingers trail across your spine as he rambled about how important visible strength was to the judges.

"You'll want to be certain of your timing. And you'll have to be confident in every little flex of your finger." The man hummed, "But if you're looking to nail down a yes for your audition now," He said, reaching out to move you a little too forcefully toward your mark, his grasp remaining. "There is one thing you could do."

Oh hell no.

"Fuck you." You hissed, shoving the instructor's hands away from your hips and shuddering at the realization of his implication. Watching the man's face fall into a frown when he realized you couldn't be so easily persuaded gave you a new set of chills.

"Let me be frank. If you don't sleep with me, I won't vote for you, and you need each judges vote to get in." As he spoke, he reached a bold hand toward you. There was no question in your mind to hesitate before you extended your own set of digits to slap across his face.

"How fucking dare you." You spat, moving in a hurry to collect your things. Your shoes were still off and you dropped your sweater on your way out the door. But there was no chance in hell you were turning back for it. All you could do was sprint toward the main road, desperate for a cab. 

This was all so fucked. You felt like you had absolutely nothing left to hold out hope for. You were failing school. You were pretty certain you'd ruined things with Angus because of a stupid drunken hook up. Kiara was pissed at you. Tom was dead. And you just had your only outlet for all this shit ruined by that creep of an instructor. 

You couldn't stop thinking of the last thing you heard Tom declare. How he was so ready to graduate and get the cat he'd always wanted and a job of his dreams. How he had it all planned out, and how you knew it'd been going well enough to likely come together the way he'd hoped. But it was all for nothing. And here you were, living some actual Shakespearean level nightmare. Why were you the one spared by fate? The one without a stich of the future figured out for the better. It wasn't fucking fair, for you to keep this farce of a life in crippled traction. It wasn't fair for Tom to be dead. You couldn't even successfully catch a cab. The road was bare of traffic.

But you weren't left stomping down the pavement long before a set of headlights blinded your vision.

"What the hell are you doing?" Soren's recognizable lilt came booming from beyond his cranked down pickup window. You stopped in your tracks, squinting to see his car stalling near the sidewalk just before you. "Get in here!"

You weren't going to argue, this late, this cold. You must've looked a sight, shoeless and tear stained. Soren's passenger seat was cluttered, but it didn't take him long to toss the books and papers to the back seat.

"Where the fuck are you coming from? Why are you crying?"

"Cause life is fucked up Soren." You sniffled, finally putting your shoes on. Your friend started to drive off then, but wouldn't stop asking what happened or if you were okay. 

"I'm fine. Thank you for the rescue."  

He explained that he was coming home from work. He asked if he should take you home, or to Angus' dorm. And that made a new spring of angry hot tears pool in your gaze. It was all you could do to breathe steadily, before shaking away your emotion to finally answer your friend.

"I'm so sorry. It's just been a really shit day. And that's really saying something lately isn't it?" You laughed, despite yourself, and so did Soren. Though his eyes stayed curiously drifting from the road to your slump to the right of him.

"Kiara and I had a weird fight. And then I quit dance class. And I left my favorite sweater there." You whined, ultimately deciding you owned someone an explanation. And Soren had already accepted you in his ride in your sorry state. 

"We can turn back! Do you want to get-"

"No." You demanded. "The instructor guy is a creep. I never want to see him again. And I don't want to see Angus. I just want to go home. Please."

Soren spoke your name lowly, begging to know more. But you couldn't. You just shook your head and thanked your friend again for the lift.

///

Claire

Kiaras cousin was a tall, sharp-witted model of a lawyer. She sat way to close to Angus on the loveseat, knees brushing. And he laughed way too hard at her jokes. It made you sick to watch the pair of them chuckle over a bottle of wine. What could they possibly have to laugh about? He was a brooding stick figure of a college student. And she was this blonde bombshell of an older woman. The pair of them colluding didn't make sense to you.

With the roll of your eye's you fled the living room for the kitchen, finding Kiara. She'd just finished perfecting another well made dinner. 

"Hey." You cautioned meekly, finding your friend shutting the oven door. The room was warm from the heat of the appliance. The air was thick with the scent of spices and herbs. Kiara turned to you with a faint smile, stalling for you to do the talking. And you knew you needed to.

"I'm really sorry I never called, like you asked. And I'm sorry for being so nasty that night." You frowned, meaning every word. You hated that your upset had spilled out into sharp words Kiara never should've received. 

"I'm sorry I called you cunty." Your friend shrugged before letting out a small chuckle. "But you can't keep shutting us out, babe."

Kiara's statement caught you off guard. You hadn't really realized that's what you'd been doing. But it was. You still hadn't given Angus any chance to talk. You yelled at Kiara when she asked what was wrong. And you brushed off Soren's concern when he gave you a lift home. But then a sudden irritation rose within you. 

"I guess I don't know what there is to say that you all don't already know. I guess I don't understand why Angus is laughing in the living room and why we're all pretending to have a nice dinner like everything is fine when it isn't."

"We're all still hurting," Kiara spoke your name, imploring for you to hear her. "What's so hard to understand about wanting to achieve some levity together?" Kiara sounded angry again, angrier than you. Angry at you.

"Why can't you let me be upset?" You quizzed, chest hot with misunderstanding.

"Why can't you let me move on?" Kiara demanded to know, voice full of emotion.

Just then Soren breezed in, setting his bag of comic books and weed on the kitchen island, asking how he could help set up for dinner. Kiara asked him to grab everyone drinks. Then she told you to carry out a pan of food to the table. Her tone was short and she wouldn't look you in the eye. You did as she asked, anger bubbling and brewing deeper in the pit of your stomach all the while. 

You ate dinner, asking Claire about Chicago. You pretended not to grimace at the sound of her shrill run on sentences. You reminded yourself your upset shouldn't be directed at this poor stranger of a woman. But it was hard not to seethe when she was sat in the fifth seat at the table. You and Soren each shared a glance or two of annoyance at Claire's hogging the nights conversation. 

When she wasn't speaking, Angus was asking her more questions. You watched him hang on her every word. You kept hoping he'd turn and give you those looks. You watched his fingers drum on the table, and wished his hands were holding yours. You realized then, just exactly how fucked you were. And how no matter when or how you had the inevitable conversation with Angus- that everything was different now between you two. When he started rambling about his thesis having something to do with ancient Roman law, you excused yourself again. 

Thinking fast, you gathered everyone's finished dinner plates to take to the sink, the perfect leave. Your anger dissolved into exhaustion by the time you reached the kitchen, you were getting a little sick of your own bullshit. You were growing weary over how out of control your life and emotions seemed these days. 

As you arranged the dirty dishes in the sink, something caught your eye from beyond the patio door windows. Through the never-ending fog of this San Fransico spring, a small grey blur. You turned your attention fully to the backyard, beyond the firepit, past the chairs. A slender grey cat was biting at the flowers Kiara planted for Tom. 

"Uh, guys." You called out for someone else to come and see this because there was no way they'd believe you if you simply told them. "Guys you have to come see this." You called again, a laughter breaking up your announcement. 

"What's wrong?" Angus came sauntering in, you heard him, but you didn't dare turn from the sight of the animal in the backyard. "Oh... my God." Angus approached, stalling at your side near the patio doors. He let out a chuckle too, disbelief painting a smile across his face that reached his almond eyes. You turned to look right at him. And he turned to look right at you. And for a moment you weren't sure what sight dazzled you more. The others came rushing in, pointing and laughing and standing in awe before the patio doors. The laughter that was born from shock kept erupting more and more between the four of you, until Soren was howling, and Angus was coughing and Kiara was nearly breathless.

"I don't get it. What's funny?" Claire asked, looming near the kitchen island with a look of perturbed wonder. Maybe Kiara was right. It was time to let some kind of light in.

///

"Open the dooooooor." Angus whined from outside your dorm, chanting the same thing over as you rushed to hide paper in your hands. It was a letter from your university.

You failed your finals. You failed this entire semester. 

Shoving the letter between your mattress and box spring, you clamored to unlock the door, letting your best friend inside. 

"Geeze, do you really have to lock all three locks on your door? I stood there freezing for hours it felt like, coulda died in that hallway."

"For somebody who came from a winter state you sure have a shit tolerance for temperature." You joked. But it had been a chilly spring. "I'm not taking my chances with the serial killers and the impatient East Coasters." 

Angus stood with his hands in his jacket pockets and that familiar brooding smirk on his face you were so damn endeared to. His smile was always a good sign. But still, you were suspicious of your friend's presence, still on uncertain terms.

"Want to come do laundry with me?" 

Finally, something normal. A usual request from Angus. A routine you could follow without question or wonder. Just a couple of spin cycles and whatever bullshit you each thought up to ramble over to pass the time. With a nod you grabbed your hamper and followed Angus to his car. The laundromat was a five-minute drive, one you spent turning the radio dials while Angus bitched about traffic. 

Inside the laundromat, rows of machines lined the walls and only a couple patrons stood separating whites from darks and folding fresh sheets. Some folk songs crackled from the speakers, but the whir of the dryers and washers drowned out the guitars. You each got down to business; loading your clothes into separate machines and lingering to wait on one another to head across the street. A diner waited, windows flooded with flyers and adds. 

Angus got you each a coffee and you ordered some fries. He mentioned going with Soren to a wedding in New York in a couple weeks. Yammering about summer plans. Angus considered the idea of tracking down his old professor when they got over there. You listened. You said you didn't have any plans. You clawed through topics in your head to keep up the facade of normalcy. But nothing could stop the silence that branched from the space in between you and your very best friend. You watched his lanky finger steal a fry from your basket without asking. You sat biting your lip instead of reprimanding him. 

"I took Claire on a date. Two nights ago." 

You nearly choked on the coffee you sipped to suppress your jitters. 

"Claire?" You rang, shooting Angus a look of disbelief. 

"I really like her. And she somehow really likes me." Angus reasoned, holding out a hand as if to pass along this information. You sat, playing back his sentence over and over in your head. Playing back the way they laughed together the night you met her. She seemed nice enough... But...

"I was going to wait and ask you... I don't know, for permission, I guess? But then I kind of figured if you wanted to talk about what happened with us, you would have by now. So that must mean you don't have anything to say, right? So, I asked Claire on a date. But then I felt like a real asshole about not telling you. So this is me... asking one last time. Do you want to talk about it? Do you care?" Angus ended his rambling admission by boring his dark eyes right into yours, and waiting. 

You sat, playing his words over and over. You sat remembering the warmth that filled your every cell when he first kissed you. You sat remembering how he said he wanted to do it again. You sat wondering why the fuck your body and your brain refused to function as a team, failing you from opening your mouth at all now. But if you couldn't do it... maybe Angus could.

"Do you? Care?" You dared to quiz the guy, your eyes darting between his, searching for understanding. 

"Wha- Why do-" Angus stuttered, his already furrowed gaze growing more perturbed by the second. "Are you listening? Do you hear me at all? I need to know how you feel." Angus leaned against the sticky table, as if his intense eye contact would get the answer he wanted out of you.

"I hear you." You breathed, nerves buzzing across your entire being.

"But are you listening?" 

"I can't stop you, Angus!" You finally burst. Anger pushed itself through your body until words formed against your better judgment. "If she makes you happy go for it. Hell, bring her over for dinner next Friday. It's the last one of the month."

Your friend sat obviously perplexed across from you. It was like he wanted you to tell him not to do it. But you couldn't stop Angus from living his life. You barely had control over your own these days. All you could muster up the ability to speak was a weak approval, despite the way your heart descended to your stomach.

///

"Here you are, dude." Soren handed you a coffee with a proud grin, like it was the first one he'd ever made. Your friend should've been proud, you ventured. His free spirit got the better of him years before now. He seemed to be finding his groove.

"Thanks sir. How'd you do on finals?" You really wanted to know his answer, knowing he'd worked so hard this year. Soren said he passed with flying colors. You said you knew he would. He said they'd all gotten together at Kiara's to celebrate. He said the cat came back. He said he really didn't think Angus and Claire made a good match at all. He wondered why you weren't there.

"I guess I wasn't invited. I haven't been a very good friend to Ki, lately." You shrugged. You knew you'd found yourself in this position by your own faults. But it still stung to know they'd gathered without you. 

"Oh. I thought it was an Angus thing." Soren shrugged. "He was real nervous about how you'd react to his asking Claire out and all."

"Yeah." You responded, searching Soren's gaze and watching him realize another customer was coming in. He smiled a sweet smile and hurried over to his register, giving you a wave from there. You shouted a 'see ya' on your way out.

///

You slaved over your stove the night Claire was meant to join your monthly get together. This all felt like a very bad idea. But Angus was your best friend. And you really did want to support him in whatever steps he put an effort into taking, in life.

Granted the two weeks they had been together were the longest of your college career. Tom was still dead, and Kiara was still cold with you. She let you come over and accepted your apologies. But she remained despondent the whole time you stayed, clearly in her head about things. But you understood what that was like. And weren't keen to push her further. 

Then your guests were here. And you felt even more like this was a very bad idea. But you played off your anxieties by deciding to pretend to be the best damn host on this side of the campus. You served Claire first and kept her glass of wine full and asked all about her life. Angus passed you several tight lipped smiles and subtle thank yous. You'd never met any girl he'd ever taken out. There had been a few, but none stuck around long enough. 

You could tell Claire really liked Angus. And he definitely deserved to be adored in the way the brilliant blonde was willing to adore him. But there was just something that undeniably clashed about their pairing. Maybe it was the fact she was a few years older, sleeker, more mature. Maybe it was how callow Angus seemed at her side. Or maybe it was just you.

When the night winded down and the girl offered to help you clean up, Angus went to the bathroom. And that's when a certain veil lifted. The pantomime of the evening enjoyed its intermission when Claire toted in a couple empty glasses to your sink. 

"I don't think I like you very much." She came right out with it. And not in a vindictive tone either. Just an honest one, and you respected that. 

"I see." You straightened your posture.

"I mean, you seem nice enough but... I don't like you around Angus. I'm sure if I ask, you'll lie but, have you two... ever..." The woman lifted a brow, drying off a couple plates as you rinsed some others. Passing a couple utensils through the water, you considered very carefully how to respond.

"Why should it matter? If nothing ever came of it?" You quizzed, shrugging your shoulders. The blonde at your side heaved a sigh through a gentle smile, continuing to help you clean up.

"Well, at least you didn't lie."

Angus swooped into the room soon after, suggesting it was time for himself and his date to take their leave. After a few minutes of pleasantries, they started out. But not before Angus flashed you an expressive lift of his brow, curl of his lip, as Claire turned to leave. He asked so much in that one glance, a talent of his you'd always been fascinated by. 

You flashed him a wide eye'd shake of your head, there was quite literally no time to talk about everything that had just happened tonight. But you hoped your face said it all just as well.

///

Soren sat across from you, hunched over his homemade lunch. You ordered a coffee from him before he took his break and scurried out to the tables to join you for a bit.

You swatted a strand of long sandy hair away from his meal and asked how he'd been. He mentioned being glad school was over for a bit. He mentioned the cat that kept showing back up at Kiara's patio door. He was convinced it was Tom, coming to visit. He knew it was crazy to think it, but he swore by his belief. He said Kiara thought he was nuts for it. He said she'd been grumpy lately anyway, cold. You selfishly hoped this meant she wasn't exclusively upset permanently with you. That she was just going through it.

"And don't even get me started on Angus and Claire." Soren scoffed, taking a bite of lunch. 

"Oh, please get started." 

"She's so possessive. Protective I could understand but she's possessive to a fault. He can't even bring up girls he works with, without Claire coming unglued." 

Well, that explained why you hadn't heard from your very best friend in a couple very long weeks. You phoned him the day after that fateful dinner. He never answered or returned the call. You hadn't even seen his car on the campus lot, as it began to empty out. Summer had officially begun, and most everyone was graduated or off coping with the last semester before the next one kicked off.

"He says hi, by the way." Soren rolled his eyes. "Shouldn't have to be the damn messenger. Jealousy confounds me." Your friend flared his nostrils and shook his head before taking another bite of his sandwich. You couldn't help but chuckle at your usually laid-back friend's fiery disposition.

"Thanks for filling me in. Wanna share some of that cookie?" You shrugged, changing the subject. There was nothing you could do to change the way things were. There was nothing more to say. You were beginning to cope with the fact that the morning Tom died, everything changed. Everyone was different for better or for worse. Life was different now. And you were beginning to cope with that fact.

///

Today was the day of auditions. You sure as hell were not about to show up and dance. But you couldn't stop staring at your calendar- and the note you'd left there ages ago to remind yourself about try outs. A fleeting wonder crossed you mind, about showing up anyway. A fleeting consideration pressed with in you, for the outcome if you were to dance your ass off to try and earn a spot you knew you'd never land- just to have the last laugh.

When the phone started to ring, your roommate answered. But it wasn't long until she was twirling the cord closer to you, heading to take over the sofa.

"You have a competition or something today, don't you?" Angus voice crackled through the telephone line. You leaned against the kitchen counter, eyes still glued to your calendar, and huffed a laugh. What an unexpected voice to hear, cutting through your what if's, today.

"No I uh, I changed my mind." You revealed. You hadn't told anyone what happened, not really. You felt like you had more pressing issues to consider, back then. And now you weren't sure if any of it still mattered or not.

"Oh." Angus replied in a shock that nearly took you by surprise. "Well in that case, want to go see a movie?"

He was outside your dorm honking ten minutes later. 

"I'm putting my shoes on, Geeze!" You hollered out the window. Angus yelled for you to hurry up, laying on his horn all over again. Your roommate started yelling soon after, demanding you get the hell out before Angus honking drove her bonkers.

"It's not my fault you called me so last minute!" You shouted, jogging to hop in his passenger seat. 

"It starts in like four minutes!" Angus whined to your amazement. He was such a pain in the ass sometimes. But then you smiled and realized that you hadn't been worried about something so trivial concerning Angus in a couple months. You'd missed the hell out of this. But... why was it happening now?

"Why did you call me to invite me to a movie if you thought I had a competition today?" 

"I called to wish you luck. And to apologize for not calling sooner. I've been pretty confused."

"Soren told me Claire's been a bit... territorial. You know that night at dinner while you were in the bathroom she told me she didn't like me?" You sighed a humorless laugh.

"Yeah." Angus scoffed a hopeless chuckle, breaking the speed limit all the while. You cursed at him to slow down before he went on to say, "She gave me an ear full that night too. And I wanted to respect her worries, ya know? Show her she had nothing to worry about. But then her worries turned into accusations, and the past two weeks have been constant interrogations with her. So, I broke up with her last night."

"Oh my God?"

Somehow, you actually didn't see that coming. Not so soon, anyway. Not so abruptly. While there wasn't much new information to process, the news still made your brain whir. A few billion what if's and what now's bubbled into the back of your mind while you realized the turn your evening had taken.

"I'm sorry she was rude to you. And I'm sorry I've been distant." Angus furrowed his brow and lowered his tone, speaking very seriously now. All the while he whipped his car into the movie theater parking lot and turned off the engine. "Now get out, we've already missed the previews. this is a Burt Renyolds film we're dealing with, go, go!"

"Oh my God, okay!" You hurried, slamming the car door shut. "No. Hey! Slow down it is not that serious." You remarked, following orders but refusing to jog at the speed Angus darted toward the theater doors.

Two tickets to The Longest Yard and one massive bucket of popcorn later, you were back to normal. Angus settled at your side and swatted at your hand when you reach for the popcorn at the same time as him. You plucked a kernel to toss at him in offense. He sighed and lifted a couple pieces to your lips as a silent apology. You chuckled and relaxed and thanked God for the turn of events. 

You learned not to take it for granted. It could very well be the last evening of its kind you got to share with Angus. Death and dates and all kinds of reasons kept getting in the way of normalcy for the pair of you. Maybe that's what adulthood was. Maybe that was life. But so was this. And for that you were grateful.

The ride home was short, and filled with chatter about the film. And when Angus pulled into an actual covered parking space instead of haphazardly in front of your building; you felt hopeful that meant he would stick around.

"Wanna come in for a bit?" You offered, glad for the way you'd been able to banter so easily tonight. Longing to stretch out your visit, craving connection with Angus for longer than a few weeks now.

"I gotta meet up with Claire to give her some stuff back. I owe her that much." Angus stretched out his words, leaning his head against the back of the seat, turning to give you a sorry smile. You could tell he didn't want to go, not really. But he was right.

"I've just really missed you." You decidedly shrugged, looking right at him. Not even just the way he touched you that night. But his well-meaning laugh and his stories about what he'd been reading. His looks for you to decode across rooms. Him.

Angus nodded, that brooding grin of his forming across his features. He reached a hand across the bench of his front seat, tracing a finger against your thigh. You watched his hand ghost to stall on your knee- before you held out a slacked arm, scooting closer all the while. You needed him to wrap his arms around you, no matter what that meant. No matter what he felt when he did it. You needed him to. 

And he did. Angus welcomed your embrace with his own, holding you tight in place for a moment before his head buried into the crook of your neck. You weren't even thinking when you moved your hands to brush his hair back. Angus moved as you did, his hold on you stayed steady, but his eye blinked up to meet yours.

And then you realized it was happening again. Your heart began to hammer, you knew he could feel it. Your brain buzzed with thoughts of only Angus. Your eye's longed to gaze more intently into his. Your hands wandered to consider the curve of his spine, the strength of his core.

"I've missed you too." Angus whispered, as his arms loosened, his hands trailing to the bend of your waist. 

The kiss that followed was fierce. Your teeth clashed with Angus' and your breath caught in your throat. His fingers gripped to grab at your shirt, yanking you toward him. Your knees settled on either side of his hips. Your nails scratched along his torso before landing on his belt. It was just like before, neither of you could move fast enough. Every move seemed detrimental. But no touch lingered long enough to drive you crazy. You wouldn't let it. You needed to get to the point.

Angus picked up on your desperate pace, aiding in undoing his belt while his lips brushed along your neck. A quick shuffle of fabric was the last step to take before you were easing into Angus' lap completely as possible. You were sober enough this time to think to lock eyes as you rocked against him, shivering at the sight of Angus slack jawed enjoyment. 

He let one hand brush across your cheek as his other clawed at your thigh, pulling you close as possible. You watched in awe as Angus stuttered a curse. You moved with intention, and he did too. Trailing his fingers from your face, to your chest, to the very middle of you- adding immensely to your pleasure. It was your turn to stammer curses and struggle to catch a steady breath. It wasn't long before you both reached your peak. But it felt like forever. It felt like all of time and space had collided to stall, as you shagged Angus in the front seat of his car. You relished every flame of feeling. You savored the way his eyes stayed locked with yours. You reveled in the smile that turned to corners of his lips upward. You had really missed him.

Quiet filled the car as you slinked up and away, falling into a puddle nearer the passenger seat. Angus cleared his throat, moving to fasten his trousers. 

"Now what?" He asked in a hush. 

"You gotta go. Right?" You shrugged. That was that. Right? 

/// 

The Summer

Kiara followed her internship to Canada for the season. Tom was still dead. You had no dance class. You had just failed your semester. Angus and Soren had left for some wedding in New York. Not that their absence mattered much anyway. Because your best friend hadn't spoken to you since the spontaneous movie night. Since the second more profound and regrettable hook up. Not that you wished you never done it. But that you wished you would have said something different when it was over. Something that didn't make Angus jaw clench as he watched you get out of his car.

Several days passed since you'd heard from Angus. Despite the few times you'd called and the once you'd turned up at his dorm only for his roommates to shrug and say he'd been out all night. Then it was time for the New York trip.

And it seemed unstoppable, the call from your bed to stay there. You had no reason at all to get up. You had nothing to do. Nothing to think about. For days you stayed locked up in your room, completely despondent to any and everything.

Then your roommate knocked persistently enough to stir you from your den. She mentioned her flight for Japan was in a couple hours and asked for a ride to the airport. Your bones ached to move, your brain longed for a fresher perspective. So, you decidedly ended your wallowing in your own despair to slip into a change of clothes and drive to the airport.

The drive was refreshingly quiet. The blue of the sky and the air through the windows made you feel free. Made you realize you were not as trapped in that little campus as you felt. Your roommate had been fiddling with the radio dial as you'd considered the great big world beyond her dodge dart.

"Oh my God, hey!" Your roommate chirped over the crackle of a news anchors morning announcements of weather and traffic conditions. "Today is your birthday, isn't it?"

"Holy shit." You realized. "It is." you'd been so lost in the cave you created out of bed sheets that you'd almost lost track of time. Your roommate proceeded to shower you with well wishes, asking if you had any plans. 

You did. Earlier in the year, Angus talked you into going out on this date, having a ball. When you'd each gone through the calendar at the start of the year, you realized each of your birthdays were on the last Friday of either month. Angus said that was too crazy to be a coincidence. He said you needed to make the most of these celebrations. But that was back when things were different. 

"Not sure. After I drop your car off, I'll see where the day takes me."

"About that." Your roommate proceeded to inform you that she wasn't just visiting Japan. She'd decided last minute to move there, start anew. She had a fiancé and a place to go, and an abundance of plans. She wondered if you could leave her car for sale in the school lot and mail her the money. Lots of favors from this one today, you thought. But then...

"How much?" You wondered. Your roommate rambled about how much she paid for it, thinking of selling it for half the price now. 

"I'll buy it." You blurted, surprising yourself even. You'd had funds saved up now with nothing to spend them on. You may as well had started thinking of your new path forward. 

"Oh, that's right," Your roommate realized you'd been without your own transportation for a while now, and said she felt silly for not thinking to offer it to you right away. Once stalled outside the airport you wondered how much money you stashed in your wallet, finding only a couple hundred dollars. Your roommate stuck her hand out as you passed her the bills, but you were shocked when she handed you most of it back. 

"Happy birthday, and thanks for the ride. It was nice bunking with you!"

In the span of a thirty-minute ride you'd been shown a kindness that filled your heart. You'd considered new sets of hope you'd never knew existed. You saw the sun. You gained a car. You turned another year older. 

Driving back to campus, dread threatened to overcome you once more. But it was your birthday damn it. You had to find some way to keep yourself from slipping back into that bed of yours. 

To the cafe, it was. And to your surprise, Soren was there. 

"Happy birthday!" Soren smiled, arms opened wide behind the counter of his job. You chuckled and leaned across the sticky space to hug your friend. He said he'd tried to stop by your dorm this morning but no one answered. He must've arrived there as you left.

"I forgot you were meant to be back so soon." You said.

"My flight landed a couple days ago, Angus stayed to meet up with that old teacher he always talks about." Soren shrugged, going on to gush about the wedding they'd attended. And how much fun the boys had free of studies and schedules, away together. You stood there and listened, happy for Soren on one hand. Hurt by Angus absence all the while.

"Angus didn't say when he'd be back. But I swore I saw his car today. Could've just smoked too much before my shift though." Soren laughed as he poured you a coffee, free of charge. For your birthday, he insisted. You smiled and thanked your friend. Pursing your lips to suppress the surprising amount of emotion that rose within you at how kind everyone was being today. How much you didn't feel like you deserved their kindness.

"Thanks. Have a good shift, friend." 

Your next stop was the market. Your cupboards were bare, you already knew. And now that you were out of your stupor, your stomach ached with hunger. Some dinner, a drink, and a little tiny cake because why the hell not. Whether you deserved everyone else's kindness, you were allowed to make the most of today, right?

The afternoon passed slowly, light turning to dark outside. You considered Soren's story, how he thought he saw Angus' car today. How there was a chance he was back on campus. With a shot in the dark, you rang his dorm with your fingers crossed. No one answered, but you couldn't be too disappointed. He was still on the East Coast, you decided. He would've stopped by today right? If he was back in town, and if he knew it was your birthday, he would've stopped by. 

But then, you knew he knew it was your birthday. And night turned to morning, and he hadn't called. He would've at least called, right? If you hadn't fucked it all up, he would've. If everything hadn't changed, he should have. But all of a sudden it was four in the morning. And the slice of cake you'd saved just in case Angus came around was swiftly sent to the garbage. And the realization that everything was different was followed by the understanding that you didn't have a single thing stopping you from starting all over.

You cleaned up and found your suitcase and started throwing things in. Forming a quick plan, you found a notebook and a pen and hurriedly wrote your friends name on one side and a quick note on the other. Even though you were pissed at Angus, and hurt and confused by the turn your friendship had taken, he still deserved a goodbye.

'i dropped out. might call when i get settled someplace. here is to hoping you'll answer if i do'

It was cutting. It was short. But it was all true, and it wass the best thing you could think up, so hastily. You zipped your bags and threw them in your new back seat. You marched to Angus' dorm and slid the note under his door. You zoomed off campus and felt the weight of all that had happened fall from your chest.

You looked ahead as day light broke on the horizon, and smiled.

///

The Future

For a month, you kept your job cleaning houses, crossing the bridge to the rich neighborhoods as often as you could. You'd found a perfect little flat on the outskirts of a suburb. You even considered applying to some of the shops along the town's strip so you wouldn't have to drive as often.

You'd banked on the kindness of delivery drivers to help you move a bed and a few other furnishings into your new space. You'd decorated with mementos you'd clung to from childhood, and a couple pictures of the four greatest friends you'd ever had. When Tom was still alive, and everyone was carefree. Though all of that had ended, the photos you cherished from before brought you the same happiness you'd felt when the snapshots were taken.

You'd called Soren once or twice. To make sure someone knew you weren't dead. To make sure he was still showing up on time to work and to listen to the plot of whatever comic he was in the middle of reading. If conversation began to drift too far outside of those topics, you'd let your friend know you had to go, but promised to keep in touch.

You were just starting to feel like life made sense. You were just beginning to consider that not all hope was lost. While you were still at a loss for what to hope for, you were beginning to consider that there was a future beyond despair. Maybe it was finally time to call your best friend. Maybe you could talk to him now, without completely losing it...

You kept these thoughts at bay, not daring to let them spin your mind and soul into a depression. You pulled into a gas station, deciding only to occupy your afternoon with trivial things. With easy thoughts and simple tasks. You were allowed to do just that.

Just as you began to lose track of your thoughts in a daydream, leaned against your trunk watching the gas fill- a car screeched recklessly into the gas station lot. A woman carrying a couple of fountain sodas scurried out of the way of the boxy car and nearly dropped her beverages. A couple by standers cursed out the hapless driver as the car continued to skirt crookedly behind yours. You knew that make and model. You knew that scratched passenger door.

Oh, God.

Angus was clamoring from the driver's seat, slamming his door before he stomped up right to your face, yelling for the whole lot to hear.

"You dropped out?" Angus hissed. His dark curls bobbing as he pointed an angry finger your way. You saw a funny little rage in his gaze. And that pissed you off more than you'd already been.

"Oh, you found my note? How long did it take you?" You jabbed. "Three or four days? Week or two?"

"You can't drop out! There is only one year left!" Angus was in awe, waving his hands at you, yelling like there was a bubble between the pair of you he had to shout past to get your attention.

"I'm surprised you're aware of that. Haven't necessarily been keeping track of important dates as of late, have you?" You shot the guy a glare that could have killed him if your eyes were lasers or worse.

"Look, I know. I'm sorry. I am sorry." Angus whined your name, reaching out to grab your arm as you adjusted the gas pump from your car to its holder.

"For what?" You challenged. Because you believed he still hadn't realized how important this last time his absence had been.

"For going M.I.A. For not calling. For... everything. I have missed you, I just-" Angus sighed and cast his eyes down in shame you could feel begin to radiate from him. But ache as your heart might've for him, because it always had, you were far from done being mad.

"You've never missed my birthday before." You rose a brow, a sting filling up your chest that you had to make it so obvious to him. Angus head rose up slow, his downtrodden gaze turned into one of shock horror.

"Oh my God, no." He frowned. "No, no, no- I'm... so sorry," Angus called your name as you rolled your eyes and turned to open your car door. His please for you to stop mixed among a billion sorry's in the span of a minute. His hand stalled on your driver's door, and you stood glaring as Angus began to ramble. "Soren barely knew you'd left. He couldn't help me." Angus explained. "I went all around campus asking if you'd told anyone where you'd gone. So last resort, I drove across the bridge to Miss Julie's to ask if she'd seen you, and finally-"

Mid sentence, your brain whirred. This mother fucker drove an hour and a half across the city to ask a woman whose house you cleaned every other weekend if she'd seen you? Okay, maybe he cared more than you thought.

"And you don't call, you don't write, you leave me a vague ass note like I-"

And then you were pissed again. Because you did call. Angus was the one who left you hanging this last time.

"Angus, we are not doing this here." You swatted at him, breaking his grip on your car door. With a heavy sigh you asked him to follow you to your new little flat. Where you could yell all night long without a lot full of strangers gawking at the pair of you.

Your grip was white knuckled the whole drive home. Your heart was in your throat. There was no getting out of whatever confrontation that laid ahead with you and Angus. This was it.

You parked in your usual spot and marched toward the apartments to the tune of Angus slamming his door. You reached your home in a couple of turns, unlocking the door, and letting it swing open behind you. Angus slithered in as you hurried inside, straight for the bottle of rum on your counter. Finding two glasses in the cupboard, Angus stalled in the middle of your living space and decidedly went on where he left off. 

"Why the hell didn't you tell me about dropping out?" He called your name. His voice was softer than it had been at the gas pump. But his tone was more desperate. You took a sip of your drink, and slid his toward the end of the counter, locking eyes. You moved closer toward where he stood as Angus went on. "Why the hell didn't you tell me what happened with that dance instructor. Shit, you barely told Soren. But he knew. Why won't you talk to me?" Angus brought a hand to his middle, like he was holding in everything from spilling over. His usual brooding expression was downcast more than usual. His hair a little longer. His eyes still your favorite pair. You had really missed Angus.

"I don't know Angus! I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me. I tried so hard to pass finals and I failed harder the more I tried. I gave everything I had to that dance class, and it blew up in my face. And then you... us... I couldn't afford to fuck up anymore. I had to go." You spoke, emotion raising in your voice as you stood sweeping a hand to gesture as you explained.

"You didn't fuck everything up. You can still take summer classes. You can fix it. You can find a new dance class. And I... you didn't fuck us up." Angus declared, speaking clearly but wearing a look as if he may have been unsure of himself. You watched as your friend took a few steps toward the drink you poured him. In the matter of a moment, his taste of rum was gone, and he was shamelessly reaching for the bottle to pour another drink.

"What if what I want doesn't matter?" You started, as he poured. "I tried so hard to pass and I failed. I tried so hard to dance and none of my practicing mattered more than a sexual favor would've. What if... what if I want you? What will the catch be? Because there seems to always be one, with me." You'd never been more clear. 

"Look I wasn't sure what we were going through at first." Angus sighed after sipping his second drink. And then he took a moment to glance about the room, seeming to decide something. "But then I went to that wedding, and I realized exactly what I wanted and how I felt. It's still confusing, you and me. But I want there to be a you and me, okay?" He seemed to mean it. He seemed to really mean what he said. But there was still a look of unnerve painted across his features.

"Angus you forgot my birthday." You reminded, downing the rest of your drink. Cocking his head sorrily, Angus reached for the rest of his rum.

"I know." He said. "And I'm sorry. I was late getting back into town." Angus sighed. "And my mother was in my dorm room when I got back, imagine that surprise-"

"Your mom?" You gasped. In the entire three and a half years you knew Angus, he'd only spoken about the woman twice, and spoken on the phone with her once. She'd never come to visit. As you processed this information you watched Angus' jaw clench, his teeth dig into his lip, his brow darken. 

"Yeah, so my dad... he, uh-" Angus blinked up to the ceiling, unable to hide the tremble in his voice.

"Angus, no."

"I tried to visit him when I was out there, after I met up with Paul. But when I asked to see my dad they said he'd been moved out of the facility for months, moved to some hospital, no one could remember which. And then my flight... And she didn't even tell me he'd been sick. She refused a funeral. And I never even got to say goodbye." Angus spoke like every word tore at his throat. Tears pooled in his eyes, falling when they filled up too much. 

"Why didn't you start with that?" You rang, unable to comprehend how so much loss and hurt could continue to reign over this year. You stepped forward to reach for Angus, grabbing at his arms and moving to smooth back his hair, wiping away the tear drop he missed with his sleeve.

"Because" Angus implored, shockingly ready with an answer. "This has been way too confusing for way too long and I couldn't keep it in any longer." He waved at the space that existed between you and himself, keeping his bloodshot brown eyes lasered to yours all the while. "If I want you, and if you want me, then what's stopping this from happening for us?"

"Because," You began, deciding in this moment to be brutally honest. The most honest you'd been all year. "I'm scared."

Angus shook his head, rejecting your reasoning. 

"You don't think I'm fucking scared too?" He huffed like it was obvious. But it hadn't been to you. "I love you. And that's terrifying. I'm in love with you. Enough to wait for you to say it back, if you want to. But you better only decide against this if you don't want it. You can't let this pass us by just because you're scared."

You struggled to hold back the tears springing into your eyes. You struggle to croak out any response that wasn't a curse. You struggled to wrap your mind around all that had been said. You couldn't help but let a sob escape, too overwhelmed by it all.

And then Angus was crying too, really crying. There was no reason left to hold back, to keep emotions locked down. Everything was out in the open now. Every tattered heartbroken truth had been shared. And there was nothing you could do to make it all better, no way to make sense of it in a flash. But you knew you could wrap your arms around Angus and hold on for dear life. 

When his lips met the crown of your head, you were reminded of every time he'd done so before. You were reminded of every late-night pub crawl and bad first date and mean teacher. You remembered every weekend road trip, every movie night in, every homemade dinner. And then you thought of now. You thought of all the hurt. You thought of all the tension and all the grief and all the looks across rooms shared with Angus. You hadn't a clue how to move ahead with him. You wanted to move ahead, but you just couldn't see how.

You began to push away. You shouldered out from Angus' hold on you and wiped at your eyes with a sleeve. You, gently as possible, moved his hand that clung to your side still. 

"Don't do that. Don't shut me out again." Angus implored; voice still wrought. Eye's still bright with sadness. 

"I know it's not what you want but I don't have any other answer for you right now. I'm sorry about everything too, Angus. I'm so sorry about your dad. But I can't- I don't know. Not yet." You sniffled. 

"This didn't go how I hoped." Angus released a heavy sigh, turning to pace before your kitchen counter. "But I'm gonna do what I said." He pointed at you. "I'm gonna wait and hope you'll give me a chance. I just need to make it clear that I don't want any version of my future to be without you in it. So... whatever you decide... I just love you okay? Do you hear me?" Angus rang. Then you remembered how he asked that same question at the diner. 

"I'm listening. And I hear you. And I'm sorry. Just... give me more time."

Angus left that afternoon with a grin when you asked him to stop back again in a couple days. And you went to bed that night in tears, happy or sad you weren't sure. 

///

A few months had passed since Angus appeared out of nowhere and berated you in the gas station parking lot. He was starting his final year of school. He stopped over most Fridays, and some nights in between. Sometimes Soren came with him, and you'd all stay up past midnight cackling like a band of fools. You'd sent Kiara your new address, and she sent some post cards from Canada. The messages she included were never very long, but she always signed her name with a heart dotting the I. 

On the weekends Angus hung around, he mentioned missing Tom. He mentioned wishing he didn't have to miss Kiara too. Wishing for one more night all together. When Angus hung around, he talked a lot about his studies and the stories from the history books he'd been learning. When he hung around, he'd sometimes end up staying the night. When he left the mornings after, he'd always end up coming back around.

You kept cleaning houses. You kept those old pictures hung up like trophies. You wondered about finding a new dance studio on this side of town. But you weren't sure if you were ready. So, all things considered, you went to that little cafe on your old campus to find a friend for lunch.

"So, I went to Claires house yesterday." Soren began his story with a wry grin, unwrapping his meal from home. The coffee shop was busier than usual, full of students new to campus and ones eager to leave. "I asked her if that cat still hung around. Long story short she said if I could catch him, I could keep him. So I went to the gas station on the corner and bought a bag of jerky. Set up a little trail from the fence to the patio. It was about an hour before the little guy showed up. He didn't even go for the jerky he just came right up to me and let me pick him up!"

Soren went on to explain how easy it was to take the cat home and how soundly the pet had been sleeping in his window sill. You laughed and beamed and felt glad for the outcome on your friend's behalf. You couldn't imagine the basket case he'd have become if the cat fought his capture. 

The cafe began to crowd with more people, somehow, standing between tables that all filled up with patrons. Soren sighed and rushed to finish his food, knowing they'd want his help the busier business got. 

"We really need to meet up sometime when it's not your break." You mentioned. He nodded, sharing part of his dessert like he always did. 

"Do you always bring your lunch? I never see you order here." You realized, suddenly. Besides coffee, there were some reasonably decent snacks the cafe had to offer. But Soren never seemed to indulge.

"I don't even like coffee, man." 

You laughed and wondered why the hell he worked here then. 

"It's the first job that called me back after an interview. It's the job that got me out of debt. I love it here. Everything comes full circle, ya know?" Soren explained, but you asked him to go on still. 

"It's like with Tom. He died, man. But that little grey cat that ate the flowers we planted for Tom lets me feed him fast food every night. You can't convince me that's not my friend. He came back." Soren waved a hand, as if to rope his next point in with the one he'd just made. "I needed money, I got a job and made enough to pay off my debt and enough to pack my own lunches every day. Everything we want is already ours. If it doesn't happen one time it'll happen another. It's all a big circle."

Somehow, a light switched on in your brain. Somehow, everything you'd been worried about didn't feel so heavily weighed on your chest. Somehow, you had an answer for Angus.

"Soren, you brilliant hippie freak." You gawked at your friend in awe as he rushed to take one last bite of the sandwich he'd brought. Soren was hurrying to stand, hurrying to get back to work. And you were suddenly in a rush too, now that everything clicked. With a quick hug goodbye, you darted for the shop doors, excusing yourself through a crowd of grumpy college students eagerly awaiting their caffeine fix.

///

Your home was quiet, the good kind. Stillness welcomed you as your thoughts continued to align in place for what felt like the first time in your entire life. Your brain was free of cluttered worries. Your heart was beating at a steady pace. It was all clicking. And you even still had a couple hours to make a decent dinner for two.

Angus arrived when he said he would, bursting in the door with complaints of teachers who were bad at their jobs and students who were too dumb to care. You laughed and listened and set a place at your table for him. Over dinner, you talked about considering dancing again. Angus encouraged you. He talked about taking a year after graduating to relax. You said he should. You each helped clean up easily and welcomed the quiet together. 

You each floated to the couch afterward like you were used too by now. You let the telly play whatever was on, and relaxed under the weight of your best friends arm that laid over your shoulders.

"Angus..." You decided, grabbing his attention as both of your eyes stayed glued to the actor on the screen. Your friend hummed in response. 

"I miss the way everything was before." You admitted. You missed your friends, the nights you all spent as a group. You missed the life you'd had worked out for yourself back then. You noticed Angus had turned his head to face you, his brows lifted as if to display sympathy. His grief free to reveal itself for a moment. Angus' almond eyes floated from his lap to meet yours as you shot him a pursed shrug. 

"It scares me that this is what life has played out like." You went on, watching Angus watch you speak. His eyes landed on your lips. His voice was a whisper when he asked you to go on. 

"What if we keep changing?" You implored, nodding toward Angus as his gaze danced from your eyes to your mouth. "If we fall in love I want it to stay that way. I can't have you be my next great disaster. I'd rather keep you at a distance than dare to let you break my heart somehow." You revealed. 

Angus rose his hand to brush across your face. He let his fingers find your hair and curl among the strands.

"We've already lost a bit of what we were before, haven't we?" You begged for clarification, validation, mutual understanding. If you were gonna let him in, you needed Angus to remember all the reasons you'd been weary to do so, up till now. You needed to make sure his mind hadn't locked onto worry and changed.

He was pressing a gentle kiss to your lips then. A simple soft gesture that lingered with intention. 

"Why does it have to be lost? Why can't it just be changed for the better?" Your friend wondered, his voice low, his presence before you whole and consistent as ever. You'd heard enough to shut up and kiss him back. And then it was happening, what usually happened when Angus kissed you. Your heart hammered and your brain latched onto thoughts of only him and your hands gripped to pull him close. 

Angus dragged you to bed, something that had happened a few times here, in this new reality. You did all the things there that you had done before. You marveled over how Angus held you and cared for you and stared at you with undeniable adoration.

And after a while, when you'd both done all you could do, you laid there still. In the low lamp light, you stayed tangled up with Angus, running fingers through his hair and listening to his heartbeat. And you talked about what compelled each of you to kiss in the first place. You talked about how you felt the night he shagged you on the guest bedroom floor. He talked about how overwhelmed he was when you boned him in the front seat of his car. You collectively wondered how different things might've turned out if Tom didn't die. If school went better. What life would look like now, if things were different.

"I don't know. I've been worried that I don't have control over anything. Like my whole life has just happened to me. What if that's like... my curse?" You sighed, staring up at the amber glow from your bed side lamp.

"I've been where you are, before. When I met Paul. And one night he told me 'your history doesn't have to define your destiny.' And that rocked my world, man." Angus lamented. "I wish I could explain it all away for you just as easy. But all I can do is wait, and hope something clicks for you. Wait and hope you'll see something good enough in me to let me prove it to you. That's what love is, isn't it? Or could be?"

"Yeah. It already clicked for me." You revealed. It was time. It was easy to admit. It was true. Angus hummed as a plea for clarity, tapping his finger against your temple out of habit, you assumed. 

"It already clicked for me. That can be what love is. We can be in love and scared about it together." You said. 

The room filled with a quiet you were familiar with. Angus laid still beneath you. Until finally he spoke up. 

"You mean that?" 

Soren said that everything you may have wanted in life was already yours. And some how that made sense. No matter that Tom died, he was your friend. Nothing could change that fact. Kiara had been so distant, but she was writing to you. She came back. Soren caught the cat. And Angus laid in your bed. And no matter what had happened before, he was here now, and you didn't want to take that for granted out of fear it might all slip away. 

With a grin and a nod, you shifted to meet Angus' almond eyes. His were hazy under his brooding brow. You were glad you didn't have to miss him anymore. He was all yours. You'd always belonged to him whether you realized it or not. And nothing was going to change that.

///

That holiday season you joined Angus on a trip to the East Coast. He made fun of you for being so cold but shared his jackets all the while. Angus took you to all the places his dad used to like. You helped him hold a memorial his mother denied planning, and neither of you mentioned her at all. 

You sat beside him in a cab, watching a steady snow fall collect along the sidewalks. You were on your way to meet your boyfriend's favorite old teacher. You planned to tell him all about Tom. In fact, you had a lot of plans that featured Angus these days. And he, with you. And of that you were very happily certain.

[unknownperson246]

a/n: Heya I was wondering if I could request an izzy fic? Where she works for the band (assistant/helps the manager) 1st meets izzy when is strung out on heroin and he's rude and mean to her. She requests to be moved to a different area but gets requested to help during the use your illusion tour. She meets izzy again now he's clean, he feels terrible. Finds ways to make it up to her. Eventual relationship fluff/smut towards the end

hiii so so sorry it’s like 3 months late but I hope you enjoy it ❤️

Last Straw

Words: 1,047

warnings: *smut* *angst* *p in v* *mentions and usage of drugs and substances* *mentions of scars* *degradation*

✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮⋆˙✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮⋆˙✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮⋆˙✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮⋆˙

You were 25. You were Guns N’ Roses band assistant and you always helped them out with their hair makeup and clothing. They were a little too much to handle sometimes. You got frustrated easily because they left everything a mess and they didn’t take time to appreciate all the things you do for them. You have talked to pretty much all of them except Izzy. He intimated you. He was tall and had black hair. He had never talked to you and you have never talked to him. One day you mustered up the courage to go talk to him but he was half asleep. 

“Hi Izzy,” you say in a cheery tone. 

“What do you want!? Leave me the fuck alone you bitch. You're nothing but a nuisance and a whore. I bet you only wanted to work with us for our dicks. Fuck off!” He went on an endless plethora as he jerked up from his sleep. He was under the influence of his first love Heroine. 

You saw needles and stained spoons everywhere next to him. You saw red fresh scars near his green veins. You walked away when you realized he was strung out. 

“How the fuck could I be so fucking stupid?” You scolded yourself. 

You were embarrassed and upset that you caused Izzy to yell at you. You wanted to cry but instead, you kept to yourself and helped everyone out since it was your job. You were thankful no one saw or heard him yell at you. 

Your final straw was when Izzy kept pointing at you when he was talking to Axl and Slash. You thought they were making fun of you. You were already so insecure so you resigned from being the assistant to Guns N’ Roses and moved on to a new rock band that was less of a freak show. You worked with them for a couple of years until the manager of Guns N’ Roses contacted you again to help them on the Use Your Illusion tour. You thought about it and accepted it because you knew they had to change by now. They were young and immature a couple of years ago but you figured they had grown out of that phase of being a new rock and roll band on the Sunset Strip. Many had the image that they were the definition of sex drugs and rock and roll and you didn’t believe it until you were first hired to work with them. 

You were finally in their dressing room again working with Axl on his hair. They had moved on from the glam metal scene to something more popular now that it was the early 90s. You worked on Duff's clothing. You felt bad for not seeing Steven. You missed him. Steven always matched your cheery and positive attitude. They were much more respectful and thankful than they were when they first started. You thought maybe their ego had gotten to them. You watched Izzy sitting in the corner with a guilty expression on his face. He felt bad for treating you like gutter shit the last time you had an interaction with him. He was already finding a way to make it up to you. You wanted to avoid Izzy in case he got mad again. Izzy came up to you while you were working on Slash’s belt.

“Hi Y/N, I’m so sorry for what our last interaction was. I feel terrible. Let me make it up to you. Let me take you to dinner one night” he announced loud and clear so everyone in the room could hear. 

This time you felt he was clean off of his drugs and alcohol. He spoke clearly and with confidence. He didn’t mumble or roll his eyes or giggle. You didn’t see anything on his hands. You were convinced he was drug-free. 

“Sure. What time?” You asked while putting Slash’s belt on. 

Slash was clearly drunk with a mixture of high. He almost fell down each time he stood up. You went over to the couch helping Izzy with his stuff now. Over time you and Izzy became friends. You both became closer. You’d talk on the phone to him every night from your hotel bedroom. You’d both whisper sweet things into the phone. He invited you into his room one night in the hotel while the band was on tour. You were with them doing your job. 

You watched Izzy take his pants off. He was straight to the point. You threw your nightgown on his hotel bed. You climbed in his blankets teasing him. You wanted him to come closer to your body. He watched your tits bounce while your pussy was out for him. You watched his cock going down to your entrance. He slowly penetrated inside of you. You were in a missionary position. He kept thrusting in and out of you. He was whispering sweet nothing into your ear like he was on the phone. Small grunts and moans escaped his lips. Gasps and sighs escaped your mouth. 

“Fuck me Izzy like the little bitch you used to call me.” you sighed loudly. 

He allowed you to move your body so you could put some effort into the sex. 

“Bitch fuck me until you leave me dry” Izzy commanded as he bounced up and down. 

You felt your legs shake and you felt your head melt into the mattress. You felt Izzy’s hands grabbing onto your arms as his head went back. Heavy breaths and moans left his mouth again. You felt his come travel down your thighs. He slid out of you and you both rested together in his hotel bed until the morning. You both walked out together. Duff and Axl caught you. 

“Look at that. The pretty assistant and the big dicked rockstar had fun last night.” Axl mused. 

“Yeah, so what if we did?” Izzy spat out in defense of you. 

“At least more women cling to me than they have clung to you if I supposedly have a big dick,” Izzy said to Axl. 

Duff laughed at Izzy and Axl’s back and forth. Axl didn’t say anything and just walked down the hotel ignoring Izzy for the rest of the day. 

[oristian]

PARTY MONSTER / HIGH FOR THIS

SUMMARY — Azriel teaches Gwyn how to smoke on a dirty frat house couch. (17+ RATING)

NOTE — (Re-uploaded after I fully finished) This is my first fan-fiction I have ever written, so I am not fully certain on the etiquette. The idea was supposed to just be a small scene, less than one-thousand words, but I had such an urge to finish it out. Let me know if you all would like to see a part two, or to flesh it out into a full-length fic! You can also find this on Archive of Our Own

WC / TAGS — 3,713. Stoner Azriel, Good Girl Gwyn, Modern AU, College AU, Exhibitionism, Mentions of Drugs

Azriel sprawled widely on the velvet couch, his long legs spread to where their knees were almost brushing. The heat radiating from the closeness of their bodies sent pinpricks and shivers down her spine.

He watched her lazily from his peripheral as he raised the end of the blunt to his lips, inhaled for five counts, and removed the joint from his full, red mouth. His lips pursed momentarily and then he settled back against the couch, parting his mouth and releasing the smoke into the dimly lit room—his eyelids fluttered closed with the exhalation. Gwyn observed him with a bated breath, her hands clenched into tight fists against her lap, and a buzzing numbness at the back of her head.

Azriel dangled his left arm over the back of the couch and reclined further back, the movement sending the end of his semi-cropped shirt riding up the expanse of his abdominals. The muscles flexed under the drawn-out stretch—a single vein disappearing into the waistband of his tight black jeans—and Gwyn drew her focus away quickly, her cheeks dampening with heating.

“You wanna hit?”

Gwyn tensed, her knees knocking together and her copper-brown hair flying over one bared shoulder as she met his unwavering stare. His hazel eyes were tinged pink and his lids low over the irises, his long lashes casting shadows against his deeply tanned cheekbones. He slowly tiled his chin downwards to the hand he had offered towards her, the blunt pinched between his thumb and index finger.

Gwyn swallowed slowly, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “Does it … taste funny?” From her vantage point, the blunt appeared to be a spit-wet piece of thick paper with ashes dusting one end—the smell alone had her nose wrinkling. She raised a single eyebrow in question, but leaned forward nonetheless, driven by the curiosity of the whole situation.

Azriel’s lips quirked upwards into a leisurely smirk. He raised his hand upwards and a bit more closer to her, a chuckle resonating lowly in his throat. Gwyn traced the movement of his Adam’s apple as it bobbed with the noise, her lips parting slightly and a dry feeling in the back of her mouth.

“Only one way to find out, Princess.”

Gwyn quirked an eyebrow at the underlying challenge lacing his tone, the amusement lilting his words. The smoke clung to his breath, brushing over her skin, as he scooted closer to her, their knees fully touching. “Here,” Azriel mumbled as he helped her steady the blunt between her fingers—the areas in which his fingertips brushed sent jolts down her arm. “It’s gonna be a real bitch ‘ya first time.” Gwyn felt a bubbling, “And what says this is just my first time?” in her throat, but she pushed it back down; there was no reason to lie, given the racing speed of her heart and the pooling of heat under her freckled skin.

“Raise it up to your li—good girl,” he said with a sly grin. Gwyn placed the damp end of the blunt against her mouth, looking over at Azriel for both reassurance and next steps. He sat up and reached for the lighter sitting precariously on the edge of the acrylic coffee table. He flicked open the metal tip and placed the open end against the burnt side of the joint. “When I light this,” he said, his hazel eyes boring into her teal, “inhale for as long as you can. Tap my thigh if it gets to be too much—just don’t drop it. It’ll burn like hell.” He rubbed a scarred thumb against one of her pale thighs, the digit sliding just under the stretch of her leather miniskirt. Gwyn was acutely aware of any place his skin met her’s.

Azriel glanced upwards under his lashes and Gwyn nodded tersely, beginning a countdown from ten in her mind as he flicked the lighter and ignited the joint. Gwyn inhaled for a count of two before her throat spasmed and a cough built in her chest. She quickly pushed Azriel away from her and turned her neck, coughing deeply into the crook of her elbow. Her eyes watered and her ears buzzed as she hacked sideways for a few seconds, gasping for breath at the end of it all. Gwyn reclined back against the couch and inhaled deeply, wiping the remaining tears from her eyes. She felt a jerk beside her and glanced over at Azriel laughing into the palm of his hand, his shoulders moving with the effort. Gwyn sent a pointed glare his way and huffed as she crossed her arms around her torso. Azriel held up his hands in surrender.

“That was awful,” Gwyn grumbled, an embarrassing tinge pinkening her cheeks. Azriel rubbed his thumb over the head of the lighter, the blunt securely back between his fingers. After a breath he said, “I could help you. It would be easier than you trying it on your own.”

Gwyn sat upright as Azriel again scooted closer to her, their shoulders knocking together as he adjusted his weight on the sinking cushions. “I’ll take a hit,” he muttered slowly, raising a hand to move the stray strands of hair back from her face, “and all you have to do is sit pretty and open your mouth for me.” The lazy smirk pulled at his mouth once more and Gwyn felt her attention diverting to the swell of his bottom lip as it catches against his teeth. “Open my mouth?” She repeats as a whisper, as she leans ever so slightly into his bubble of space.

Azriel craned his neck to inhale from the blunt, then turned back to Gwyn. His lips were pressed together and his right hand slid under her jaw, turning her neck just the way he needed it—his fingers tangled in her long coppery hair. As he leaned inwards, Gwyn parted her lips, her eyelids fluttering closed, her hand reaching to brace against his broad shoulder.

His upper lip nudged hers, prying her mouth wider as he angled his head down. His scent of fresh cedar and burnt ash was intoxicating, grounding her more than the smoke ever could. The hand resting against the jut of her hipbone gingerly traced upwards, venturing under the hem of her shirt, his palm flattening on the lowermost part of her waist. His deft fingers traced the constellation of freckles that mapped the expanse of her back, a singe of fire following in his wake.

The hand gripping the back of her neck eased, traveling down the length of her arm and lifting her pliant wrist onto his muscular upper thigh. Azriel used his index finger to tap three times atop the back of her hand, as if to indicate for Gwyn to use his leg as leverage if it became too much for her. His hand returned again to the back of her neck, his thumb tracing small circles against the edge of her jawline.

His breath tasted like smoke and mint, his mouth moist from the charged mingling of the air between them. His lips pressed firmly against her own, the grip he had on her neck tensing as he pulled her closer into his body—so close that Gwyn could feel his heartbeat fluttering atop her own.

His mouth flattened against hers, and he languidly moved their lips together. Gwyn swallowed the smoke pooling in the back of her throat, a soft whine breaching up and through their kiss.

“M’gonna use my tongue,” Azriel mumbled against her mouth, his breath fanning over her swollen lips. Gwyn nodded slowly, her head spinning; she was not certain if it was from the high, or from being bracketed within his scorching embrace. True to his word, both of his scarred hands gripped either side of her jaw, angling her head up towards him, and his tongue gingerly entered into her mouth. He explored her slowly, tasting her, before he urged her to respond to his ministration.

Gwyn fisted the front of his shirt, her long nails dragging against the fabric. Azriel teased his hands down the length of his body—stopping every so often to rub his fingers over her exposed, overheated skin—until he gripped the back of her thighs and hoisted her up onto his lap. Gwyn yelped, the movement jolting their lips apart momentarily and she focused blearily on the man beneath her.

“You still with me, Princess?”

Her gaze was heavy and clouded, and a limitless sort of weightlessness settled from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. “Yeah,” she managed to mumble, though her tongue was weighed down in her mouth. The dryness in the bottom of her throat was steadily creeping upwards, and Gwyn instead leaned forward to capture his lips once more. Azriel hummed appreciatively at her forwardness, hands grabbing at her waist and pulling her flush against him. Her miniskirt raked up her thighs, the seams bunched and the fabric stretching as she was spread for him.

Something swelled underneath her and every brush of her against it had a low groan resonating in Azriel’s chest. His hazel eyes had darkened into dark, blown-wide pupils as he watched her atop him, his gaze steady and intense. His hands dropped from her waist to fist handfuls of her backside, grinding her down right where he needed her—moving her body effortlessly while his mouth claimed her from the inside out.

“Azriel,” Gwyn breathed as his lips trailed from her mouth, licking into the seam once more, and down the expanse of her neck, “someone is going to s-see.”

His teeth dragged against her skin, cresting upwards until they closed around her earlobe, tugging it into his mouth. “Let them,” he murmured, the warmth from his breath sending a cascade of goosebumps down her back and arms.

Gwyn settled her fingers atop his shoulders, the pale, freckled skin of her hands a stark contrast to the deep, sun-kissed wash of him. Her hands travelled up his neck, running along the black studs in his ears, and up into his tousled dark curls. Her fingers knotted in his hair and she positioned his head against her pulse point—his lips parted and his canine scratched against the spot where her neck met her ear.

“Please,” Gwyn rasped, arching her back, the swell of her breasts flush with his broad chest.

Azriel ground upwards against the center of her, every brush of connection sending prickles of pleasure jolting up her spine. His hips rolled languidly, his legs spread wide; his shirt had rolled further up his torso, his toned muscles flexing with each punctuated thrust against her.

He chuckled at her quiet gasps and the uneven drag of breath as his teeth continued to trail down her throat and back up to her jaw; he turned her head and kissed her jawline, biting softly into the skin. “You taste so good,” Azriel hummed against her ear, brushing her hair back as his lips connected once more with her neck. “So good, just for me. My good girl.”

Gwyn felt her mind steadily becoming assaulted by him—his hands as they held her, the thick of him as it pressed against her, his every word deepening as his tone grew heavier with his arousal, the soft curls under her fingers, him. His mouth had unleashed a wildfire deep within her gut, and every passing second fanned the heat, burning her with an overwhelming intensity. Gwyn felt as if she could erupt at any moment—her only tether being the grip of his fingers pressing her down atop him, and the zipper of his jeans cool against her inner thigh.

Azriel pulled his sinful mouth back from her neck, adjusting himself as he maneuvered upright. His hand resting on her lower back held Gwyn securely in his lap, his knees knocking her legs wider to fully straddle his waist. Gwyn glanced over her shoulder as he reached for the half-used blunt and lighter from where they perched on the edge of the table. Azriel settled back against the couch, the torn upholstery tickling his flesh, and tugged his lips into a lazy smirk. “Light it for me?”

Taking the blunt between his teeth, Azriel gripped her wrist and urged her fingers to unravel from its fist, placing the lighter atop her palm. His large hand encompassed hers, raising them up towards his face, and steadied the lighter under the burnt tip of the joint. Gwyn flicked the metal top open, then pressed down on the flat piece jutting out from the side. Azriel leaned forward, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. As he settled back, his eyelids rose slowly and a content grin formed on his lips as he exhaled.

Gwyn’s eyes tracked his tongue as it traced along his plump bottom lip, wetting it, then disappearing back into his mouth.

“Can I hit again?”

Azriel quirked a brow. Gwyn took her lower lip in between her teeth, biting down and then rolling it. “You sure, Princess?” The challenge was palpable in his tone, the amusement gleaming in his hazel eyes—testing her. With a slight huff and narrowed brows over her teal eyes, Gwyn reached for his arm and dragged his hand still holding the blunt to her mouth, pressing her lips firmly over the damp end of the joint.

“Don’t hurt yourself, baby. Careful.” Azriel reassuringly rubbed alongside her thigh, his knuckles brushing her skin tenderly. Gwyn counted backwards from five, inhaling deeply as the smoke filled her lungs. She pulled the blunt from her lips and held her mouth firm, relishing in the burnt itch at the back of her throat. “Yeah, just like that,” Azriel mumbled, his fingers dancing under the hitched hem of her skirt, tracing the edge of her panties, “you’re taking it so well.”

Gwyn felt her eyelids grow heavy as she parted her lips, the smoke fanning over Azriel’s face and disappearing into the shadows that danced above them. Her head lolled to the side, the effort to hold it upright suddenly too exerting. Azriel cradled a hand against the side of her face, rubbing his thumb along her cheek.

“You’re gone, baby,” Azriel chuckled lowly, brushing the copper hairs back from covering her face.

Gwyn eased into the hand on her face, reaching upwards to twine her fingers in between his. “No,” she giggled, scrunching her nose, “m’right here.” The silver rings stacked on his middle and ring fingers were a cold contrast to the warmth of his palm and she signed contentedly, nuzzling her face further into his careful hold.

Azriel felt something spark in his chest at the sight of the woman sitting atop his lap, the dopey grin pulling at her full, pink lips, but nudged the feeling further down deep inside of him. He bit down on his bottom lip, tugging it inside of his mouth, as he muttered, “Where are you right now, Princess?”

“In your arms.”

Gwyn carried their joined fingers down to her waist, placing his hand on the jut of skin between the clinch of her miniskirt and the hem of her blouse. Her hands returned to his shoulders, trailing downwards until they were firm against his pectorals; she could feel the poke of his hardened nipples under her palms. Using his chest as leverage, she experimentally rolled her hips lower against him. “On your lap,” she said as she lifted her hips and dropped them down, creating a steady rhythm of movement—his hand on her waist clenched and unclenched, dragging her body down tighter against him, grinding slow and dirty below her.

Brushing her hair back and over the cleft of her ear, she leaned down and pressed her mouth once more against his. Their lips moved as if some insatiable ravenousness possessed them—teeth nipping at skin, tongues caressing, dribbles of spit wetting their chins, and the same smoke and mint taste of him numbing her. Gwyn flicked her tongue upwards, stroking the roof of his mouth, and Azriel groaned soundly, the noise vibrating under her chest.

Her lips trailed from his mouth, down his angular jawline, and across the wide expanse of his neck. His skin tasted like leather and sweat, a tinge of something sweet and citrus just under the surface. Azriel’s pulse raced under the movement of her tongue, and she traced the tendon, relishing in the throbbing of it against her teeth. Gwyn nibbled on his flesh, spit-soaked red bite marks and smeared lipstick coloring his neck. He twitched under her and Gwyn reached a hand back behind her, her nails tracing the ridges of him under the tightness of his jeans, and held him in place as she ground down.

“Making you feel good.”

Gwyn carded her fingers through his hair, tugging gently, and brought her mouth to the shell of his ear, “Do you feel good?”

Azriel swept his nimble fingers from the cleft of her knee, rounding the uppermost portion of her leg, and trailing a careful wake of pinpricks and goosebumps along her inner thigh. “Fuck yes,” he rasped, the hand that had been resting against her waist snaking up into her hair, taking a fistful between his fingers, tugging her head back, exposing the line of her throat. Gwyn gasped wetly, eyes rolling back into her skull. “So good, baby.”

Gwyn felt every nerve rapt with searing wanton interest, the cascade of his hands on her body an unheard symphony ricocheting through her very center. Wrapping his hands around her middle, Azriel repositioned the weight of her body to straddle one of his muscular thighs, her sensitive core brushing against the denim of his jeans.

“Ride my thigh,” he instructed, spreading his legs wider to accommodate her.

Gwyn jutted forward, knocking her head backwards and shuddering at the rough sensation of his jeans and the delicious friction between her legs. She grinds and circles her hips down against him, her miniskirt hiking further up her thighs, a tight heat coiling low in her abdomen. “Yeah, baby,” Azriel groans, sliding his hands further up her inner thigh and slipping his thumb under the scalloped end of her panties, “take what you need, just like that.” Two of his long fingers slid over her closed center, rubbing slow circles against her tight bundle of nerves, and Gwyn’s hips stuttered at the pressure.

“Don’t stop,” she whined, gripping his corded forearm in both hands and holding him in place, canting her hips down and against his fingers, chasing a far-off release.

Gwyn slumps forward, resting her forehead against his and bites down on her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth to quell the whimpers and moans that were building low in her throat. Her pulse thuds behind her ears, a deafening throbbing that pairs with the way in which her blood, her very being, sings for the man beneath her. She chases the need for pleasure, riding his fingers with a senseless sort of reckless abandon.

“Are you close, baby?” His breath fans over the side of her face, tickling the shell of her ear, blanketing her in the same potent smoke scent that circumscribes his very self. “Yes,” Gwyn sighs, her eyes glazed and unfocused, her breath ragged.

She digs her nails into his bicep as his pace hastens, his fingers unrelenting and oh so very talented as Azriel takes her to places she has only ever read about. She felt as if she was cresting a wave, the current drawing her back and forth against the hightide, and the storm threatening beneath the surface would pull her under, succumbing to her downfall. He would be her downfall, if she so allowed him to be. If she dared.

His mouth returned to her throat, lapping at the beads of sweat that trailed down her jaw and pooled in the crevice between her neck and shoulder. Azriel took his time in tasting her, savoring her, as if he was committing each freckle, each press of his lips against her skin to memory. He was deliberate in each place he so chose to leave the indentation of his teeth, marking her, claiming her. Each pass of his mouth unraveled her further, taking her apart piece-by-piece and constructing her anew all at once.

Azriel licks a line up the side of her neck and draws his mouth to her ear, “Come for me, baby.”

The tight coil in her gut untangles, snapping any sense of resolve that may have tethered her, the brewing storm beneath her skin erupting with a ferocity that was foreign to her. Gwyn heaves, whining, her hips grounding against his hand, her vision whitening and every nerve ending a static wave wherever their skin was flush. She was present, but somewhere else entirely at the same moment—her mind ever consumed by him.

Her head drops down to his shoulder, her body trembling and a budding soreness washing over her lower back, waist, and thighs. Azriel grips her chin and turns her face towards him, his hazel eyes boring into her own as he brings his hand to his mouth. His tongue rolls over each pad of his fingers, sucking on the digits—humming as he feasted on her residue, tasting her. “Delicious,” he mutters, as if a man starved. Her breath hitched in her throat.

Gwyn feels the length of him twitch against her knee and a sense of worry closes around her throat. She had been so insistent on her own pleasure that she had forgotten that he would also need the same sense of release. She made a move to ground her knee onto him, only for Azriel to lift her fully off of his lap and back onto the sunken couch cushion. Gwyn felt a pang of hurt resonate in her chest, constricting her, only for him to drape his leather jacket around her shoulders, pulling her back into his bubble of space once more. “S’okay,” he reassured, reaching behind to tug her copper hair out of the puffed collar and back behind her ears, tracing the pink that dusted the highest points of her cheekbones.

“Wanna get outta here, Princess?”

[mvltisstuff]

Evan Buckley & female reader - a fic where instead of the firetruck crushing buck’s leg, it crushes the reader’s leg instead and the reader is in the firetruck when it explodes and Buck & reader have been engaged for 2 years. Buck is worried and scared and panics when he sees the reader underneath the truck. He helps her through the physical therapy of getting back her leg strength and helps her through how she is told she may not be able to be a firefighter again.

lots of angst, heartbreak, sadness, anger, fluff too 💙

love ur 911 fics so much ❤️‍🩹

are you with me - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

a/n: i’m so happy you guys like my fics, i have plenty coming your way soon 🩶 btw this started off pretty strong and idk what happened toward the end w the quality

it’s never realized how much calamity one person can cause in such a large city. people get in their cars to go to work, they order a package, they stop at the store, and the last thing they expect is an explosion right at their feet.

over three million people in los angeles, and one forced 30 tons of weight onto y/n’s leg. it was just work. something she does every single day. of course, nothing in life ever remains the same, but this is really something you can never expect. you watch it in movies, or you hear about it in the news, only until it happens to you.

she knew the bones in her leg were crushed upon the impact, the engine thrown on its side. buck watched from a distance, being held back by the police. he would do anything for her. he wanted to tear this kid to shreds. he saw y/n’s broken leg under the truck and her head weakly lifting up. he could almost hear the pained gasps and whimpers from her lips. y/n, on the other hand, felt like she was in the center of the ring, the joke of this kid.

all the bystanders watched the scene unfold, the boy trying to summon the captain of the 118. it felt unreal. the noise and the truck shaking the ground they walked on.

buck thought he hallucinated the sparkling ring on y/n’s hand, somehow managing to remind him of the fight he was about to do. he vividly remembers the day he got down on his knee, bargaining the rest of his life to her and crying when she said yes. the whole team had been there, watching from a distance as her hand covered her mouth and lifted him from the floor. their wedding was being planned, every last detail needing to be perfect for the couple.

most people’s instinct would be to run away, but buck wanted to run toward the chaos. if y/n was there, so was he. his life mission has been to keep her safe, and knowing someone went out of his way to hurt her makes him go crazy. the exact moment that freddie was taken down with his overcomplicated vest, buck found himself running to her. he instantly fell onto his knees, seeing the ash and tears on her face close up.

she wished she couldn’t feel it, but she felt every part of it. she didn’t know anything. was her leg even connected to her anymore? buck moved himself closer to her so she could hear him over the murmuring of watchers.

“hey! hey, y/n,” he starts.

“it h-hurts so bad,” she whines, making him grimace himself.

“son of a bitch, ok. we’re gonna get you out of there, yeah?”

“please,” she begs, almost inaudible. buck stands up, calling for anyone he can to lift the truck off her, which was almost impossible with a few people around. hen was on the ground, connecting machines to y/n’s harmed figure.

“hang in there, y/n/n,” she says softly. “we’ve got you.”

despite his entire body weight being used to lift the ladder engine, it didn’t budge once. the only thing it did was echo the raw screams from y/n, poisoning bucks ears making his heart speed up. the adrenaline pumping through his system was making him think he could do it.

“do you have anything on the truck we can use for leverage?” eddie asks to a panicked bobby, trying to save one of his workers and best friends.

“it’s too heavy, it wouldn’t work,” bobby says as a light goes off in bucks head.

“more people,” he mumbles. “we need more people! hey! all of you, get over here and lift this!” he shouts at the mob of people observing the accident. not hesitating, the civilians sprint over and grab onto any part of the truck that they can.

y/n was in grievous pain, dreading the agony that would come when they finally lifted it. she was right, it was tormenting, releasing shrieks she didn’t know she had. before she could rethink everything, she was tugged from under and flipped onto her back. buck couldn’t peel his gaze away from the blood that has completely stained her pant leg and the parts of her leg that should be inside of it. complete shock and fear took over his body, but not enough to stand there with her the whole time. he watched chimney and hen bandage up her leg and move her into the ambulance, where buck sat next to her. hen was in the back with him, chim being the designated driver. unfortunately, y/n had been awake for the entire experience. from the second the engine flipped, to the second she was lifted into the ambulance. as much buck was grateful that she was awake, he almost wanted her to pass out. she wouldn’t have to endure this much pain, despite the morphine kicking in.

y/n’s hand twitched in bucks, “buck?” she grumbles out.

“y/n,” he makes note of her panicked state. “i’m here, you’re ok. i’m not going anywhere, honey.”

“someone should tell the city that we need a n-new truck,” buck laughs at her mind and how it works before running a hand through her hair.

“you don’t have to worry about that,” says buck. “you have no idea how relieved i am that you’re ok.”

“we’re getting married soon,” she realizes. “shit, we were supposed to get married soon-“

“shh, it’s all gonna work out, ok?” buck reassures. “i’d marry you no matter what, broken leg or not.”

“promise?”

“i promise.”

the hours sitting in the waiting room were grueling. maddie had left to be with buck, watching the entire scene go down on the news. even her heart ached, watching someone she already considers family have to face something like this. the whole team was anxiously waiting for the surgeon to come out and say she’d be ok. she held them together like a true family, being the most stable relationship they had. she was the part of the station that made their bond unbreakable. watching her vulnerable condition under that truck was almost intolerable. the time that she wasn’t in work felt like a missing puzzle piece.

weeks had passed since the bombings of LA, and buck had been there every single day. in sickness and in health, he hasn’t said the words out loud, but he swore to that since the day he met her. he knows that she would do the same exact thing for him, and he would spend every single day helping her.

y/n felt completely isolated in their small apartment, barely being able to leave the first floor. she craved work, she desperately awaited the day that she could return, but the injury in her leg hadn’t resolved. no matter how many times she tried to convince herself, she didn’t know if she’d ever be a firefighter again. at some point, she almost envied her fiancé for being able to go to work. he felt so bad for her, just wanting to give her her life back. the weekly doctors appointments were draining her of almost everything she had, every single one proving nothing. nothing that meant anything. the situation was completely out of anyone’s control, and she had consumed so much anger about it. anger at the doctors, the therapists, the kid, the 118, everyone around her.

buck was forced to sit back and watch, to act as a shoulder to cry on. he was the third crutch, the person she leaned on when she couldn’t stand on her own. there was no way in hell she could’ve done it alone. buck was the one to drive her to every appointment and helped carry some of the burden.

at the end of the day, there were two things that scared y/n the most. losing buck and losing her job. the two things that got her out of bed and the two things that gave her a true meaning. as time passed and every request to be back at work was denied, she swore her heart hurt more than her leg.

“y/n?” buck called out after arriving back home. she had been on the couch, watching another drama series about firefighters. “hi, how are you doing?” he asked when spotting her in the living room. she didn’t respond, just looked at the television with the volume low. he went and sat next to her.

“what’s wrong? did something happen?”

her eyes had already been bothered from tears of anger and frustration, and he could clearly see that with his own. “they called again.”

“wasn’t the answer you wanted?”

“i have been pushing myself every day for approval, and i have not gotten anything for it,” she says, dryly. “i have been killing myself to go back to what i love and why am i not getting anything?” her voice cracks.

“listen,” he tries to distract her from her own negativity and forces her to look at him. “i know you’ve heard this a million times, but you have to let yourself take the time to heal. if you go back too soon, you’re going to make it worse.”

her nose scrunches at bucks words, causing her to sniffle as he continues. “i know, it sucks, and i am so, so sorry. it’s just that none of us want to see you do more harm than good. we need you back as a firefighter, but i need you back to normal first. you’re worth so much more than this, and this injury is not going to take you out, we all know it.”

y/n opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out besides the small beginning of a word. she knows he’s right, but having to come to terms with that is the hardest part of it all. she begins to cry lightly again, her face in her hands as she leans forward. buck slides over, wrapping his arms around his distressed fiancé.

y/n took bucks advice, and now, she stands in the entrance of the firehouse. she walks in to see her uniform waiting for her in her cabinet, her gear untouched, and it feels like she was here yesterday. she feels at home here. buck follows her in, grabbing her hand and they restart the rest of their lives.

[vante1920pm]

If you are so inclined I’d love to see a fic with aonung where reader is neteyam’s age and his bestie and like very much a big sis figure to the rest of the silly kids but particularly Lo’ak and she’s Omatikaya but comes with them to the metkayina for a reason and ends up liking Aonung but also fights with the boys to protect Kiri 🤷🏼‍♀️ idk

──;; 𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 ★☆

★ 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: I'm kinda disappointed with how it turned out but I hope you can still enjoy it :)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

☆ 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: ao'nung/fem!omatikaya!reader

☆ 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: swearing, ooc, not proof read, short, violence

𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗴: kill bill

"He asked if you're a freak, hah!"

────

"Hmm? Did you hear this, Neteyam?"

The boy just looked at you and shrugged his shoulders.

You were walking with Neteyam along the beach just to talk about stuff, like you always did.

That was when you spotted Kiri and these Metkayina boys talking, or more like forming a circle around her, as if they were trying to catch her.

Neteyam was distracted by something, so you just observed at first.

"Woah, Y/N, this fish looks just like you!"

You ignored Neteyams stupid teasing and didn't took your eyes away from the scene.

It seemed like they were picking on her, Lo'ak interrupting them right after. You heard them arguing so you tapped Neteyam on his shoulder, who, yet again, looked at you, confused. You pointed with your head towards their direction, to show him what you meant.

Neteyam immediately stood up and walked into their way, you following right behind him.

"Leave us alone!"

Neteyam grabbed Aonung by the shoulder and pushed him away. His smile dropped immediately and he just stared Neteyam down.

"You heard what she said. Leave them alone."

If you're being honest, he scared you a little but when he's like that.

"Ohh, big brother come-" Aonung stopped his friend mid-sentence, which made you curious now. Is he gonna challenge him?

Lo'ak stepped beside you, this action made Aonung look in your direction.

Neteyam stepped before you, in a way to shield you? You weren't sure but that's something that he did sometimes.

"Back off. Now!"

Aonung put his hands in a defensive and mocking way up, taking a few, small steps back.

"Let's go."

You all followed Neteyam, with Kiri sticking her tongue out to the boys and Lo'ak giving them one last glare.

Lo'ak came up to you again, putting his hand on your shoulder to guide you in front of him.

"Bye bye, heh!"

To this, Lo'ak turned around and headed right back to Aonung. Neteyam called his name with a warning tone but Lo'ak just assured him that it's fine.

Lo'ak put his hand in front of Aonungs face, who just smirked the whole time.

"But it can do something really cool, watch."

You held back your grin, knowing exactly what would happen next.

Without losing much time, Lo'ak already threw the older boy, with his fist, to the ground.

"It's called a punch, bitch!"

Aonung sat himself up before he threw himself on Lo'ak to make him fall down.

Now they all fought each other. 'sigh'

Neteyam now also joined the fight, punching and kicking the others.

Kiri made a comment about how stupid the fight was but couldn't contain her own laughter.

You chuckled and decided to also join the fight, that would be a great chance to finally beat the shit out of Aonung. He deserved it anyway.

So you grabbed his tail and pulled him back to you. He was perplexed and didn't move for a second, too surprised to fight back.

"Now you too, Y/N?" You heard Kiri say, who was still laughing her ass off.

You smiled at that and sat yourself over Aonung to punch him in his face a few times.

After every slap, you just smiled at him, but he didn't defend himself, which confused you a little bit.

You stopped to look at his face and to ask what his problem was and why he didn't fight against it, but he just stared back at you, with a grin on his face.

"What are you doing, fish lips? Fight back!".

He didn't reply but his gaze lingered on your lips for a few seconds, before he looked back into your eyes.

"Heh, you're not as weak as I thought.."

© 2022 VANTE_1920PM

[softagenda]

hair of the dog (leander)

leander x reader(f)

aphrodisiac au / short fic

series: sweet poison (scenario-based collection of character imagines)

originally posted on ao3

masterlist

Prologue

You’re an idiot for drinking that. An absolute idiot.

You’re spilled across the floor, head swimming, burning from the inside as though you’d swallowed a star. The velvet rug brushed soft and cloying against your prickling skin as you squirmed, your heart pounding in your ears and beating an insistent rhythm in your groin.

Cooing at you from the table, her cat’s eyes curled in satisfaction, Morgana asked, “Something the matter? You look positively feverish.” She twirled a curly black lock around her finger.

Bitch. 

Paintings of naked people - bathing in springs, dancing around a fire, having an orgy in front of a temple - swirled into one colorful blob as you turned on your side, fisting the rug. You attempted to pull yourself to where you remembered the door but stalled a couple inches in, weak as a newborn kitten and stifling a moan as your body rubbed on the carpet.

“Now, now, where’s the fire? Stay a while.” She rose from her chair and stood over you, her arms crossing under her full chest. “You’re clearly hot under the collar. The thought of you wandering the streets like this concerns me deeply.”

You glared up at her, using every ounce of willpower not to writhe on the floor like a worm on a hook. Your hand felt clumsily around your hip for the dagger. 

“I’ll take that,” she chirped, snatching the weapon from your belt and tossing it behind her. “Can’t have you nicking that lovely skin.” Her heel braced on the other side of you, straddling your back. Her hands tugged the shirt from your waist before dragging warm palms up your back, her nails scratching on the return journey.

You bit your lip to stifle a moan rocketing through your chest, as every nerve in your body vibrated with electric pleasure. Your hips pressed hard into the floor, growing ever desperate for friction even as you struggled to focus.

Morgana sunk her hand into your nape, drawing your hair back from your face. When she leaned down to brush her painted lips against your ear, goosebumps erupted down your neck. “We’ll start with the bandages, shall we?”

______ prologue end _________

Glass shattered and noise erupted somewhere below. 

Morgana’s hand paused.

A moment passed as you both listened, the shouting incomprehensible but growing louder by the second, and then several sets of feet thundered up the steps nearby. Two young women pushed through the door, swatting at the curtains, sweat shining through their glittering makeup. “Mistress!”

“What?” 

The first girl to enter took in the scene - you pinned to the floor like a hapless moth caught in a web, the proprietress poised over you swathed in midnight silk, a gleaming black widow - and blanched, her hand covering her mouth. The other woman shoved her to the side, her face set in a mulish frown. “It’s those damn hounds again.”

Morgana took a slow, deliberate breath through her nose before her grip loosened. Your head dropped to the floor, the impact barely registering from within the layer of peach fuzz sensation that had spread across your body. She rose to her feet and stepped over you toward the door.

“I suppose I was a little too gentle last time.” She flicked her wrist to summon purple, dripping flames to her fingers. Each drip sizzled as it hit the floor, eating away at the sumptuous rug. “We will endeavor to make an impression this time.” 

You twisted onto your cheek and angled your chin, struggling to keep her in sight. 

Morgana looked over her shoulder, her full lips curling into a smirk. “Make yourself comfortable, darling. I’ll be back~” she sang before strutting through the curtains and vanishing from sight, the young women following at her heels.

You waited until the footsteps grew distant before wriggling toward your dagger tossed carelessly against the eastern wall. Each brush of the carpet pushed and tugged at your clothing, tortuous friction that sang sweetly. Tingles spread down the back of your arms and legs. Your chest inched along, nipples compressed to the floor and rubbing with every movement, two bright points of pleasure, burning and aching. 

Crossing two feet felt like a mile. You paused, a soft moan slipping out with every other gasping breath. Clumsy, weakened fingers stretched across the floor, flicking the handle of the dagger, spinning it a little further away. Frustration clawed at your throat, grit your teeth.

Then a creak of old hinges broke through the frantic pulse in your ears.

You held your breath and listened. The door opened, inch by inch. Silk curtains shifted beneath a breeze. The faint tread of boots whispered over the carpet.

Morgana? One of her guards? A patron wandering beyond his room, happening upon a lone woman, alone and drugged docile?

With what felt like herculean effort, you lurched for the dagger and grabbed it. You didn’t have the strength to fight your way out - yet - but you could stab them as they drew close, once their guard had lowered.

A shadow fell over you.

Thinking fast, you lunged toward their ankles, aiming to sever the heel and force them to the ground, to stab the throat before they could call for help - 

The blade met the sturdy leather of dragonhide boots.

“Careful with that,” a familiar voice chuckled overhead. “Not that I’m opposed to you taking me down to the floor and having your way with me, but cut tendons would throw a wrench into this rescue mission.”

Leander crouched over you, one knee braced on the floor. His hand wrapped around your wrist, holding the dagger in place but loose enough to suggest he might entertain the attempt if you pushed. His sly grin cut across his face, a knife of white beneath a thick black hood. Emerald eyes glowed from within the shadow.

“Fuck,” you sighed, drooping onto the floor, almost limp with relief. “It’s you.”

“Your hero’s arrived,” he said, a decidedly smug twist to his smile. “Shall we escape into the night, or is there more digging that needs done?”

A small huff forced itself out your throat. “Already waist deep in it,” you grumbled, nose pressed to the floor. “Anymore, and I’ll dig myself to an early grave.”

“Hmm?” A gloved hand stroked the hair back from your face, the leather smooth and smelling faintly of smoke. A shiver radiated from the place where his fingers touched bare skin, then burned as though your very blood crowded to the surface to meet him. 

You glared back as best you could, face aflame, hoping to hide the arousal still roiling through your body like a tempest through sheer fury alone.

Magic sparked in Leander’s eyes. The smell of ozone and dirt slipped through the fog of incense as he took a deep inhale, his gaze shooting toward the table, where the empty cup still sat on its side. He crossed the room and swiped a finger through the spilled liquid. “Oh,” he murmured, his face strangely blank as his eyes returned to your face, lingering on the flush spreading across your cheeks and neck.

You bit the inside of your cheek, humiliation sitting like a knot at the back of your throat. “Not a word.”

Leander’s jaw clenched, the vibrant irises of his eyes flaring, before one of his patented, inscrutable smiles slid over his face. “Of course, my lady.” He rubbed the liquid between his fingers, craning his neck to take a whiff of the vapor. 

“Will we need to stop by the clinic?” You swallowed, dreading the thought of showing up on Kuras’ doorstep, sweating and weak with artificial lust.

Leander’s gaze cut toward you at the words, briefly sweeping across your sprawled form, before veering away. “No. I have everything you’ll need.” He wiped his hand on the edge of a silk shawl before returning to your side. “Anything I should grab for later?”

You licked your dry lips. “Jewelry box. False bottom.”

“On it.”

As Leander cracked the lock with a snap of magic, you tried to push yourself into a sitting position. After straining hard against jelly-like muscles, suppressing the trapped moan in your throat, you managed to lay on your back. Mortifying still, but at least a fraction more dignified than curled in the fetal position.

“That fight downstairs?”

“Hounds are creating a distraction,” he said, amused. 

A thread of unease cut through the arousal. “Morgana seemed pissed.”

“Figured she’d be, but I sent only veterans in. They’ll cause significant trouble with the least amount of damage.”

“So that loud shattering earlier wasn’t the front window full of priceless stained glass falling to pieces on the street?”

“‘Least’ doesn’t mean ‘no.’ They messed with  one of our own. We’ll return the favor.”

You grit your teeth. Heat pushed behind every inch of your skin. You prayed that was sweat dampening your thighs because the alternative was too much to think about without spontaneously combusting on the spot. “I came here willingly.”

The shuffling of papers paused. 

Then Leander spun around, tucking the clutch of documents into an inner pocket of the coat, before stopping at your side to loom over you. “And this? You just strolled in, bought the room farthest from the crowd - from any chance of help - and dosed yourself with Fever Dream?”

Well. You certainly hadn’t thought it was a premium aphrodisiac in the tea - you’d assumed it would be a mild poison or sleeping potion you’d fight off. “You didn’t have to come.” You turned your head to the side, avoiding his gaze. “I didn’t want to involve you all in my - in my problems.”

With a short chuff, Leander kneeled down and braced his arm on the other side of your waist. He waited until you reluctantly looked at him, leaning over you with a soft smile,  before saying, “I promised I’d help you. Like it or not, you’re stuck with me.” His eyes gleamed from within the shadow of his hood. “Best get used to that.”

Sweat trickled down your neck. The heat radiating out of your body could melt iron. His proximity made it worse, his cloak sliding from his shoulders, draping to the floor, trapping the heat between you. You’re struck by the wild urge to sink your hands into the soft brown hair at the nape of his neck, draw him in, to pull that wicked mouth down and - 

“I see yet another flea-bitten mongrel has wandered into my house,” a voice purred from the door. “Leander. How good of you to drop by,” Morgana said, with all the enthusiasm of a woman who just discovered her puppy had peed on the expensive rug.

“Morgana.” He returned, his voice cold, offering a hair-raising smile. “I asked after you with the magistrate the other day. Turns out there are Soulless I’m not allowed to hunt.”

What. Your eyes widened. What’s happening?

“Cute.” She brushed her lustrous hair behind her ear, the ruby teardrop swaying against her jaw. “Remove yourself from my customer. She paid to have the pleasure of my hands on her, not the grubby paws of the gutter ‘hero.’”

“Did she? And are you always forced to poison your customers to keep their coin?”

“Poison, my,” she simpered, “Someone’s hackles are raised.” Her painted lips twisted with amusement. “Recreational potions are one of our most popular services. Many of our patrons feel it enhances the experience.”

“I confess, I had not understood the appeal before now.” Leander’s head tilted slightly. “But I too would want to be drugged out of my senses before you touched me.”

Oh shit. Clearly, there was history here. Your grip on the dagger tightened.

“So defensive. I always assumed you got off on pointless acts of righteousness, but this is a little much.” She sneered, then her eyes turned calculating as they flickered between you. The sultry verve in her posture vanished, her back straightening from its attractive slouch. “I see. She’s one of yours? I should have known - You love chasing tail and picking up strays.” 

Better a stray than a stone cold bitch, you thought sourly. 

“More dog metaphors. How original. Whoever said a whore’s mouth had only one use clearly never met you.”

Damn, Leander. A sudden, wholly inappropriate rush of heat flooded your body. Stunned, jaw slightly ajar, you could only stare at the mocking smile on his face as more footsteps pounded up the landing. 

Three people broke through the curtains - large, muscled guards dressed in leather armor, swords swinging from their belts. Morgana lifted a delicate finger toward them. “Put them down.”

You jerked, trying to force your body into motion as they strode forward, grim-faced and belligerent. Panic rising, you looked back at Leander.

His hand rose, unhurried, as though waving to a friend. With an arrogant grin, he snapped his fingers.

Every light in the room went out.

The moment darkness descended, two arms wrapped around you, tugging you easily against a sturdy chest and securing your legs around his waist. Shouting erupted across the room while Leander hauled you off the floor and turned on his heel toward the back wall. 

The world spun. You struggled to lock your arms around his neck as you’re jostled, acutely aware of the press of your bodies together, the heady combination of magic and smoke filling your lungs. 

His arm left your waist for a moment. Blinding light flashed across the room, illuminating the furious faces of Morgana and her guards - then the sound of more glass shattering erupted at your back. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, hot mouth at your ear. 

Leander jumped from the window.

Wind billowed through your hair and clothes, briefly stealing the inferno burning within your skin. You clutched him as close as your flimsy strength would allow, shoving your face against his shoulder as you braced for impact. 

A heart beat passed, light as air. Then another. Then another, without your combined bulk splattered across the ground like a pancake.

You slowly lifted your face.

Luminous green magic swirled through the air, wrapping loving hands around Leander as he walked through the sky. Morgana’s Locket grew further and further away with every graceful leap, the guards spilling out of the front door like ants upon the street.

You sagged against him, more than a little relieved even as a sinking feeling settled in your stomach. “Quite an exit. Won’t they come knocking at the Wick next? You’re not exactly subtle.”

“Barkeep knows how to clean house.” His arms held you closer, one hand pressed to your shoulder, the other tucked snugly at your waist. A shudder ran down your spine. “Morgana won’t cause a public scene. At most, I’ll receive an exorbitant bill for the windows we broke, and the stalemate will continue.”

You winced before sighing. Yet another debt you owe him. “...I’ll pay you back.”

Leander laughed, his breath hot against your ear. “Let’s not talk of debt between us.” His voice dipped low and quiet, as though sharing a secret. “How are you feeling?”

“....”

He hummed softly, the sound vibrating from his chest to yours. Your nipples hardened. 

“Sounds like a stiff drink’s in order.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “On me.”

__________________________________

a/n: thanks for reading!

[heavenlyraindrops]

ᴊᴏᴊᴏ ꜱɪᴡᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Word count: 400+ ——> warnings: Jojo Siwa ——> THIS IS SATIRE! I posted a poll a while ago as a joke so now I’ve ended up with this monstrosity of a fic.

karmas a bitch 🤪🤪🤪

You were on set for Karma as the Tampon Girl™, the one who sexily humped Jojo during the scene on the island where she molested everyone in chronological order. You loved being a sparkly red bike light, especially since it caught Jojo’s attention. 

You were out at dinner with your other actors/ colleagues who had worked on the video, and you were all sat around the long table. Everyone had already finished their food. Jojo was sitting next to you. There was lots of edgy sparkly tension in the air. Jojo must have sensed it because she ran her hand through her hair, although only the tips of her fingers actually touched it because her hairline was so far back. Her big smooth shiny forehead reflected the light towards you like a mating call. It made your heart thrum against your ribcage. 

She suddenly stood up, and all the other actors (and the camera man, I forgot to mention the camera man) swiveled their heads to look at her. She pointed an edgy finger towards you, giving you an edgy smirk. Her edgy ice-cream cone haircut flopped over her edgy forehead beautifully, obscuring her edgy receding hairline. 

“Come with me,” she said. You were suddenly very horny, and your mind flew back to when she tossed you into her lap like a pancake in the music video and you both gyrated in the respective spaces in the air next to each other. 

You had to admit, her Akumatized By Hawkmoth Era™ was very sexy. In its own unique way. 

Jojo humped the air on her way out to the salon, finger still beckoning to you. You followed, burning with the desire for her to show you what a Bad Girl she was and all the Bad Things that she could do. 

You both stood outside, and you shivered lightly as the cold from the night air bit into your skin. Jojo gave you the lightskin stare, gaze crawling over your face as if she was trying to memorize every feature, the same way she gazed into your soul when you were humping each other while you were dressed up as the Tampon Girl™ It made your heart flutter tamponfully. 

She leaned close to you, her breath hot on your ear. You shivered again, not from the cold this time but from the anticipation of what she was about to say.

“Karma’s a bitch,” she whispered. “I should have known better…”

“Oh, Jojosopholemew,” you moaned her full name and then you both kissed. She licked your face and that was probably gonna give you herpes but whatever. 

You both started humping each other outside the restaurant on the street like stray cats. The end.