#and then go back through and write the alternate scenes

[soliddarrity]

Actually I changed my mind I'm gonna contribute my collection of Legendary Stucky Fics manually 😅 Beeecause I JUST LOVE THESE FICS SO MUCH.

*note*: I will do my best to look through the other rec's & try not to do any repeats of ones already mentioned.

*Also! Not all of them will direct link because you need an account to view some fics :)

Revenant by stele3

Post-movie AU in which Bucky didn’t just leave Steve on a river bank...he took him.

Every Me and Every You by deadto27

Bucky Barnes is doing his best. He's getting by after the blip, after Sam became Captain America, after Steve...well, it's best he doesn't think about that. The point is, his life is different now, and he's trying his best. He just wishes the hollow feeling in his chest would go away.

-shrinkyclinks AU where alternate dimension Steve meets canon Bucky

Thawed Out by auburnnothenna (auburn), eretria

He's not the Asset. He's not the Winter Soldier. But neither is he Bucky Barnes. With the help of Steve, Sam and the Avengers, James takes the long, slow road to recovery. Nothing is as easy as either of them thought it would be.

If you like recovery fics, hurt/comfort and tower fics this one's definitely for you.

Rhapsody In Pink by the1918

After being chemically castrated for the entirety of his time as Hydra’s Winter Soldier, Bucky is attempting to recover his life—with the help of his oldest and best friend—when seventy years of a denied libido suddenly comes raging back in a series of graphic hallucinations. Steve is there to help.

(Or: Bucky Barnes’s dick wakes up after a seven-decade nap. It is very interested in Steve Rogers.)

As Soft As Steel by blackthorn_possum

A very robotic Bucky recovery fic series replete with gorgeous writing, tons of beautiful hurt/comfort scenes and slow, gentle, thorough recovery (after the very painful beginning, of course) 💖💖💖 this fic has, like, SO MUCH of my heart 😭

Shipwreck by TaraxacumWine

Steve is nearly ready to give up on his search for Bucky when he nearly gets assassinated and Bucky stops the attacker - but Bucky has been on the run and is in need of urgent care himself.

(I really do not know how to appropriately summarize this fic except that the plot & characterization in this fic is EXCELLENT & it's one of those touchstone character study fics to me)

tired of this human duet by ftmsteverogers

In which the Winter Soldier is sent by HYDRA to seduce and distract Captain America instead of killing him outright.

Not a Perfect Soldier by TooManyBattles(Skarabrae_stone)

Ross/the US Army gets ahold of Steve before he even wakes up from the ice, where Soldat is already there waiting to assist in training him. After brutal reconditioning, Steve is loaned out to work with the Avengers, who are less a team than a begrudging collection of high-powered individuals; they don't like Steve much without his personality, either, and they think he's just got a huge stick up his ass about following the rules until they discover what's going on.

Paperclips by boopboop

This fic is brand new and technically already listed because it's part of the Man On the Bridge series, but since it also acts virtually as a standalone and is gut wrenchingly good I want to include it. Premise is this: what if Bucky gets found by the Howlies, Peggy & Howard only a couple years after he falls?

This Heart, Pulled Apart by Orphan

Basically a love-letter to 2014-era Stucky fandom, based on the premise: "What if Steve had found The Book prior to the events of Civil War."

To Live It All Again Is Past All Endeavor by trinityofone

Time travel bodyswap! Present-day Steve and Bucky wake up back in their old bodies in 1938, while past Steve and Bucky wake in a future where they're both built like comic book heroes and Bucky's got what he thinks is a swell future robot arm.

Honeypot by cleo4u2, xantissa

The Winter Soldier saves a skinny blonde kid from a Hellish existence and in the process inadvertently saves himself; years later, Steve goes undercover with Natasha guiding him via ear comm so they can get information on Sasha, the elusive assassin connected to their current mission with an uncanny resemblance to Bucky. The honeypot job goes sideways in more ways than one. Virginity is lost; Nats assistance is hot. Stabby McStab. Sai the Wonderkid. Trigger phrases. Steve and Sasha are messed up in wildly different ways; they fuck about it.

The Blind Leading by SkyisGray

Steve is deep in the closet with a supersoldier libido and no one who can keep up with him until the team hires an independent contractor called The Winter Soldier to cover for Clint while he heals from an injury; Steve and the Soldier begin a clandestine sexual relationship even while their professional one often finds them at odds. The Soldier always wears a mask and reminds Steve of someone.

The Storm and the Dust by the1918

Scorchingly hot & wholesome Daddy fic feat. soft, sweet smart younger homeless Bucky & patron saint of farmers with big dicks & noble hearts Steve Rogers giving each other blue balls while they heal the planet. Or at least their little corner of it.

between scylla & charybdis by refusals

Sam stumbles across compromising photos of Bucky from his time with HYDRA and chooses to keep them from Steve; when he finally joins up with them, Bucky is adamant that Sam help him keep his secret, and he's willing to do anything to make it happen. Sam stubbornly tries to help Bucky see sense while dancing carefully between the former assassins multitude of defenses and vulnerable sides.

Six Blade Knife by TooManyBattles(Skarabrae_stone)

Kapitan and Soldat wake to strange new handlers who confuse them with their lack of punishments and easy rewards. They remember their shared sign language long before they remember their names.

Exploring Europe (And Each Other) by Tubman_31

What I have come to think of as "essentially a character study of Steve and Bucky via sex"; Bucky starts as the most callous, demanding and selfish incarnation of the Asset, numb to physical and emotional pain as he slowly realizes that what Steve would willingly give him has no limit, and that he is more attached than he would like. Feat. Sub Steve who's pushy and demanding in turn, forcing Bucky to confront himself and the limits of how much he can tolerate caring for others once again. Incredibly hot, compelling, and well written, with very strong characterization that evolves throughout the story 🙌💖💫

an unfamiliar coast by brideofquiet

He doesn’t have a concept of how long ten years is anywhere. Not even before he’d been yanked out of a natural, linear progression. He’d been six years old once; he’d been sixteen and then he’d been twenty-six. But the breadth of time between those moments—what the hell is ten years?

A long, long time. That’s all he knows.

(Bucky goes to war. Ten years later, he comes home.)

Perilous Underside of the World by eyres

After Steve becomes an unwilling subject in Ross's pet weapons project to make a next gen super soldier, Bucky is awakened from cryo to join a daring rescue operation to save Steve from an impenetrable government base on the Antarctica coastline. When things go belly up, Steve and Bucky must strike out on their own across the hostile landscape, with Ross's men close behind.

AKA 'The one where Steve throws a snowmobile at a helicopter.'

Dragging Me Down by cleo4u2, cobaltmoony, xantissa

After D.C., Hydra captured the Winter Soldier and brought him in for recalibration. Though Steve and Natasha performed a daring rescue, they were too late.

Now Steve has to pretend to be the new Hydra handler for his brainwashed friend while they try to stay under the radar long enough to heal. There are other forces at work, that will not let them rest.

There Is No Shortage of Blood by alby_mangroves, Dira Sudis (dsudis)

A suicidal Bucky is encouraged by Steve to turn himself over to the custody of the US army to start his formal journey back through recovery to personhood and legitimacy as a reinstated American war hero. Through the gruelling process Bucky finds friends and allies in surprising places, and when he is finally released home everyone is relieved to have made it through the worst of it. But then Bucky starts wanting to reclaim his sexuality from the darkness where Hydra left it. (Pretty heavy/dark fic)

Once You've Fallen From Classical Virtue by lanyon

In which Steve and Bucky wake up having forgotten who they are but it does nothing whatsoever to hinder the plot 😏🤸

Hot As Blood, Cold As Steel by marlowe_tops

“So, what now?”

“Now I keep you,” the asset responds, the words escaping him involuntarily.

There’s a line between the subject’s brows as he looks over. “What’s that mean to you, Buck?”

“It means you belong to me.”

(Bucky steals Steve. Steve is happy to be stolen. Bucky doesn't understand. This fic gets a little darker than that description touches on at one point so take care)

Scents and Sensibility: The Working Assassin's Guide to Supersoldier Seduction by galwednesday, silentwalrus, skellerbvvt

Captain America wakes up from the ice in 2013. The Winter Soldier wakes up in 2009, or rather defects from HYDRA, for a value of defect that’s closer to decimate. He ends up working for SHIELD. In April 2014, he’s assigned to Captain America’s mission as a sniper.

Steve’s just trying to get some kind of life together. Bucky is too, or at least he was until tall, blond and Captain shows up and starts just - being there, all the time. It’s terrible. It’s the worst. He has to do something about it.

Ghosts by Shaish

What if Steve and Bucky both fell in 1944?

To Memory Now I Can't Recall by Etharei

While on a mission storming a HYDRA facility, James Buchanan Barnes touches one of the many strange alien devices collected by the Red Skull. He does this, in fact, twice— in the past, and in the future.

Next thing he knows, Bucky Barnes is opening his eyes in the 21st century, which is full of great gadgets and coffee, and at least includes his old pal Steve. (And, inexplicably, a different Stark.) Meanwhile, the Winter Soldier finds himself in the middle of World War Two, helping Captain America hunt down HYDRA (which is at least familiar), pretending to be Bucky Barnes (which is not), and figuring out the very noisy group of soldiers who call themselves the Howling Commandos.

Falling Back on Forever by ftmsteverogers

Bucky falls from the train in 1945. Steve jumps right after him.

The Winter Soldier and the Midnight Patriot are the world's most feared duo, serving HYDRA and leaving a trail of bodies a mile wide behind them. But then they remember.

Dragging You Down by ArianaArt, Kamiki

In a divergence from the canon storyline, Hydra experiments with occult legends of a more demonic bent. When Bucky is captured at Azzano, something more insidious than a knock-off super soldier serum is done to him, but the full effects take some time to completely set in. Bucky struggles with building impulses and an increased libido while trying to keep his interest in Steve from boiling over and ruining Steve’s chance at the life he deserves.

training motions by Nonymous (This one's a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat in case you want to avoid that altogether)

If Alexander Pierce, notorious weapons dealer, can be tricked into selling to SHIELD, his entire business will be exposed and the planet will be just a little safer. Steve's not the best at undercover work, but there was nobody else for the job and he would do anything to close the deal.

Of course, things get complicated when the deal turns into a competition. Things get more complicated when the competition starts hinging on who can hurt Pierce's submissive the most. Steve's not certain James is here on his own free will, and Steve's not certain he can compromise his morals, even to save millions of lives.

Ready To Comply by exclamation

The asset's orders at the end of The Winter Soldier weren't to kill Captain America, but to capture him, so that he could be wiped and turned into another asset. The asset has succeeded in that mission, capturing its target and taking him back to the Hydra base. But the Hydra soldiers are dead, captured, or fled, so there is no one there to give the asset new orders.

Alone with its captive, the asset has no instructions on how it is meant to act. But the more time it spends with its target, the more old protocols start to assert themselves, like the protocol that when that face is hurt and bleeding, the asset is supposed to clean away the blood.

"Pozhaluysta." by vonwhumper

The shivering figure in the cell corner had stopped screaming now that Natasha had stopped speaking to him, and instead was just shuffling himself helplessly into his corner. Shudders raced randomly over his body like electric shocks, making his half-twisted spine twitch under his skin.

(Extremely well written angsty hurt/comfort recovery fic where Natasha & Tony find a nearly-decommissioned Bucky before Steve does, and decide Steve Can't See This Yet)

When Law is Lawless by Kellyscams (WIP):

After a drunken brawl leaves a man dead, Steve Rogers is arrested and, on the advice of his lawyer, pleads guilty to manslaughter in hopes of a lesser sentence. Unfortunately, because of Steve's background and experience, he's given a sentence of five to ten years in a maximum-security prison.

Trapped in an endless sea of guilt and fear, Steve does whatever he can to survive this nightmare and not lose himself to the horrors and violence of prison life, especially the vicious abuse at the hands of cruel and sadistic prison guards.

The last thing Steve expects is to find a true connection with anyone, let alone fall in love. But there's something intriguing about his surly, miserable, mad-at-the-world bunkmate, Barnes, and whatever it is, it might be the key to both of them getting through this terrifying ordeal together.

Fish in the Sky by alby_mangroves, chaosmanor

The Stark family farm has four cows with calves, some chickens and some pigs, a vegetable garden, a crumbling farmhouse, and a cybernetically enhanced Russian caretaker named James. And now Steve, who is on medical leave.

It's a good summer.

The White Wolf of Wakanda by aeli_kindara

The first time Steve visits Wakanda, Bucky plans it obsessively.

He picks neutral clothes, the ones Steve will expect, trims his beard and lets Shuri tie back his hair. He studies himself in the mirror for twenty minutes in her bathroom and pulls it back out again, then keeps staring until she yells something exasperated through the door about white boys and their vanity, and he puts himself together and goes down to the plaza and completely freezes when Steve gets out of the plane.

Slow and Splendored by alby_mangroves, eyres

In the chaotic years after Steve Rogers arrives back in 2023 as an old man, he helps rebuild the world, falls in love with his best friend, adopts a stray cat, and saves the entire timeline. Not necessarily in that order.

hello folks in my phone, i am here to make a humble request for The stucky fics if that makes sense. the legendary ones. and others ofc. i haven’t been in the marvel fandom since 2018 when i was a very closeted queer mormon kid who became quietly obsessed with stucky and cried leaving endgame bc she genuinely believed they were going to make them canon. baby’s first queerbait. heal my inner child and send me your faves, explicit or otherwise 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

[chaotictempleknight]

Some more of my writing advice

Hello, I'm Chaotic. I'm an author who is here to give you some more writing advice. I have written 7 self-published, science fantasy adventure novels (ULTRAMagic Alternate). I like to think I have achieved a fairly good grasp on what makes a good book and how to improve your writing.

Don't Show when telling is better, don't tell when showing is better.

You know how everyone tells you "show, don't tell" or the inverse of that? Well I have a better piece of advice. Sometimes it is better to show the problem than to talk about it. Some issues would legitimately make the story way too long and would be better just to show it in action. On the other hand, sometimes it is better to talk about the issue as showing it may require context at first. It all depends on what the scene calls for. Is it a complicated subject that needs to be seen to be believed? Or is it something that can be explained in a few sentences?

Of course, you could potentially do both. Perhaps the character is going to see someone about a problem they have and they are a hypochondriac. Have character A tell character B about their issues, with character A demonstrating their hypochondria. Don't explain the hypochondria, show it. Don't show character A's personal issues, talk about them. And if you are worried about a character not showing their personality/character, a character can speak through their words and actions. Everything a character does represents who they are, be it how they speak or how they dress.

Don't write everyday life; get creative

I am going to be upfront about this: Some plots are boring. Personally I don't want to read a book that is "milquetoast main character has a bad day and goes through every day real life issues normally." I don't want to read that, that's boring. What do I want to read? I want to read about knights fighting dragons, alien civilizations fighting drawn out wars that open up into greater conspiracies, eldritch entities ripping people's mind asunder, universes colliding and ripping a hole in reality, ancient deities coming back to destroy humanity, machines taking over the planet and turning it into an impossible factory of unfathomable proportions! It's fiction, go wild.

And if you still want to do the normal plot? Well make it interesting. Is the MC a vampire? Is there some kind of conspiracy involving window cleaner and zombies? Did your character discover alien life? Is the main character's community secretly forming a cult worshiping an obscure doomsday prophecy? Did a character murder someone and is trying to hide it in the most bizarre way possible? Or maybe the main character is running a marathon and witnesses a crime taking place, so they have to go on the run to stay alive. Again, it's FICTION, get creative. Do not write every day life as we experience everyday life every day. Every day life is boring.

And if you're going to say something like slice of life anime/manga is justification for "normal plots happening normally," no they are not. Boring anime of this caliber will be called out for being boring, and these stories have the benefit of visuals. The artists/mangaka put time and effort into making their characters and settings look interesting and expressive. They also take liberties in making exciting things happen. Writing does not have this luxury, so you need to make the story interesting to maintain the reader's attention. The average joe or jane does not want to come home and read about the day they just had.

Characters can be self-aware!

If anyone ever tells you that a character should never be aware of their issues because we are biased, do NOT listen to them. That is horrible writing advice and I kid you not-I heard that in a video one time. I really should have commented on how bad that advice was. Yes, we are biased, but we can also be aware of our issues. It's called self-awareness. Getting someone else's opinion and/or evaluation can help, but they could be biased too.

A character can have a moment where they realize they were being "the bad guy" and try to fix that issue. Will they succeed? Will their fix be perfect? It's hard to say and depends on the character. The hallmark of a growing character is that they recognize their faults and try to fix them. You do not need a legally registered mental health expert to recognize when you have messed up. Now if there is a deeper issue like a psychological problem or a learning disability, then yes, that individual needs some form of help.

A character is not a "sociopath" if they recognize their issues and resolve to fix them. That is backwards thinking and potentially leads to worse issues. Yes, physical and mental health experts are there for a reason and have dedicated their lives to their work (the ones with integrity...). They are here to help, but they also need you to recognize when there might be a problem. They are not miracle workers, they are experts in their field of study. Of course there will always be people that need intervention, but the point is that people can be aware of their issues, regardless of bias.

Editing and updating self-published work?

Are you a socially awkward, autistic man in his late twenties going on 30 constantly obsessing over making his work the best it can be because you're afraid of looking like a fool in front of everyone, but are too shy and awkward to acquire a proper editor? No, that's just me? Well I have some thoughts on updating your work after it's self-published.

There is multiple ways to view this, the idea of realizing your work could be better and going to back to fix it up:

If the work is free to read in its entirety and no money is being exchanged to experience the story, I don't see a problem in fixing it up. Ideally you should have an editor, but that costs money and editors who work for free are not obligated to help you.

A webcomic can easily be redrawn in the future, but it doesn't hurt to fix an error or mistake in the art. And if it is free to view, it is not a problem. No money is being lost to experience the comic.

This should never be done for work that requires money to experience. If you're work costs money to view/read, it needs to be ready to go before its made available. If it is that bad, either take it down or rerelease it with expansions and revisions. Note that this does not include authors who are relying on services like Patreon. You are paying to support the author, not read the book... unless they paywall the book behind a paid tier, then what I just said goes back into effect.

It's actually a fairly nuanced subject that should be handled on a case by case basis. Don't get angry at someone who goes back and fixes up a free book. You are not losing any money by reading it and presumably the author is doing it out of pride for their work. Of course, those who are doing it in bad faith should be called out. This goes doubly so if you have to pay to read the book. Naturally there will be those who read this section and start screaming their heads off, ignoring the nuance I just presented, but whatever.

The groundwork for a functional plot

I'll keep this simple. Having trouble figuring out the plot? Here's 3 questions that will help you:

What is the conflict of the story?

Why is the conflict a problem?

How is the conflict solved?

If you cannot answer these three questions, you do not have a story and are not trying hard enough. If you cannot answer these questions under any circumstances, you were never meant to be a writer in the first place. These three questions are the fundamental structure of a plot. They are what move things forward. You NEED to be able to answer these questions. If you refuse to address these questions, then your plot is fundamentally flawed and needs to be taken back to the drawing board.

Obviously this is just the first step in writing a plot. There is a lot more to a plot than just those questions, but they are what I view as the starting point.

Focus on finishing a story rather than starting more WIPs

Stop starting projects left and right. Finish one and then move onto a new project. You are not growing as a writer by starting one project, getting 1/4th of the way through, calling it quits, and starting a new project under the excuse that you are "sO ReLAtABle." This is being lazy and prideful. You cannot gain proper experience if you do not finish something. In finishing my novels in a timely manner, I realize how I can further grow my writing and where I could have done better. Having the story of my novel series evolve as time goes on forces me to think outside the box every time I begin the next book.

Where's my indies at?! Actually support those independent artists/writers

This is more for the audience side of things. Do you want more independent content? Then you need to go and seek out these independent artists/writers. You NEED to support them. You NEED to share their work around. They will not grow if you do not properly engage with them. Do not just leave a like, as those are just over glorified bookmarks.

Also critique and criticize their work. This is how these creatives grow and improve their work. It is very cool to do this, and anyone who says otherwise is afraid of being criticized due to their work being inadequate and they know it.

Stop expecting the creator to also be the audience and the critic. We need time to actually work on our art. You cannot expect the creator to be all three as I would not expect that of you. We are not superhuman, we have lives too.

Stop trying to democratize art. Anyone can do art and no one should be "voting" to decide who succeeds and who doesn't. This does nothing but hurt small creators who do not have the support of properly grown communities/fandoms. Let someone's work speak for itself and don't let a group of people decide whether or not you should engage with it. You need to take that first step for yourself, not let someone else do it for you. Art is not a competition. Selling art? Sure. Art in and of itself? No.

Be mature when engaging with other writers

I'm going to be frank: If you bait someone in by saying something like "Any thoughts?" and block them for having a different opinion or point of view, you are not a writer, you are a clout chaser. Same goes for the audience. When you engage with a writer or anyone in general for the purpose of starting a "conversation" or a "dialogue," you need to actually engage with the things being discussed. Sticking your head in the sand and blocking people shows a distinct lack of maturity and creativity. Silencing your opponent does not mean you have won, it means you are afraid of what they have to say. You know you might be wrong deep down and instead confronting that uncertainty, you're ignoring it and refusing to grow.

There is nuance to this as blocking someone who is harassing you or is going to harass you is acceptable. I'm saying don't block someone if you start a conversation with them and they disagree with you.

Also as a reader, you are not going to win a battle of wit against a true writer. This goes doubly so if you block them for disagreeing with you. And honestly, I don't want that kind of individual engaging with my work.

Our parents and school teachers always taught us "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it all." I think the principle rings true here. No, this is not a license to dismiss criticism, it's a call out of bad behaviour. Likewise, if you don't have anything meaningful to say, don't say it at all. And if you are reading this and getting angry at me, why? This issue doesn't apply to you, does it? Unless you want to admit that you have an issue which is ideal for resolving it, as you need to know about an issue in order to resolve it.

All of this to say please don't treat writers like trash. We are not machines, we are people with feelings just like you. We are not above you like many seem to arrogantly assume, we are just trying to get by like everyone else. Insulting us is not going to make us side with you, it's going to make us make fun of you in a future story as a commentary on how not to behave in society. Obviously we're not here to call people out specifically, but these experiences are now ours to use as we see fit. Keep that in mind next time you attack a writer for not agreeing with you. The pen is mightier than the sword.

Ending remarks:

To be clear, I am not here to say ‘it’s my or the highway’ or dictate what you can and cannot write. Write whatever you want at the end of the day. I just so happen to be a very passionate writer who legitimately cares and wants people to succeed. I may come off as very upfront and assertive, but know I do it because I care. I know you can write something truly great, it just takes time, effort, and discipline. And if you have an idea, write it. Is it good? Great. Is it bad? That’s fine, figure out how to make it better. You can do it no matter what, keep moving forward.

Note that all of this applies to REAL writers who actually sit down and put pen to paper. “AI authors” are not real writers and will never be real writers. Turn off the computer, get out a pen and paper, and actually write something. The only one gatekeeping you from success is yourself. The same logic applies to “AI artists.” Also no, I don't want to see these people "sued into the ground" or "banned from the creative space" as they have potential just like anyone else.

[aparticularbandit]

i have reached the point of:

do i want to write endless eight with a lot of minor variations or different scenes?

or do i just want to leave it as is and use strike-through in chapters to show places that are different in other timelines?

or do i want to do that choose your own adventure thing like in--

you know what, actually having a choose your own adventure option in each of the chapters sounds like fun. and then depending on which ending you pick in one chapter, it leads you to a different final chapter.

but the final final chapter only goes up for that last update of june, maybe.

i don't know how to do this on tumblr is the problem.

because ao3 has that CYOA option so that depending on which option you click, you can get a different scene, while the main bulk of the chapters would be the same (probably) as with the endless eight anime arc.

but i don't think there's a way to do that click and open something while leaving the rest unopen option on tumblr.

i got around it in junko in ddlc by having a link to a private post with the poem on it, but that's not the same.

idk. i've got a little less than a month to play around with this here on ye olde tumblr to see if i can get it to function properly. and i may just do it like the junko in ddlc thing - with multiple private post options that the different links lead to depending on which one you click.

i'll look around and see if someone else has options for this. if they don't, i'll just. i'll figure something out. we'll have fun!

[unboundprompts]

hi! i wanted to ask how could i write a scene of a band performing and make it flow smoothly? Reactions to it and inner dialogue of the leader singer while performing?

I hope that makes sense!

Thank you :)

How to Write a Band Performance

Set the Atmosphere with Sound and Sensory Details

Use sensory language to capture the energy of the music, the movement on stage, and the audience’s reaction. Think about the sounds of instruments, the lights, the thrum of bass vibrating through the floor, or how the crowd looks.

Example: The drums kicked in, a thunderous heartbeat that pulsed through the packed venue. Strings followed, filling the air with an electric charge, and the lights dimmed just enough for the crowd to lean in, hungry for the next note.

Anchor the Lead Singer’s Focus

The lead singer might catch moments in the crowd, like a fan mouthing every lyric, someone laughing, or even seeing familiar faces in the sea of people. These little connections add a human touch and make the performance feel alive.

Example: He spotted a girl in the front row, eyes closed, every word leaving her lips like a prayer. She knew each lyric by heart, maybe better than he did. That look kept him grounded—kept him singing.

Use Inner Dialogue to Show Nerves, Confidence, or Distraction

Let the lead singer’s mind wander a bit, but keep it tethered to the music. They might think of something unrelated that they suppress to stay focused, or maybe they reflect on what this song means to them, especially if it’s deeply personal or symbolic.

Example: Here we go. Breathe. Just like rehearsal. But it was never just like rehearsal. Each word brought him back to the night he wrote it—a night he barely survived. He shook off the thought. No. Tonight, it’s just for them.

Describe Body Movements and How They Connect to Emotion

Physical sensations can be as telling as dialogue. The lead singer might feel the warmth of the spotlight, the stickiness of sweat on their skin, or the way their voice feels strong, raw, or strained.

Example: He gripped the mic stand, fingers tight, and leaned forward. His voice cracked on a high note, but he let it, gave it to the crowd raw. They wanted his truth, his realness. That was all he had to give.

Show the Crowd’s Reaction

Describe reactions like a wave, where energy ebbs and flows. The crowd might sway during slower parts, roar during the chorus, or go silent in the song’s more intimate moments. This back-and-forth dance adds rhythm to the scene.

Example: As the first chorus hit, the crowd became a sea of outstretched hands, fingers clawing for a piece of the music. A roar rose, then softened as they sang with him, their voices tangling with his own, something fragile and fierce all at once.

Balance Between Action and Inner Thoughts

To keep the scene flowing, alternate between what the singer does (interacting with the mic, moving on stage) and what they think. Too much inner dialogue could slow down the scene, so give action and reaction space to keep the reader engaged.

Example: He took a step back, holding the last note, letting it resonate through the space. He stole a glance at his bandmates. They were lost in the music too, faces set, eyes closed. It felt like the old days—a secret between them, shared with everyone.

End with a Climactic Moment or a Release of Tension

End the scene with a dramatic finish, like a powerful note, a burst of applause, or even silence if it’s an emotional song. The lead singer could feel relieved, drained, or exhilarated by the end.

Example: As the last chord faded, a brief silence hung over the crowd—a pause, a heartbeat—before it shattered with applause. He closed his eyes, letting it wash over him, knowing that for now, the song was enough.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 26: Fuck

Summary: You're going insane. The need is insatiable, but that's not the only thing plaguing you.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,261

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, p in v sex, unprotected sex, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, bodily fluids, gagging, creampie, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, a sprinkle of angst, fluff, obviously language, someone drops the L word, Simon rizzin' with the 'tism

A/N: You might be asking, am I really naming the chapter that? Yeah. I've been half asleep these last couple days (including while writing most of this) due to my change of meds so if this is ass, blame it on my medication lol. Anyway, yeah, you'll see with this one.

I'd also like to give very special thanks to @141wh0re who helped me with the Johnny scene I owe you big time, princess 🫶

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Hands squeeze your ass cheeks, pushing them apart to reveal your soaked pussy. You let out a quiet moan as the cool air in the room hits your damp slit. Another, louder moan leaves your lips as a thumb drags through your folds. Your pussy clenches at the sensation, slick oozing out of you in anticipation. Fingers rub it through your folds, teasing over your clit before pulling back. 

You let out a whine of indignation and disappointment, pressing your hips back as you chase after the touch needily. 

“Easy, you needy little pup.” You jump at the harsh slap against your cheek in retaliation. “I'll give you what you need.”

You whine, face pressed into the sheets as John kneels behind you. His warm breath across your damp folds is a delicious contrast to the cool air in the room. It has you whining and twitching, fingers sinking into the soft fabric under you. 

Your legs nearly give out at the first drag of his tongue through your folds. You moan softly, pressing back against his mouth. His hands press against your ass, keeping you still as he drags his tongue through your folds again. His beard tickles your thighs, prickling deliciously against the sensitive skin. You'll have beard burn by the end of this, but you can hardly complain. 

You never do. 

His thumbs part your folds again, spreading you open as his lips close around your clit. A long moan falls from your lips as he sucks on the sensitive bud. You're close to cumming already, your pussy sensitive after the last few days of near nonstop fucking with the members of your pack. 

“Fuck!” You moan against the sheets as John gives your clit a particularly hard suck. 

“Sensitive little thing.” He murmurs against your clit, his tongue flicking against the bud. 

You whine, legs starting to tremble as they fight to hold you up against the pleasure from John's mouth. He continues his relentless ministrations against your clit, rotating between suckling it and flicking it with his tongue. 

Your moans get more and more needy as you get closer and closer to the edge, John pushing you harder against the mattress so you don’t fall as your legs nearly give out. 

You cum with a cry, legs shaking as he holds you up, licking up every last drop from your pussy. 

He stands from between your legs, delivering another light slap to your ass. “On the bed.”

You pull yourself up fully on the mattress, turning to face him with a smirk. “How do you want me, daddy?”

A low growl rumbles in his chest as he stares down at you, his gaze darkening. He nods towards the pillow, his voice deep and rough. “On your back.”

You shift so you're laying on the bed, sinking into the pillow. He strips off his shirt and pants, hard cock springing free. You nearly drool at the sight of it, hard and weeping. He climbs onto the bed, the mattress dipping from his weight. He settles himself between your knees, pushing them apart so you're spread open before him. He stares down at your weeping pussy, licking his lips. 

“So fucking needy.” He groans, pressing two fingers into you. You mewl at the stretch, pussy fluttering around his fingers. “So worked up over the littlest things. You'd cum just like this on my fingers, couldn't you?”

You clench around his fingers, your hips pressing closer to his hand. You could, even if he held them still. Your body feels like it's on fire, desire and lust and pleasure coursing through you. His scent has gone straight to your head, driving the neediness and desperation for some relief, something to take the edge off the intense throbbing in your pussy. 

“Need you, alpha.” You whine, continuing to fuck yourself on his fingers. 

He holds his hand there for a few moments, watching your slick coat his fingers before he pulls them free, spreading your legs further apart. You lift yourself up on your elbows as you watch him press forward, dragging his cock through your folds. Your lips part, quiet gasps slipping free as his head catches on your clit, smearing his precum through your folds. 

You flop back against the pillow again as he presses into you, splitting you open around his cock. He's so big, so warm as he takes his time, working himself into you. You moan at the stretch, pressing your legs further open around him, as if that will help him sink in deeper. 

You can't do anything but lay there and moan as he pushes into you to the hilt, hips flush against yours as he bends over you, his hands framing your face. You stare up at him, meeting his gaze as he sits there inside you for a moment. Your pussy flutters around him, the intensity of his stare shooting straight through you. 

He lets out a quiet grunt as you squeeze around him, pulling his hips back before slowly pressing back in. You’re nearly hypnotized as you stare up at him, as he continues to move, fucking you slowly. Your breath hitches at the intensity, the passion building in the moment. 

He shifts his position, pressing his body down against yours. He grinds against you as he picks up the pace, his hand cupping the back of your head as he presses his lips to yours. You moan into the kiss with every pass of his pelvis over your clit, your arms lifting to wrap around his back, pressing him as close to you as you can. He pulls back from your mouth, his lips parting in a groan as you wrap your legs around his waist, trying to take him deeper than he already is. It's all very sensual, the way he moves against you, his eyes locked on yours, the quiet grunts leaving his lips, the twitch of his cock inside you. 

It’s too much as you cum suddenly, your orgasm slamming into you like a battering ram. You squeeze around him, legs tightening around his hips. He lets out a low groan, his pace faltering a bit as you squeeze around him like a vice. It doesn't stop him, though, his thrusts continuing even after your body has gone lax around him. You continue to cling to him, holding on for dear life as he fucks you to the point of overstimulation. 

You whine, nails digging into his back as the sensations become too much, squirming in his grasp. 

“You can take it.” He grunts, shifting his hips just slightly. “Come on, be a good girl for me.” 

You whine at his words, your body shaking as sweat drips down your face. “Yes, daddy.” 

He lets out a deep growl, his hips slamming against yours at the pet name. You’re not quite sure where it came from, why you’ve decided now is the time to pull it from the recesses of your mind. You remember when he jokingly told you, you could call him that if you wanted before your last heat, but you had yet to be brave enough to let it slip from your lips. 

Until now. 

Maybe it was the desperation, the neediness driving you to sink to places you’ve never gone before. He likes it, you can tell by the growls rumbling in his chest, the way his cock throbbed inside you when you let the name spill out. Maybe once the ache in your pussy subsides, when this relentless itch has finally been scratched, you’ll be brave enough to say it again. 

He finally cums, hips snapping into yours as he spills into you with a deep groan. His hips twitch against you as you continue to hold him there, letting him fill you. 

He nearly collapses over you, just managing to keep his full weight off of you. His skin is hot against yours, only adding to the sweat slicking your bodies. You’re worried he might suction to you, though you could hardly complain. You’d suction yourself to your alpha permanently if you could. You stroke his sweaty back, both of you laying in silence as you catch your breaths, letting the pleasure of the moment linger as long as possible. Your pussy flutters around him, pushing some of his seed out around his cock. 

“Fuck.” He groans, his lips brushing your ear. “Making my cock hurt, sweetheart.”

You hum, drawing patterns on his back. “You don't have to do it, you know. I can always go to one of the others.”

He lets out a low growl, pressing down so his weight is almost fully against you, trapping you under him. “You're mine to take care of.” He rumbles in your ear, lips brushing the shell. 

You let out a quiet whine, relaxing under him as he presses soft kisses to your skin. A shiver running through you as he kisses his mark on your neck. You arch your back slightly, pressing closer to his chest. 

“Easy, pup.” He says, shifting off of you. You whine as his cock slips from your pussy, your walls fluttering at the loss. “You need to rest.”

You pout as he rolls you onto your side, locking his arms around you to keep you still. Your pout shifts into a smirk as you press your ass back against him, putting pressure on his cock. 

“Stop.” He commands, releasing you to slap the side of your thigh. 

You yelp at the contact, but a smile pulls at your lips. “Yes, daddy.”

A low growl rumbles in his chest as he wraps his arms around you again, keeping you pinned against his chest. “What prompted this change?” He growls in your ear. 

You shrug, your hands coming up to wrap around his arms. “Mood felt right, I guess.” 

“I’m certainly not complaining.” He says, nipping at your ear. 

You whine, pressing your ass back against him again. He pushes back, pressing your legs further forward. 

“You need to sleep.” He says, the warning in his tone clear as day. 

“Can’t.” You whine, slickness already coating your thighs again. 

He slips a hand down your front, pushing it between your legs to feel how wet you are still. “Did you tell Dr. Keller about this?” He asks. 

You nod, spreading your legs as he pushes two fingers into you. “Yeah.” 

“And what did she say?” He asks, holding his fingers still inside you. 

You pause for a moment, your hazy brain trying to remember that conversation, but all you can remember is how insanely horny you’ve been these last few days. “I don’t remember.” 

He grunts in disapproval, your legs closing around his hand, trapping him there. “I’ll ask her about it tomorrow.” He breathes, pressing a kiss behind your ear. “Get some rest, for me. I know you’re tired.” 

You let out a quiet whine at the growl under his voice, his alpha slipping out to try and convince you to sleep without commanding it. You know he could, he probably should, as you shift on his fingers, moaning softly as they press up against your sensitive walls. 

This is going to be a long night. 

He feels like this is becoming a regular occurrence, sitting across from Dr. Keller, voicing his concerns about his omega. She always looks so sympathetic and understanding, always so attentive, listening to every word. He never had any doubts about your doctor, but the more time he spends in her office, he can see why you like her so much. 

“Pseudo-heat.” She says, after listening to him ramble on about your intense desire and neediness, the insane level of horniness that’s plagued you these last few days, ever since your first time with Simon. “I had my concerns after our last appointment together. She brought it up, but she was so out of it, here but not here.” A smile tugs at her lips. “I’m not sure she heard a word I said.” 

“I don’t think she did.” John says, leaning back in his seat. “Is this dangerous?” 

Dr. Keller shakes her head. “Not entirely. They can happen for many reasons, usually a hormone imbalance, a disruption in pack dynamics, or a rejection of an alpha. Occasionally, though, they can be brought on by a new bond with a second alpha.” 

John grunts quietly, the pieces beginning to come together. “This started after she slept with Simon the first time.” 

Dr. Keller nods. Obviously you would have brought that up to her. “They both have very intense instincts, and while Lieutenant Riley might not have claimed her, that bond is equally as intense as it settles into place.” 

“Is there a way to stop the intense...neediness? I’m worried she might fuck herself to death.” 

Dr. Keller chuckles. “She won’t. She’s young and healthy and while it might take a physical toll, the rest of you are more likely to suffer before she does. This is where toys come in handy for omegas. I don’t doubt the rest of you are beginning to feel it.” 

John grunts. “You could say that.” 

“Keep her hydrated, try to get her to rest if you can. It’ll pass in a few days.” 

“Will this have an effect on her actual heat?” John asks. He knows you’re due for one very soon. 

“It shouldn’t.” Dr. Keller says, looking at her calendar. “The only thing I’d worry about is if she’ll have enough time to physically recover before it starts. Otherwise she’s going to be in for a world of hurt when she comes out the other side. Of course, I can help with that once she gets there. It’s very likely her preheat may cause this all to stop. I doubt she’d get thrown into her heat without her body doing any preparation. Just keep a close eye on her, watch her temperature and any other typical physical signs of her heat.” 

John nods. He knows how dangerous it would be if you suddenly went into heat. He’d never dream of hurting Simon on purpose, but the thought of losing his mind and attacking his second alpha over their omega has him terrified. 

“Simon?” You ask, rolling over in his bed as he picks up the towel from the floor. 

“Hm?” He hums, walking into the bathroom to hang the towel over the shower door. 

“Can I ask you something?” You continue as he comes back out of the bathroom with a damp rag, parting your legs to wipe you clean. You wince at the roughness of the rag on your sensitive skin.

“Depends.” He says, going back into the bathroom. You hear running water for a few seconds before he comes back out. 

“You don't have to answer if you don't want to.” You say, scooting over to give him room as he slides under the covers with you. “Just curious.”

“Go ahead.” He says, tucking his sheets around the two of you. 

“How did you learn to do that?” You ask, pressing yourself against his chest, your cheeks warming a bit. “Make a girl squirt?” 

He hums again, the sound vibrating against your ear. “One of the few relationships I've been in, back when I was a recruit. Dated a beta. She was into it and taught me how to do it.” 

“Why did you break up?” You ask, immediately regretting the question. You know how closed off he is, how tightly he keeps his past sealed. That you know as much as you do about him is a privilege.

“Mutual decision.” He says. “Got busy, started going on longer and longer deployments as I moved up the ranks. She didn't like me being away for so long at a time, so we moved on with our lives. Never really had time for another relationship or wanted one until I joined this pack. Even then, at first I wasn't interested.”

“But Johnny wormed his way into your heart.” You say. You've heard the story from Johnny before. 

Simon huffs out a laugh. “Persistent bastard.” He squeezes you tightly. “Almost worse than you.”

You giggle, squirming in his grasp as he tickles your sides. “Hey! I wasn't even trying!” 

He rolls over onto his back, shifting you onto his chest. “Still.” He says, cupping your face. “Managed to win me over in the end.”

“I'm glad I did.” You say, looking into his eyes. “I'm glad you finally gave in.”

He smirks under the mask, you can tell by the way his mouth moves beneath the fabric. “Me too.” He releases your face, letting you rest on his chest. “Don’t tell Johnny.” 

Your nails drag over the top of his muscular thighs, feeling the soft skin mingling with faded scars and wiry hair. Johnny stares at you over the edge of his sketchpad, his dark eyes watching your every move like a hawk. 

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, fighting to contain the eager grin that bares your teeth to him, showing your excitement at being face to face with his cock. Your nails dare to venture closer to his base, teasing the skin of his pelvis now as you lower your head to place a kiss on his weeping tip. 

Johnny’s breath hitches, his eyes falling shut at the initial contact. A shudder runs through him, his grip on the sketch pad tightening, fingers curling around the edges. 

“Thought you were supposed to be drawing.” You say, your hand wrapping around the base of his cock.

“Christ almighty...” He breathes, staring at you for a moment longer before turning his gaze to the sketchpad. 

You don’t move until you hear the scratch of his pencil on the paper, lowering your head as you hold his length in place. Johnny bites his lip, a strangled moan choking in his throat as your tongue trails a line from his sack, up the length of his shaft until you reach the sensitive head. You close your mouth around the tip, meeting his gaze as the sound of the pencil pauses. 

You pull away from him, meeting his gaze as he stares at you. A smile tugs at your lips, your hand holding his cock in place as he fights the urge to throw the sketch pad off the bed. He’s struggling to stay focused, fighting the urge to succumb to the pleasure of your touch. 

You don’t move until he looks back at the pad, the scratch of the pencil starting once more. You return your attention to his cock, flicking your tongue over his slit, tasting the salty precum pooling at the tip. Johnny’s nostrils flare as he exhales deeply, shaking his head just slightly as if he’s trying to shake off the distraction you’re proving to be. 

Your other hand moves to gently cup his balls, massaging and rolling the soft spheres in your hold. Johnny finally reacts, letting a breathless moan escape him in a moment of lost concentration, his hips bucking involuntarily. 

“Christ, bonnie,” He exhales. 

Your thighs clench together, still slick from when you sat on his face earlier, pussy still pulsing despite the three orgasms he gave you. Your arousal threatens to leave a damp spot on the bed, a lasting reminder of the events of this evening. 

You finally take him into your mouth, shifting just slightly as you sink down on his length. Another groan leaves his lips, the pencil stalling for a moment as you flatten your tongue against his shaft, taking as much as you can into your mouth. You fight the urge to gag around him, pulling back until just his tip is in your mouth. You swallow the build up of saliva in your mouth, tinted with the flavor of his precum. 

You continue your ministrations as he continues drawing, bobbing in a slow, steady rhythm as your free hand cups his balls. His legs clench around you, muscles flexing and relaxing, flexing and relaxing as he fights to keep control over himself. Drool pools at the edges of your lips, dribbling down his length and collecting at the hand still wrapped around his base. 

You take a breath through your nose before easing further down until his tip hits the back of your throat. You gag around him, tears reflexively rimming your waterline. Johnny's hips twitch as he fights the urge to buck up into you, knuckles going white around the edge of the sketchpad. 

You hold that position for a moment, breathing through your nose before relaxing your throat, taking him as far as you can. Johnny groans, peering over the edge of the sketchpad, meeting your gaze as your lips nearly press against the hand holding his base. He stares at you for a moment before going back to his sketch, pretending to pay you no mind as his legs relax around you. 

You accept the silent challenge, speeding up your movements as you bob on him, your tongue flicking the underside of his crown. Your hands leave his cock, settling on his thighs as you take him as deep as you can with each movement of your head, nails biting into the sensitive skin. 

“Fuck....” He groans, muscles tensing under you again, and you would have smiled had it not been for the cock currently stuffed in your mouth. 

Your lips are starting to sting from being stretched around his girth as you take him deep into your throat, gagging around him. He echoes with his own groan from the way your throat constricts around him. The hand holding the sketch pad is shaking slightly, his breaths quiet gasps as he tries to hold in his pleasure. 

You ease yourself back up his cock, your tongue tracing the tick vein on the underside of his shaft. You flick the tip of your tongue along the underside of his crown, nearly pulling a whine from his lips. The pathetic sound drives you to continue the motion, flicking your tongue back and forth as your hand shifts to stroke his length. His cock is raging red, twitching in your grasp as you drag your tongue along his weeping slit again. 

“Fuck...” He hisses, his hips twitching again. 

He’s not holding back anymore, needy moans falling from his lips, his pencil continuing to falter as you tease his head. His hips jerk, trying to push his cock against your face, smearing precum on your lips. 

“Gonna cum?” You ask, taking hold of his cock again as you lazily trailing your tongue over the veins lining the throbbing appendage. 

He groans, fingers nearly denting the sketch pad as he grips it for dear life. “Fuckin’...yes!” 

You take him into your mouth again, sinking down as far as you can, your nose nearly touching the hand holding his cock. He twitches in your mouth, his stomach flexing as you gag again, squeezing your eyes shut to fight the reflex. More drool drips onto his pelvis, soaking the dark hair that lines his cock. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He drops his pencil, his hand shooting to hold the back of your head as he cums in your mouth. You take what he gives you, swallowing around him as he twitches against your tongue. “Screamin’ Jesus.” He moans, tugging on your hair to lift you off his cock. “Gonnae kill me. Fuckin’ got my boabie aching.” 

You lick your lips, getting every last drop of precum and drool left. Johnny groans as he releases your hair, his hand reaching for his pencil where he’d dropped it off to his side. He’s not wrong in complaining about his cock hurting. Even you’re beginning to feel the last few days, the ache lingering longer and longer after every fuck, every orgasm. 

You crawl your way up Johnny’s body, flopping yourself on his chest. He grunts quietly as your weight falls rather ungracefully on him. You lay there, catching your breath, the salty tang of his cum on your tongue. He’s breathing heavily too, sweat slicking his skin where it’s pressed against yours. 

“Insatiable little kitten.” He grumbles, resting his sketchpad on your back as he returns to drawing. 

“Can't help it.” You murmur, your head resting on his shoulder. “Feel like I'm going insane.”

“Yer just releasin’ pent up energy.” Johnny says. 

You shift slightly against his chest, shocked he can have such coherent thoughts after an orgasm. “Huh?”

“You and Simon have been dancin’ around each other fer months now. Ye have a lot of pent up energy between you, and ye need to let it out. He's been just as insatiable.” Johnny explains. 

A frown pulls at your brows as you think it over. It makes sense, that the two of you would have a lot of pent up energy, paired with your heightened instincts, you just want to fuck each other senseless until that energy disperses. 

“Makes sense.” You murmur, nuzzling against Johnny's shoulder, relaxing in his soothing scent and the sound of the pencil on paper. 

He hums, the sound vibrating through you. He presses his nose into your hair for a moment, breathing you in. His lips brush your forehead, pressing soft kisses along your hairline. “So fuckin’ sweet.” He groans. “Fuckin’ love you.”

His words wipe all urge to sleep from your mind, suddenly wide awake. You tense just slightly, waiting for him to realize what he said, to change his mind and backtrack. 

You've said it, confessed your feelings to John and he had said it back with no hesitation, but had he only said it because you said it first? He hasn't said it since then, but neither have you. 

You take in a shaky breath, planting your hand against his chest to ground yourself. You'll never know until you ask. It's Johnny, you can trust him, ask him anything and trust he'll be honest with you. “You mean it?” the words are small, quiet on the off chance he won't hear and you can backtrack yourself. 

“Course.” He says, his lips brushing your forehead. “We all do. Hard not to love our sweet omega.” 

You hum quietly, shocked by the words. “Well, that’s good.” You say, swallowing the nervous lump forming in your throat. “Because I love you too.” 

He turns to look at you, a grin pulling at his lips. He sets his sketchpad against your back, wrapping his arms around you. He presses his lips to yours, tangling a hand in his hair again. The kiss leaves you breathless, so much emotion and passion poured into it. He licks into your mouth, stirring the warmth in your stomach again. 

He groans against your lips, feeling the slick of your thighs as you start to slip off his chest to his side. “Not again.” He whines, pulling away from your lips. 

“I’m fine.” You say, trying to force away the insatiable warmth in your stomach. “Can I see what you were drawing?” 

“‘Course.” He says, shifting the sketch pad to his right hand so you can see. 

It’s a drawing of you, eyes looking forward with his cock halfway into your mouth, lips spread around him. Your hand is holding his base, fingers delicately wrapped around the thick shaft. You lick your lips, suddenly finding it hard to stop the slick wetting your thighs again. 

“If you ever get tired of the military, you could be a professional artist.” You say, staring at the detail in the drawing that he managed despite the fact you were attempting to suck the soul out of him. 

He chuckles. “Yer not the first one to say that.” 

“‘M serious.” You say, as the exhaustion from the day starts to weigh heavy on your brain. 

“Thank ye.” He says, kissing your forehead. “Get some rest, kitten.” He says, moving the sketchpad back so it’s resting on your side as he goes back to drawing. 

You can't help it as your eyes begin to slip closed, lulled to sleep by his warmth and the sounds of him sketching. 

It's the first time in days you've woken up without your pussy throbbing in need. Your half asleep brain can't comprehend what it means as you press a hand between your legs, finding only the dried fluids from the night stuck to your thighs. You blink awareness back into your mind, laying there with your hand between your legs. 

Kyle groans behind you, his arm tight around your waist. “Not again.”

You're finally awake enough to digest what the dryness between your legs means and you push yourself up to sit. “I'm not horny.”

Kyle shifts slightly behind you, still half asleep. “Hmm?”

“I'm not horny.” You repeat yourself, withdrawing your hand from between your legs. 

Kyle pushes himself up to sit, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He slips his own hand between your legs, running his fingers over your folds. Despite how nice it feels, you don't feel the urge to grind against them, to take his wrist and hold his hand still as you fuck yourself on his fingers. 

“Damn.” He says, withdrawing his hand. “Looks like we finally fucked it out of you.” He leans over, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Fucking glad, my cock is starting to hurt.”

You huff out a breath. “You old men and your sore cocks.”

“Hey!” He tries to grab for you, but you're faster, slipping out of arm's length as you grab your panties from the floor. “‘M not that old.”

“Well, you're certainly acting like it.” You say, sticking your tongue out at him. 

He jumps off the bed, wrapping his arms around you before you can reach the door, lifting you off your feet. His fingers dig into your sides, tickling you. You shriek out a laugh, wiggling to try and escape his relentless tickling. 

“Okay, okay!” You gasp out. “You’re not old.” 

“Thank you.” He says, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he sets you back on your feet. “We've spent way too much time fucking this week for you to call me old.” He delivers a slap to your ass before pulling away. 

He grabs clothes to change into and you steal one of his shirts, pulling it on before walking down to your room. You pause in front of your door, your eyes drawing to the gap between the door and the frame. Your heart rate picks up as you stand there, panic making your fingers shake. You closed it. You distinctly remember closing it, hearing it click before you slipped into Kyle's room. 

You peek around the hallway, trying to keep your breathing even. Johnny's door is open across the hall, but he's not inside. Kyle has gone to the bathroom, and both Simon’s and John's doors are closed. You have half a mind to run for John's office, or to knock on the doors, something. 

What if they're not in there, though? No one will hear you if something happens, or be able to get to you in time. 

But what is the likelihood of anyone managing to get in without anyone noticing, even if none of them are in the hallway? Kyle had just left and would have noticed. There would be a smell, a bad vibe, something. Simon would have noticed immediately if he’s left his room already. Johnny would have noticed. Someone would know. 

Your fingers shake as they wrap around the knob. You can scream. Scream and they'll make it in record time. For all you know, maybe you didn't close your door. Or maybe one of them had come looking for you and forgot to close it. 

Yeah. 

That's probably it. 

You take a deep breath in, closing your hand around the knob tightly before throwing the door open. You take half a step back in shock, your startled shriek reducing to a squeak in your throat as a familiar dark figure turns to you. 

“Simon!” You gasp, putting a hand on your chest. “You scared the shit out of me!” You look between him and your closet, and the many clothes draped over your bed and your desk chair, and even the bear. “What are you doing?” 

“Your closet is a mess.” He says, hanging the shirt in his hands. “You're living in a pigsty.”

You pout, looking around at your dirty clothes on the floor. “It's not a pigsty.”

He gives you a glance out of the corner of his eye as he hangs the shirt in your closet. 

You step into your room, calming the uneasy panic. It's just Simon who entered your room. Simon who felt the need to reorganize your clothes. “Simon?”  

He hums, hanging things back in your closet. 

“Where's my laundry basket?” You ask, noticing the empty space against the wall. 

“Started a load for you.” He says, grabbing more from the stack on your desk chair. 

You look over at your desk, your eyes scanning your books. “Did...did you reorganize my books too?” 

He nods. “Alphabetically by author's last name in each genre.” 

You nod slowly, turning away from your desk. “Right. How long have you been up?” 

Simon shrugs. “Couple hours.” 

“Uh huh.” You nod, moving to your dresser to dig out clean clothes for the day. 

Simon lets out a long breath as you dig for a shirt, drawing your gaze up to him. He shakes his head, eyes focused on your mess. 

“It's not that bad!” You say defensively, pushing the drawer closed. 

“How do you find anything?” He says, staring down at you disappointedly. 

“Like I just did. I know which shirt is which.” You say, crossing your arms. 

He shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he turns back to your closet. “Fucking hell.” 

You can’t hide your smile as you head for your bathroom, getting ready for the day. 

Your stomach starts to growl as you’re brushing your teeth, the hunger gnawing almost painfully. You frown, rubbing at your stomach as you rinse your mouth. You’d had a snack last night before creeping into Kyle’s room. Maybe the exertion of the last week is catching up to you. 

You exit the bathroom, finding your clothes put away in your closet and Simon missing with the dirty clothes on the floor. You’re not usually that messy, but with the last week having gone the way it did, cleaning was the last thing on your mind. You grab a pair of shoes before stepping out into the hallway, still rubbing your stomach. 

“Hungry?” John asks, coming down the hallway. 

You nod, your stomach growling again. “Yeah.” 

“Come on.” He puts a hand on your back, steering you out of the barracks. 

You’re still a bit on edge from your panic earlier, your body shifting towards John’s as you pass by groups of soldiers. He wraps an arm around you, keeping you glued to his side as you make your way into the mess. 

He makes your tray for you, plating up your favorites before carrying it to the table. You’re the first ones there, the other three still missing. You don’t care, digging into your tray immediately to try and ease the ache in your stomach. It’s like you’ve traded now, the ache in your pussy for the ache in your stomach. 

You're halfway done with your tray by the time the others take their seats, not even pausing shoveling food in your mouth to acknowledge their presence. 

“Slow down, love. Food’s not going anywhere.” Kyle says, patting your back gently. 

“Hungry.” Is all you say around bites of sausage. 

“How much of a workout did ye put her through last night?” Johnny asks Kyle. 

Kyle smirks, glancing down at you before looking at Johnny. “Apparently a good one.” 

The dig into their own trays, eating slowly as you continue to inhale your food until there’s nothing left. The scrape of your spoon against the tray has you pouting, your stomach still rumbling. You’re half tempted to lick the tray to get up every last bit of food off of it. 

���What?” Simon asks, looking at you as you pout. 

“Still hungry.” You say, pushing your empty tray away from you, resting your elbows on the table and your head in your hands. 

They all share a look, pausing in their own eating. You feel like crying, the gnawing in your stomach relentless and uncomfortable. 

“Love...” Kyle says, his tone hesitant, like he’s about to deliver horrible news. 

It will be horrible news. The pieces are beginning to come together now. Waking up not horny after nearly a week of being horny, the insatiable hunger, your pouty attitude. 

You lift your head from your hands, your arms dropping onto the table. You don’t look at them, already knowing what you’d see if you did. They’ve put it together faster than you have, your stomach swirling with emotions. You’ve lost track of time, not even thinking about how much time has passed, how the weeks have flown by. Dr. Keller had mentioned it briefly, but you had been in too much of a horny daze to really comprehend it. 

There’s a pit in your stomach, the panic from earlier starting to bubble up again, but this time for a different reason. You feel like crawling under the table and curling up in a ball, that, or stealing Johnny’s tray to finish off the eggs he’s not eating nearly fast enough. You take in a deep breath, trying to steady the sudden onslaught of overwhelming emotions

“Fuck.” 

NEXT ->

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[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ SHE’S ‘TAKEN’

tw. a/b/o, forced cheating, alpha!umemiya is sort of sleazy, noncon/dubcon, a lot of alpha/omega, spit, breeding, knotting, size kink, reader called short/tiny/little, squirting, snowballing, calling ume daddy, pseudo-cesty, niichan, unrelated vomit mention, possessiveness, praise, degradation, a lot of orgasms, (belly bulge), fighting

wordcount. 9.1k

a/n. alternate title: oh is she?,, a million thank yous to mel @gimme-hiragi for helping me with my wb questions and rhi @seijorhi loml you’re the best for always reading my writing through for me ur the backbone of my life couldn’t do nothing without you ♡ and thank you aki for letting me joIN yOUR LOVELY EVENt it is adorable i had such a good time writing!!!

for @xrux’s into the omegaverse collab

umemiya hajime x fem!reader x kaji ren

“Let go, I’m over it!” Everyone’s looking at the way you yank up the edge of your top to make sure you’re covered, yank the edge of your ripped jeans skirt a bit lower. You’re wobbling side to side on your heels as you bend to take one off, almost falling in the process only to lean your head against Kaji’s lower stomach, whimpering all the while. You hick, and pout— ungraceful in a way only drunk people can be.

The icy blond by your side still has his sweater held out to you, as he pants, fists balled to his side with gritted teeth. “Don’t made a scene. Put it on.”

They’d been out on their own, ‘til Kaji suddenly slammed his phone down on the table and left behind their orders of yakiniku. To drag his very sloppy girlfriend, you, out of some sleazy bar lined with jerks smoking enough to make the entire alley cloudy. Now he has a forming black eye to match his bad attitude, but the other guy was worse off. The -not getting up, nose crooked and bloody- kind of worse.

You’re not Hajime’s girlfriend, so he’s in no position to judge, but at the very least he’d also feel sort of uncomfortable leaving any girl in a place like this. Former gang territory. Whole lot of grimy types, the kind they protect people from. If you’re dating Kaji, he’s sure you know that.

You bend over your knees to gag up nothing, pushing away Kaji’s hand when he reaches to hold your hair back.

You’re a mess, from what he can tell perched against the wall along with Sakura, Nirei and Hiragi. The former two who look mildly uncomfortable, the latter who’s own distracted hands search his jacket for his phone. “What do you wanna do? Call it a night?”

Umemiya’s honestly off as bad as you are, curtesy of the badly mixed drinks he’d been throwing back, and he guesses none of the guys are any better off. Sakura can’t hold his drinks at the best of times, and it’s been a long night of celebrations. 5:08, the display of Hiragi’s phone shows.

His mind ticks a bit slower than he’d like.

A moment where he debates getting involved, but then sighs. “I’d like to let them fix it on their own, though~”

You’re still leaning against your boyfriend’s hip as you try again to work something out with your shoe, hair flopped forward all over your face. Round and soft and totally out of place in a spot like this, though the way you’re dressed you definitely could have him fooled if you tried. It’s in the way your eyes flick up all big and innocent-like at your boyfriend’s call, that he can tell.

Kaji’s already draped the sweater over your shoulders, something you don’t seem to realize— because when he tries to help you up you only snap more. “Stop touching me, I’m gonna go home!”

“Go home faster then.” Kaji fumes, though one hand remains around your waist until you’re done with whatever needed adjusting on your terribly flimsy looking heels. “Can’t you just once do what I ask of you? You make me crazy,” he breathes back, and you get- what he supposes should be nose to nose. You’re a couple inches too short to square up to anyone.

“You know what, Ren.” Your pretty lips sound out the words slowly. “Fuck you.”

At that, one of the onlookers hoots enthusiastically, and Kaji’s brows get even more furrowed— but he only stares you down. With neither side backing down, he eventually plops one of his signature suckers in his mouth to cut the conversation short.

You turn and start wobbling down the stairs of the club, not even sparing them a glance.

Your big eyes are dark and blown and you’ve got a nose that’s bitten by the cold with tears, or snot, dripping— he’s not sure when you started crying, but you definitely are now. “‘M so sick of your goddamn attitude.” You breathe. Kaji’s close behind to pull you back by your wrist, but this time you let out a whimper. You yank your arm out of his grip as you plant both feet against the way he tries not so graciously to drag you, and the sandy blond has a vein that thumps in his temple.

“Don’t touch me! Leave me alone. Go be a possessive prick to someone else.” You take the sweater from around your shoulders and shove it back into his chest hard enough to make him step back. Then you finally start walking off down the wet, littered street under the encouraging whistling of the drunkards lined up against the other wall.

When Kaji no longer makes an attempt to stop you, the few of them slowly make their way over to the young man— and Umemiya places an empathetic hand on the other’s shoulder. Kaji’s steely blue eyes trace you even as you swing your hips, eye twitching. “Stubborn fucking-,” he pants, “Omega brat- can’t hold a drop of her liquor.” Ah. Kaji runs a frustrated hand through his hair, making it stand up every which way, before he finally grits his teeth.

“Someone please fucking go after her. She’s days out from heat and restless to shit, she’ll get herself hurt.” Yeah, that’ll do it. That explains the big blinkers and the sweetness. Hiragi’s quick to start looking for his motorcycle keys, but the oldest waves his hand at that.

“You can’t drive in this state, Hiragi. You’ll hit someone. We still have to pay and our food is waiting for us, too.” Sakura and Nirei wouldn’t speak up about it, but leaving the food behind must’ve stung. He hands his card to Kaji with a smile. “I got ‘er. You guys are staying at my place anyway, right? Take a few hours to round off a good night.” He winks. “Leave it up to your niichan!”

He only has to follow you about two blocks before you crouch down and start sniffling, and he stops a few feet short of you as not to scare you. Even without Kaji’s explanation, he’d be able to tell that the honeyed, enticing scent emanating from you is too sugary to be anything other. With how close he comes to a halt by your side it’s almost choking on his lungs. Umemiya clears his throat. “Hey, you remember me?”

You’re crying into your palms, skirt halfway up your ass and exposing your panties— he’s just glad it’s just you two here. “I- hck- didn’t mean it. ‘M sorry, Ren kun. Jus’ wanna- I’m all over the place. Just- feel weird right now. I’m sorry, I really am.” Pre-heat mood swings. You’re cute, even cuter when you suck your bottom lip in between your teeth and wipe the tears to look up at him. When you notice he’s not in fact ‘Ren-kun’, you get a bit embarrassed.

Even though he doesn’t know you too well, he does notice you’re definitely pretty. Hot, even. Despite the mascara and eyeliner smudged onto your lower eyelids, your lips look soft as they open to say -nothing-, and you breathe in and out.

He can’t help but let eyes flick down to your ass resting on your ankles, how your plush thighs stick out from under the tightened skirt and you’re not even thinking of covering up. It’s not your fault. He’s trying not to get too much of your scent down deep into his lungs, but way he’s guessing, you’ve probably got a day before your body will start heating from the inside out- leave your pussy a wet, wanton clenching mess to get bred full-

He needs something else to think about. Something other than those sheer lace panties that show all of your pussy if he really tries to look.

“You’re… Kaji’s friend. Bofurin, right? We’ve seen each other before, though it’s the first time we’ve really talked.” You’re calmed down enough to get flustered when he too comes to sit on his heels, nice leather jacket brushing the floor. Good to know that the presence of an Alpha doesn’t scare you off. If anything, you’re calm enough to get affected by him, and it makes pride bloom inside his chest. “It’s Ume…”

“Umemiya Hajime.”

Since you’ll be staying at his place with your boyfriend for a good two weeks anyway, you might as well stay a little sooner. He’s pretty sure that’d be fine, but he’ll have to text to check. “Kaji asked me to take you home since he can’t. When you’re ready.”

You start gathering your hair into a pony as you nod. “Sorry about earlier, Umemiya-san. Don’t know what came over me. I think I’m just a little -overly emotional right now. I- might’ve drank too much too.” Probably Kaji’s frustration about the situation that set you off in the first place. You stare at a dent in the road with a lidded look as you talk- then clear your voice. “Mh.”

He smiles, before reaching out to pet your head. Being this close to an Omega getting into heat just feels electric, he can’t help it. He wants to pick you up and lick your tears from your face. Not that he will. You’re a precious kouhai’s, and that’s stronger than anything his animalistic nature demands he do. You’re quiet until he pulls his hand back, holds the urge to wind it down to your little neck and bite down on soft skin. You’re just so affected right now.

He’s sort of surprised Kaji didn’t start an all out brawl with whoever was no doubt drooling all over you in that club. He’s about halfway there himself, and he’s only got honourable intentions.

If you’re bothered by his silence, you don’t say anything. So he nods.

“Kaji said something about holding your liquor, yeah- but I-” A guttural groan rings between you two. When he looks back at you, you’re bending over your own knees to gag, placing both hands on the dirty street to hold yourself. “Oh- whoops,” he chuckles, and reaches out to hold your hair back, as you throw up away from your nice shoes as best you can. “You got it, sweetheart. I’ve got water in my car.”

+

He’s halfway through a cup of coffee when he hears you rummaging in the other room. A bit of shuffling, before you put your clothes from last night back on, probably. He only got you halfway through the door before you started stripping against the warmth. “Ren? Huh- babe?” You ask into the hall, and your cute, little voice rings out. You’re scenting up his whole apartment, have been since he woke up first thing at daybreak. It’s definitely stronger than it was even last night when he dropped you into his bed with the explicit intention of washing the sheets as soon as you woke up.

He clears his voice. “Ren said he’d be over in the afternoon. Apparently Sakura puked all over his car…”

”Oh.”

It doesn’t take too long for you to come out of his room wrapped in a blanket over the terribly short mini skirt, and the definite glow of a sheen of sweat on your cheeks as you process. 

In the morning light it’s even easier to see that you’re an Omega through and through. Every part of you is soft and rounded and supple for grabbing, flushed face blinking away sleep. Truth is, he really doesn’t know you all that well. He knows you met Kaji through Enomoto in high school. Knows you started dating somewhere around university— and that some of the Furin guys got into a bit of a scuffle over it. Didn’t think you should be dating Kaji, or Kaji you- he can’t remember.

Seeing how you pop your hip out to watch him, blink those big doe eyes up at him— he think he sort of understands. After a few seconds too long where you start to giggle at the silence, he stops studying you to grin. “Coffee? A cold water?”

“I appreciate that you’re so willing to brush my behavior from yesterday aside, but I’m still sorry. That you Bofurin lot always have to step up. And that I ended up causing trouble for Ren again...” It might be the heat in the room, but his collar feels a bit too tight when you rest your ass against the cupboards with a little smile. Your heat is not just close, it’s full-on started. His chest feels heavier, and skin a bit tight.

You hum. “…Something cold would be great, thank you. I’m feeling a little hot.”

The way you look up at him from under your lashes tells him you aren’t entirely unaware of it, either. He can’t decide if you’re coy, or just trusting. He pulls his sweater over his head and tosses it onto the table, smoothing his shirt out in agreement. “Might be hot in here, yeah.”

It’s so quick he almost misses it. But you eyes definitely slip to the sliver of skin that shows when the fabric rides up. It makes his groin stir in his shorts to watch how you catch yourself, and heat makes its way up to the tips of your ears and nose.

He hums as he bends for the fridge, not bothering to watch you as he talks. Your scent is so strong you could hide across the street and he’d be able to sniff you out. A thought that, however guilty he feels about it, sounds really fucking good right about now. Chasing you down to sink his hot cock into that needy, fertile Omega cunt. His heart’s pounding like you’ll run any second, and he’s no longer as sure as he was last night that he could stop himself from chasing. Was it like this when his ex was going into heat too?

The cold water drips condensation down his arm when he hands it over to you. “You mean you cause trouble for Kaji often?”

You bite your lip. “We just have …discussions like that a lot, even though I love him very much. I guess we just still aren’t entirely used to each other.” When he lifts his eyebrow in question, you rub your both palms over your cheeks to get rid of the heat, dragging them through your hair. “You might’ve noticed that I’m an Omega.” Baby, ‘might’ve’ isn’t the word he’d use. It’s all he’s been able to think about since you stepped foot into his apartment yesterday.

His mind flashes to his precious kouhai for a moment, but the way your throat hitches snaps it out of him instantly.

You seem to get even hotter as you talk, and your voice pitches up into a softer sort of noise that makes the hairs on his neck stand upright. “It’s not like we’re a dying breed or anything… But ratio wise, people are used to Beta’s. Ren- would know how to handle a Beta. Most heat blockers don’t work too well on me,” you confess, “and Ren can’t just sit pretty for a week every other month to… s-service- me-”

You’re struggling on the words, like even mentioning the possible sex you’ll have pains you.

It’s so fucking cute. Poor little Omega doesn’t know what to do with herself. You’re not wrong though. He doesn’t know what it’s like for you, but without effective blockers, it’s not hard to imagine it really is all consuming.

“We’re still- trying to find our rhythm, and last time we couldn’t, a whole bunch of Furin got dragged into it because I couldn’t contain myself. It’s just embarrassing.” His breathing gets laboured just seeing you shift uncomfortably. Watches how your eyes dialate as your lashes flutter desperately up and down. You’re a fruit ripe for picking, baby. He tastes sugar in the air when he smiles, and your gaze finds his.

A stray sane thought reminds him he should back up. Open a window or something.

The Alpha in him is pounding on his brain though, making everything hard to stomach. He licks his bottom lip. “I don’t know, maybe he should consider it.”

“Wh- taking time off for me every heat?” You ask back, as your brows furrow. As you back up against the cupboards and squeak in surprise when you knock your heels against them.

Fuck, he’s getting so hard. If only he could lean you back a little further. He reaches out to take your face between his fingers and watch how your lips drop open. “Are you saying Kaji doesn’t want to?” Pretty, pink little tongue darting out to wet them. It’s only when you stop talking wide-eyd, that he notices he closed the distance at some point and is now basically towering over you, feet to feet with your face at his chest. 

”I-I’m saying I don’t want him to- pu- put his life on hold… and- Umemiya-san.” Fuck. He can hear the way your heart beats like a hummingbird in your chest. “You’re too close,” you’re starting to get that signature scared bunny look. Your eyes go anywhere but up at him where he wants you, as you swallow and ignore the cold shiver going through your body. The blanket’s pooled at your feet. “Where’s my phone, Ren should come now.”

“Hm, I put it somewhere…” He does try to think. It’s just that you’re looking so woefully vulnerable and flushed and desperate to get rid of that itch that’s starting to build in your belly. He leans in, you push against his chest. It honestly only turns him on more. He shouldn’t be this eager to take a bite of you right from under Ren’s nose, right? His hands wind down your waist and you honest-to-God mewl like a fucking kit- whining when he leans in.

Just a few little kisses won’t kill either of you. His shorts feel way too tight, and a nagging little voice in the back of his head asks him to just fill you up, knot inside you. Bite an ugly mark right over the faded one Kaji gave you. “Umemiya-san.” He’s big enough that he could take your boyfriend on if he had to. He pushes in and grabs the back of your neck. “Umemiya!” You force out, before his mouth finds yours and he hikes you up against the kitchen cupboards for better access.

Your head falls back instinctively, letting his lips push against you, tongue pushing against yours as he steps up to your body. Large hands that glide up under your top and brush the sensitive skin under your tits- until you moan softly into his mouth, arching your back. He can’t help but chuckle. It’s not exactly proper to use a girl’s heat against her, feeling you spread your legs wider to make room. He kisses deeper, licks against your gums to make you taste of him, before whispering. “So vocal. What would Kaji say?”

It only takes a second of instinct, thump ringing out.

You punch him in the cheek. More surprised than anything, he grunts low and drawn out as he grabs his jaw, and watches how you scramble back to the floor and far away from him. The punch didn’t actually hurt much, you didn’t put any weight into it. Your anxious energy is what really does it, searching for his eyes with tears in your own. “My phone,” you beg more than say, hands now protectively around yourself.

He blinks a few times, until he can store away that predatory scow for long enough to speak. “Sorry. I got carried away.” Your face gets hot again, shoulders dropping. “You’re okay, I promise. The strength of it just took me aback, ‘is all. You did good socking me out of it.” The silver blond puts on a smile.

Besides that, he just wanted it more than he wanted to stop it.

He can’t exactly say that though, instead perching himself back against the cupboards. A safe distance away from where you’re rubbing the backs of your hands over your cheeks full of embarrassment, trying not to push your thighs together. It only makes him want to pin you down even more. His eyes glide down your body again. “We were switching apartments, right? You should probably head over there now. Tell Ren to head over quicker, that my heat came early.” You swallow heavily.

He definitely can’t tell you that right now, he’d rather do anything else. That would make him a bad guy. Someone Kaji shouldn’t have trusted with you. He’s got better things to do than obsess over some animalistic breeding instinct, doesn’t he? He should be worrying about making sure his little brothers are alright, that Sakura isn’t dying.

He nods as he stands to make his way past you. The scent is so heavy now that it’s taking everything in his power not to drool, and his chubbed up cock twitches to life in his boxers at the way you stare him down.

+

“Umemiya.” The dinner place is too loud, or the call too quiet for him to pay attention the first time. “Umemiya.” Hiragi repeats louder, and when that still doesn’t get results, he punches his arm softly. A bit harder than he could, for good measure. “Umemiya, what’s up with you? You keep spacing out on me midway conversation.”

Hiragi pops the cigarette back between his lips, watching him through his eyelashes as he sparks the lighter with one hand. In response, the blond wafts away some of the smoke, then hums. “My bad. You know the girl from the bar this morning, right- the cute, little thing… big eyes, short skirt, uhm- y’know the Omega,” he distractedly picks up his beer to tilt it edge to edge as Hiragi lifts a brow.

“Are you talking about Kaji’s girlfriend?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s the one.” He makes a bit of a show of tapping his fingers on his bottom lip, before resting his head in his palm. “I’m just trying to figure out where I’ve seen her before.”

“Uhuh.”

If his long lasting friend thinks anything about his sudden curiosity, he has enough sense not to say it. Hiragi’s a good guy. Probably good enough to put a stop to Umemiya himself if he acted out too much. When the silvery blond doesn’t elaborate, Hiragi just clears his voice, tapping ash into the tray. “Not sure. I know she didn’t go to Furin or San Middle though.” He furrows his brows when Umemiya only drinks. “Didn’t you run into her with Kaji before? They’ve been dating for a good while now.”

“No, no, I would’ve remembered that. It was before Kaji. I could’ve sworn…” He swings his arms next to his chair, before tapping his hand on the table when he ‘remembers’. “Oh, wasn’t she- one of the Shishitoren girls back when.” A genial smile tugs at his lips before taking another sip. “Before, when they were still using girls like expensive cars and Togame would drag them around town to patrol our borders. Would drive all the Beta’s up the walls. I think I even remember Kaji getting-”

“-Into a fight over it with some of our guys, yeah.” Hiragi suddenly clicks his fingers, “that might’ve been her, after all.” He takes a drink of his own glass, humming along the rim. “I scolded him for it back then, but looking back, he was probably just protecting the person he loved. In his way.”

Sure… Umemiya stares off into the rest of the bar instead of replying. Always so genuine, Tamon’s team captain. Can’t fault the guy. But his honesty really does get in the way. Across from him, Hiragi lifts his own bottle. “So?”

He knows his eyes are too sharp in the low light. Umemiya puts on his best smile. “No, nothing. I’m just glad Togame turned a new leaf since then.” He finally allows himself to grab one of the delicious looking skewers, humming around the mouth full. “I mean, it would be some real shit for Kaji if Shishitoren suddenly wanted their Omega pet back.”

+

He crashes his mouth to yours, hands either side of you ass to lift you off the floor and drop you ask into bed, grunting. “Mh-hgh, came as,” he growls against your mouth, tongue tasting so much like strawberry lollipop, “soon as I fucking could. Stupid extra patrols gettin’ in my way.” His hands grab anywhere he can reach, digging in deep.

He’s short of breath, and you know it’s your scent that’s got him all rattled. Sinking his cock into you is one of the few moments he allows himself to let loose- you can tell by the way he’s chubbed up in his pants he’s been thinking about you for a while. He grunts into your mouth, tongue tasting yours. “Knew- you were- mhm-gonna get there. Been twitchy all day.”

“Uhuh, missed you. Missed you so much, all day- wan’it.” Your nails rake along his back to pull him closer, all his weight on top of you, and obnoxious kissing noises fill the room. You can’t help yourself, the heat travels down every vein, settles in your toes, your hands, in your tongue. The tongue currently being sucked into your boyfriend’s mouth as he grunts your name and makes you rock your center against the seam of his jeans until he pulls back. “Ren, Ren, Ren~”

Umemiya’s bed squeaks under the weight as he gets on top of you halfway, one thigh straddling you against the mattress.

More. You want more. Your heart is banging like a battering ram against your ribs as you slide your hands under his sweatshirt, and drag your fingers up the ridges and dents of his muscles, the thin scars. All while whimpering like an animal, something you might not be aware of, but is driving your Alpha absolutely insane.

A low rumble falls from his chest as he grips your face harshly, and steely blues flick over your expression. He black eye has started turning pretty purple under his skin, cut still on his brow. “Still a brat? Gonna fight me again for taking care of ya?”

“Nuh uh,” you quickly say back, and press sweet, messy kisses on his pink lips. They’ve gone all puffy, and it’s making it hard to think straight.

“Wanna take some medicine? Just in case,” Kaji pants after a few seconds in concern, hand worming its way between your bodies for his fingers to swipe over the absolute mess you’ve made out of your panties. They’re soaked straight through— something that once he notices, he takes a laboured breath so slow it makes him flush all the way up his chest. “Fu—ck, pretty girl. You’ve been wet and empty all day like this?”

”Mhm.” You nod again. Don’t have even a single thought to tell him that you sat with the terrible ache ever since another blond fought his way out of the door, because that was a stupid accident. Stupid. Single. Accident. “Ren, Ren- please. Mh-ghuh,” you moan, and your body curls to rub against his crotch despite yourself, “can’t take any more. Please~ please, please, please. Want- my Alpha.” Sticky, translucent slick is all over your pussy, ran down your thighs and ass and you’re now getting it all over his pants.

Your boyfriend looks so wild and unfocused it could honestly be kind of scary- if you weren’t already scenting up the whole house and terribly shaky yourself. Your legs wrap around his glutes to pull him closer, as the icy blond tries to stutter out a groan. “Your pills…”

“Don’t want ‘m if you’re here. Ren, I want your cock already~”

The tiniest twitch to his lips proves he’s smiling into another messy kiss he lays on you, before starting to drag his teeth along your neck. “So fucking whiny. ‘S cute. Yeah, you wanna have me fucking you full for days? Get stuffed full of cock ‘til you can’t stand?” Yes. Yes yes yesyesyes. You’re not sure if you’re nodding, because all you can feel is his fingers pressing into your thighs, grabbing your ass and forcing you right up against the seam of his pants.

When he reaches the spot you’re the most sensitive with his mouth, your body stills in anticipation, and almost explodes when instead of bitin down, Ren’s hot tongue makes circles over the tiniest scar he left last time. “My little Omega bitch, mine, mine.”

His eyes have gone all blown out. Your own face is burning hot, and so is everything else as you let him mark up your neck, sniffing around the area without any other thought. You want his bite, you want his cock and his knot in you, filling you up to the brim ‘til you’re nice and full and round and you’re good to nest up— you want to be bred full so bad it’s all you can think about.

”Mh-mghh, Ren~” Your voice doesn’t sound like your own. It barely belongs to you, pitched and tiny and so fucking desperate.

You don’t notice the way your moans are filling the room or how wet and messy your pussy’s getting his pants. Just that his heartbeat’s in his tongue as he sucks harder and harder until his teeth grate over your throat. Ren grunts as he pulls back, one hand grabbing your one of your tits to kneed greedily in the flesh, as the other starts pulling your underwear off from under your skirt. “Smells too much like Umemiya in here-” It’s angry but not accusing, as he stands back to watch your glistening pussy clench around nothing.

“Turn over.” Your legs shake, and without much will of your own you start rolling over to stick your ass in the air to give him a better view. Kaji’s voice just gets quiet, as two fingers slide the slick around your pussy down to your clit. When you mewl, jerking at the touch, he throws his head back and groans deep and animalistically, before holding the fingers to his nose. His eyes clench shut when they roll back in his skull. “Shhh-Stay down. Everything off- fuck, fucking shit, babe. ‘S fucking hot —all mine.”

It’s instinct that makes you oblige. Not a single coherent thought makes it through your brain. Just him, in you, your pussy, your mouth, you want Ren, Ren, Ren, your Alpha fucking you, over you, breeding you. It’s so hot, but you’re still cold without the heat of his fat cock in you. The top goes first, ungracefully pull it over your face and lose an earring in the process. You want him. Your poor pussy wants to be so full, full full full you can’t walk fo a week.

“Alpha, n- hurry, hurry. Hurts without you, really, really does. Wan’get bred. Hurry~”

His headphones land somewhere with a thump as he pulls sweatshirt and shirt over his head in one go, then grabs himself through his jeans with a rumbled swear. You’ve soaked a wet patch through his jeans too. As soon as your skirt’s down the curve of your ass Ren’s already leaning into you, buries his face against your pretty, sloppy pussy and starts to lick and kiss, slurping as he tongue fucks your hole every few seconds.

When he locks lips around your clit you have to force your face down into the blankets to cry out, biting down on the blanket. Spit gets on your cheek when you cry out for him, and grind back against his face. Strong hands and long fingers hold your ass open until he can lick your pussy clean, before pulling back just to spit on it again. “Alpha, alpha, need your c-knot. Please.” You’re babbling to yourself more than to him, because he’s entranced with the way your sloppy pussy winks around nothing, how the slick mixes with his spit to drip down your folds. “Ren, your cock. Puh—lease!”

His long fingers land on your ass a few times, rings stinging upon impact, before he pushes your back down into an even more extreme arch and lets out another groan. “Prettiest Omega pussy I’ve ever seen, only one I want. Ain’t that right? You can act out and be a brat, but this is mine.” You look back over your shoulder just enough to watch him drool, slick down his chin when he pulls back and gives you a look.

Dark eyes almost entirely glossed over, he pinches your clit meanly- and your squeak makes the tiniest curl grace his lips. “Say it for me. Who does this little pussy belong to?”

”You.”

His thumb swipes over your clit before grinding down, two other fingertips pushing into you. “Mh. Who?” He’s mean, he’s so mean it’s making you tear up, forcing your head back into the blankets as your cunt tingles and aches and the touch is making you push back against him.

“You, Ren! It belongs to. My. Alpha. My- aaah-ah- Ren~, fucking please put it in. Ren, Ren please. It hurts.” Tears dampen the fabric, the two fingers sliding in halfway isn’t enough. You need- need more. “Please. Please.” He places another kiss on your clit before his touch vanishes, and you can hear the lewd sound of him licking his own fingers clean. You’re so hot sweat tickles on your hairline, the base of your neck.

And then, the click of his belt makes you moan, loud.

The familiar sound has you biting down on your hand, legs almost giving in. The smell of his musk is making it hard to stay upright. You can barely hear yourself think over the rushing blood between your ears, and the heartbeat thumping in your pussy. He groans, “Look at me. Look here,” and long fingers tangle in your hair to force you. Watch your boyfriend squeeze his pretty, extremely flushed cock a bit too tight. The head’s a blushy purple glossy with precum, that drips as he holds back a little pant.

”Wan’it?”

You don’t speak- can’t. Just back yourself up against him until the cock is rubbing against your ass and the warm pre gets all over you, as you moan. As you try to form a coherent thought, and Ren chuckles. “That’s a sweet way of sayin’ yes. Open your mouth.” He leans in while rubbing geedy circles over your ass, then lets a glob of spit land on your awaiting tongue with another huff. “So good for me.”

His hand spanks you again, hard enough to have you forced forward, before lining up properly. The wet sound of his cock patting on your pussy is the only for a moment, one that seem to last entirely too long— before finally, finally you feel the hot mushroom head push in. Into your slick, wet cunt and pushing past the ring of muscle inside and deeper. Deeper, deeper, until Kaji grunts low and gutturally and his thighs hit against yours as he bottoms out.

It feels so fucking right. Good, full, you want more, wan’ stay like this and your head’s spinning so good— Your breathing only continues when he groans a low ‘breathe’, pulling your hair and shaking your head. “Breathe, baby. Don’t pass out.” Your hands are fisted so tight into the blankets your knuckles show, only managing to lift your head enough to cry out a moan.

”Move, please. Please, move- ghhuh, fuck—ing God.” His hips move back with the squelch of your clamping pussy, then dives back in. The first pump is strained, the second is heaven. It’s only when he starts to move in you that you feel how full you are- how fucking deep he’s hitting inside you and rocking the bed with his weight. He’s moaning so pretty each time he bottoms out- fucking your walls open with each thrust. His balls his against you with a wet ‘pap’, and your tits feel too- too needy.

Your Alpha’s inside, finally, finally, you can’t hold the moaned whimpers. “Ah, agh, ahhRen, t-touch me more, please. Touch me.” You search for his hand that’s holding you down to drag it under your body, making him grunt— only breathing deeper when his nose nuzzles into your neck. Something’s ringing, but you don’t have the free thoughts to think about it.

He’s gonna make you cum. His one hand on your tits, other on your clit, he fucks you like he’s made to be there. Stretches your clenching walls around his curved shaft too perfectly- every thrust makes more slick drip out down your thighs. He feels so good. So- fucking- good. And his panting in your ear, low rumbled voice grating on your brain. He licks along your jaw to wipe some of the sweat, or tears, you can’t tell anymore. “Gonna fuck y’full, breed that stupid Omega pussy like a bunny.”

It just- feels- so so good. You’re gonna cum. You want him to get stuck in you and knock you up. There’s only his breathing and your banging heart, as his cock drives in and out and hits that perfect spot, made for you. His fingers swipe over your clit so good your eyes squeeze shut, and thighs clench. “‘S what you deserve, huh, yeah? You want that? Wan’ me to fuck my knot into you and pump you full of my pups?” You can’t help lock around him, hand digging into his arm. Your entire body stutters and goes white—

Shuddering around his cock as the coil inside you snaps. ”Alpha, R-ah, aghh- ahg, gon’- Mh-ugh Ren!” He drives in again and again and again until your toes stop curling and the desperate hold on his forearm loosens and- the ringing is back. “Mhm-Ren.”

He’s barely conscious as you feel his lashes flutter against your cheek, and he turns to the sound. “Fucking’—” He doesn’t pull out of you, but does reach for the phone just to groan loud, annoyed, clicks his tongue. When he picks up he puts his free hand over your mouth, but presses a kiss to your ear. “Fucking what?” He hisses into the device, rests his head against yours. Still feels good, he still- feels so good. You can’t help clenching around him and making him choke— before he continues. “Short. Enomoto, as short as you fucking can.”

”It’s Kusumi,” you hear him through the phone, “he’s alone, and I’m out of town, so is half of Bofurin. They— it’s bad, Ren. You need to come help.” You know he doesn’t mean to, but a desperate groan is forced out of his throat.

You can tell, it’s entirely instinct the way he desperately tries a little longer to rock himself into you, before letting out a sharp breath through his nose. “W- why is he alone— what are you talking about? What the fuck happened?”

“It’s Shishitoren! Don’t know. They’ve beat his face black and blue, I don’t know either! Hurry to the Ori.” Kaji’s body’s gone entirely tight. Enomoto just says a last, “Umemiya’s orders,” before ending the call, and Ren smashes his phone down into the pillows.

“Ren,” you pant desperately, you want more. “Nhg- Alpha, please, Ren.” You know, it’s not fair, but you’re so- hot. The sane thought that rings through your mind is just so quiet when compared to the budding flower that is your heat. You’re so empty. It’s not enough.

Your Alpha looks like he might burst.

“I- I can’t- fuck,” his hand moves from your mouth to push himself back against you, before he starts sliding out. You turn onto your back to look at him, watch his internal struggle as his thin brows dig such a deep frown it must hurt. Hurt bad— you sit up to grab his hand. You can finish him off! His steely eyes find yours as he clenches his teeth. “Don’t. You say that, I’ll stay and if I stay I won’t wan’ go ever. I don’t wanna go.”

It takes everything in you to keep your mouth shut against the Omega desperately mewling inside you— as a loud bang comes at the door. “Kaji!” It’s Umemiya. “I’m sorry, man. It’s an emergency!”

“Shit- fuck,” the blond grunts out, throws his head back, before grabbing his clothes from the floor. You can’t look or you’ll cry.

“I just heard- came to pick you up. We’re taking my car,” his superior calls through the door, oblivious. It hurts. It physically hurts to watch the way he puts his boxers back on over his incredibly hard cock, breathing deeply all the while. His cock is still so slick it creates a wet imprint through the fabric. “Kaji?”

You hate him a little right now. You hate them both, pushing your hand between your legs to clamp your too little fingers where something much better just filled it— The sound of his quick dressing makes you nauseous. The ache only worsens when your boyfriend sends you an awfully guilty look and wraps his hand around your ankle to squeeze, and you have to shut your eyes against the welling up of an onslaught of tears.

“Coming!” Ren snaps when the fists pound again, and he clicks his tongue.

You know, really, but can’t help but shudder as your fingers rub over your pussy and leave it so unsatisfied. So empty it makes you go cold. Kaji groans out under his breath and opens a new sucker. He leans in to place a kiss on your shin, clenches his eyes shut hard, desperate. “Be right back, baby.”

“Fucking- go, I can’t,” you squeak back, and also cry- there’s no way this is happening. Your skin feels like it’s being turned inside out when his touch leaves you, first slow and then all at once. “Ah-Quickly, Ren, it hurts so bad- hck- agh-ahhh.” You can just manage to clamp your free hand down into the blankets to keep yourself from sliding off the bed in pursuit of more— pushing the image out of your head until you feel the fade of his presence and your body burns.

It hurts so bad.

“You were in the middle of something? Oh. —Oh.”

You hear the latch of the door, but you can’t focus on it, only roll back over to bury your face into the sheets. “Mh-hck—mn hah-Alpha, Alpha, no no no don’t leave, don’t leave. It hurts, it hurts so bad, baby- come back. Come back please. Please, Ren, please, please. Pl- gh-please.” You’re calling your voice hoarse. Your lip is pulled between your teeth at the smell of Alpha all over you, and your whining, needy pussy slicks even more obnoxiously.

“Need t’ fucking leave. Now. I’m gonna -lose it.”

Kaji growls deep and loud, coming from deep in his chest in the other room; even more Alpha scent fills your lungs. Makes you burn from the tips of your ears to your toes, as every cell seems to submit. Another familiar, normally smooth, lithe voice is more raspy when it filters through the wall. “Right behind you, man. You hurry on— I’m just gonna-”

“Where’s Hiragi and the others?”

“I’m calling them now,” Umemiya agrees.

Everything makes your clit thump with blood, your tongue thick and wet licking your lips. The door slams and keys jingle in the lock, and you whine out like a dying welp. “No! Wait, Ren— Alpha, Alpha, please. Please, please I need- I need to- be full. I’m gonna die, hurts so bad.” You’re panting makes everything worse, unsteady, shaking with that horrible feeling of emptiness. “Aw, ah! Don’t leave.”

“Shhh, shh sh shh.”

You claw at the blankets. Alpha scent fills you, and your scenting goes crazy- spiking all over the room. Umemiya’s room. His face flicks through your head, you don’t know why. “Poor pet. Does it hurt that bad?”

You find yourself rubbing your cheek into the blankets up and down weekly, rolled onto your side. Fat tears roll out of your closed eyes. “Hurts. Hurts, please. Help me, I need it- wanna be full. Hck.” A finger drags along your sweaty hairline and makes you mewl, before it's taken away to be sucked clean.

“Fuck, poor, sweet girl. Smell so good in my bed. And you’re dripping sugar-” The hand comes to your neck, down your collar to your tits, and just the single flick of his finger over your perked, puffy nipple makes your pussy gush, mouth dropping open with moans. Drool drips out of your lips and someone wipes it away, as your eyes flutter against the miserable migraine you’re having. “Such a sweet, pretty little Omega. Little breeding bitch ready to get filled up?”

“Please, please, please!” You’re pushed over onto your back, and your legs drop open in response, back curling off the mattress to get a bit closer to the hand dragging down your belly to your leaking cunny. You’re so tired, your eyes won’t work. Someone hooks your leg around them, and two fingertips trace barely sensible over your folds. “Ah! Ah, ah, ah!”

“I know, I know it hurts. Just appreciating the view.” You wanna look. Your cunt aches like the worst cramps you’ve ever had. It takes everything not to start bawling. Luckily, he takes your hand in his and tangles fingers with yours, while the clicking of metal -a belt- and shuffling happens quick. “There we go, pretty baby. Open up, —daddy’s got you.”

“Ah, ah, quickly, hurry~”

It’s only when a warm palm comes to your cheek that you manage to finally force your eyes open, right when a hot, drooling cockhead pushes at your stretched entrance. Blue, gunmetal eyes stare back at yours as an unfamiliar feeling fills you up top to bottom. Your view is wobbly because of the tears, tongue trapped between your teeth. The face before you doesn’t make sense— not until the hand forces your face to his and a kiss is laid on you.

That taste. And he groans, low, rumbly. “Ohh, there- gh- we fucking go.”

An indescribable feeling of relief washes over you so strong that your legs clamp around him and shove him inside up to the hilt, as the coiled spring pulling in your cunt snaps, you claw at him and cry out. “Ume—miya! Ah, agh- Alpha, d-daddy, thank you, thank you, than-gh uhuhh~”

“Come on my -cock, that’s a good cockslut. Such a tight, little whore.”

Your orgasm barrels through you so hard that your feet cramp and you’re locked around him, moans getting swallowed by his tongue. Your vision goes blotchy and black, and the silver blond above you groans out your name as your pussy swallows him to his balls. “Ughd-daddy, more, more, more please! Please! Cum’ feelsso gud.”

“You’re so cute, so- fuck—ing cute.” He chuckles into a messy kiss, bites your lip for you until the tingling makes your legs shake. You can barely feel where you begin and he ends, with the way he’s gripping your thigh so thigh it’ll bruise, pulling you back against his thrusts. “Polite even when you’re cumming. D’ our little Kaji train you like that? Or is that just- for,” every word is accentuated by his cock hitting an entirely different spot, higher up in your belly, “me?”

You’re not sure you even stopped cumming before he starts rubbing your clit hard and fast, but before you know it you’re feeling an entirely different sensation— wetness squirting out around his cock in forceful gushes and getting all over his hands, his thighs and his bed. “Yeah, yeah yeah cum, just like that. So pretty.” Umemiya actually growls at the sight, slipping the wetness over your raw clit over and over and over. “Perfect little Omega whore— fuck.”

”Knew you’d take it if I offered. Isn’t that right, pet?” He yanks your leg up to put it around his bicep, and the thrusts get deeper and harder when he uses all his body weight to slam into you. The sound is filthy. It echoes the walls, and makes your pussy suction around him like you’re willing him to stay. You are, you want to be bred. You want-

“Daddy. Daddy, daddy, please. Want your cum. You need’t cum- hah- in me. Please, daddy. Please, fucking— I need-.”

He’s smiling so wide it looks a bit deranged. Every lewd pap makes you more mindless, and you’re not sure when you laced your hand in his, but they feel molten together. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

“K-knot, your knot, please. Breed me. I need to be fucked full.”

His laugh is high pitched, a slight bit hysterical before it dies out when staring deep into your eyes. “Does another Alpha’s cock feel that good inside you? Even better?” He’s sucking the taste of your boyfriend off your tongue, before fucking into your puffy, swollen folds with a satisfied hum. You’re floating, as his fingers dig into your tits. As your poor cunt is filled up, stretched in a completely different way.

He fucks in and out, in and out until he pulls out entirely, then forces the swollen head back in with a guttural grunt. “Good enough that you want to get fucked pregnant, fill you up with my kids? Yeah? You want your boyfriend’s bigger brother?”

”Yes, yes yes yes, please. Breed me full, Ume— Hajime! Hajime!”

He angles his hips a little to fold both your legs to your chest, baring teeth. It shifts his cock in you to the spongy spot in you like nothing else did, and has him moaning. “Oh, fuck, little girl. My cock’s reaching your womb, look— right here.” It makes him pant like a dog. Makes his eyes go wide, dipping his forehead to yours. He’s just so much bigger, so much stronger. Alpha in every sense.

“You know,” he chuckles, short before he hisses at the way your cunt squirms around him. “Since you’re Ren’s, you’re also sort of- my- hgh little sister too. Gonna let niichan fuck you ‘til you get bred?” You’re lost to the world as he bounces you up and down and your pussy spills over into the bed. Umemiya doesn’t care. The flush has crept up on his ears, his chest, he’s pink and sweaty to his fingertips and the way they dig into your skin. “Let it take, let it— that’s a good cheating, little cunt- so- pretty. Ask niichan to cum in you.”

“Cum, pl- pleas,” you slur against his mouth, let him get his face all up in yours. Let him nuzzle your cheek aside for purchase on your neck. “Niichan, niichan, nii-”

His cock pulses the last few sloppy thrusts, letting your cervix create a nice little seal around his cockhead— then he grunts. “Ah- that’s it, thatsit- fuck!” His sucking turns into teeth, and then a bite. One that has your entire body shivering, before your legs stretch out around his hips with another orgasm travelling through you. He swells inside you with a moan, and pushes you deep, even deeper onto him.

The weight of his pervic bone rubbing over your clit and his strong, muscular thighs pressing into your own is all you need to ride out another high ‘til you can’t see straight. It all has you wrapping your arms around him in an embrace that has your mouth open, panting and letting drool spill out.

The cum that hits is hot at first, rutting against you like you’re a fucktoy- but it doesn’t stop. There’s so much of it you try to shift, only to have Umemiya bite down harder on the juncture of you neck, until he breaks skin. “Stay,” he grunts, “take it a—ll. Let me fill you up.” Cum that makes you so hot inside, and squelches when he repositions to push more of himself inside, spilling out every which way. His cock is in until the thick base, and has swollen inside so wide you can’t even shift without it aching. “Ugh, so much cum inside that little body.”

Only after a couple minutes of staying that way, him growling into your skin when you try to escape, does he allow himself to pull back and watch the damage. His knot’s not deflated, but he still slowly starts moving out just to watch his cock flop out over your pussy and let the last squirts of hot cum spill over your clit. The ring of creamy white at the base of his cock and the mess he’s made of your raw pussy is nothing of proof like the bruised, mean bite right between your throat and your shoulder.

You’re too fucked out to notice. It’s cute. You’re cute all over. He squeezes his cock as he lets go of your legs and they stay that way, then laughs when trailing kisses down your thigh. “Kaji had a good thing going. I see why he went to bat over you.” Your eyelids flutter when he thumbs your pussy open, and buries his nose into it. His tongue delves into it just to lap up most of the extra cum, then leans over you to push your lips open. You just let him spill the mess of cum and spit and slick into your mouth, swallow it like a good little pet.

“And I don’t just mean your pussy either. I know you’re more than just that. If you weren’t, Togame wouldn’t bitch so much to see you again.” It makes him hum softly, and lay down beside you with a gentle motion to pull you in. Willing or not, you’re gonna snuggle into him a little longer. This is only the first of many days you two will spend like this. “We’re gonna have to make a visit to your old friends one of these days, ‘kay?”

He feels bad about the situation Kaji’s run into by now, beat hard enough to break a few ribs. It’s not enough to kill him, but Togame doesn’t know when to quit. Or rather, he quits only when he’s been told to quit. Your smell feels so nice wrapped around him, watching how you drift into a dreamless sleep with your cunt full of his cum. He could honestly go again, but maybe not right now.

“Niichan’s promised to make a diplomatic little gesture. You get it, right?”

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[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.5

Chapter Five: As If The Street Lights Pointed In An Arrowhead Leading Us Home

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck,

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: Sorry for the wait on this chapter! I was busy writing chapter one of my Richard Reeds fanfic, and my brain went into overdrive. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter, and my thoughts and writing process will be in the end notes below! Take care out there.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Cornelia Street by Taylor Swift

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CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — MORNING  

It was the weekend.  

A rare, golden thing in the middle of a chaotic schedule. Sometimes, productions pushed through weekends, forcing actors and crew alike to run on fumes and caffeine, but this week, you’d been given the luxury of a proper break.  

So you did the only logical thing: you slept in.  

No alarms. No early call times. No frantic scrambling to get out the door before the sun had even fully risen. Just the quiet hush of your hotel room, the soft cocoon of blankets, and the gentle hum of the city beyond your window.  

Pedro, on the other hand, was not sleeping in.  

He was downstairs earlier, enjoying breakfast with some of the crew, chatting between bites of eggs and toast. But when he realized he hadn’t seen you—not even a glimpse—something tugged at his chest.  

He checked his phone. No messages from you.  

Not that you had to text him, obviously. But still.  

“Maybe she’s still asleep,” Vanessa mused when he brought it up, sipping her coffee.  

Coco smirked. “Or avoiding you.”  

Pedro shot her a look, unimpressed. “You’re hilarious.”  

Joseph, ever the instigator, leaned in. “You do realize how weirdly invested you are in this, right?”  

Pedro ignored them, pushing back his chair. “I’m gonna go check on her.”  

“OoOoOo, someone’s worried,” Ebon teased, grinning.  

Pedro just flipped them off over his shoulder as he walked away.  

Your side of the room was quiet when he got there.  

Pedro knocked.  

Nothing.  

He frowned and knocked again, a little louder this time. “Hey, you alive in there?”  

Still nothing.  

His concern deepened. He knew you’d been exhausted lately, emotionally drained from the whole Cecilia situation. And yeah, maybe you were just catching up on sleep, but what if you weren’t feeling well? What if—  

He shook his head, pushing the thought away.  

A quick check with the front desk confirmed they had given you a key for emergencies. That was all the justification he needed.  

Carefully, Pedro let himself in.  

The room was dim, curtains drawn just enough to let in a sliver of London’s muted morning light. And there you were, curled up under a mountain of blankets, dead to the world.  

Snoring.  

Pedro exhaled, the tension in his chest dissolving as a slow, amused smile tugged at his lips.  

He took a step closer, just enough to take in the peaceful rise and fall of your shoulders, the way your hair was a little all over the place. A soft snore left your lips, making him chuckle under his breath.  

God, you were adorable.  

For a brief moment, he debated waking you. Teasing you for sleeping through breakfast, maybe even convincing you to come downstairs with him.  

But then you shifted, letting out the softest sigh as you burrowed deeper into the pillows, and—yeah. No. He couldn’t wake you.  

Instead, he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, just watching for a little longer.  

He’d give you another hour.  

Maybe two.  

And then, well—if you didn’t wake up soon, he’d have to find a way to lure you out with the promise of coffee or something just as tempting.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — LATE MORNING  

The late morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. Pedro had been patient—he really had—but after standing around for a while, listening to your soft snoring, he decided you needed to eat something.  

So he had slipped downstairs, grabbed a plate of fresh fruit, some pastries, and a glass of juice, and set everything neatly on the kitchenette counter before making his way back to your bedside.  

The problem?  

You were not a morning person.  

Pedro bit back a grin as you stirred, groaning into your pillow, clearly fighting consciousness with everything in you. He could already tell this wasn’t going to be an easy wake-up.  

“Alright, Sleeping Beauty,” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. “Time to get up.”  

You groaned again, pulling the blanket over your head. “No.”  

Pedro chuckled. “Not even gonna think about it?”  

“No.”  

He exhaled, amused, and sat on the edge of the bed, nudging your shoulder lightly. “C’mon, I brought you breakfast. Fresh fruit, pastries, coffee… I even got you juice. Thought I was being nice.”  

That earned him a tiny peek of an eye from beneath the blanket. “What kind of juice?”  

He smirked. There we go.  

“Mango,” he answered, watching as you visibly debated with yourself. “And it’s still cold.”  

You groaned but finally—finally—sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you blinked blearily at him. “Fine. But if you’re lying about the juice, I’m going back to bed.”  

Pedro chuckled, standing up. “Noted.”  

As you shuffled out of bed and towards the kitchenette, still wrapped in your blanket like a grumpy little burrito, Pedro bit back another laugh.  

You were trying so hard not to snap at him, despite your obvious morning grumpiness, and he found it strangely endearing. You cared about him—he could see that. Not just in the way a fan might, but as someone who had gotten to know him, really know him, beyond the public persona.  

And for some reason, that made his chest feel warm.  

By the time you took your first sip of juice, you finally looked at him, still groggy but slightly more awake. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you grumbled.  

Pedro grinned. “I know.”

Pedro stayed leaning against the kitchenette counter, watching you with quiet amusement as you nibbled on a croissant, still wrapped up in your blanket like you might retreat back into it at any moment.  

"You know," he said, arms crossing over his chest, "I've worked with some pretty serious divas before, but you? You might be the worst morning person I've ever met."  

You narrowed your eyes at him mid-chew, unimpressed. "Bold of you to assume I’m even a person in the morning."  

Pedro laughed, rich and warm, like he hadn't expected you to say that. It sent a flutter through your stomach, but you buried it beneath another bite of food.  

A comfortable silence settled between you as you worked through your breakfast, the weight of last night—the teasing from your friends, the way Pedro had looked at you over dinner, the way he’d listened, really listened, when you brushed off your problems—lingering just beneath the surface.  

It should’ve been awkward. But it wasn’t.  

"So," he finally said, drumming his fingers against the countertop, "what’s the plan for your day off? Big, exciting plans to stay in bed all day?"  

You swallowed a sip of juice, tilting your head at him. "That was the dream, yeah."  

Pedro let out a soft scoff, pushing off the counter. "Nah. Not happening."  

You raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"  

"You’ve been working your ass off all week, and I don’t mean just putting up with the shoot," he said, giving you a knowing look. "I mean all of it. Everything. And since you clearly weren’t gonna tell me how much it was getting to you, I figure it’s my job to make sure you actually do something for yourself today."  

Your stomach twisted at that.  

He had noticed.  

Of course, he had.  

And now, instead of letting you bury it like you had all week, he was making it a thing.  

"Pedro," you sighed, setting your glass down. "I really don’t—"  

"Shh," he cut in, grinning as he pressed a finger to his lips. "No arguing."  

You stared at him, deadpan. "Did you just shush me?"  

"Yeah." He shrugged, completely unfazed. "It’s effective."  

You narrowed your eyes, trying very hard not to laugh. "You’re an idiot."  

"And yet," he said, nodding toward your now-empty plate, "an idiot who got you to wake up, eat breakfast, and seriously consider leaving this hotel room."  

You bit your lip, fighting back a smile.  

Damn it.  

"Okay, fine." You rolled your eyes. "What exactly do you have in mind?"  

Pedro grinned like he’d just won something. "Get dressed, cariño. I’ll tell you on the way."

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EARLY AFTERNOON 

You didn’t know what you had expected Pedro to suggest—maybe a lazy stroll through the city, or coffee at some tucked-away café—but the moment you stepped outside, you realized you had severely underestimated him.  

For one, he had somehow procured a car.  

Not just any car. A sleek, inconspicuous black SUV, complete with a driver who nodded at Pedro like they had some unspoken understanding.  

You frowned, pausing just before getting in. “Please tell me you didn’t hire security just to take me out for the day.”  

Pedro smirked, holding the door open for you. “Relax. It’s just a favor. No secret service level drama.”  

You eyed him suspiciously. “You swear?”  

“Would I lie to you?”  

You didn’t dignify that with a response.  

With a dramatic sigh, you climbed into the passenger seat, and Pedro followed suit, settling in beside you with a satisfied grin.  

“See?” he said as the car pulled away from the hotel. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”  

You shot him a flat look. “I already regret this.”  

Pedro just laughed, tapping his fingers idly against his knee.  

The city stretched out beyond the tinted windows, a blur of old brick buildings, cafés with tiny outdoor tables, and the occasional group of tourists wrapped up in their own adventures.  

For a moment, you let yourself relax, head resting back against the seat, the steady hum of the car filling the silence.  

And then—  

“Are you actually going to tell me where we’re going?” you asked, side-eyeing him.  

Pedro hummed, pretending to think about it. “Nah. I like watching you squirm.”  

You groaned, letting your head fall back dramatically. “I hate you.”  

“No, you don’t.”  

You turned your head, finding him already watching you, something fond and unreadable flickering behind his glasses.  

Your breath caught in your throat.  

The car hit a stoplight, and he looked away, tapping something into his phone.  

Okay. Fine.  

You could pretend that didn’t just happen.  

The drive continued, weaving through the city until you eventually started to recognize where you were heading.  

Your brows furrowed.  

“Wait a minute—"  

“Surprise,” Pedro said, grinning as the car finally rolled to a stop in front of what was, unmistakably, a bookstore.  

Not just any bookstore.  

One you had mentioned in passing about a few days ago, while sitting with him and a few others on set, talking about places you’d love to visit while in London.  

You turned to him, mouth slightly open. “You remembered?”  

Pedro gave you a look, like the idea of him not remembering was ridiculous.  

“Of course I did,” he said simply, pushing open his door. “Now, are you gonna sit there looking at me like I just grew a second head, or are we actually going in?”  

You scrambled out of the car before he could make another joke, ignoring the warmth spreading through your chest.  

Inside, the scent of old paper and freshly brewed coffee wrapped around you like a hug. The place was small but full—every wall lined with shelves, tables stacked with books, mismatched chairs tucked into cozy corners.  

It was perfect.  

Pedro hovered near the entrance, watching your expression, clearly pleased with himself.  

You turned, crossing your arms. “Alright, Pascal. What’s the catch?”  

He smirked. “No catch.”  

You narrowed your eyes.  

He sighed, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine. I might have selfish reasons for bringing you here.”  

You raised an eyebrow. “Which are?”  

Pedro stepped closer, tilting his head. “You’re a pain in the ass when you’re stressed.”  

Your jaw dropped.  

“Excuse me?”  

He laughed, reaching out and flicking the end of your sleeve. “You needed a break. And I—” He paused, eyes softening. “I like seeing you happy.”  

The words were simple.  

Too simple.  

And yet, they settled deep in your chest, curling around something you weren’t ready to name.  

You swallowed, looking away, focusing on the nearest bookshelf like it held all the answers.  

Pedro let the silence stretch for a beat, then nudged you gently.  

“Go on,” he murmured. “Pick something.”  

So you did.

LONDON BOOKSHOP — EARLY AFTERNOON  

You took your time browsing.  

Partly because you wanted to, and partly because Pedro made himself comfortable, dropping into one of the armchairs in the corner like he had all the time in the world.  

He did this thing where he pretended not to be watching you. Flipping through a book, glasses sliding down his nose, but every so often—you caught him. The flicker of his gaze, the tiny smirk when you pulled a book off the shelf and examined the cover with interest.  

It made your skin warm.  

It was still so bizarre—this thing between you two.  

You were still wrapping your head around it, still trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t some overactive, sleep-deprived hallucination.  

Because this was Pedro Pascal.  

And Pedro Pascal had somehow taken it upon himself to make sure you were okay, taking you out on bookstore adventures and—  

Oh god, were you on a date?  

Your heart jumped at the realization, nearly making you fumble the book in your hands.  

No. Not a date.  

Just… Pedro being Pedro.  

Right?  

You exhaled slowly, trying to refocus.  

The book in your hands was a worn, well-loved copy of a classic romance novel. The pages were slightly yellowed, the cover soft with age.  

“That one, huh?”  

You startled slightly, looking up to see Pedro watching you from his chair, one arm draped lazily over the armrest.  

You shrugged, running your fingers along the spine. “I’ve been meaning to read it.”  

Pedro hummed, tilting his head. “You always do that.”  

You blinked. “Do what?”  

He nodded toward the book in your hands. “That thing. Where you rub the cover before you decide.”  

You froze, caught. “…I do not.”  

Pedro’s grin was entirely too smug. “Oh, you do.”  

You felt warmth creep up your neck. “You’ve been watching me pick books?”  

He lifted a shoulder, like it wasn’t a big deal. “You’re cute when you’re indecisive.”  

Your stomach flipped.  

You opened your mouth—only to immediately close it again, because what the fuck were you supposed to say to that?  

Pedro’s grin widened like he knew exactly what he was doing.  

Your fingers curled around the book, gripping it like it could somehow ground you.  

“I—” You cleared your throat, forcing a glare. “I hate you.”  

Pedro just laughed, leaning back in his chair. “No, you don’t.”  

You turned away, cheeks burning, pointedly walking toward the register before he could see how flustered you were.  

The woman behind the counter smiled as she rang up your book, eyes flicking toward Pedro lounging in the corner.  

“That your boyfriend?” she asked casually.  

You nearly choked.  

“What? No. No, no. He’s just—” You gestured vaguely. “Pedro.”  

She just smiled knowingly. “Right.”  

You hurriedly paid, ignoring the way Pedro was definitely smirking behind you, and grabbed the small paper bag with your book inside.  

When you turned, he was already standing, adjusting his glasses. “Ready?”  

You exhaled, nodding.  

As the two of you stepped outside, the chilly afternoon air hit your skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the bookshop.  

Pedro slipped his hands into his pockets, glancing over. “Lunch?”  

You hesitated. “I don’t know… what if people see us?”  

Pedro just shrugged. “So what?”  

You frowned, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I just— I don’t want people to think—”  

“That you’re hanging out with me?” Pedro finished, raising an eyebrow.  

You let out a breath, rubbing at your temple. “I just don’t want to be weird about it.”  

Pedro was quiet for a beat, then nudged your arm gently. “Hey.”  

You looked up.  

“Let them think whatever they want,” he said, voice softer now. “You’re allowed to exist in public with me, y’know.”  

Your chest ached in a way you weren’t expecting.  

He made it sound so simple.  

You swallowed, nodding. “Okay.”  

Pedro grinned. “Good. Now let’s go find some obscenely overpriced pasta.”  

You huffed a laugh, letting him lead the way.

LONDON — AFTERNOON

The restaurant Pedro picked was one of those effortlessly stylish little spots tucked away on a side street, the kind of place with warm lighting, fresh flowers on every table, and a menu written in looping script on a chalkboard.

It smelled like olive oil and fresh bread, like garlic sizzling in butter.

“Obscenely overpriced pasta,” you muttered under your breath, scanning the menu. “You weren’t kidding.”

Pedro chuckled, tilting his head toward you. “Hey, if we’re gonna be reckless, we might as well do it with carbs.”

Your lips twitched, but you didn’t argue.

The two of you had been seated near the window, the view outside hazy with the gray of the London afternoon. Pedro sat opposite you, cap low, glasses on, but even that didn’t do much to disguise him.

It was still him.

Still warm brown eyes and laughter lines, still easy charm and a quiet steadiness that made you feel safer than you probably should.

The restaurant hummed with soft conversation, the gentle clinking of glasses and silverware blending with the distant notes of some old jazz song playing overhead. The air smelled rich—garlic and butter, fresh herbs and warm bread—and for the first time in what felt like days, you felt… light.  

You weren’t thinking about work. Or her.  

Just Pedro. Just this.  

He was leaning back in his chair now, one arm draped over the backrest, fingers idly tracing the rim of his water glass. His cap was still low over his forehead, glasses perched on his nose, but his expression was open, relaxed—like this was the most natural thing in the world. Like the two of you having lunch together was something that had always made sense.  

And maybe it did.  

"So," Pedro said, tearing off a piece of bread from the basket between you. "Tell me something about you that I don’t know yet."  

You huffed a small laugh, stirring the ice in your drink with your straw. "That’s a pretty broad request."  

He shrugged. "Alright, let’s narrow it down. What was little you like?"  

You blinked at him. "Little me?"  

"Yeah." He popped a piece of bread into his mouth. "Like, what were you like as a kid? Were you the quiet, shy one, or were you running around causing problems?"  

You scoffed. "I am the quiet, shy one."  

Pedro gave you a look. "I know you. You’ve got a little chaos in you somewhere."  

You bit back a smile. "Fine. Maybe a little."  

Pedro grinned, leaning in like he was settling in for a story. "Alright, spill."  

You thought for a moment, fingers brushing absentmindedly over the rim of your glass. "I was kind of… scrappy, I guess? Like, I wasn’t looking for trouble, but I wouldn’t not fight a kid if they deserved it."  

Pedro nearly choked on his water. "What?"  

Your face heated. "Not like that! I just—I had a strong sense of justice, okay?"  

Pedro wiped his mouth, eyes gleaming with amusement. "So what I’m hearing is that you’ve always been ready to throw hands."  

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands. "I shouldn’t have told you that."  

Pedro was grinning so hard. "No, no, I love it. I love picturing little you, all tiny and righteous, just out there laying down the law."  

You peeked at him through your fingers. "It wasn’t that dramatic."  

"Mm-hmm," he said, clearly not convinced.  

You shook your head, exhaling a laugh. "Okay, your turn, big shot. What was little Pedro like?"  

His smirk softened into something more nostalgic. "Oh, I was a menace," he admitted.  

You snorted. "Of course you were."  

"I mean, not in a bad way," he amended, breaking off another piece of bread. "I was just… all over the place. Loud, always moving, always talking. My parents were exhausted."  

You smiled. "Sounds like you were a handful."  

"Oh, completely." He took a sip of his drink, glancing at you over the rim. "I grew up in a house that was always full, always noisy. Family coming in and out all the time, music playing, food cooking. I never really knew what quiet was until I got older."  

There was something warm in his voice, something fond in the way he spoke about home.  

"That sounds… nice," you murmured.  

Pedro tilted his head slightly, studying you. "What about you? What was home like?"  

You hesitated, glancing down at your plate. "Not like that."  

His brows drew together, but he didn’t push.  

You exhaled softly, running your finger over the condensation on your glass. "I mean, it wasn’t bad or anything. It was just… quieter. A little lonelier."  

Pedro didn’t say anything, just waited.  

You bit your lip, giving a small shrug. "I guess I always felt like I had to work a little harder to fit in. To matter."  

Pedro’s gaze softened, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.  

You cleared your throat, suddenly embarrassed. "Sorry, that got depressing—"  

"Hey." His voice was quiet but firm.  

You glanced up.  

Pedro was watching you with something steady, something real in his expression. "You don’t have to apologize for being honest."  

Your stomach flipped.  

You nodded, a little too quickly. "Right. Yeah."  

Pedro gave you a small smile, then nudged your foot under the table. "For what it’s worth," he said lightly, "I think you’re pretty great."  

Your throat felt tight. "Yeah?"  

"Yeah." His smile widened. "Even if you did used to fight kids."  

You groaned. "Oh my god."  

Pedro laughed, and the sound was so warm, so easy, that you couldn’t help but laugh with him.  

And just like that, whatever tension had settled between you melted away, leaving nothing but warmth in its place.

The street was buzzing softly with life when you stepped outside, the late afternoon sun spilling golden light over everything. You hadn’t even fully processed where Pedro was leading you when he suddenly tugged on your wrist and gestured toward a tiny, vintage photo booth tucked just outside the café. Its paint was chipped, its curtain a little worn, but it had the kind of charm that begged you to step inside.  

“C’mon,” Pedro said with a mischievous grin, already pulling you toward it.  

“What? No!” You laughed, glancing around like someone might catch you doing something scandalous. “Pedro, this is so cheesy!”  

He raised a brow, clearly unimpressed by your protests. “Cheesy is good. Plus, you owe me for making me think you were a goner this morning.” He gave you a dramatic, pleading look. “One strip of photos. For my emotional recovery.”  

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “Fine. One. And only because I feel bad for you.”  

The booth’s tiny space forced you closer together than you expected. Pedro leaned in to fiddle with the ancient machine, his arm brushing against yours. You tried not to think too hard about how warm he was, or how his cologne smelled faintly like cedar and something else you couldn’t quite place.  

“Okay, ready?” Pedro asked, his finger hovering over the button.  

“Wait! What do we—what pose are we doing?”  

He grinned. “You’ll figure it out.”  

The camera counted down—three, two, one.  

The first flash caught you both off guard, faces blank with surprise. You burst into laughter, the kind that made your shoulders shake, and Pedro quickly leaned in for another shot.  

“Okay, okay, serious face,” he instructed, eyes narrowing comically.  

You tried, but the second the flash went off, you broke into giggles again, and Pedro lost it right along with you.  

The third shot was a blur of laughter, your head tipped back, Pedro’s grin wide and unguarded.  

Then, right as the camera beeped for the final shot, Pedro turned toward you.  

You barely had time to register the movement before his lips brushed your cheek, soft and quick but undeniably there.  

The flash went off.  

You froze, eyes wide as you turned to look at him. Pedro’s face mirrored yours for a second—caught somewhere between Did I really just do that? and Yeah, I did. But then, the corners of his mouth curled into a sheepish grin.  

The photo strip slid out of the machine, and you grabbed it, holding it up between you. There it was: the first three frames filled with laughter and goofy poses, and the last… the last one where his lips were pressed against your cheek, your eyes wide, his soft and warm, both of you caught mid-smile.  

Your heart fluttered—nervous, exhilarated, but… not scared. Not even a little.  

“You kissed me,” you said, voice soft but teasing.  

Pedro rubbed the back of his neck, pretending to look thoughtful. “Hmm. Did I? Feels like that might’ve been you kissing me.”  

You gasped, smacking his arm with the photo strip. “Liar!”  

He chuckled, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey, I’m just saying—it’s open to interpretation.”  

You shook your head, laughing softly. “You’re ridiculous.”  

“And yet,” he said, tilting his head, “here you are. Stuck in a photo booth with me.”  

The air between you shifted then—lighter, but also charged with something else. Something that felt like the beginning of a question neither of you was quite ready to ask.  

For a beat, neither of you moved.  

Then Pedro tapped the photo strip with his finger, breaking the moment. “Well, at least we’ve got proof of how good we look together.”  

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t stop smiling. “Shut up.”  

“Never,” he replied, already holding out his phone. “Now, do we post this on the internet, or do we keep it as blackmail material for later?”  

You grabbed the photo strip, slipping it into your pocket. “Neither. This one’s ours.”  

Pedro raised his hands in surrender, but the smile on his face told you he didn’t mind one bit.

The sky was painted in soft shades of pink and orange as the sun began its slow descent. Pedro slipped his phone back into his pocket after calling the driver, glancing at you with a small smile. “We’ve got about ten minutes. Wanna walk a little?”  

You nodded, grateful for the chance to stretch your legs. The streets were alive with a gentle hum—tourists taking photos, locals going about their day, the occasional street performer filling the air with music.  

The city felt like a movie set, every streetlamp and cobblestone path perfectly placed. And in this fleeting moment, it felt like the world had paused just for the two of you, as if the streetlights themselves pointed in an arrowhead, leading you home.  

Pedro noticed the slight chill in the air and shrugged off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders before you could protest. “Can’t have you catching a cold,” he said, his voice light but warm with care.  

The jacket smelled like him—faint cologne mixed with something warm and earthy, something Pedro. You tugged it around yourself a little tighter, feeling its weight settle comfortably over your frame.  

A surge of boldness swept over you, the kind you usually talked yourself out of but didn’t this time. You stepped closer, looping your arm around his. His body radiated warmth, steady and solid beneath your touch. Slowly, your fingers found his hand, intertwining with his.  

Pedro didn’t hesitate. His hand squeezed yours gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soft, absentminded rhythm. It was such an easy, natural thing for him, this casual intimacy that felt so rare and comforting.  

You’d learned over the past few days that touch was part of his love language. He was the kind of man who hugged with his whole body, the kind whose touch always felt intentional and grounding, never forced or fleeting.  

Your heart thudded a little harder in your chest. You told yourself it was just from the walk.  

You squeezed his arm lightly, smiling up at him. “Thanks for today, Pedro.”  

He glanced down at you, his eyes warm and crinkling at the edges, those familiar laughter lines making an appearance. “For what?”  

“For everything,” you said softly, almost shy. “For making me laugh. For breakfast. For not running away when I woke up looking like a crypt keeper.”  

Pedro chuckled, his grip on your hand tightening for a brief second. “You looked adorable. Not a crypt keeper—more like… a sleepy little gremlin.”  

You gasped, mock-offended, and smacked his arm with your free hand. “Gremlin? You’re lucky I don’t let go of your hand right now.”  

He grinned, that mischievous spark in his eyes you were quickly becoming fond of. “You wouldn’t. You like me too much.”  

You couldn’t argue with that.  

The streetlamps flickered on as the daylight dimmed, casting a golden glow over the cobblestone streets. You both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. The city hummed around you, but all you could focus on was the steady warmth of Pedro’s hand in yours, the easy rhythm of your steps together, the way everything felt just a little softer, a little brighter with him by your side.  

“You’re really something, you know that?” Pedro said suddenly, his voice quieter now, thoughtful.  

You glanced at him, your breath hitching slightly. “Something good, I hope.”  

Pedro stopped walking for a second, turning toward you. His eyes searched yours, serious now. “The best kind of something.”  

Your chest tightened at the weight of his words, a mix of nerves and excitement swirling in your stomach. You tried to play it cool, but the heat rising to your cheeks gave you away.  

“Well,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, “right back at you, Pedro.”  

He smiled, that same soft, unguarded smile that always made you feel like you were the only person in the world he was looking at.  

The driver pulled up a few moments later, headlights cutting through the soft twilight. Pedro opened the door for you, his hand resting lightly on your back as you slid into the car.  

As the car pulled away, you leaned back into the seat, Pedro’s jacket still wrapped around your shoulders, his warmth lingering like a secret you weren’t quite ready to give up.  

And maybe, just maybe, neither was he.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EVENING

The glow of golden hour had dimmed into soft dusk by the time you returned to Chiltern Firehouse. The lobby was warm and buzzing with quiet energy—guests sipping cocktails, a crackling fireplace, and staff moving seamlessly through the space. Pedro walked beside you, his hand resting gently at the small of your back like it had been there all along.  

You didn’t want the day to end just yet. There was something about the way the air felt, a little lighter, like it had been charged with something electric and unspoken.  

As you approached the front desk, one of the hotel managers, a polished woman in a tailored suit, stepped forward with a warm smile, followed closely by Franklin Latt—Pedro’s manager.  

“Good evening,” the hotel manager greeted. “I hope you’ve been enjoying your stay. I wanted to let you know that your room is now ready, miss.”  

Your breath hitched for a split second.  

Right. The room.  

It was easy to forget after the last few days, the way you’d fallen into such a natural rhythm with Pedro. Sharing his suite had felt so… effortless. You blinked, trying to process the sudden shift.  

“Oh,” you said, your voice soft, almost reluctant. “Right. That was, uh… this week.”  

You glanced at Pedro, and for a fleeting moment, something passed between you—a flicker of disappointment mirrored in his eyes.  

You shifted on your feet, clearing your throat. “Okay, um… I guess I need to pack, then.”  

The hotel manager smiled politely. “The room is ready for you whenever you’re ready to move, miss.”  

Pedro opened his mouth before you could respond, a little too quickly. “Actually, do you think she could switch tomorrow? It’s been a long day, and she still needs to pack her things. We’re both pretty wiped out.”  

His voice was casual, but there was an edge of determination that made you glance up at him, your heart fluttering at how easily he’d jumped in for you.  

The hotel manager hesitated but nodded. “Of course. If you’d prefer to transfer tomorrow, that can be arranged.”  

Franklin, however, raised an eyebrow, his sharp gaze flickering between you and Pedro. His eyes caught on Pedro’s jacket draped around your shoulders, the sleeves too long for you, the fabric worn in all the right places.  

Your face heated up as you tugged the jacket a little tighter around yourself, hoping it would hide the rush of color in your cheeks.  

Franklin crossed his arms, his expression somewhere between amused and suspicious. “Tired, huh?” he said, his tone light but pointed. “You sure that’s the only reason?”  

Pedro shot him a look, his brow arching in silent warning. “Relax, Frank. We’ve been out all day, walking around the city. She’s exhausted.”  

Franklin chuckled, clearly not buying it but deciding to let it go—for now. “Right. Well, don’t let me keep you.”  

The hotel manager nodded again. “Just let us know when you’re ready to move rooms. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”  

She and Franklin walked off, leaving you and Pedro standing in the middle of the lobby, the hum of quiet conversations around you. For a second, neither of you spoke.  

Pedro scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “So… I guess you’re stuck with me for one more night.”  

You tried to laugh, but it came out softer than you intended. “Guess so.”  

The elevator doors opened, and you stepped inside together. The air between you felt charged again, like earlier, but now tinged with something deeper—something fragile and new.  

Pedro leaned against the wall of the elevator, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “If I’m being honest, I’m kinda glad you’re not leaving just yet.”  

Your heart skipped a beat, but you tried to play it cool. “Oh yeah? Afraid of being lonely?”  

He chuckled, his voice low and warm. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ve just gotten used to having you around.”  

The words settled in your chest like a secret you weren’t sure you were ready to unpack. You didn’t trust yourself to say anything in return, so you just smiled, a little shy, a little flustered.  

When the elevator dinged, Pedro followed you out, his hand resting lightly on your back again as you made your way to the suite. It was such a small thing, but it grounded you in ways you hadn’t expected.

Maybe you’d sort through those feelings tomorrow, when the lines between friendship and something more didn’t feel so blurred.  

But tonight?  

“One last movie night?” you asked softly as you swiped the keycard, pushing the door open. You glanced over your shoulder at Pedro, an almost shy smile playing on your lips.  

Pedro’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned, stepping in behind you. “It doesn’t have to be the last one,” he said, his voice warm and steady. “We can have as many movie nights as you want.”  

His words hung in the air, carrying a weight you weren’t sure he meant to put there. Something about the way he said it made your chest tighten in the best way possible.  

You kicked off your shoes, trying to shake off the flutter in your stomach, and headed for the couch. Pedro shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over a chair, moving to grab a couple of waters from the kitchenette.  

“Okay,” you said, settling into the couch cushions, pulling a blanket over your lap. “But I’m picking the movie this time.”  

Pedro handed you a bottle of water and plopped down beside you, close enough that his knee bumped yours. “Deal. What are we watching?”  

You tapped your chin dramatically, pretending to be deep in thought. “Something light. No brooding detectives or tragic endings.”  

He laughed, the sound low and easy. “Are you saying my movie choices are too intense?”  

“Not too intense,” you teased, opening the streaming app. “But I’m in the mood for something that won’t make me question the meaning of life.”  

Pedro leaned back, resting an arm on the back of the couch behind you. His fingers brushed your shoulder, barely there, but it sent a spark down your spine anyway. “Fair enough. Surprise me.”  

You clicked on a romantic comedy and settled in, trying to focus on the movie and not the warmth of Pedro beside you. But it was hard to ignore—the way his thigh pressed gently against yours, the sound of his soft chuckle whenever something funny happened on screen, the way he stole glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking.  

About halfway through the movie, you felt your head naturally tilt toward his shoulder. You hesitated for a second, nerves twisting in your chest. But then Pedro shifted ever so slightly, making it easier, like he was inviting you to stay.  

“You comfortable?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.  

“Yeah,” you said softly, your cheek resting against him. “You make a pretty good pillow.”  

He chuckled, the sound vibrating under your ear. “I try.”  

Neither of you moved after that, the movie fading into the background. The world outside the suite felt far away, like it didn’t matter. Not right now. Not with him.  

Maybe you’d unpack those feelings tomorrow.  

But tonight?  

Tonight, you let yourself fall a little further. 

End Notes:

This was one of the chapters I was dreading to write. Not cause I didn’t want to write it—

Cause I knew, from a writer’s perspective, at some point, I had to subvert the expectation of, “They’ll be roommates the entire time and fall in love.”

And yes, I did the thing where I gave you something you wanted/something good and then took it away from you LMAO ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I mean… at least you get your own room now! So that counts for something— (please don’t show up at my house aHHHH)

Also, five chapters in, I had to give ya'll a little smooch... just a little... hehe

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca @greenwitchfromthewoods @iqr-x @southernbe @maryfanson @brittmb115 @klajmekk @taytay0403 @whimsiwitchy @zymiii @sarahhxx03 @leilanixx @lilasskicker-23 @https-murdock @barnescamboy @widowsvail @senhoritamayblog @morganlolitta

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

The falling | joel miller x f!reader, 5k

Summary: It’s a weird feeling, the moment you realize you’ve lost everything. You're falling. It is never ending, the falling, even after the moment, that exact moment, is long gone. Or you catch Joel cheating on you. The world comes crushing down.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, ANGST. That's it. Ok, bye. But seriously, angst, a whole lot of angst, alternated POVs, husband!joel, wife!reader, cheater!joel, married couple, Joel fucks another f!person, reference to sexual activity but nothing too detailed, as I said before-ANGST, excessive use of the word fuck, Joel is kind of a dick on this one, as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Let me know how you feel about this lost little puppy, I know he sounds arrogant and awful, maybe I can rectify that, on a second part. If you're interested in a closure for these two, hit me in the comments! Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all! 🥰😘

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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It’s a weird feeling, the moment you realize you’ve lost everything.

Everything dear and loved and cherished and so close to your heart. Your heart itself.

You still can’t decide if it’s liberating or torturing, to have that exact moment burned in your thoughts like a Polaroid.

But the pain is real. The pain is excruciating. It spreads like vines through your whole body, starting from the pit of your stomach in the form of a bile you try to hold back, moving to your heart’s agonizing clench, licking to the ends of your numb limbs which remain obstinately immobile. It feels almost like floating, but not exactly.

You’re falling; you’re still falling as if there’s no luxurious, expensive floor underneath your feet, holding you surprisingly still up. You wait for the landing, the crush, unmoving, unblinking, not quite breathing. It is never ending, the falling, even after the moment, that exact moment, is long gone.

Your designer’s tote bag, another unnecessarily extravagant gift from your husband, drops from your hands to the floor with a loud thud.

Joel’s thrusts stop immediately and he turns his head to look behind him, while he’s on his knees, balls deep in a female body on all fours. His eyes shut tightly in something you’re not sure how to interpret, dropping his head between his shoulder blades and his palms squeeze the hips of the female body he's holding, until his fingertips go white.

And you’re just standing there, on the threshold of your bedroom, taking in the scene. It’s weird how the mind works under stressful situations. Is the absurdity of the reality that keeps you calm? Is it your brain’s reaction to protect you from collapsing? Are you shutting down right now?

You feel your eyes unable to move around and at the same time you see clearer than ever, as if you’re looking through a wide-angle lens.

You notice all of the stripped clothes, which they don’t seem hastily taken off, the way they pool on various surfaces of the room; they took their time undressing each other.

You notice the crystal tumbler of a half finished liquid, Joel’s whiskey, on his side of the nightstand; they took their time having fun.

You notice the absence of a condom on Joel’s cock as he removes himself from the female hole he was buried deep, all splayed out for him and now you; they took their time before, it seems, there is an intimacy there. This is not a stranger, this is not a first time.

Joel is calm, collected even, as he stands to his full height, grabbing his pants from the floor next to the king sized bed and putting them on. Calculated, steady movements, he looks like he’s trying to stay in control of the situation, diminish it to something else. You pray he doesn’t go down that path.

You look behind him, the female body’s gathering itself into a ball, sitting on your bed now, hands hugging it’s knees, trying to protect its nudity. Your eyes roam her form until they settle on her face. Oh, you know her. She looks -hm, there’s a mosaic of emotions behind her eyes, which are surprisingly bold to look back at you. You see shock, you see fear, you see.. satisfaction?

“Darlin’” Joel’s approaching you, crossing the ridiculously big room, with a steady pace.

His chest is heaving from the effort to regulate his breathing, he’s sweaty, his muscles all bulged from the interrupted fucking, his curls -your curls, fuck, that hurts- damp. He’s so handsome in all his disheveled form. He looks like your Joel.

Imaginary flashes of her fingertips combing through his hair are passing through your mind and you feel your esophagus contracting, a sense of a burning hot liquid moving up to your mouth. You swallow it down.

He reaches to touch your arm, don’t you dare, is all you mutter lowly, still without moving a muscle as if you do, the world will come crushing down. It already did, didn’t you get the memo? Your voice feels foreign to your ears, your tongue feels rough like sandpaper. He obeys.

When does this falling end?

“Baby-”, he tries again, while he steps forward, a condescending tone to his voice, like he’s addressing a toddler.

“Don’t-”, you roll your eyes in your head, god, he smells so good, even with the sweat someone else poured out of his skin, he smells so fucking good. He smells like your Joel. “Don’t come any closer.”

“This-” he exhales heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, as if it’s an unnecessary effort to explain, as if you should understand; of all people, you should know, “this doesn’t mean anything-” his hand gesturing between him and the female body, “she doesn’t mean anything.” You should understand, baby, you should know.

And for the first time her eyes leave yours and land on the face of the deceiver. If this wasn’t happening to you right now, you would take pity on her pained expression. You almost feel sorry for her. Almost.

“Does she know that?” you ask him, your eyes never leaving her tangled form on your bed.

Joel snaps his head to her direction, narrowing his eyes in warning, “Yes, she does.”, his voice comes out strict and final, signaling there’s no room for doubt. He doesn’t sound like your Joel.

“I need you to leave.”, you breathe barely audible, your eyes still on her face; now she doesn’t know where to look, the rug pulled out from under her feet from the man she had inside her minutes ago.

His gaze is cold and indifferent, as if everything is her fault, looking still in her direction. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights, the empathetic part of your brain feels for her.

“Get your shit and get the fuck out, what are you waiting for?” he snaps at her.

“Not her, you.” you whisper, it’s impossible to speak louder, all of your energy powers your two standing feet.

He turns to look at you, shocked, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape.

“Wh- what are you talking about, sweetheart?” he tries to reason with you, “We need to talk, to-”

“Joel-”, you try again and thank god he’s interrupting you, you don’t have the strength to negotiate right now. Let the dice roll. It’s all fucked, anyway.

“This is my home; I’m not leaving.” he simply states, shaking his head from side to side, staring at you expectantly.

“You’re right. This is your house.” you acknowledge, coming to a painful realization. “Everything is yours; you own everything, don’t you?”, you smile sadly, crouching down to collect you bag.

You turn on your heels and leave the residence formerly known and felt as home, behind you.

Alarm system disabled.

Joe’s hairs are rising on the nape of his neck, when he checks the alarm app notification on his phone, thinking you came back home.

It’s been an awful month without you, without being able to contact you. He knew where you were of course, he could not for the life of him leave that information escape him, but he didn’t pressure you with an unexpected visit, he knew better.

It’s been a month. That’s plenty of time. You took your time and now you’re ready to talk. You have to be, this can’t be the end of this relationship, this marriage.

He presses your number and hits call. Fuck, he’s still blocked. Maybe you forgot to unblock him, it’s ok, it doesn’t mean anything.

He checks the house’s cameras. Shit. That’s not you. What is she doing there? What the fuck is going on? Alright, he’s going back to the house.

He stands on his feet, right in the middle of a meeting with the board and just leaves them. There’s a distant muttering of where does he think he goes, what happened, what’s gotten into him, this is important for the upcoming deal, but he pays no mind to them.

He needs to talk to you.

“Yeah, I think I’ve got everything you need,” Maria facetimes you, showing around your closet via her camera. “I’m loading the suitcase to the car and I’m out of here.”

“Thank you Mar-”

“MARIA?” Joel’s voice travels through the space from the ground floor, up.

“Shit, shit, shit, what am I gonna do?” Maria whispers to you turning the call to voice only.

“Just take the suitcase and leave, it’s ok, I only got personal stuff if that’s what he’s worried about. Let him check if it comes to that.”, you try to calm her down.

“Ok, ok-” Maria grabs the handle of the suitcase and moves to leave the walk-in closet.

“Hey.” Joel comes through the door to the bedroom taking in the scene. He hasn’t set foot in this room for nearly a month now.

“Hey.” Maria sounds pissed on the line.

“What are you doing here? Where's Tommy?”, Joel’s face frowns in question. “Tommy's not my keeper, his my partner. My husband, not that you would know what that means, apparently.” Maria just shrugs and moves to pass him by.

“What are you doing, what’s going on here?” he insists, blocking her way.

“I’m just collecting som-”

“How is she? Is she ok?” his voice softening when he asks about you.

“Oh, please, Joel, how is she? Really?” Maria scoffs at him. “She doesn’t want to see you, Joel or hear from you, that’s how she is.”

“Yeah, I gathered that much, thank you.” he mocks back. “Is she on the phone, can I just talk to her?” he extends his arm to reach for the phone. “Over my dead and cold body.” Maria says, pressing the phone on her chest.

His eyes are raging storms, his nostrils flaring with quiet rage. He takes a deep breath “Can you please ask her if I can talk to her, just for five minutes?”

“Why don’t you call her, Joel?” Maria taunts him, emphasizing the pronunciation of his name.

Joel just stares back at her, unfazed. Maria doesn’t move a muscle, lifting an eyebrow quizzically. Well, she did move one muscle.

Joel sighs exasperatedly “She blocked my number.”

“I wonder why that is.” Maria twists the knife, “I guess you have your answer, then.”

“Christ-” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “just- just ask her, please.”

Maria lifts the phone to her ear, rolling her eyes in frustration in the process. “Hey, Joel’s here, he’s ask-”

“Yeah, I heard everything.” you interrupt her, “No, I don’t want to talk to him.” Maria is shaking her head negatively at him as you talk, to pass the message.

Joel’s face goes cold and emotionless. “Well, tell her if she wants her belongings, she needs to come and get them herself.”

It’s been five weeks now and you can’t keep living in your best friend’s and sister in law's clothes. You’re gonna have to go and grab your stuff yourself.

Because it wasn’t enough what you’ve been through, what you’ve heard until you reached that goddamned bedroom door, what you’ve witnessed when you’ve entered, now he’s making you go back there to humiliate you. As you’re checking your calendar for your work schedule to decide on a suitable day, it hits you. You have Joel’s calendar on your phone, too. You always do, it was the only way to have some time together between his visits to work sites and board meetings and bussiness trips and fucking-behind-your-back, apparently.

And then you remember that day where you both stole some time off and decided to spend it cuddling with each other on the couch, talking nonsense and laughing at silly things and hugging and kissing and fucking all night long.

A brainstorm of thoughts run through your head instantly. How could he do that to you? He looked so happy in your arms. Maybe he was right, maybe it was nothing, maybe you should understand, you of all people, you should know. Do you need to do an STD test? How careless could he be? Where there others? Did he ever love you? Do you want to know?

Does it really matter?

You focus again on that day. He’d told you about a big deal coming up, one of the biggest in his career, if not the biggest so far and how important it was to the future of the company.

You searched frantically through his calendar until you found the date of the final meeting, the date where they’d seal the deal. Because there is no way they weren’t. If Joel wanted it so badly, he’d find a way to make it happen.

And you knew your husband, ironic as is sounds now. He was focused to a fault. He wouldn’t even check his phone that day. He’d done it every time since you were together. History indicated that he probably had other reasons, too, for not checking his phone in a timely manner, but you wouldn’t dwell on that. Not right now. Because now you had your chance.

That date was your chance.

Alarm disabled.

Joel’s phone is vibrating momentarily, not that he noticed, it was silent and tacked away in his jacket pocket, the jacket itself hanging on the back of his chair.

Don’t fuck it up, don’t fuck it up, don’t fuck it up, he’s chanting in his mind, under all this calm and confident demeanor, he’s sweating inside.

This is it, this is it, this is it, he repeats like a mantra, watching his opposite CEO, Leo Marks, playing with the pen between his fingers. He’s inspecting the contract again and he’s so close, so close to what he wanted. The room is silent, the long table full of seated lawyers and consultants from both sides, holding their breaths in charged expectation.

Joel knows that Marks is going to sign. He knows it. He worked for it. He convinced him, he made his vision clear as day and he lured him in. This is it. He got this.

Then your face appears in his mind. No, not today, he can’t do this today. You will have to wait. Like you always have. Joel shakes his head slightly, as if to remove you from his thoughts. His fingers get itchy, he wishes he could just check on you. Yes, he just want to check on you.

Are you alright? Are you thinking about him? Do you miss him like he does? Do you stay wide awake at night replaying the same scene over and over until you feel physically ill? Do you know that he thinks about you? Did he show you at all that night? Maybe he should have appeared at your friend’s door out of the blue. Maybe you think he doesn’t care. All he was trying to do was give you space. Respect your boundaries. Let you work everything out.

Fuck.

He reaches for his phone. He doesn’t know why. He knows his number is still blocked. He checks every night, when he's too exhausted from the lack of sleep and prays he could listen to your voice, or the soft sound of your breath when you slept next to him. But he fishes it out of his jacket pocket, anyway and then he sees it.

38 minutes ago.

Alarm disabled.

Alarm disabled. Alarm disabled. Alarm disabled, the only thought repeated in his head. He immediately searches the cameras for you but no movement is recorded right now. Maybe you already left. His heart rate spikes, his temples feel the pressure of his blood pumping violently in his veins. Cold sweat pours out of his body.

He’s squeezing his eyes shut, mentally counting all the places without cameras inside the house. What if you are still in there and he just can’t see you?

Fuck.

Mark’s voice extract him from his thoughts, “Mr. Miller, everything looks in order as we agreed.”

Joel snaps his eyes back to him, slightly irritated, “Of course it does, your legal team already did a thorough check all these months to get us here today.”

“Yes, yes,” Marks laughs entertained, “I just wanted to look it over one more time, I mean, we really are going to…”

What if you’re still there? What if this is his chance? He could always try to reach you after the deal, convince you to hear him out. Yeah, he can do that. He doesn’t need to chase you down. He can wait a little bit longer, can’t he? He can have it all, right? He was the man that had it all.

A mail pops up on his phone, a compliment note from the management of one of both your favorite hotels in Europe, thanking you for choosing their establishments for your stay, once again. Shit. You’re fleeing the fucking country? Are you fucking serious?

“..Mr. Miller?” Marks insists.

“Hm?” his eyes are glued to the screen of his phone.

“I said, before we sign, I need you to walk me through it one more time.” he demands like a little child asking for its favorite bedtime story. “I mean, this is the project of my dreams. I need your reassurance that this is as important for you as it is for us, that it’ll be your only focus for the foreseeable future.” he looks at Joel expectantly.

His only focus.

For the foreseeable future.

Fuck.

“HONEY!”. Your blood runs cold in your veins to the sound of his baritone voice. Your hand freezes over the shelf with the t-shirts, not making a sound. You didn’t take that long, why is he here? Why isn’t he in his meeting?

Joel enters the bedroom but you’re not there. Fuck, you hear the curse running softly from his lips. You don’t move, you don’t blink, you don’t breathe.

He moves to leave and check elsewhere but then he stops. You hear soft steps and you see the door of the walk-in closet opening. His wide form blocks the light from the outside, his broad shoulders almost taking up all the space of the frame.

He looks disheveled, his baby blue shirt wrinkled and unbuttoned at the top, his hair a mess, like he kept combing his fingers through them. You don’t dare meet his eyes though. You keep your gaze as far as his chin goes, concentrating on the bare patch there. His sole presence electrifies you like he’s already touched you. Your whole body feels on fire and frozen simultaneously. God, you missed him.

“I was calling for you.”, he breathes out and you can feel his fear pulsing through his body. He’s scared you’re gonna run. That’s why he doesn’t leave his spot, blocking the door.

“I know.”

“Were you hiding from me?” his brows are furrowed in a seemingly pained expression from what your peripheral vision could help you understand.

“No, I just chose not to answer you.”, you lower your head, looking at your feet.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” you say hastily, but he’s waiting for a real answer. You breathe deeply, “It- it felt too domestic, you calling for me, me answering back, like how we were before.” He nods, biting his bottom lip. “What are you doing here, Joel?”

“In our house?” the edges of his lips are slightly turned up, his head tilting to one side.

“No, this is your house as you said yourself.”

“Darlin’, you know I didn’t mean it like that..” he sighs in regret, his head deepening in his shoulder blades in an effort to attract your gaze upwards.

“But you’re right.”

“I built it for you.” his voice soft, like it’s a secret meant to stay that way.

“Hm.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” his brows raise in genuine surprise.

“Nothing, forget it.”

“No, tell me.”

“You first.”

He looks perplexed, he forgot your question.

“What are you doing here, right now, Joel?”

“I got the alarm notification and.. it was the only way I could talk to you, honey..”

“But- your meeting-”

He searches your eyes, although you refuse to look at him, analysing your confused expression and it hits him. He smiles in understanding, nodding his head. “So, you chose today on purpose..”

You don’t respond, you keep looking everywhere but his eyes.

He laughs through his nose, rubbing a hand over his face. “Did you really think that I wouldn’t drop everything to come and see you?”

“I really did.”

He gasps in disbelief, almost offended.

“Baby, look at me, please; look at me..” he pleads with you softly. You close your eyes as if in fear you would obey, your chin trembling from the effort to remain calm.

“Baby, look at me. I want you to look at me, now.” he presses in a more authoritative way. He thought he could order you around? Break you?

“No.” you shake your head.

Joel calls you by your name but before he has a chance to spit another soft command-

“I SAID NO!” you open your eyes, targeting them to his chest, tears spilling uncontrollably now. You can see from your periphery the look of shock on his face, because you’ve never yelled before. Ever.

“Why, sweetheart?”, he retreats back to his soft side.

“Because that’s exactly what you want. And you can’t always get what you want, Joel, not anymore.” You can’t hold back your tongue now.

“Jesus Christ,” you grit through your teeth, “what do you want from me, hm?” your eyes keep dancing around his face but never on his eyes. He looks dumbfounded, his lips part slightly but you don’t wait for an answer. “What else do you want? Is this some kind of ego thing? You expected me to shout and break things and hit you and tell you to leave her and come back to me? Because your ego is safe, Joel, if that’s what you worry about. I didn’t leave you, you did that first when you went behind my back. So, you walked out on me and not the other way around. Happy? Ready to go on with your life?” You’re grabbing the shelf where your hand previously rested so hard, trying to steady yourself.

For the first time Joel is speechless. He doesn’t know what to say. He can’t find the words to defend himself, to convince you about his feelings, to soothe you at the very least. He begins to have a glimpse of how he appears in your eyes right now. How much damage he’s done, even before that night. How much ground he’s lost over time.

“Darlin', I just wa-” he begins softly, almost like walking on eggshells, but your body visibly tenses, you jaw shuts tight, your eyes rolling back in your head.

“Stop, just stop! Stop saying what you want! Stop making this about you! Don’t you see? You keep asking me for what you want! Have you stopped for a second, just a second, to think what I want? What I need? I don’t- I don’t recognize you anymore.”

“I-” he closes his eyes in distress, “I love you.” His last retreat. He’s trying anything that could help him. He doesn’t get it. He can’t. He’s not capable. But he used to be. He was the most empathetic person you knew. What the fuck happened?

Your eyes snap though the open closet door at his admision and on to the perfectly made bed.

His gaze follows yours behind his back and shakes his head once more in regret.

“It really didn’t mean-”

“Joel-” you warn him, “have some self respect and don’t say what I think you’re about to say. At least have the guts to admit exactly what you did, I’d appreciate it more.”

He exhales heavily, you’re not giving him an opening to fix this. You’re hanging onto every word he mutters. Not a single one of them is left unparsed and he's not used to that. He knows that if he does not control his anger right now, it's game over.

Heavy silence is hanging between you, each one lost on their thoughts.

“Do you know when you really lost me, Joel?”, you ask him eventually.

Half an hour ago he would swear he had all the answers, but now? Now he sees he’s in the deep, so he stays quiet, searching your eyes that still won't reach his, for answers.

“You lost me when you humiliated her in front of me.”

His face goes white, shocked, he can’t believe his ears. His mouth opens and closes but he makes no sound, how on earth does he respond to that?

“You still don’t get it, do you?”, you pinch the bridge of your nose exasperatedly. “You valued her enough to endanger our wedding, you valued her enough to bring her to our own house, to our bed, Joel; you valued her enough to fuck her raw, to let her know that you were unhappy with me, before I had a chance to realize it myself-”, Joel interrupts you almost panicked “I’m not un-” and for the first time your eyes pierce his in such an anguish that the words die in his throat. “-and then you just diminished her like she was nothing, just to prove a point to me. While she was naked, vulnerable on our bed. And trust me, this is not me defending her, she is as responsible for this as you, but you’re the one I married, not her. I expected better from you, Joel, not her.”

Now he’s the one averting his eyes from you, looking down on his overpriced shoes, his demeanor defeated, this is not the Joel you know anymore.

“And what was the point, Joel? Hm? What? That she means nothing? Then why were you with her? Why did you choose her? Why did you spend your precious time on nothing, while I had to make an appointment to see you? That’s what you did with me, too? I mean nothing, too? Just a warm hole to fuck when convenient?” he snaps his head back to you, shaking it in denial frantically, his eyes blown wide and red from all the emotional stress you push onto him.

“But I guess I got my answer about a month ago, hm?” It’s one of those moments that epiphanies hit you as you speak uncontrollably, you just can’t stop your mind from running wild, your mouth from spilling bile, your heart from pounding so hard in your chest, your ears start to ring, your grasp on the shelf tightening even more for balance.

“And that tells me a lot about who you really are. It’s not just about the fucking, Joel, Jesus-, -for the brilliant man I know you to be, you’re stumbling through your blindest moment.”, you shake your head in disappointment, tears still running freely down your face, licking your jawline and falling like a waterfall to the carpeted floor. You feel so done, you find it pointless to explain any further.

“I- I don’t know you, Joel, I don’t know who you are anymore. Maybe I never did,” you conclude, “maybe you’re right,” you slowly nod to yourself, “and everything is my fault after all.” you whisper, not sure if you want him to hear that part.

He did. “I never said that it was your fault, baby. When did I ever say that?” his face is contorted in pain, “None of this is your fault, none of it, you hear me?” he wants so desperately to cross the fucking room and hold you tight, crush all your pain and insecurities and self hatred under an asphyxiating hug. He also knows that he won't make even two steps before you flee, or step back from him and he can’t for the life of him witness that. Because that’s how much he needs you. He prefers you standing there, where he can see you, where he can have you, even if you wither and die under the enormous trauma he’s putting you through.

“So stupid.. I was- I am so stupid..” you’re repeating to yourself almost deliriously, rubbing your fingers on your forehead.

“This isn’t you, sweetheart, you don’t talk like that, don’t- don’t do that to yourself.” Joel tries to bring you back.

“But this is you, isn’t it, Joel? The real you?” you bite back. “This isn’t me, really? How do you like the new me, Joel? Do you take pride on your creation?” you laugh bitterly at him. “Yeah, how you’d always call me? Polite little thing? Sweetheart?” you’re infuriated now, a rise fighting to explode through you. “How does it feel, Joel? To know you’re responsible for changing someone to their core? To know you had that much power over them?”

Joel’s shaking his head once again in desperation, hot tears spilling from his eyes, god, had he ever cried before? this is not a battle he can win, he sees that now. The damage is too great. What on earth was he thinking?

“Please, please honey, can we just take a breather, sit down and talk about everything?” he pleads with you, a last thread of hope shinning in his red rimmed eyes.

“Take a breather..” you mutter through your teeth, “you mean the breather you took while you were fucking someone else instead of talking to me?”, Joel shuts his eyes in defeat, there’s nothing he can say anymore. “I think you got it backwards, Joel.”

You take a steadying breath and command your legs internally to hold on a little while longer and move forward; clothes, suitcase, life left behind.

“Don’t contact me again, unless is via your legal team.” is the last bullet that hits Joel’s chest, right through his broken heart.

| next

[mistyorchid]

‧₊˚♱ Logan Howlett Archive ♱˚₊‧

An archive of my fave Logan Howlett fics on Tumblr, with a special section just for Old Man Logan! <3 If you guys love these works as much as I do, interact with the author's post! Reblog, like, comment, the works. Will update! Don't like it, don't read! Fluff/no smut is tagged with ✿. mdni!

Old Man! Logan

one-shots

✦ Double Dicked Down on a Tuesday / @wolvieispunk

You're casual with Joel and Logan. Tonight, you want a threesome you (literally) couldn't walk away from.

✦ from eden / @eupheme

Logan timeline, sorta divergent/fix-it fic, angst, hurt/comfort, everyone is going through it, wound tending, dark thoughts/references to violence/death (aligning with themes in the movie), neurodegenerative disorders (Charles), multiple pov, established relationship, shower sex, oral sex, PiV, feelings

✦ GLORY BOX / @rqnarok

calling old man!logan daddy for the first time ever…

✦ never is a promise / @joelsgoldrush

You are everything Logan isn’t: sweet, trouble-free, much younger—and, to top it off, Charles' caregiver.

✦ Silk and Submission / @tteotlma

sexual content (18+ MDNI), age gap (25-53), degradation, virginity, consent dynamics, intense emotional experiences, body image, possible manipulation, emotional intimacy, potential objectification, light BDSM themes, physical intimacy, power dynamics, explicit language, feelings of nervousness or anxiety related to sexual experiences, and exploration of personal insecurities.

✦ speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life / @moonlight-prose

he knew he loved you when your words begin to piece his heart back together. he knew he loved you when he flourishes at your praise. he knew he loved you when nothing in this world could matter but the sound of your voice telling him you love him too.

✦ SUGAR ON THE RIM / @ovaryacted

When Logan comes home after finishing his driving rounds for the night, you help him wind down and enjoy a drink.

✦ taxi driver / @eloquentlytired

tags: taxi driver logan - build up - eventual smut - large age gap ( reader in/over mid 20s and logan in his 50s ) - singular mention of thr0wing up and dr*gging - savior logan - some surface wounds - logan loves calling u sweet girl and sweetheart

✦ the way you want to / @eupheme

situationship, possessive!soft dom logan, daddy kink, teasing/begging, logan taking an educated wish, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, mutual unspoken pining, vaginal sex, creampie

✦ untitled / @inkedells

Logan is sick and tired of you treating him like he's fragile. He'll ignore his relentless pain to show you what it's like to be taken apart, rough and slow, then fast and agonizing.

drabbles

✦ Ain’t as Good as I Once Was / @lovelybucky1

old man!logan x AFAB!reader, riding, bratting, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, age gap, punishment, degradation, 18+ minors dni

✦ Good girl / @i5uckersblog

request for old man! Logan please: he calls the reader his good girl for the first time in bed & he sees the instant affect it has on her

✦ old man!logan obsessing over his pregnant wifey / @rqnarok

smut! mdni. breeding kink. lactation kink. pregnant sex. dom/sub dynamics.

✦ ✿ Something For Himself / @sassypossum

I love this man. He genuinely deserves the softest life…

✦ untitled / @eupheme

logan comes first, so he fucks you with his fingers

✦ ✿ untitled / @flowersforbucky

some angst, touching and sensuality, suggestiveness, insecurity and doubt from logan, comfort and fluff

✦ untitled / @murdrdocs

normal, not insane thoughts being had about fucking old man logan.

Worst! Logan

one-shots

✦ forty five minutes in the closet / @moonlight-prose

an alternative scene to what really happened in that closet.

✦ room for rent / @hauntedhowlett-writes

logan finds a new roomate.

✦ sniff / @seventeenpins

You catch Logan with your stolen panties.

✦ Til The Sun Turns Black / @lubdubology

Your soul is bound to his and you're destined to follow him across the multiverse. When the TVA finds you and sends you to the Void, you feel your chance of finding him has slipped through your fingers. But what you find there is more than you bargained for.

✦ i'll love you forever (a momma, you'll be) / @elflutter

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been waiting for this day: Logan at his most fertile; you at yours. Even though you’ve talked about it, stopped your birth control for it, an an unspoken question still lingers in his gaze. You’re sure about this? You really want a baby with an old man like me?

Logan & Wade x Reader

one-shots

✦ untitled / @dollfacefantasy

tags: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation

✦ untitled / @avocado-writing

vaguely sub!Logan (he deserves to be taken care of); handjob (logan receiving); p in v sex (Logan giving, reader receiving); p in a sex (Wade giving, Logan receiving); knotting; fluff

✦ woo, my baby's got me all mixed up! / @sceletaflores

t18+ SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, swearing, a bastard doomed polycule, more of 'why have just one bf when you can two bf's and why have just two bf's when you can have two bf's that are also each other’s bf's???', p in v, double penetration, one (1) single use of daddy, creampie(s), fingering…kind of (fem!receiving), oral sex, face sitting, face fucking, straight up nasty porn w/ zero plot, no use of y/n.

Everything else! *Origins, X1-3, dofp, etc.

one-shots

✦ dirty little secret / @silverskyeline

logan finds that you've left him a little gift behind, and he just can't help himself.

✦ ✿ Dumb & Poetic / @mcrdvcks

You like Logan, but he likes Jean. Right?

✦ Halloween / @selfcarecap

You dress up as Wolverine for Wade’s Halloween party and it unleashes something in Logan. Him wearing a Ghostface mask also unleashes something in you. Or: Logan fucks you wearing a Ghostface mask.

✦ moanin' & groanin' / @shellshocklove

working for your father's timber business isn't what you saw yourself doing, but when the wolverine comes looking for work it's suddenly not so bad – especially when he can teach you a thing or two.

✦ MUSE [L.H.] / @selfcarecap

Logan would never admit it to anyone, but over the course of his long life he has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. He hasn’t done it in years, maybe even decades, but he’s struck by inspiration when he meets you. Of course, no one can know that Wolverine draws, so he does it in the dead of night, sliding anonymous envelopes with the finished drawings of you under your door. When he sees how much you love them, he wonders if you could also love the person behind them.

✦ Practice / @selfcarecap

Your roommate Logan lets you practise giving a blowjob on him for your date with another guy.

✦ PRETTY AS A PRINCESS ♡ / @dollfacefantasy

you and logan have to work on halloween, but on the bright side, that means you get to dress up. and even better, you get to give him a little preview of the costume you've chosen.

✦ ✿ The Art Of Make-believe Matrimony / @gothgoblinbabe

You can’t stand each other, so it’s a mystery to you and Logan why you’re sent out together on an assignment. To make it worse, you’d have to act much closer than you really were.

✦ The Wolverine and His Bunny / @rosenclaws

You and Logan have always butted heads and his constant, condescending reminders of your mutation don't help. It's not until your forced to train together and well, the tension is undeniable

✦ Two's Company / @jen-with-a-pen

obligatory MDNI, written on my phone, everyone's an adult and 21+, no smut, open ended, use your imagination, secret relationship/crush vibes, alcohol (wine), sexual tension, again use your imagination

✦ untitled / @selfcarecap

Manipulative best friend!Logan with a corruption kink

✦ Where is the beast now? / @fungateshortcakes

english is not my first language, porn without plot, submissive Logan, dominant reader, orgasm denial, cockrings, handjobs, dirty talk, slight humiliation, slight praise kink, penis in vagina sex, penetrative sex, unsafe sex, cumming inside, creampie, mommy kink, Logan gets called a good boy/baby/pretty prince, copious amounts of cum, short but filthy

drabbles

✦ Hands Free / @ddejavvu

tsmut, minors dni, mean!logan, drinking, don't like don't read.

✦ thinking about older!boyfriend logan howlett and his sweet little live-in girlfriend… / @cavillscurls

MDNI, dom/sub dynamics, pet names, daddy!kink, dd/lg undertones

✦ untitled / @murdrdocs

80s pornstar logan; age gap; pornstar reader x pornstar logan; doggy; brat!reader MDNI 18+

✦ untitled / @mcrdvcks

fem!reader, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, insecurities

✦ untitled / @superhoeva

older bf!logan is the kinda guy that wants to treat you to a special night of an oiled massage but gets distracted halfway through with how pretty you glisten in the candlelight.

✦ untitled / @robo-writing

Kinktober Day Six: 70's! Logan - Cock Worship

[deception-united]

Let's talk about writing dual POVs.

Writing a novel with a dual point of view where two different characters share the role of narrator can add depth, tension, and complexity to your story, but it also comes with its own set of problems and challenges. Like, how do you ensure clarity between perspectives? How do you keep both characters engaging? And most importantly, how do you make both narratives feel like parts of the same novel instead of two separate stories? Here are some tips and strategies to consider, before and when writing.

1. Ensure both POVs are necessary.

A dual POV should serve the story, not exist just because it seems interesting. Before committing to this structure, ask yourself:

Could the same story be told just as, or more, effectively from just one perspective?

Do both characters bring viewpoints that are unique and essential to the plot? What does this character’s POV add that we wouldn’t get otherwise?

Does each POV contribute to the novel’s themes, conflicts, or emotional depth?

Does it move the plot forward, or is it just there because I like this character?

If the answer isn’t an easy 'yes,' reconsider whether both POVs are truly needed. For example, in a romance novel, it might be better to only include one POV, since knowing there are feelings from both sides can take away tension and make it boring for the reader.

2. Choose a primary protagonist.

Even though you're going to be featuring two points of view, it’s essential to have one central character who anchors the story. This character serves as the thematic and emotional core of your book. Consider:

Which character’s perspective starts the story?

Which character’s perspective ends it?

Who undergoes the most significant transformation?

While both POVs should be compelling, having one clear primary character ensures your narrative remains cohesive.

3. Make each POV distinct.

Readers should be able to identify whose perspective they’re in without needing a chapter heading to tell them (although this is helpful and I do recommend including an indicator like this). You can differentiate this through:

Voice & tone: Their word choices, speech patterns, and internal thoughts should reflect their unique personalities. (See my post on character voices for more tips on this!)

Observations & focus: What each character notices and how they perceive the world will differ based on their backgrounds and biases. What details do they focus on? How do they process emotions? For example, a noble-born strategist will notice different things than a street thief. Sentence structure & style: Ties back to voice & tone—a poetic, introspective character might have longer, flowing sentences, while a blunt, action-driven character may have short, clipped phrasing.

**If you can open to a random page and easily recognise the character’s voice, you’ve done it right.

4. Interweave the two arcs effectively.

Both characters should have distinct yet interconnected arcs—even if they don't meet or interact until later on, or at all, their stories should be able complement or contrast each other in a way meaningful and comprehensible for the reader. Examples:

Parallel arcs: The characters face similar struggles but react differently (shows contrasts).

Intertwining arcs: Their paths cross at key moments & affect each other’s journeys.

Foil dynamics: One character’s success may mean the other’s failure—builds tension and stakes.

5. Smooth transitions

Switching between perspectives should feel natural, not jarring. Consider:

Consistent switching: Like alternating every chapter or at key turning points, or making one character dominant (the main focus) and the other occasional (slipping into it when necessary).

Strategic cliffhangers: Ending one POV on a suspenseful moment can keep readers engaged through the shift (though be careful not to make it so that the reader is skimming through one POV just to get to another).

Mirrored/contrasting scenes: A reveal in one POV can recontextualise a previous scene from the other.

6. Avoid head-hopping.

This is when you suddenly switch between characters’ thoughts in the same scene without a clear break. This can be jarring and pull readers out of the story.

Bad example: Lena glared at him. She was furious. Why didn’t he understand? Jonah sighed. He wished she would just listen.

You can't tell whose head we're in, and even if it was indicated at the start of the chapter, it makes it confusing and frustrating.

7. Build suspense

A well-timed POV switch can escalate tension rather than just pass the baton. Examples:

Character A is walking into a trap; meanwhile, Character B is on the other side of the city, knowing but unable to warn them (creates dread).

One character’s assumptions might contradict reality. (For example, a spy might believe their cover is intact, but another POV reveals they’ve been exposed.)

Character A misinterprets Character B’s actions as betrayal. Switching to B’s POV clarifies their true, but hidden, motives (creates emotional whiplash).

8. Deeper character exploration

Dual POVs can let readers experience both sides of a relationship, rivalry, or power struggle in ways a single POV can't. Examples:

Character A sees themselves as a hero, but Character B’s POV reveals their arrogance (unreliable narration).

Different emotional reactions—the same event might be tragic for one but a relief for another.

Common Pitfalls

Dual POVs might not always be appropriate for your specific narrative, and could:

1. Remove tension.

I briefly mentioned this, but one risk of dual POVs is reducing suspense, especially in genres like romance or mystery. If readers see both sides of a conflict, they might lose the uncertainty that drives engagement. However, you could try:

Using unreliable narrators

Keeping certain information hidden from one POV

Ensuring there’s still conflict and misunderstanding between the characters

Switching between past and present

Keeping one POV until the climax or for a specific plot twist, which can be revealed through a different POV

2. Break story flow.

If one character’s arc lags behind the other’s, readers may get frustrated when switching perspectives. Ensure each POV maintains momentum and contributes to the overarching plot.

3. Make readers favor one character.

If readers strongly prefer one POV, they may skim or disengage during the other. To avoid this, make sure both are equally compelling, both characters have stakes that feel urgent and meaningful, and each has their own distinct emotional arc that readers will be equally invested in.

4. Make it redundant.

If both characters are just retelling the same events with minor differences, the second POV becomes unnecessary. To avoid this, use POV shifts to enhance the story, not just repeat it. You can use the second POV to:

Show what’s happening when the other character isn’t present

Reveal secrets, misunderstandings, or unreliable narration

Build dramatic irony (let the reader know something one character doesn’t)

Happy writing!

Previous | Next

[gingersxng]

Morning Head

Pairing: f!reader x Mingi x Yunho

Genre: smut 18+

Summary: you wake up your roommates with the best blowjobs they’ve ever had

Notes: roommates, slight dom!reader, kinda sub!yungi, both have dom! tendensies, reader is very horny & so is the boys, big dick yungi, threesome, blowjobs, handjob, deep throating, morning wood, slight somnophilia, swearing, nipple play, dirty talk, swallowing, lots of cum, kissing, stripping, seduction. may have forgot something!

a/n: ovulating is the pits if you ask me, can’t go a single day without thinking all kinds of dirty stuff, so I had to write it down cause this scenario has been in my mind day and night!

Words: 890

Imagine waking up both Yunho and Mingi with a blowjob..

The boys were still asleep in your king size/shared bed when you came back from doing your daily morning routine.

As you approached the bed you couldn't help but admire the sleeping forms of Mingi and Yunho. Mingis duvet had gotten pulled down which exposed his bare chest and toned stomach, his happy trail was well visible (damn). Yunho on the other hand was almost entirely covered from head to toe, only his head popped out. It just did something to you watching them sleep so peacefully, they looked pretty, dreamy. Yunho shifted in his sleep, he pulled down his duvet exposing his chest. The sight in front of you right now was mouth watering, a tingling feeling spread through your entire body like a stream.

You slowly climbed up on the bed and placed yourself between their feet, a tent forming under Mingis cover didn’t go unnoticed by your eyes and it made your pussy clench. With a mischievous grin you slowly lifted the covers, exposing the two men's naked bodies. The sight was breathtaking (not to talk about pussytaking). Mingi's thick, big veiny cock, already full erect and Yunho's long, massive dick rested on his stomach glistening with precum. Your heart raced as you admired the beauty of these two enormous cocks, knowing you were about to pleasure them both.

Without wasting a moment, you leaned over and wrapped your lips around Mingi's shaft, taking him deep into your mouth. Mingi stirred in his sleep, his cock twitching as it felt the warm, wet suction. You moaned softly, vibrating your throat around Mingi's length, waking him up with a jolt.

"Mmm... fuck," Mingi groaned, his eyes blinking open as he realized what was happening. He looked down to see your head bobbing up and down on his dick with your lips stretched wide to take his girth. "Aah fuck" he whispered, his voice was hoarse. Hearing Mingi's words, Yunho stirred awake, his brown eyes widening as he took in the scene. He watched with a mix of surprise and arousal as you deep throated Mingi, your hands gently caressing Mingi's balls.

"Morning boys" you said in a seductive tone, pulling off Mingi's cock with a wet pop. "I'm going to make you both cum so hard." Yunho's breath quickened, his dick throbbing as he felt a mix of excitement and embarrassment. "Such a tease" he managed to say, his voice trembling. "Oh, I'm a tease, am I?" You smirked, reaching over to stroke Yunho's length. "Then watch me work, boys."

With that, you leaned over and took Yunho's cock into you mouth, swirling your tongue around the sensitive head. Yunho arched his back, his hands gripping the sheets as he let out a low moan. Mingi, still aroused from the initial blowjob, couldn't help but reach over and pinch your nipples, enjoying the sight of your mouth working on Yunho's dick.

You alternated between the two cocks, sucking and licking with expertise. You deep throated Mingi, taking his entire length down your throat, while also paying attention to Yunho's sensitive spots, flicking your tongue over his sweet spot. The room filled with the sounds of wet sucking, moans, and dirty talk.

"Fuck, you're good at this," Mingi grunted, his hand moving to grip the back of your head. He thrusted his hips gently fucking your mouth as you sucked him dry.

Yunho, unable to hold back any longer reached down and grabbed your hair guiding you to take his cock even deeper. "Suck me... suck me harder, ah fuck" he panted with a raspy voice. You complied, increasing your pace moving from one cock to the other, sucking and slurping eagerly. You played with Mingi's balls, rolling them in your palm while also stroking Yunho's length with your free hand. The pleasure was overwhelming, and both men could feel their orgasms build up.

"I'm gonna cum" Yunho gasped, his body tensing. "Me too" Mingi added, his breath ragged.

You quickened your pace, determined to milk every drop of cum from their cocks. you deep throated Mingi one last time swallowing his length as he exploded in your mouth filling it with his hot, creamy load. At the same time you stroked Yunho's cock with urgency, your hand moving in a blur as he shot his cum all over your face and chest.

Both men collapsed back onto the bed, spent and satisfied. You sat back and watched them with a satisfied grin, you licked your lips savouring the taste of Mingi's cum. You leaned over and kissed Mingi, sharing the taste of his release with him.

"That was fucking amazing," Mingi panted, his eyes sparkling with pleasure. "you dirty girl" Yunho said, his voice filled with admiration. "I never knew you had it in you." You laughed with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "I have many more tricks up my sleeve, boys. This was just the beginning." You wiped off some of Yunhos cum off your face and sucked your fingers clean. You slowly took of your pyjamas top, revealing your round tits and pulled off your shorts too exposing your wet bare pussy. You climbed up between them, their eyes targeted on your naked parts, their cocks aching with hormones.

“Who should I ride first”

[greengoblinswifey]

i loved "Shattered" although i would have loved for her to keep the baby and have the same success as in the original ending, would you consider writing something like that? as an alternative ending

Alternative Ending to Shattered— Nicholas Chavez x Actress!Reader

warnings— cheating, mature language, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of unprotected sex, mentions of abortion, happy ending, mentions of birth.

Shattered

When Nicholas told you to get an abortion, you felt a flash of anger surge through you. “No,”you said firmly. “You can’t force me to do that.” Nicholas looked shocked, then furious. “I have a girlfriend, and a kid on the way to raise,” he argued, voice hard and unyielding.

A surge of pain mixed with rage bubbled up in you. “I’m your girlfriend, Nicholas,”you shouted back. “And this is your child. You should be here for us, helping raise them, not running off to hide.”

Without another word, Nicholas stormed out, leaving you sitting there, heart pounding as you clutched your stomach protectively. You weren't showing yet, but the weight of the choice before you felt heavy. “Screw Nicholas”, you thought, wiping a tear from your cheek. “I’ll raise this baby on my own if I have to.”

That night, you lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, your mind spiraling as you weighed your options. If you kept the baby, everything would change. Your career, just beginning to gain traction, would be stalled indefinitely. You’d be a single mother, left alone to care for a child Nicholas had already written off. And as a man, he’d be fine. Even with two babies on the way, he wouldn’t be the one carrying or caring for them.

On the other hand, if you didn’t keep it, you weren’t even sure if you’d get another chance. The thought tore at you, but you knew what the world would say. They’d call you a homewrecker, maybe even try to destroy your reputation, and all without knowing the truth. It would be you, bearing the weight of his lies.

Finally, with a heavy but hopeful heart, you decided that you were going to keep the life growing inside you. Thoughts raced through your mind, layering one worry after another. How would your career hold up with a pregnancy? The industry wasn’t always kind to young actresses, especially not ones who suddenly had a child in the picture. You imagined the directors and producers who’d invested in your rising stardom questioning your ability to maintain the same dedication once you had a baby to care for. The idea of managing both a career and motherhood alone felt overwhelming.

Filming the rest of the season with Nicholas suddenly seemed like an impossible task. Every scene together would remind you of how easily he had turned his back on you both, his other life casting a shadow over every word he’d said to you. But you’d have to keep it together, remain professional, pretending there wasn’t a storm beneath the surface whenever you shared the screen with him.

And then, there was the question you dreaded most: Who’s the baby’s father? Interviews, press conferences, appearances, the media would demand answers eventually. How could you admit the truth? How could you tell the world that you’d trusted him, fallen for him, fucked your co-star raw, and now were left to handle the responsibility alone because he had a life, another girlfriend and another baby, in his hometown? The thought of admitting you’d opened your heart and legs to your co-star, only for him to abandon you, made your stomach twist. You couldn’t bear to let the world see that vulnerable side of you.

But despite it all, you rested your hand on your stomach and felt a strange sense of resolve. This baby was a part of you, forget being a part of him, and you knew you’d find a way to raise them, no matter how many obstacles lay in your path.

The next day on set, you were barely holding it together, trying to keep the morning’s nausea from spilling over into the day's work. Nicholas approached you quietly before filming began, his expression tense.

“So, did you take care of it?” he asked, his voice cold.

You looked him right in the eyes. “No, Nicholas. I’m keeping this baby. That’s final.” You could see the frustration in his face, the way he clenched his jaw, but he didn’t argue. He only nodded, his gaze shifting away.

Soon, you were called onto set to film a scene, and as you moved into the frame, you felt the weight of your reality pressing down. The scene called for a romantic kiss, but as you leaned in, all you could think was, How could he do this to us? Every touch felt hollow, each moment of pretend affection a painful reminder of his betrayal.

Still, you held it together for the rest of the day, determined to protect yourself and, more importantly, the little life growing inside you. You’d give them all the love they need, you thought, so they wouldn’t feel the absence of their father.

As days turned into weeks, filming continued then the season wrapped, and you noticed subtle changes, how your clothes fit a bit more snugly, the quiet flutter in your stomach that grew stronger with time. You poured your focus into auditions for roles scheduled to film after the baby’s birth, crafting a new life plan that prioritized their future as much as your own.

Finally, when you went to the doctor alone, you learned you were having a baby girl. The news was bittersweet. Part of you ached for the weight of responsibility, raising a girl, teaching her strength and self-worth under such circumstances. Yet, you held onto a fierce determination to make the most of it, to show her resilience and love, no matter what lay ahead.

The night of the premiere, you walked onto the red carpet in a breathtaking gown that hugged your figure, showing off a noticeable baby bump. As you made your way through the crowd, congratulations poured in from all directions, and you felt a mixture of pride and nerves. Then you spotted Nicholas, standing nearby with his girlfriend, who was visibly pregnant as well. For a moment, his eyes met yours, and he did a double-take, clearly taken aback by how radiant you looked with your growing belly.

His girlfriend approached you, offering her congratulations with a polite smile, and you returned the sentiment, fully aware of the irony, that you both carried a piece of him, each in your own way. Nicholas lingered close by, watching intently, as if afraid you might reveal something.

As you spoke to the press, questions about your pregnancy inevitably came up. When asked about the father, you simply smiled, deflecting with comments about your happiness and excitement for what lay ahead, both as a mother and in your career. You radiated confidence, making it clear that your future was only beginning.

Later, you received the incredible news that you’d been cast in a new movie, and the production team was willing to accommodate your new role as a mother. Filming was set to begin after you'd had time with your baby, and they even offered a nanny and daycare on set. Knowing this support was there, you accepted the role, feeling your career blossom alongside your journey into motherhood.

When the day finally arrived, you gave birth to a healthy, beautiful baby girl, the spitting image of you. Holding her for the first time, you felt an overwhelming relief that she looked nothing like Nicholas—she was purely yours. Your sister stood by, sharing in the joy, and as you looked down at your daughter, you felt stronger and more certain than ever.

Motherhood suited you well, and as the months passed, so did the fascination with your personal life. Though speculation about the baby’s father lingered, it eventually faded. Fans and the public were captivated by your story, a young mom balancing stardom with raising her baby girl. As offers poured in, it was clear that your future was bright, your daughter by your side as you continued to captivate the world.

Meanwhile, Nicholas seemed to fade from the spotlight, mostly at home with his girlfriend, waiting for their baby. Until, finally, karma came for him, an article revealed that the child he thought was his was actually someone else’s, belonging to a rockstar his girlfriend had left him for. You couldn’t help the satisfaction that spread through you. He’d reaped exactly what he’d sown, and you hadn’t lifted a finger.

The night of the Oscars was monumental. Walking the red carpet, you held your baby girl close, basking in the awe and admiration from all around. When the ceremony began, you took your seat, unaware that Nicholas was there, too, until he approached you during a break, nervously glancing at your daughter.

“She looks just like you,” he said, trying to keep his voice soft.

You looked at him coldly, replying, “Yeah, and I'm fucking grateful for that”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Look, I’m so sorry for everything. I miss you, I really do. I was an idiot. Please, give me another chance.”

You took a steadying breath, keeping your tone calm but firm. “Nicholas, we’re done. The moment you cheated, lied and then told me to abort my child, you lost any future with me.” You glanced down at your daughter who was playing with your hair not sparing her father a glance, feeling the strength in your decision. “If you want to be in her life, that’s up to you. I’d prefer it if you weren’t near us, but I won’t deny you the right.”

He hesitated, his eyes darting away. It was clear he hadn’t come to build a relationship with his daughter, he was more interested in your newfound fame.

“That's what I thought,” you said, voice sharp. “Stay out of our lives. Don’t speak to me again.”

With that, you walked away, feeling lighter than ever. When your name was called for Best Actress, you took the stage, holding the Oscar with pride as the crowd erupted in applause. This was your night, a celebration of everything you’d fought for, a testament to your resilience and talent, with your daughter’s future in your hands.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Idiocy

Why is it when I have a fever I have motivation to write? Anyways, more Hunter x Bucky content, this time with Hunter in action.

Summary: You barely get out of a trap alive and give Bucky anxiety.

You really should have smelled the trap. Gifted with an enhanced sense of smell, enhanced eyesight, and yet you really just wandered straight into this trap. A nice room with metal walls, filled with the scent of machinery, gun powder, and goons surrounding you in a circle. The room is empty, with no sources of cover, a plain battlefield upon which to obliterate the enemy.

Letting out a laugh, your grip on the pistols in your hands tightens and you exhale deeply. Your muscles tense, gaze flicking around and your eyes turn gold. The goon at your nine will move first, followed by the goon at your two, so you plot a route around that and release your power, pushing off with your right foot.

A bullet whizzes past your ear as anticipated and you grin, feeling the adrenaline kick in. Raising the pistol in your left hand, you fire, putting a bullet between your target's eyes before moving to duck the next shot you know is coming.

Your powers flare once again the moment the bullet flies past and time comes to a standstill, golden afterimages shimmering into view. Quickly taking in the scene that will play out for the next two seconds, you release your powers before a headache can kick in and move accordingly. This time, you close the gap between you and the goon, pressing the muzzle of the gun to his forehead.

"So much easier to aim when I'm up close and personal." You grin, pulling the trigger. His face contorts into one of fear just before the bullet pierces through his skull, embedding itself in the brain matter beneath. Blood splatters across your face and you spit out the ones that got into your mouth, grimacing at the taste.

"Don't worry fellas, I'm not a vampire." Your words do nothing to reassure your foes. Instead, they seem to frighten them even further and you sigh. "You guys are no fun."

You turn around and lunge at the nearest goon, eyes flickering golden. The goon screams in terror, blindly firing the rifle in his hands but you dodge, your lips curling into a grin as you focus, aiming one of your pistols at his neck. Your index finger brushes over the trigger and squeezes it as you exhale, lodging a bullet in a major artery that sends more blood spurting all over the scuffed floor.

Turning your attention to the next goon, your eyes flicker golden but quickly turn back to normal as a bullet finds its way into your ribs. Blood blooms in the spot, staining your undershirt red, and now there's a hole in black leather jacket Bucky had gifted to you last year for your birthday.

Shit.

One of them cheers shakily but freezes the moment you growl in annoyance. Another one takes aim but he's too slow. You push the pain aside, focusing on your breaths and move, firing a couple of rounds with the pistol in your right hand before tossing the now empty weapon away, picking up a dead goon's gun as replacement. You would reload your beloved pistol, but there's no cover here to duck behind and buy time, so the only alternative is to pick up a gun that still has bullets.

Your eyes flicker golden for a split second, enough for you to tell where the next attack is going to come from and you exhale sharply, forcing your body to move despite the amount of blood you're losing.

Three more. Three more and you've won.

Another bullet lodges itself in your left shoulder and you grunt, hating the taste of iron in your mouth. It's one thing to taste the blood of your enemies, it's another to taste your own blood. Forcing your injured shoulder to move, you barely manage to hit one of the goons in the leg before you go down on one knee.

Breathing heavily, you look up, seeing a rifle pointed at you from a distance. Even greviously injured, they dare not come close to the Hunter, and it makes you laugh despite the pain.

"Still so afraid of a badly injured person?"

One of them, the one who cheered before, takes the bait and angrily charges at you, dagger raised but your eyes turn golden and your own dagger slams upwards into his chin first, his dagger clattering uselessly to the floor.

"Maybe you're right." Cough. "To be afraid."

The pointed rifle fires and you grin, silently sending an apology to Bucky.

Sorry handsome, guess I'm going first.

You stare straight at the bullet, willing it to hurry up and end your suffering when suddenly a shadow looms over you and the bullet collides with something metal.

"On the scale of 1 to 10, how much idiocy did you leave the house with today?"

"0?"

"The correct answer is 20!" The man known as James Buchanan Barnes, formerly the Winter Soldier closes the distance between him and the goon who fired their rifle, knocking them out with a single punch from his metal fist. He then whirls around, rifle in hand and lands a shot in the last goon's leg before angrily storming over to slam the butt of the rifle into the goon's head.

"Heh. I almost won." You laugh, blood bubbling from your lips.

"Almost won? What part of this do you call almost —" The last thing you see is the panicked face of your fiance before the world spins and turns black, but you're pretty sure he caught you before you hit the floor. He would. He's your overprotective and ever worrying fiance after all, the man called James Buchanan Barnes.

When you wake up, it's in a sterile white room and the sharp scent of disinfecting alcohol hits your nose. You wince, holding your breath for a bit before slowly exhaling, letting your senses adjust to the new environment. After blinking a few times, you notice the mop of brunette hair next to you and feel a warm hand resting in your left hand, left of the mop of hair. A metal arm rests on the other side of the mop of hair, metal fingers curled around the pristine white sheets.

"You're gonna crumple the sheets." You don't know why that's the first thing you say, but there's no taking it back now. Bucky's head shoots up, ice blue eyes wide and he lets out a sigh of relief when he sees you staring right back at him.

"You idiot!" He exclaims, metal fist clenching tighter around the sheets. "I — I thought I was going to —"

Tears stream down his cheeks, staining the white sheets and your heart aches at the sight.

"Buck —"

"I can't lose you! You don't get to die before me, you hear that?" His voice cracks, and so does your heart. "You — you don't get to die before me."

"Bucky —"

"I can't afford to lose you, not when I've already lost everything else. You're the only one I have left, you're my entire world, I need you." The words come tumbling out and he holds you as close as he can, forehead pressing against yours. His hair tickles your cheeks and you strain to raise your right hand to gently cup his face.

You feel terrible about what you've put him through, rightfully so considering how you promised never to hurt him.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I'm sorry for scaring you, for hurting you."

He breaks down sobbing, clutching you tightly. "I've never been afraid of anything until I saw you collapse to the ground, bleeding all over the floor. Don't you ever do that again."

"I promise," you murmur, gently kissing his tears away. He sniffles, nuzzling into your hair before pressing kisses all over your face. You hum softly, threading your fingers through his hair and smile at him, ignoring the burning pain in your side that has kicked in.

Right on cue, a doctor steps into the room and Bucky moves to make space for him. After administering some medicine and checking on your condition, the doctor leaves, informing Bucky that you should be discharged in a week or less. Bucky nods, thanking the doctor for his help and sits back on the stool.

"Hey, Buck?"

"Yes, love?"

"I'm sorry for ruining the jacket."

He raises an eyebrow at you. "You got shot multiple times, almost died, and you're apologising about the jacket?"

"Well it was a nice jacket and now it's ruined." You shrug, hissing when the motion causes a sharp twinge of pain in your injured shoulder. Right, yes, you have an injured shoulder.

"You're an absolute idiot, you know that?" He huffs in mock irritation.

"And yet you love me." You grin cheekily. He rolls his eyes, giving your cheek a poke.

"When you're discharged, you owe me a meal as compensation for scaring me like that." He gives your forehead a flick. "So hurry up and get better fast, I want the Italian down the street from the bookstore."

"So demanding," you snort. His lips curve into a split second grin as he turns away, heading for the door.

"No more trying to die, alright love?"

You watch as he leaves, closing the door behind him.

"I suppose not, sergeant."

[bigtedbear]

" 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 "

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: 𝐥𝐮𝐨𝐜𝐡𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

content warnings: gay relationship, descriptions of grevious bodily injury, implied self-mutilation/self-harm, male reader, monster x human relationship, hurt/comfort writing, hey this starts out really dark please take care of your mental health, arguments, misunderstood feelings, mermaid courtship, alternate universe where luocha is a traveling doctor who's studying biology and anatomy across the universe blah blah blah, luocha is pretty genuine in this even though i know he is in fact a snake let me idealize for a moment okay, luocha puts a ring on it without realizing he is literally putting a ring on it

full admittance you'll probably find parallels with @/havanilla's merventurine au at the start of this cause it was one of the last things I read on my old tumblr account before it died on me and i fear i DO have brainrot

to add to my earlier warning about this chapter beginning out dark, there will be a marker for the cuter, mermaid courtship section of the fic!! look for a marker like the one below VV

" welcome back caller 🪷! connecting your line as we speak! "

" new contact noted! caller luocha has been added to your phonebook - love, 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟 𝑡-19 “

A pained scream ripped through the air.  

It was a shame it couldn’t be distinguished from the sound of other yells and shouting from all over the deck.  In fact, it seemed the anguish was completely drowned out by the noise of an older man beginning to bark orders from the side of the fishing boat.  Gravelly with age and experience, sets and more sets of hands seemed to jump to action, rushing over to that specific side of the deck.  

In the crew’s haste, they didn’t seem to notice they had also woken up the residential cabin.  Things were more than hectic; the experienced crew themselves were in a frenzy.  There was something that demanded urgent attention and it seemed none of the regular passengers were privy to what exactly it was. 

Still, in the curious sea of civilian passengers renting their rooms in the bowels of the ship, a tall blonde head of hair peered over the crowd straight to the source of the fuss.  Over the sea of yellow rain jackets adorning the working fishermen, he caught sight of some kind of reflective surface… what many wrote off as an oversized fish, Luocha continued to strain his eyes at.

Should he have been anyone else, perhaps he wouldn’t have noticed.  But Luocha was a doctor, he was more than familiar with noises of distress; with the scent of blood.  Something in the very core of his body shook with each of the pained and weak motions of an equally pained, weak patient.  The vibrations crept up his spine from the wooden boards of the ship, whispering into his ears. 

Something was wrong. 

Something was terribly wrong. 

Despite the protests of one of the tour guides, urging him to go back to sleep, he rushed towards the scene.  The same pained screams; the sounds of the body on the deck; the reflection of the “oversized fish”, they became clearer and clearer the closer he closed in.

Before he could make it into the crowd of men at work, he was caught by one of their coworkers.  Clad in a yellow raincoat, shadow cast across his face in the rain, the obviously displeased grimace all over his face only further sent Luocha into a state of panic.  A tense grip on his elbow, the man spoke in a language he didn’t understand.  Even if he didn’t understand the words themselves, Luocha was more than smart enough to understand the message the worker was trying to convey.  Before he could be pulled away, he made one last attempt to see what exactly was going on. 

When he did manage to catch a glimpse, he froze. 

Perfect, round tears running down flushed, red cheeks. 

The skin was pulled taut in another scream.  Based on the shaking motion of the face, he could only really come to the conclusion the body was being jerked in every direction possible. 

“Stop… STOP!”  He yanked his elbow out of the man’s grasp, crashing directly into the back of another worker.  In his haste, he shoved the man out of the way only to find his path blocked by even more yellow raincoats.  “You’re only going to worsen the injuries! I’m a doctor!” 

Despite not considering himself to be very physically fit, something about the situation discarded that reality entirely.  An unknown strength washed over him as he forced his way through the clusterfuck of workers trying to wrestle the screamer into place. 

He didn’t understand, Luocha didn’t understand. 

There was an injured crew member on the deck, screaming–what kind of idiot would continue to pull and stress the skin around the wound? Was that why the team leader seemed to screaming with such vigor?  Was he equally concerned about one of his staff suddenly being sent into debilitating agony? 

But no, not even in the slightest.  

Through the crowd, a wet mop of hair thrashing against the backdrop of a barbed fishing net came into view.  The urgency only further sent Luocha wrestling through the crowd of men, all but screaming himself as he watched the injured man on the ground contort his facial muscles in abject horror.  

“Stop it, you’re hurting him!” 

 He could hear his own vocal chords start to tear as he shrieked for the poor victim.  With each passing moment, fear and anxiety seized the doctor in his entirety before he finally managed to part the crowd like the red sea. 

In the end,

he wasn’t faced with a crew member. 

...

A merman. 

Something he’d only heard of in the planet’s folklore. 

It seemed well-known the small surviving population hardly ever ventured out of protected waters for fear of predators. 

What was this one doing so far out…?

With the opportunity making itself known, the unknown merman continued to thrash but harder, lips curling upwards as another shrill cry of agony streaked the night air.  From up close, the doctor could only watch the formerly smooth, unmarred skin become tainted with red.  Washed with your own blood, you looked more similar to some kind of horror movie monster than a person. 

But even in the face of monstrosity, his inner doctor only saw the blown out pupils, the senseless aggression, the fear written all over his patient’s face in their own claret stain.

“You’ll end up killing him, stop, STOP!” 

He completely ignored his own pain as the barbs in the net ripped into the fabric of his pajamas, cutting open his knees when he threw his body on top of yours.  His hands flew around carelessly in an attempt to unlatch the hands that seemed determined to pull at you from every direction.  

At the loss of the hands all over your body, your screams died down into pitiful hyperventilation, curling in on yourself in an attempt to cover the wounds weeping crimson all over the formerly white net.  

Instead of relief, instead of some kind of graditude, it seemed he was only met with friction.

“Oy, blondie, paws off, do you understand how much money you’ve got your hands on right now?” 

The thick accent confused him at first, then the words themselves didn’t seem to compute. 

“Excuse me?” 

You yelped again when one of the men pulled at the net.   The cold metal tore sore flesh in chunks.

“Mermaid scales are priceless.  So are the pearls they cry, we caught the bastard fair and square so. Step. Off.” 

His mind scrambled to understand the sentence, thoughts muddling together in a blender of pain and panic.  “I- I-” 

“You?”  Another crew member chimed in, crossing his arms, “You’ll what, doctor?  You can either get off of him and wrap up your cuts yourself or we’ll drag you off and the barbs can teach you to keep your nose out of other people’s business.” 

“I-”  his breathing picked up drastically, suddenly confronted with such a terrible moral dilemma. 

When prying hands began to make grabby motions for the edges of the ropes, he choked out his final answer.

“I'll pay for him!"

“...”

“...”

“...”

He swept his rain-soaked bangs out of his face, his voice shaking, “You were planning on selling him, right?”  He fumbled with his sleeves, “I make good money, I swear, I-,” he swallowed, “I can afford it.  Just take as much as you want out of the account I used to pay for my cabin.”

“...” 

“...”

Things were a little bit awkward, to say the least. 

Despite an attempt being made to cooperate while you were awake, it seemed the pressure and the mounting stress of nearly dying made it unable for you to accept the fact that Luocha was not, in fact, going to hurt you. 

The attempt to deal with the various injuries littered all over formerly smooth, silky skin was unproductive at best.  In fact, it only created more problems.  Trying to operate while you were largely unreceptive to anything he was saying was by far the worst decision he could’ve made given the circumstances. 

Point blank, he needed to get the barbed hooks out of your skin.  If he didn’t, the wounds would be at increased risk of infection.  After all, based on the cruel treatment he’d seen on deck, he knew the metal was most likely unsanitized.  Doing this while you were awake was easily the worst decision he could've made.

Promising not to hurt you while continually yanking pieces of metal out of your tender flesh was not a good way to build trust. 

"..."

"..."

You poked at the “strange” bowl that’d been set in front of you.  It was some kind of clam-fish hybrid soup. I mean, Luocha was trying to be considerate of your regular diet.  Surely, since you were living out in open waters, you were pretty used to eating fish right?

He, however, failed to realize you weren’t exactly in a spot to ever enjoy the luxuries of cooked food… or soup.  He’d laid out some utensils for you to use on top of that; it was a shame you didn’t know how to use them. 

"..."

"..."

You realized pretty early on that he’d saved you from becoming a victim to death by blood loss.  After all, when you were dropped in a holding tank until the ship arrived at the port, the water went cloudy from the dirt, debris, and blood all over your body.  In your little waist-high tank, he’d done his best to make sure you’d actually survive through the night.

Despite your reservations about him, you did your best not to scream while you were confined to a glorified holding cell.  Nails digging into the glass, biting down hard enough on the towel to tear, you tried your best to stay still while he fished countless little hooks from your back, arms, and chest.  

Removing the large hook in your shoulder was the most painful part of the process for the both of you.  You, for obvious reasons.  The hook made a clean cut through the muscle--scraping up against the bone--by the time you were awake enough to realize you were wrapped up in a barbed net.  Luocha, on the other hand, was the one that had to deal with the struggle while trying to complete a very tricky operation.  

Eventually, the problem dealt with itself when you passed out.  Really, he should’ve sedated you to start with, and he cursed at himself for not thinking of it sooner.  After you went out, he did his best to stitch everything up–hell, he wrapped you up in enough bandages to look like a mummy. 

But, since the two of you actually arrived on the island, there wasn’t so much as a word shared from either party. 

You woke up in a little bathtub, in a little bathroom, feeling like your arms were falling off and you couldn’t breathe because of how tight all of the bandages were wrapped around you. Eventually the giant bandages changed to smaller ones attached with some medical tape.  The only bulky one left was the one wrapped around your shoulder. 

"..."

"..."

With some trepidation, you grabbed at one of the fishtails sticking out of the mystery liquid, digging a finger in between the meat and the ribs to peel it off the bone.  Carefully, you used one of your freshly trimmed nails to remove the thick, scaly skin, then biting off a chunk to chew and swallow.  

The longer you stared at the bowl, the more confused you became. 

Yes, you knew how to eat a fish. 

Yes, you knew how to eat a mussel. 

No, you didn’t know what to do with whatever else was in the bowl.  

You paused eating when the man sitting across from the bathtub cleared his throat.  He made a vague gesture towards your lap, “Would you…?”

‘...mind if I showed you how to eat a bowl of soup?’ 

Without much hesitation, you offered up your meal again, much more interested in the chunk of fish in your hand.  Biting off another piece, you drank in the pleasant familiarity in just having some tilapia for once.  

He picked up the spoon. Deciding not to embarrass you further, he decided to taste test the food himself instead of trying to feed you. He let the silver spoon clatter back into the bowl, passing it over to you again. Despite the clear demonstration he’d given you, you opted to pick at one of the mussels hiding underneath the broth. 

“...”

“...”

He cleared his throat again, seemingly averting eye contact as he stared at the tiled walls. 

You diverted your attention from your bowl back to the blonde doctor. 

“I don’t mean to be rude or pry in any way,” he swallowed, “but what exactly were you doing so far from protected waters?"

You didn’t seem surprised in the slightest by his question, grabbing at the other fish tail in the bowl, “Smuggling and poaching.”  

He tilted his head curiously.

“Protective waters have attendants to track general pod health, they have the authority to temporarily remove merfolk from the water to do routine health checks."  You finally wrapped your hand around the spoon awkwardly, bringing some broth up to your lips. "Smugglers get jobs as attendants cause only tagged mermaids are considered protected.” You wiggled one of your finned ears, your left ear. Notably, there was a small tear in one of the fins. “It only takes a couple minutes for an attendant to catch a mermaid, sedate them, get them into a vehicle, remove their tag and throw them out into the right spots for a couple grand.” 

“I see.” 

You hummed, finally bringing the soup up to your lips, “Speaking of, how much did you end up having to pay for me?”

"..."

"..."

“Excuse me?” Luocha’s hands rested in his lap. 

“How much did you end up paying for me?”  You picked up another mussel, “I’m pretty good about keeping up with the price of scales and pearls.  I know you bought me as some kind of pity project, but I'm pretty eager to go back out to open waters.  Just name your price and I can start trying to pay off the debt.” 

The doctor blinked a couple times. “Oh… oh my god, absolutely not!”  He shook his head, bringing his hands up in front of his chest defensively, “There is no need to pay me back in the slightest.  Please, just rest well and remain healthy.  That would be the best payment.”

“What’s this?” 

He rolled the small iridescent pearl between his gloved fingers. 

“It’s a pearl.” 

He cracked a smile at that. It was gone as quick as it arrived as he brought the little treasure to his face to take a closer look.  “Well yes, but where did you get this? Did you have it stashed on you somewhere?”

You twirled your finger in a circle on the surface of the water. “No,” absentmindedly you observed the little whirlpool it made, “I made it.” 

He blinked a couple of times, hand dropping back to his side. “Pardon?” 

You finally looked up from the surface of the water, “I made it.” 

He cocked his head to the side, “You… made a pearl?” 

You looked at him, bored, “Well, yeah, did you not know mermaids make pearls?”

He looked from you, to the pearl, and then back at you.  “No… I’m afraid I didn’t know.”  His palm closed into a fist around the pearl, “How?” 

“...hm?”

He gestured towards his closed hand, “How did you make it?” 

You gave a huff, “Well, you’ve seen me make them before.”  

He frowned, “I… have?”

‘-and I didn’t notice?’

You nodded, shifting around in the bathtub to try and stretch your long tail out a little bit.  "The night I got caught on the boat-" Your jaw tensed, a sudden pang of soreness shooting up from your extremities. "-they were all over the deck, there were a bunch in the little tank they had me in.” 

His frown only deepened as he did his best to recall, “I don’t think I remember seeing them…? Does your blood crystalize into them or something of the sort?” 

You rested your head on the porcelain of the tub, bringing your arms up to cushion your cranium.  “Tears,” you murmured, “Merfolk tears turn into pearls.” 

‘Ah… so that’s why you mentioned there being so many on the ship.’

But then it hit him. 

“Why were you crying?” 

You shrugged, “Most mermaids in protected waters can cry on command.  We get a lot of tourists that give us gifts, sometimes if we’re interested we’ll give them a pearl in return.” 

He nodded like he understood, but suddenly the beautiful gem felt heavy in his fist.  He opened his hand and offered it back, “As beautiful as it is, I don’t wish to see you shedding any tears while you’re under my care.” 

You pushed his outstretched hand away, “Well, I already made it.  There’s no use trying to return it.” 

“Still, I feel terrible receiving a gift with such painful origins,” he sat down on the stool that’d become his usual spot.  “I’m a doctor. My goal is to make sure you’re in the least amount of pain possible.” 

“You should feel honored, you’re really the first person I’ve ever given a pearl to,” you raised your head from its spot on your arms, “I usually only gave them to little kids that didn’t bring me gifts so I’d give them something.”  You sank further into the water in the shallow tub.

“My concern is why you believe you should be giving me gifts in the first place,” he crossed his left leg over his right, scooting in closer, “I’ve already told you that taking care of you has always been of my own volition.  It is quite literally my job.  If you’re giving this to me as a gift and not repayment, I might be more inclined to accept it.” 

You huffed,  “Well, I guess you caught me.” 

His brows furrowed, “So I was right, you’re trying to pay back a debt again.” 

“...”

“...”

“...”

This time, he sighed.  “I’ve already told you, your health and wellbeing are both priceless.  I would never ask a patient I forced into care to pay me any sum of money-”

“That’s what I don’t understand,” The water rippled when you sat up suddenly, “Why don’t you want to accept any kind of payment? I’m tired of talking to you as property and owner.  You bought ownership, legally I’m your property. I don’t want to be your property.” 

“You aren’t my property-” He quipped, expression growing displeased.

“But I am,” you cut him off.  “You signed paperwork, you exchanged a certain sum of money.  Even if you thought I couldn’t hear you doesn’t mean I didn’t.” You crossed your arms across your chest, “I still heard the captain of the ship talking about sale prices with you.  I know I was considered a higher quality product, I know I was expensive.”

The doctor opened his mouth; and closed it and opened it again.  He struggled to find the correct words to use. “I didn’t consider that an exchange for ownership of you, I considered that to be the price of your wellbeing.  I’ve never considered you to be anything but an equal to me.” 

You drew your lips into a tight line, “Well, if I was an equal, you’d let me contribute to the cost somehow.  You wouldn’t treat me like some helpless baby.”  You gestured to his closed palm, “The pearl in your hand is priceless, sealing a handful of them would recuperate the money you wasted-”

Luocha held up his hand, “Stop-”

But you insisted, “Hell, if I ripped a couple of scales out you could more than pay for me.  You’d have enough money to buy another sorry sack of shit to take care of-”

“Don’t EVER-” he cut you off aggressively, “EVER, suggest such ludacris things to me again.  I refuse to even think about it.” 

“..."

Luocha shook his head, getting his gloves wet when he reached into the water to hold your hands in his own, “I would never ask you to do something like that to yourself.  I would never ask you to hurt yourself to please me and I would never ask you to hurt yourself because you needed my help.”  He gave your palms a gentle squeeze, “You did not ask to be put in the position you’re in now,  I am the one that chose to do this and I will be the one to set the price on my help; that price-” he paused, making sure you were looking him in the eyes, “-will always be no price at all.”   He pushed the pearl back into your hands.  “Give this pearl to one of the children that visit the waters after you’ve healed up in my stead, yes?” 

“It’s not exactly how I remember it.” 

You squirmed against the sensation of the water, arms still looped around Luocha’s neck.  

“Any discomfort?” The doctor asked, “Tell me if anything hurts.”

“No, no, nothing like that,” You shuffled around to try and make yourself comfortable.  You did your best to find the familiar rhythm of the waves, but your tail felt as useless as it had the entire time you’d been confined to the bathtub.  “It’s… cold.” 

Luocha nodded... even though he couldn't quite understand.  “If you aren’t straining any of your injuries, you can hang on for as long as you need to.”

You mumbled, trying to draw your elbows closer to your chest, “I’m not.” 

“...”

“...”

It’d only been a week since the last time you’d tried to repay your imaginary debt to Luocha.  Things got… less tense between the two of you. 

You didn’t put up a fuss when he put some ointment on the scars that formed all over your skin.  You didn’t squirm when he unwrapped your shoulder bandage.  You’d usually bide your time silently in the bathtub.  Mostly, you’d nap.  But that got old quickly, especially since a bathtub isn’t the most convenient spot for sleeping. 

Luocha could tell you were bored out of your mind all on your lonesome. To satiate this, he’d usually sit with you in the bathroom and try to teach you things like how to play cards.  You were a little apprehensive with him, like you always were, but it seemed you opened up to him a lot more towards the end of your stay in his temporary residence.

You’d become a pretty competent blackjack player all things considered.

You opened up more and more about your life down below.  Usually, you’d be afraid to tell anyone about that information.  Smugglers often targeted specific pods if one of the products happened to be particularly pricy.  But Luocha wasn't at any risk, was he? 

“...”

“...”

Eventually, as the water started to feel more natural on your skin, you let your grip loosen from around his neck.  As the welcoming embrace of the ocean seemed to envelop more and more of your body, you could feel the former tension in your muscles start to melt away. 

You laid yourself horizontal to the surface of the water, tentatively starting to create your own ripples in the vast expanses of blue.  Maybe it didn’t feel exactly as you remembered, but the gentle pressure of the cool, cool sea against your skin felt like home. 

Your arms splayed out in the waves like an angel, basking in the familiarity of it all.  “You can let go now.” 

Slowly, surely, pale arms lowered you into the arms of the same waters you’d been in a little over two months ago.  You shocked yourself when you chased after his hands. Still, as slick as an eel, you slid away from him into the open ocean, finding a boyish glee in the pure ecstasy of true freedom.  

You took off like a little jet, head first into the deep end. 

Luocha could only really watch with a small smile while you explored the vast array of little treasures hidden beneath the horizon line.  

It felt like only fifteen minutes had passed when you re-emerged from beneath the ocean blue, but to your shock, the sun was starting to set and Luocha was off on dry land, wringing the water out of his hair.  

In all of your fun, it seemed you’d forgotten about that man who’d made all of this possible for you. 

“...”

You pursued him onto the sand, watching him characteristically tilt his head to the side to express his curiosity.  You pushed your own wet mop of hair out of your face with your hand, suddenly feeling a little less confident in your choices.  Despite your trepidation, you felt you at least owed him this much. 

That didn't make it any easier.

“I-” you swallowed, curling in on yourself, “What if I wanted to give you a gift? If it wasn’t some kind of repayment?” 

He smiled, flipping a soaked lock of hair over his shoulder, “As long as you aren’t lying to me about repayment, then I would gladly accept.”

You suddenly felt a new wave of confidence wash over you, your chest puffing up a little bit, “Well, I have a gift for you.” Even though you failed to notice your little finned ears wiggling in excitement, Luocha did not. 

You reached up to your right ear, unhooking the beautiful golden earring that’d you'd been wearing since you’d been thrown out of protective waters.

His eyes widened.   

“It-” You offered the hoop to him, “It was my mom’s.”

Luocha blinked a couple times, staring at the bangle before looking back up at your face instead.  

“Well?  You said you’d accept it if it was a gift.”  You pushed it into his face, feeling a red hot flush wash over your features, “This is a gift; from me to you, no strings attached.” 

He carefully took the thin gold loop in his fingers.  He noticed the signs of oxidation and the water damage. 

It was already far less valuable than the pearl you’d tried to offer him.

Yet its sentimental value was unrivaled. 

“...”

“...”

“Did... your mother like jewelry?”

You shrugged, looking away from him, “Yeah, she had a lot of it from my dad.” 

Luocha nodded.  “Well, did she have a favorite kind of jewelry?” 

At this, you paused.  “I mean… I guess she did.  She wore a lot of rings… why?” 

“Well, since this is a gift I won’t refuse it,- Luocha slid one of the golden bands wrapped around his fingers off,  “-but if you can’t have her earring anymore, then you can at least have a piece of jewelry your mother would’ve liked to wear.”

You felt your face transition from an embarrassed pink to a much deeper red.  “You… you know what you’re offering me, r-right?” 

He didn’t respond in the way you expected.  Instead of his usual confusion, he pushed the ring towards you again with one hand.  The other went to work, looping the clasp of the earring through a piercing that was just a little bit too close to closing.  

It felt like your brain was melting.

‘Is he… flirting with me?’ 

You took the golden ring between your fingers, watching him use his newly freed hand to further force the earring through the piercing hole. You could only feel the heat creep up your neck to your ears; fuck, it felt like you were going to burn alive on the sand. 

When he finally got it in, he flipped a chunk of wet hair over his shoulder.  He framed the golden hoop with his palm.  Playfully, he asked, “How does it look?” 

‘...’

‘He’s definitely flirting.’ 

You immediately ripped your gaze from his face to the ring that suddenly felt like a hundred pounds in your palm. 

‘...What fingers do humans usually put the ring on again?’

Shakily you slid the golden ring onto your left hand, examining the way it glinted in the light of the sunset.  

‘...holy shit, did I just get married?’ 

“[name]?” 

You blinked a couple times, suddenly ripping your gaze away from the shiny metal.  “Sorry, sorry.” 

He chuckled at your expense, enjoying the little fluttering of your ears everytime he seemed to catch your attention again.  “Thank you for the gift, I’ll cherish it dearly.” 

You nodded. 

“...”

“...”

The silence was interrupted with a quiet sniffle. 

“...[name]?”

You aggressively wiped the tear off your face, watching the consequent pearl roll across the grains of sand.  “H-Hey, you can’t just give me this ring and leave-” You took a deep breath, “-That’s not fair, that’s not fair at all.” 

He was a little taken aback at the sudden resurgence of emotion, “Would…” he paused.  He thought it over before tentatively putting a hand on your shoulder, “Would it help if I stayed a little longer?” 

You shook your head, putting your hand over the one on your shoulder to hold it between both of your own hands.  “You have to promise to visit me a lot.  It’s going to take me a long time to find my family, so if you don’t visit I’m going to be lonely.” 

He, once again caught off guard, nodded, “O-Of course!” His own cheeks tinted a pale pink. 

“You promise?” 

He nodded again, this time using his other hand to clasp your hand in both of his.  “I promise I’ll visit.”

a side note for this upcoming section: i did a lot of world-building for this fic behind the scenes, the current planet they're on is largely submerged beneath the waters and they live on a bunch of island nations. To link up with that idea, my idea of the mermaid smuggling industry is to do with the concept of foreigners coming in and destroying local ecosystems. (Colonization)

Long story short, the planet is loosely based on Polynesian Islands so I chose Māori names for our supporting cast but keep in mind I am FAR from an expert and I mean literally no disrespect at all to anyone at all. Only the names are Māori in nature because I feel like no matter how much research I do, I would be unable to capture the essence of the rich culture of New Zealand. I'm a little gay fanfic writer I have not done nearly enough research to claim I know ANYTHING, I just thought it'd be cool and help with world-building in case people want a part-two or something

“What’s got you so worked up?” 

“Shut the fuck up Iarere, this is like the seventh time in the same hour.” 

Your younger brother held his hands up defensively, “Well, things got boring around here without you!”  He let himself fall towards the ground next to the boulder you’d splayed out all the little pieces of gold you’d managed to scrounge up.  “You manage to make it back from outside of protective waters and instead of hating everything and everyone, you’re suddenly getting all buddy buddy with the tourists trying to get some trinkets.  I know you’re old but are you really getting that desperate?” 

You frowned, “I’m not that old.” 

Iarere rested his face on the cool surface of the rock, prodding at one of the particularly flashy necklaces.  “You’re old to me.”  

Your frown deepened. Not just because your brother was calling you old, but because Luocha’s weekly visit was coming up and you hadn’t managed to gather up nearly as much as you would’ve wanted.   For your kind, caring, doctor husband who was already well off, a few necklaces and a handful of rings and earrings wouldn’t be anywhere near enough to woo him.  “I guess I am getting towards the end of the usual age people get married at.” 

The younger man nodded, humming, “Yeah, so do you have anyone in mind?” 

You bit your lip.  

I mean, yes, you were married. 

But it felt inauthentic if you didn’t present your husband with some kind of dowry first. 

Yes, Luocha only presented you with one of his old rings, but he also paid a hefty sum to rescue you from certain doom.  He also nursed you back to good health, refused to take any payment for any of the medical treatments or the food that’d been wasted making sure you’d retain your strength throughout your recovery. 

In your mind, maybe human dowries were just a little bit different. 

Despite opening your mouth to voice your dissent, your little brother jumped up at the opportunity to tease you.  “So you do have someone you’re thinking about!” 

“I-” 

“What are they like?” Iarere gripped your shoulders, tearing your attention away from your inner dilemma.  “What do they look like? Do I know them?”  He gasped, shaking you back and forth and he demanded to know, “Did you meet them while you were outside?!” 

You gripped at his shoulders in return, “I didn’t say I had anyone in mind!” 

“...”

“...”

He pursed his lips, “Yeah, I’m not buying it.” 

You groaned, bringing your hands up to your face.

He only got more excited, leaning in way too close for comfort as he squealed, “So I was right?!” 

“Right about what?” 

Your eyes darted over to the side, watching one of the few friends you’d managed to retain at your grown age.  “Thank the gods, Akahata, get Iarere off me before he gives me whiplash.” 

He hummed, “Well, I’m more interested in what exactly you guys were talking about before.”  You watched as his eyes flitted from you and your brother to all the precious metal and gems you’d laid out.  “Actually don’t tell me, let me guess.”  He pointed at the rock, “You’re setting up a dowry, but you’re upset because you know no amount of jewelry would ever get anyone in the pod to consider settling down with your ugly mug.”

“HAH!” 

Your ears fluttered in irritation.  “That’s a horrible guess.” 

Akahata shrugged, “Well, I mean, your mug’s only ugly cause you frown all the time.  If you actually made an effort to smile more, you’d probably have a lot more people that’d be willing to accept you with no dowry.” 

Your frown tugged at the corners of your lips as you massaged your temples, “For your information, I’m making a dowry cause I already got married.” 

“...”

“...’

“...”

“You WHAT?!” 

Iarere’s fists clenched even tighter around your biceps, “You told me you lost mom’s earring, not that you got married-” 

“It’s a long story-” You started, 

“Not long enough to not tell either of us!” Your best friend screamed in abject horror.  “The moment Ngaio and I started courting each other I told you immediately-”  You grimaced when he pushed your brother out of the way to be the one to shake you back and forth, “-and you get married and you don’t tell me until afterwards?!” 

“It wasn’t planned! I didn’t even realize he was courting me until he gave me his ring-” You countered, face lighting up pink.

“So it’s a him…” Iarere mumbled, putting his hand to his chin.  His expression lit up as the pieces started clicking together in his head.  “Is that where you’re going tomorrow?!” 

“YOU’RE GOING TO MEET HIM TOMORROW?!” 

You were growing more overwhelmed by the minute, averting eye contact.  “Yeah, so what? We’ve been meeting up every week while I was looking for you guys.  Is it weird for husbands to spend time together?” 

Akahata abruptly let go of you, leaving red imprints of his hands on your arms.  “That’s not that problem, that problem-” he paused for dramatic effect, “-is that you’re planning on meeting up with him after returning and you’re not even telling us who he is!” 

Iarere put a hand over his heart, feigning his disappointment as he let himself sink into the sand below.  “I think I’m going to faint.” 

You sighed, “Well-”

Akahata jabbed an accusatory finger in your chest again, “Is he even good looking enough for you? Is he any good at providing? What was his dowry like?  What pod is he even from?!”

“He’s not from a pod-”

Your brother hummed, “So is he a lone wanderer out beyond the boundaries of protected waters saving pretty mermen he wants to marry?” 

Your face twisted into one of disgust, “Keep your fantasies to yourself.” 

Iarere huffed, “Well, what else am I supposed to think when you say he’s not from a pod?  He obviously has so be some kind of lone wolf, PLUS you got married before you made it back.” 

Akahata put a contemplative hand under his chin, “I mean he has a point.” 

You shook your head, “He’s a human.” 

“...” 

“...” 

“...”

“You’re joking.” 

“I’m not.” 

“You’re joking…” 

You held up your hand, gesturing towards the ring on your finger. 

“Oh my god, you’re not actually joking.” 

Your younger brother squealed, “Oh my god this is like something out of all those movies on the surface! Tell me all about it!” 

You frowned, pushing through both your peers to make it back to your makeshift table top.  “He’s… a doctor, but he was working as a trader on a big ship.   He was there the night I got caught and he ended up buying me off the boat and he patched me up and released me.” 

Your best friend sighed, “Only you can make a story that romantic sound like a business deal.” 

Iarere furrowed his brows, “Wait, wait, wait, when did he propose?” 

“Well-” You fumbled over your words, “I caught feelings and I thought I might as well start the courtship process-” 

“YOU made the first move?!” 

“Shut up!” You pushed your overly eager younger brother’s face away, “I didn’t know if he even knew about mermaid courting so if I was going to start courting him, I had to do it then.”

“...go on.”

You sighed, “I gave him mom’s old earring, but instead of just taking it, he gave me one of the rings he was wearing.” You covered your face, feeling another wave of crimson wash everywhere from your neck to the tips of your ears.  You still couldn’t get the memory of him showing off the earring out of your fucking head. “I mean- I- I even asked if he knew what offering me his ring meant and he just put it in my hand.” 

Your younger brother kicked around on the sand eagerly, waving his hands around excitedly.  “That is actually one of THE most romantic proposals I’ve ever heard of!” 

Akahata crossed his arms, “Damn, I feel like mine was lacking.” 

You huffed, “Well, Ngaio is still your wife.” 

“And whatever his face is still managed to wife you--of all people--up.”

“Touche.”

“Oh wow, you brought more than you usually do.” 

Luocha chuckled behind his hand, his own little bag of purchased trinkets hanging loosely at his side. 

You hummed, thumbing over the beautiful glistening stone of a diamond necklace you’d managed to get off of a rather infamous regular.  “You’re one to talk.” 

He gave a small grunt of exertion as he sat next to you on the sand, letting the bag fall to the side, “You’ve got me there.”  He couldn’t help the pleasant swell of warmth in his face as you gestured for him to turn around. 

I mean, maybe you weren’t the best at communicating what you were feeling or what you wanted from him, but you’d been getting better.  Instead of just grunting a yes or no to the questions he’d ask, you’d actually make time for some conversation with him.  Be it from your annoying younger brother to the changes in the pod since you’d returned, it seemed you shared what little woes you had with Luocha.  

You also seemed to share endless amounts of little golden treasures with him.  From old, worn gold, oxidized iron, anything really that you could find, you provided it to him and put it on him with the most delicate touch your rough, scarred hands could muster.  Maybe it was nothing, maybe it was something.  He couldn’t control the way his heart sped up whenever you leaned in to help him put on a new pair of earrings you’d gifted him.  He surmised gift giving was some kind of love language that was common among merfolk.  Perhaps you’d also enjoy it if he brought you gifts of equal value! 

Still, the pounding in his heart was not helped when you’d started smiling at him. 

Everytime he managed to catch one of the rare glimpses of your smile–even worse when you’d laugh–he almost felt like he was looking at something forbidden.  Something he wasn’t worthy of, right in front of him.  For someone who had been through so much, you really opened up to him remarkably quickly after you’d been released.  Perhaps before release you’d been scared of being sold off? The familiar feeling of the waters must’ve don wonders to make you relax this much. 

Even worse when the physical affection began.  It started as simple as reaching out to the side of his face to brush the hair away from his ear so you could catch sight of the golden hoop he’d taken to wearing.   It transitioned to taking his gloves off so you could look at the rings you ended up gifting him.   Before he could really process how quickly the two of you were moving, you were pressed up against him at every opportunity.  

He knew it was natural for merfolk to not wear clothing, but did you have to have such a muscular chest? 

Even now, as you fumbled with the clasp of the absolutely beautiful diamond necklace, you wrapped an equally muscular aquatic tail around his leg.  He didn’t exactly know if this was normal between merfamily-could he call them that?--, being overly affectionate.   Even if it felt like a little more than just normal bonding, he did his best to still the pounding of his heart when your fingers brushed his hair out of the way so you could make sure the gem was oriented correctly.  

Trying his hardest to quell the tide of warmth surging up to the tips of his ears, he put a hand over his erratic heartbeat.  He prayed to the Aeons above you couldn’t feel it as your chest pressed against his back.  

You wrapped your arms snug around his torso, pulling him further into your stomach.  Resting your chin on top of his blonde hair, you found the gloved hand resting over his heart to hold in your own.   The two of you let the silence hang in the air for a moment. 

“...”

“...”

You gave a quiet huff before you moved your chin from on top of his head to bury itself into the crook of his neck.  As his fingers interlocked with yours, he found himself looking at all the gold rings he’d adorned your fingers with.  Each and every one, he could put a time and day to. 

But then, his eyes landed on your ring finger. 

“Oh, you still wear that old thing?”

“...hm?”

You glanced down at your hand, raising a brow.  His finger was tracing over the ring he’d exchanged when he was releasing you back into the open water.

“You still wear the same earring I gave you,” you murmured, flicking it with your freehand.  “I’ve given you countless pairs of earrings since, yet even when you wear one stud, you’ll always wear the same one every time I see you.” 

His chest rumbled with a bout of laughter, “I suppose you’re right.”  He perked up suddenly, “Oh, that reminds me, speaking of this earring…” He reached towards the rather large bag of gifts he’d brought with him.  He threw a few of the boxes of gold ornaments he’d purchased before finally fishing the box he was looking for out of the bottom.  “I went shopping and when I saw this pair, I simply knew you’d love it.” 

You hummed, looking at the little navy blue box in his hand.

He made quick work of the bow wrapped around the holding case, nimble fingers peeling open the little box before he presented you with his gift on their signature velvet cushion. It looked like… 

…a replica of your mother’s earrings. 

He offered them up to you with a bashful smile, watching in silent amusement when your ears flicked back and forth in some kind of excitement. 

Delicately, gently, you picked up one of the hoops and twirled it around your fingers. 

“...”

“...”

“...Well? Do you like it?”

You didn’t respond, reaching up to your right ear to remove the little stud you’d chosen to wear to this outing.  Fidgeting with the clasp of the loop, you threaded it with a calculated ease through your piercing.   

“I like it.” 

He clasped his hands together, “Good, I’m more than glad.” 

“...”

“...”

“She would’ve loved to meet you.” 

“Hm?”

You paused, “My mother, I mean,” Your thumb fidgeted with the back of the earring.  “She always wanted to see her sons get married, but she passed before she could.” 

Luocha blinked.  

“Pardon?” 

You tilted your head to the side, “My mother; she would’ve loved to meet you.” 

“No, no,” Luocha could feel the deep claret paint his face a messy red as he scooted to face you, “What did you mean by seeing her sons get married?”

“...

…Did you not know?” 

Luocha blinked. 

“We’re married.” 

Another blink. 

“You… Is that why…?” He gestured towards the gifts strewn across the sand.  He looked back towards his own bag of gifts. 

‘Oh for crying out loud-’

“I-” he cleared his throat, “I apologize, I seem to have… entered this marriage under false pretenses.”  He put his hands on his temples, “How- Where- When exactly did this happen?”

You hummed, “When you let me back out into the water.  When I gifted you my mother’s earring, that was the signal I wanted to start courting you.  When you gift something back, that’s an officiation of marriage.” 

He coughed into his hand, trying to think through this situation logically. 

Okay, so he accidentally got married.

What the fuck. 

The train of thought seemed to end there. 

…

He was, however, plagued with another train of thought. 

‘Well, you have been making eyes at him for a few months now.’ 

…

Those thoughts were not helping.  

“...”

“...”

“If you want to end the marriage, it’s as simple as saying so,” you added, “I thought you knew what my intentions were-”

“NO!”

Luocha covered the bottom half of his mouth.  “I’m fine with the arrangement as is, but it appears human marriage and merfolk marriage are officiated in very different ways.” 

Your brows furrowed. 

“...”

“...”

“...Are you saying you want to officiate the marriage as humans would?”

The tips of Luocha’s ears burned with embarrassment.  “I-” 

You held one of his hands in yours, eyes seemingly boring holes into his face,  “Whatever it is, as long as you want to do it, I will do it to the best of my ability.” 

Any complaints were silenced when he was confronted with such sincerity.  “Well…”

You waited patiently, folding your hands in your lap.  

Finally, it seemed your “husband” made up his mind.  

“Close your eyes.” 

You paused, seemingly surprised, but nonetheless your eyes fluttered shut moments after. 

Luocha urged himself to breathe, flexing and unflexing his hands.  

He leaned forward, closing his eyes as he…

…planted an innocent peck on your lips.

there's a note on the side of the phone booth, read it?

" idk how to describe it but now being on the other side of this, i'm feeling something similar to post nut clarity "

first post since losing literally everything on my first account yay !!

yes guys, luocha and his mermaid husband were openly cuddling on the beach for months and he's wondering "is he into me or am i bro-zoned"

that being said, losing my tumblr has now forced me to realize how many people genuinely like my writing hey guys I went scrolling through user kamisatoelogy's blog to look for their modern ayato fic and i found out someone dedicated time and effort into archiving my works???? and you guys went looks for me????

i fr feel like getting on my hands and knees and thanking everyone for all their support and love over this process and apologizing for scaring you guys so bad

you guys are so sweet and so many of you have been so helpful in getting my blog back up and running again :((

i started drafting my fics in google docs to make sure it isn't all GONE if i get shit on again so this chapter is brought to you by font: unica one, it was 27 pages total (i am insane)

shout out to Chappell Roan cause she really put me in my tunnel vision work zone while i was writing this

if u guys r looking for a writing hack, i trained myself like a sleeper agent to start writing when i play songs on hour loop it puts me in a work rut

- love, operator t-19

[arcanewhoosh]

hiii how are you? I hope ur doing well!

I dont know if your requests are open or not so if they aren’t feel free to just ignore this :)

i was wondering if you could write a jinx X female reader (if not female gn is totally alright whatever you’re comfortable with) a soulmate au with jinx where it’s the reader who goes to the alternative universe instead of ekko, but instead of just going to one universe, the reader ends up going to multiple ones. she/they find out that jinx is her/their partner in every universe, in every timeline, in every possibility, making them soulmates.

I actually made a post about this idea, asking if anyone could write it, but I also wanted to ask you as well because I just adore your writing so so sooo much. I could honestly read your work for hours without getting bored or tired.

I Think We're Kind of Made for Each Other

This work will be posted (with an additional scene) on AO3 here. Please note that the work posted there will be tagged as Explicit

24.3k words

Proofread? Y/N

Relevant Tags: JinxXReader, Female Reader, Soulmates AU, Multiple timelines, Violence, Major character death, Suicide, Self-Harm, Alcohol consumption, Original side character, Canon compliant, LoL characters

When the anomaly at the Hex Gate transports you and your friends across realities, you're forced to confront the different lives you live in each one. But will you be able to accept a hard truth when you face the only constant thing in every timeline?

A/N: I just wanted to say, that this has to be my magnum opus. I don't think I can write another oneshot this long. To be fair, the idea had been floating in my head for a while, so when the request came, I kinda went crazy. And to think I thought I could write this in a day lol.

Nevertheless, I had a lot of fun writing. I highly encourage you to read some of my other stuff, purely because there are a few references in this story.

Please enjoy. And if you like it, feel free to share with your friends.

One

The feeling of wetness on the side of your face wakes you up—your entire left side, actually—as a dull ache starts to throb in your head. Barely registering the rain pelting down on you, you open your eyes and try to catch your bearings.

There's a loud ringing in your ears, but you can make out muffled shouting and gunfire, the sizzling in the air followed by a boom. It triggers the fight or flight response in you, but everything is hurting and you can't remember how you even ended up here. You should be doing something right now, but for the life of you, you can't figure out what.

Your hand wipes at your ear as you open your eyes to inspect it, an unsurprising streak of red on your fingers is starting to smear as the rain continues to pour. Your vision swims for a few seconds, and you figure a concussion is going to be added along with the possible ruptured eardrum in your list of injuries.

Thankfully, your gaze focuses on the sight ahead of you. The familiar bridge dividing Piltover and Zaun, cracked and blown off at sections. There are armed people hiding behind a barricade on your side of the bridge, shooting at enforcers at the other end.

You plant your hands on the concrete and try to push yourself up, getting to about knee level before a sharp pain in your foot knocks the wind out of you and fall back down. It only occurs to you now to look down and inspect the rest of you. Banged up, caked in dirt and blood—Whose blood was that?—and your clothes torn at odd places. Your foot is still there, and it's not dangling off at an awkward angle, at least. You grit your teeth and try to move the injured limb. The pain wracks through your body, but your foot moves nonetheless. Sprained, not broken; good.

An explosion next to you pulls you back into reality and starts up your sense of urgency as you crawl your way over to cover. Hiding behind a fallen pillar, you take a second to breathe and get your bearings. A number of people run past you, all carrying guns and explosives from what you can make out—Why are we in a gun fight with the Pilties?—all ignoring you as they erect more barricades and set their weapons up. It might be the adrenaline, but you can't for the life of you remember how you ended up in this situation. What the hell were you doing here?

You close your eyes and try to block out the pain from your head and ankle, willing yourself to recall the events prior this firefight.

This was all planned. Carefully planned over the course of years.

The painstaking effort it took to build weapon factories in the fissures to stay out of Piltover's radar.

the underground hand-to-hand combat classes.

"You know, you say we should feel like we're all one people—"

Expanding Zaun southwards to facilitate growth for the future.

"Is that a wild rune?"

"I have no idea what that is."

Noxus antagonizing you for trying to build a better city for your people.

"No, don't touch it!"

"Ekko—"

Your thoughts are interrupted when a pair of hands grab you by your shoulders. Your eyes snap open at the figure in front of you, her pink eyes all too familiar. She looks worried—about you, no less—and affection blooms in your chest the same time a feeling of repulsion comes over you. Jinx, you try to say, but you're still reeling from your injuries and your attempt to recall what had just happened, that you're not able to utter a word. She's speaking, but you can barely make out what she's saying because of the ringing in your ears. You try to read her lips, but your mind is too hazy to make sense of her words.

She realizes that you're not understanding her at all, and she spots the blood still coming out of your ear. As she moves to gingerly wipe off some of it with a gloved hand, you instinctively—instinctively??—lean into her touch. She pulls out a small vial with a needle at the end of it. The pink glow of its contents immediately tells you that it's shimmer, as Jinx takes off the cover with her mouth and spits it out to the side.

"No." You say. At least you think you do, you can't really hear yourself. You hand grabs her wrist holding the needle, but she's faster and leans her hand away just out of reach from you. She grabs your own with her free hand, and gives you an apologetic look. You're not sure why, but you can almost tell that she's trying to say this'll help, I promise.

The smile alone is enough to make you relent, and a part of you is bewildered at the fact. Still, you put your hand down and let her stab the needle into your thigh, its contents seeping through.

You lurch forward at the sensation, but she catches you and holds you as you tense up from the high that shimmer delivers with it. You grab onto her as you wait for the effects to subside.

"It's okay, you're okay, I've got you." She whispers into your hair. You relax, slowly but surely. Besides the fogginess you still feel, you're a million gold coins. You gently push yourself away, taking a look around, your sense suddenly heightened. A short side effect of shimmer, if you remember right.

"Jinx." You finally manage. "Are you okay?"

She scoffs, but you know that it's not out of hostility. "Don't you think I should be asking you that?"

She has a point. A part of you wants to contradict her for the fun of it, but this isn't the place, or time. You peek over the side of the pillar, the barricades are holding strong, even gaining ground over Piltover. The momentary safety provided by cover is enough for you pull Jinx and yourself on your feet.

Her face if covered in dirt and grease. She was supposed to be working on Fishbones, away from the front lines. "You're supposed to be on higher ground."

"I'm not gonna sit on my ass while you're all here risking your lives. Besides—" She pushes a rifle onto you. "Fishbones is ready. Once the Noxian's ship is even an inch within range, they're done for."

You shake your head. "You're better if you're—"

"No." She starts. She has a determined look in her eye, the same one she sports when she wants you to drop an argument. And you drop it, every single time.

"I'm just as good as a shot as you. And we're winning." She gestures toward the bridge, where the line of enforcers and Noxians troops are slowly but surely backing away. "We'll need as many boots here as we can. You said it yourself, the hardest part is gonna be holding the line once they call for negotiations."

Your grip tightens on the rifle. You were so close to freeing Zaun. Wait what?

Freeing Zaun? No, you needed to save your tree, with the firelights, and all the refugees. You needed to find Ekko, and Heimerdinger, and Jayce. Jinx… Jinx was the enemy. She killed your friends before, blown up your safehouses, let Silco flood the streets with shimmer—

"The Noxians ships are here!"

You both turn to the east side of the bridge, and spot the fleet approaching. Their pace glacial because of the narrow path on the water. They start deploying smaller boats filled with their soldiers, headed for the small docks on your side of the bridge. You turn back to Jinx, her eyes are still trained on you. She takes a breath, and opens her mouth to say something—

"Cap! We're armed and ready!" A blob of pink hair catches your attention; it's Vi, waving over to you from a distance away. "Give the signal!" You look up to the rooftops above her, a group of people rolling three launchers forward, all trained on the large vessels in the water. The blue glow coming from the HexTech gemstone running through lines on the launchers they were all hauling. One for each ship.

"This is it." You say as you grab Jinx's arm. "Go take cover."

"And leave you here? Fat chance."

"Jinx."

"I'm staying." This stubborn little—You sigh, now was not the time for a petty argument. You were about to give the go signal for a possible war-ending—or war escalating—attack. You settle for pulling Jinx with you as you zigzag towards where Vi is, bullets flying everywhere.

"We're armed and ready." She says as she crouches next to you. You know you can't delay the command, but a pit settles in your stomach as the weight of your decisions starts to sink in. The number of lives that'll be lost from this.

But you don't have the luxury in time, not in war. All you have is the culmination of your split second decisions and the consequences that follow.

"Tell them to fire." You state it with such calmness that it surprises the three of you. Vi nods, nonetheless, and gives the signal to the fighters on the rooftop.

In the few seconds that the high pitched screech of the launchers resonate through the air, the battlefields becomes silent. All eyes trained on the rooftops of Zaun, then the Noxian ships.

The first rocket hits a ship. A loud bang is heard as it makes contact, followed by a muffled explosion as smoke starts to billow out of the ship. The vessel groans and slows to a stop, as a line of soldiers dressed in red start abandoning ship as fires start erupting out of doors and windows. The other two ships follow the same fate. A loud bang, an explosion, the smoke, and people desperately trying to get away.

You stare at the horrific sight in front of you. There are no sounds from the guns firing from each side, no bangs from projectiles being launched from mini Hex gates. Everyone has stopped whatever they were doing and were now watching people on ships, trying to escape the inferno quickly building up.

Your head throbs, and you stumble as you try to walk towards the bridge. Jinx catches you as you fall to your knees, your head suddenly as heavy as lead, the ringing in your ears returning, louder this time. Jinx is trying to tell you something, but your vision begins to blur, and you feel like you need to just… shut your eyes for a few moments.

-----

Two

"Hey, Ms. Port Master extraordinaire? Hello?"

The snap of fingers brings you out of your stupor. You blink a few times before clearing your throat.

"Sorry." You try to flash a smile to the woman in front of you. Her eyes scrutinize you for a brief moment, seemingly trying to figure out what was going on in your mind, before her infuriatingly attractive smirk adorns her face.

"Didn't peg you for a lightweight."

You snort as you take a sip from your glass. "I'm not a lightweight."

"The zoning out is kind of a dead giveaway."

"I wasn't zoning out. I was lost in your eyes."

"You weren't even looking at me."

"I had to look away cause I was getting lost in your eyes?"

She lightly punches your arm—damn she's strong—before leaning against the counter of the busy bar. You sit close to each other, citing the noisy atmosphere and the hindrance that would cause during your conversation, but you both know better. You wanted to sit close because she was, pardon your French, too fucking attractive. Hers, you weren't sure yet, but you'd be able to find out eventually.

"I'm guessing you don't get lost in all of your customers' eyes, too?"

"Just yours." You’re not a lightweight, that much you’re certain. Tipsy, however, you very much are. If the brazen flirting wasn’t making it obvious enough.

"And you weren't out last night with some poor girl who also had engine troubles?" You put a hand over your chest.

"You're breaking my heart here, blue." The feigned hurt in your voice does little to deter the eye roll that Powder gives you. You let out a laugh as you put your hands up as a mock sign of peace. "Hey, I swear I was trying my best to be professional earlier, but I'm off the clock now, so I can flirt as much as I want."

"Oh, we're flirting?" You furrow your brows at her.

"Was that not clear?"

"Nah, not really."

"Do you platonically get lost in people's eyes?"

"Maybe. How do I know you don't take girls here every night? I could ask the bartender."

"Go ahead, he's an unbiased party. Besides," You shrug. "Even if I did, I'm a regular here so he wouldn't snitch on me."

"Don't put words in my mouth you muppet." the burly man working behind the bar walks towards the two of you, refilling your drinks. He winks at Powder. "Don't worry love, I'd sell this one for a sack of potatoes—"

"Hey!"

"But." He says, a thick eyebrow raised at you. "Lil' missy here isn't a revolving door of lovers. In fact, I don't reckon' she's ever brought someone here. Or landed a date, actually—" Powder snorts into her drink, and you take it as a sign that it's time to usher the barkeep away.

"Okay, thank you Ed, for the refills. I think there's some people asking for you over there." Ed laughs as he lumbers over to the other side of the bar. You keep your eyes on him until you're sure that he's occupied, before turning back to Powder. "I do in fact, get dates. For the record."

"Oh, of course, I totally believe you."

"I mean it."

"Completely believe you."

"Okay, now you're just messing me." Your ego is a bit bruised at Ed's interruption, the shit eating grin on Powder's face isn't helping either. But she's smiling, and for some ungodly reason, you consider it as a win. You shake your head and take a longer sip from your drink, why the hell were you so sappy all of a sudden?

"Okay, okay. Sorry, toots." She nudges you with her shoulder. "No more teasing."

You raise an eyebrow at her. "No more bruising my ego?" She shakes her head and crosses over her heart.

"Nope. Serious questions only, from this point forward."

"Oh? Like what?" You turn to her and prop your chin on your hand.

"Like…" She bites her lip and looks at a random spot on the wall of drinks across from you, momentarily in thought. At this point, you're not even trying to hide your staring. She doesn't call you out on it when she looks back at you, but a small smirk plays at her face. “You’re drunk.”

“Just as drunk as you are.”

“I’m not drunk yet.”

“You’re literally slurring your words right now.”

“…I’m tipsy.”

You do your best to hold back a chuckle. “Hi tipsy—“

“Gods, please don’t.” She groans and hides her face in her hands. “I was just starting to find you attractive.”

“I thought we were done bruising my ego?”

“The dad jokes make you free real estate.”

“Okay, alright.” You laugh. Gently prying her hands away from her face. “Just ask me your question.“

She relents, but doesn’t let go of your hand as she sets her hand down the counter. “Hmm…”

“Did you grow up here?”

“Here? No, I only came here about five years ago. Looking for my great perhaps and all.” A momentary ring in your ear causes your breath to hitch, but Powder doesn’t seem to notice.

“Where are you from?” She continues, her eyes slightly glazed but reflecting her curiosity.

“I’m from—“

The Free Nation of Zaun

The Undercity

Why the hell would I tell you?

“Hey.” Jinx gives your hand a gentle squeeze. You do your damn best not to yank your hand away. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me.”

Bilgewater, you’re from Bilgewater.

“No, it’s okay.” You squeeze her hand back before she has the chance to pull away. "Could you give me a second?"

You wait for her to nod before you push yourself off the stool and make your way to the bathroom. You quickly lock the door and rest your head against it. The ringing in your ears returns, and your breathing becomes ragged. "Where the hell am I?" You look over to the bathroom mirror, and you're surprised to see the figure standing in front of you.

Your hair is different; your face—you look healthier? Not someone who grew up in the Undercity. You walk over to the sink, planting both hands on either side, scrutinizing your features further. It's you alright, somehow. Only it's also not.

Born in Bilgewater, left for adventure, ended up here working at the port.

"No." You shut your eyes as you shake your head. "I was born in the Undercity, I'm a firelight, we came across a wild rune and… now I'm here. I need to find Ekko, and Jayce, and Heimerdinger." You repeat the words a few more times, just to make sure you don't forget. The sound of water flowing out of the faucet as you turn a knob offers little comfort, but the cold sensation of the water when you splash your face helps.

You're about to turn and exit the bathroom when you spot something on your arm.  A small thing, peeking out of your sleeve. You gasp as you pull your sleeve back, the web-like patterns of the wild rune threading a line over your forearm.

You needed to find out what was happening, and why you've already encountered Jinx twice, every time you did whatever you were doing. Were you hallucinating? Did you just hit your head and was currently having a really trippy dream? You decide to think this over once you shake off Jinx, Powder, whoever she is. Easier said than done, since you kept acting like some lovesick fool.

When you return to the bar, Jinx is still there. Her back is turned to you, but her shoulders are slumped in a way that you can immediately tell that she's not in a good mood.

"Oi." Ed flicks your ear, ignoring your protest. "What the hell are you doing, making that sweet lass upset?"

I wouldn't use sweet to describe her.

"Sorry, I—uh, I'll fix it."

"Damn right you will. You come across someone like that once every lifetime." He pushes you toward the bar, before going back to clear a table.

"Sorry about that." Her head whips up in surprise, clearly not expecting you to be back. "Lost myself for a bit there."

"I…I thought you snuck out, honestly. It's no big deal, happens sometimes." She shrugs, her shoulders tense. She's trying to be nonchalant about you suddenly excusing yourself, but she was still slurring her words, and her gestures were becoming uncoordinated, so it wasn't really working. She looked more upset the more she tried to play it off.

You reach over the bar and grab a pitcher of water and a glass, filling it up and handing it over to her. "I'm really sorry about that."

She glares at the glass before reluctantly downing its contents "S'fine." A few beats of silence pass, and you unexpectedly feel guilt start to bubble up in your chest. No. No. No.

“I grew up in Bilgewater.”

"Huh?"

"You asked earlier, where I was from? Bilgewater. Terrible place, really." 

She folds her arms on the counter and rests her head on them, closing her eyes. “Why’d you leave?”

“You get sick of the smelly pirates? Though, I do have to give them credit, their wild stories of adventure and conquest is what made me leave in the first place.”

"You didn't just join some random ship?"

You chuckle. "And get myself killed for some dumb mistake? No thanks." You refill her glass with water, before picking up your own and swirling the brown liquid around. You recall working in a bar, up in the higher levels of Bilgewater, where adventurers spent the coin that they made from their exploits, before begrudgingly having to go back down and gather a crew to earn more. A vicious that kept repeating itself. Sometimes, if they were lucky, the whole crew would survive, but those instances were few and far in between.

Memories. You realize. These are all your memories, or, whoever you are here, at least.

A properly functioning Hex Gate was capable of transporting ships across continents in a split second. Does this mean a magically screwed up one could transport you to a different life entirely? Was it because of the remnants of the anomaly on your arm?

You shake your head, this was stuff that Ekko was good at, not you. You needed to find him, fast.

But first, take care of this one.

As if on cue, you hear a light snore come from next to you. Jinx is knocked out, clearly not bothered by how she's awkwardly hunched over the counter. You sigh, you have no idea how to get back home, but you decide to handle that issue tomorrow. Right now, you had a drunk Jinx to take care of.

Thankfully, you remember where you live, because having to haul around a drunk Jinx was difficult enough. Small victories though, as you realize that this is better than being stuck in the middle of a battle field. You settle yourself on your bay window, looking over to Jinx's sleeping form on your bed. Tomorrow, you'd start figuring out a way to get home. For now, you'll try to get your first wink of sleep in Gods know how long.

-----

Twenty-eight

In the indiscernible amount of time that has passed—for you, at least—you've come to realize the following things: 

You are not hallucinating, nor did you hit your head, you are, in fact, jumping through universes and different versions of yourself.

The first hurdle you had to get through was getting your bearings when you'd get thrown into another universe. It took a few tries, but eventually, you were able to come to your senses immediately after jumping to the next plane of existence you were in. You always repeated the mantra you made back in the second jump you did, the last thing you needed was to forget where you came from. The thought of aimlessly wandering through universes, feeling like you've lost your mind, you can't even imagine how terrible that would be. You needed to find the others as soon as you could.

The length of stay always varied and timelines can repeat, but there are always miniscule variations.

This was still a working theory. You've only repeated a timeline once, but you had enough wits about you to realize that some objects were a different color to their preceding counterpart, or that instead of Ekko explaining something to you, it was Scar. With how long you'd stay, there were a few instances when you'd only stay for a few minutes, but the rest spanned to about a week at the longest.

Somehow, some way, you and Jinx are connected in some way, shape, or form. In every. Single. One.

The last one was especially jarring, considering you had never even met Jinx officially back in your universe. Sure, you’ve had run-ins with her because the Firelights would frequently be trying to intercept shimmer routes, but you don't think barely surviving one of her chompers counted as an introduction. On top of that, she was your enemy back home, but in every single jump you've had so far, the two of you had a somewhat established relationship. This was good, in a way, because at least you didn't have to be on your guard constantly while you tried to figure out a way to get home.

"I can hear you thinking from over here."

Speak of the devil.

You ignore the comment from your friend. Emphasis on friend. In this universe it seemed, the both of you were Academy students in Piltover, mercifully platonic. You decided to do your best to study wild runes and HexTech when you could, but it proved to be difficult when you were distracted by that Other You's feelings for Jinx. At least this place gave you access to a literal sea of books and a clear enough mind.

"Hey, don't ignore me." Jinx opts to lightly tug at the top half of the book you're reading, and you can see her blue eyes peek through the space. That's right, no shimmer exposure in this universe.

"I'm studying." You deadpan, hoping she'll leave you alone. You get a mock imitation of your words, instead.

"No you're not, none of our classes are even looking into dusty old books about runes." She has a point. Truth be told, you're supposed to be studying about ethical practices in the field of body modification for utility uses. Which was close to nothing, really. But you can't really tell Jinx why you're reading about runes, now, can you?

"Have you ever heard of this thing called supplementary reading?" You shake the book off of her fingers, and go back to your futile attempt to learn about magic. Not that this book was any use, there wasn't even a list of runes and their definitions on here. The girl in front of you leans back on her chair and lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Ugh, you're boring. Let's go do something fun!" Her foot kicks at your shoe from under the table, and you have to lift both feet up to avoid her kicks.

"Hey! Not everyone can sleep through every class and still get high marks, Jinx." You scoot your chair out from under the table to put distance between the two of you. "Some of us have to actually study."

"What's studying without any field experience?"

"Pipe down. The librarian is gonna kick us both out, again."

She sticks her tongue out at you, but lowers her voice. "Come on, I'm dying of boredom here!" She splays out her upper half on the table, arms toppling over some of the papers and books you—Very neatly!—stacked for reference.

Your mouth forms a thin line, her rowdy, and playful personality had become apparent to you once you went through a few more universes. She'd get pissed if you ignored her for too long, but the structured environment of the Academy hindered a her from having any outbursts. So you opt to continue reading your books instead of taking the bait, quashing any urge from the You of this universe to make a side comment about her behavior.

She continues with her ranting about you not having any fun or having a stick up your ass. Her jabs get progressively more offensive, but that's how her and the Other You here interact. It's not fun for you yourself, because you didn't have the patience to make a jab at her without losing your cool.

You rub an eyebrow with one your hands, before gripping the book, willing yourself to focus on the next few pages in case they provide any useful information. You try to tune out the other girl, who has thankfully gone quiet.

You move book to book, thankful that this version of you could read and absorb information so fast. Sadly, you couldn't find anything about wild runes. Looks like Piltover was strict about distancing itself from magic as much as they could.

You don't look up from your book until you hear a grumbling from in front of you.

"What was that?" You close your book and pile it onto the Useless pile—which was all of them, really—and raise an eyebrow at Jinx, whose arms are crossed and is looking off to the side.

"doyouwannageticecream" You blink.

"Jinx, I'm not gonna understand a word you say if you keep grumbling like that."

She rolls her eyes. "I said, do you wanna get ice cream? or something."

Huh, how random.

"I made you upset earlier, and ice cream makes people feel better so..."

"I wasn't upset" You were.

"Yeah you were."

"I was annoyed."

"I know your annoyed face from your upset face."

"There's a difference?"

"So you were!" She slams her hand on the table, and is met by an irate librarian shushing her. You're once again taken aback by how different each Jinx behaves from the others. Where you were sure your universe's Jinx would have shot that poor woman, this one sheepishly rubs the back of her neck and throws a peace sign at her. If you weren't exposed to your universe's Jinx, you would have found her behavior cute. But you were exposed, so it absolutely isn't, and you're not going to play along with her to make her feel better.

"Thank for the offer jinx, but I'm not really in the mood to get ice cream." Good. "...and I'm not mad at you, or anything." You swear the last part was added in by Other You. Nonetheless, this seems to work as Jinx relaxes, resigning to making paper airplanes with the notes you had made while you went back to reading.

"Wanna break into Giopara's lab?" She starts.

"No."

"I think you'd want to—"

"No."

"If you say so." the singsong tone in her voice and the nonchalant shrug sets off alarm bells in your head. She's baiting you again.

Your eyes narrow at her. "You're being weird."

"No I'm not. I just thought—seeing as you're all interested in runes all of a sudden—you'd want to look at Giopara's vast  book collection on that very subject."

"How the hell would you even know that?"

"Cause," She shrugs again. "He keeps saying I'm not living up to my potential and tries to make me read more Hex Tech origin stuff."

Your mouth hangs open, but you manage to close it before Jinx calls you a blubbering fish. "Wait a second. You're saying you've been reading about runes and Hex Tech?"

"Yup."

"So you know that the books here in the library are useless?"

"Mhm."

"And you've been letting me waste my time reading through them like an idiot?" 

She sits back in her chair and crosses her arms. "They're not useless. They're just... Not useful."

"You're such a dick sometimes." Your remark is loud enough that the librarian to shush you as well. You whisper a sorry before turning back to Jinx.

"And you always have a stick up your ass." She whispers loudly.

"Yeah cause someone has to keep you from getting yourself killed, or worse, expelled!"

She snorts. "Really toots? Getting expelled is worse than getting killed?"

"The chances of getting expelled are higher with you, unfortunately."

She leans forward conspiratorially, a grin on her face. You don't notice yourself mirror her. "So come with me to break into his office, so I don't get expelled. Don't you want to read all those rune books? He doesn't even keep track of what gets taken out of there."

"Then why don't you just borrow them during lab hours?"

"What fun is that?"

"Jinx!"

"We'll be quick, five minutes, tops. And you'll have your dumb rune books." You grit your teeth. On one hand, You could just ask her to teach you what she knows. But you've known her—Other You!—your whole life, so you're a hundred percent sure that you'd have to pry that information out of her cold, dead, hands. On the other, Jayce's head was so far up in his own ass that Jinx was probably correct in saying he wouldn't notice any missing books.

I also don't know when I'll be yanked into another universe. There was also that.

"How sure are you that you can get us in and out that fast?"

"A million percent. Dude forgets to lock the door sometimes." She's already standing up and shoving all of your notes into your book bag, your eye twitches just the tiniest bit, before your head snaps up to look at her.

"How do you know that?" You ask as you start carrying the books to the book trolley.

"You're asking too many questions here. Less talking, more walking. Go, go, go." She ushers you out into the hallway, and the both of you start walking towards the east wing of the academy. The sun had already set, so there were much less students loitering. Still, the both of you err on the side of caution and stick to the lesser used hallways where the custodians had already turned off the lights.

You eventually find your way to the front of Jayce's lab, and Jinx wastes no time kneeling on front of the door and pulling out what looked like tools and shoving them into the door knob. This is definitely not her first breaking and entering.

"Where the hell did you get lockpicks?!" You do your best to keep your voice down, the allure of learning about runes slowly dissipating, panic replacing it.

"What did I say about less talking?" She whips around and raises her eyebrows at you, right as she turns the doorknob and opens the previously locked door.

"We're so fucked."

"You know, if we weren't stretched for time, I'd be celebrating you breaking your curse word quota for the day." She yanks her tools out of the door knob, and pushes you into the lab.

The room is nearly pitch black. Thankfully, the unlit hallways were enough for your eyes to adjust to the darkness. The low light from the moon streaming through the windows the only thing helping with your vision. Somehow, Jinx is able to navigate just fine.

"Okay, how often do you actually break in here?"

"How often is underground robot fight club again?" Robot fight club. The only thing Jinx is willing to wake up early for. Wait a second—

"Jinx!" You don't bother lowering your voice. Hoping that the closed room would be enough to muffle any sounds from coming into the hallway.

"What?"

"That's twice a week!"

"Where did you think we were getting our parts?"

"You said you knew a guy!"

"Clearly." She gestures around the room, where there were plenty of scattered machinery parts. Your face pales slightly; this Jinx was going to get You expelled, surely.

"You made me an accessory!"

"And now you're committing the crime. Congratulations, you've been promoted." She opens another door and theatrically gestures at the room. "Your little rune books await, oh great stuck-up one."

You roll your eyes at her and enter the room without any fanfare. Immediately you see that the all four walls of the room are lined with bookshelves as high as the ceiling. In the middle, a large wooden table with charts and books scattered across. Jinx stops next to you and nudges you with her shoulders. "Told 'ya. Worth the risk, right?"

"That's still up in the air."

She scoffs. "You totally think it is."

You don't want to give her the satisfaction of a reaction, but you don't even notice that you're grinning back at her until she puts an arm around your shoulders and waves her hand flippantly at the shelves. Other You's stomach does a backflip.

No. Absolutely not.

"So what are we looking for?"

You once again quash whatever physical reaction you're having. Now was definitely not the time. You walk out of her arm's reach and resort to looking around the spines of the books, already trying to spot their titles. "Wild runes."

There's a beat of silence before you hear her walking around the carpeted floor. "Wild runes huh? Yeah, I think I've seen a few of those around. Don't think I read them, though."

"That's fine." You start rifling around the shelves. Reading through anything that looked promising.

Jinx is the first to break the silence. She usually is. "So what are these books for, again?"

"I told you, supplementary reading. Also there isn't much to read on out ethics class so might as well fill my time with something fun."

Jinx doesn't reply, and you're happy to keep on reading through your books until you get a nagging feeling that you've just done something wrong.

You turn around to look at Jinx, who was plopped down on the floor and half-heartedly pulling books out, before seemingly placing them somewhere else at random. You mentally kick yourself when you notice that her shoulders are slumped. Opting to put the book search on hold, you walk over to her, hesitating for a moment before sitting down next to her.

"You know you can tell me stuff, right?" Her voice is quiet, and it's unsettling that you have the sudden urge to comfort her.

Yes, yes of course. This version of you felt completely at ease with Jinx. But you can't afford to be distracted by affection that wasn't even yours to begin with. If only you could explain that you've been universe-hopping and that in every single one of them you were in love or falling in love with her, and that you were trying to at least stall in this one so you could get as much information as you could before you got dragged into a different timeline again.

You can't, not really. But you know better than to try to lie to her.

"I think there might be another side to Hex Tech that we haven't discovered yet."

She stops rearranging the books and turns to you slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Like... Equal and opposite reactions."

"You think Hex Tech might have negative effects?" You feel your guilt lift at the curious glint in her eyes as you nod.

"Something like that. It's just a theory, though. I don't have anything to back it up."

"Well," She stands up and heads over to a shelf at the far wall. Pulling out an old looking tome. "I think this is just the book you're looking for." She blows off dust from the cover, coughing lightly from the cloud that forms. You quickly stand up and walk toward her, looking over the tome.

My ticket home—

"I don't care if they think I'm hogging too many testing hours, my methods actually work."

The door in the other room slams shut, you and Jinx immediately crouch down and move to turn the light off. Your eyes barely have time to adjust before Jinx pulls you over to the window.

"Are you crazy? We're on the second floor!" You whisper as she tries to pry it open.

"Less talking, more helping." As if on cue, you hear ruffling near the door. Less talking, more helping.

You help Jinx open the window, one hand still clutching the tome. You pray to every god out there that Jayce actually won't realize he's missing a book. The both of you swing your legs over the edge, and you grab onto the wall, suddenly feeling very nauseous. Jinx on the other hand, is grinning like a maniac.

"Aim for the bushes."

"Aim for the wha—"

You're unable to finish your sentence as Jinx pushes you out the window. You were wrong, the chances of getting killed might actually be higher than getting expelled.

While this was the first time Other You was getting pushed out of a window, this was fortunately—and sadly—not your first. Your instincts kick in and you're able to land on your feet, using the momentum to tuck and roll safely on the ground. All with the tome still clutched on one hand.

You're about to give Jinx a piece of your mind when she mouths catch me and you panic and free up your hands, just in time for her to land right into your arms. Sadly, however, strength doesn't carry over between universes as well as technique. Your knees buckle and you fall backwards. You barely have time to recover before Jinx is tucking the tome under her arm and pulling you up to your feet, already running away from the building.

You follow suit, quickly discovering that cardio was also not transferrable between timelines. Still, you keep running until your legs are burning and you see the dorms come into view, only stopping once you're both safely hidden at its side entrance.

You somehow beat Jinx to the door, your hands on your knees as your chest heaves. She comes to a stop right next to you. Planting a hand on your shoulder and using you for support.

"That was—"

"Fucking stupid."

She slaps your shoulder and laughs, commenting about how she likes this new, cussing, version of you. You take a second to compose yourself, huffing before standing to your full height, ready to give her a piece of your mind. Instead you stop short, your faces only a few inches apart. Thankfully, she seems just as surprised at the proximity, enough that she drops the infuriating grin on her face.

Her eyes flit to your lips, then to your eyes. A pointed look in hers. A challenge more than an invitation, really.

Your mind goes haywire.

There are many, many—actually so many—reasons why you should not, at all, kiss Jinx. Different timeline or not, you, specifically you, cannot do it. It would be the greatest betrayal to your people, your friends, everyone you know and love, your moral code, your promise to take down Silco's empire and clean the Undercity, Ekko, Heimerdinger and Jayce; have you mentioned your friends?

A tug at the front of your shirt, her biting her lip to stop a smile that reaches her eyes anyway, and your resolve begins to slip.

You can feel her breath on your lips.

"Stop thinking."

You will swear on your grave that it's the Other You that grabs her and closes the gap.

-----

Ninety-five

Timelines can have profound disparities from each other, but they could also have nearly miniscule, insignificant ones as well. This means that you could jump from one timeline where you were wearing a blue shirt, then a red one in the next, with everything else staying the same. Be a firelight in one, and next thing you know, you're an enforcer.

Sometimes, the big and small changes can mix things up. While they haven't been a huge inconvenience to you in the past—present, future?—they sure as hell were now.

Exhibit A: You're an enforcer.

Exhibit B: You're thrown into the mix on the day of the bridge explosion.

Exhibit C: Instead using a chomper to blow herself up, Jinx rigs the underside of the middle of the bridge with explosives.

At this point, ninety-five jumps in, you should really learn to be more vigilant when it comes to tackling unpredictable situations. Not that you can fully put yourself at fault, of course. You just wanted to make sure Ekko and his friends survived.

…And arrest Jinx so she didn't blow herself up. Then nothing else!

So why the hell am I lugging an unconscious Jinx into my apartment? You wonder as you set Jinx down on your bed. The panic and anxiety of the Other You understandably building up, seeing as she and Jinx haven't met yet. That and you're an enforcer harboring a wanted fugitive. And she killed Other You's friends, so the grief and anger are really making things confusing.

You roll Jinx onto her back, checking to see if she has any injuries. There's a deep cut on her side—courtesy of you while you were fighting—but nothing you couldn't stitch up yourself. Granted she doesn't wake up and shoot you, first.

Lumbering over to your bathroom where you kept your first aid kit, you flip the lights on. There's a semi-concerning pool of red on the front of your jacket, and your undershirt. You turn to the mirror, and spot what looks like a gash right under your breast. No big deal, it'll stop bleeding on its own. Must've been a sharp part of the bridge that nicked you as it collapsed, or maybe you cut yourself while fishing yourself and Jinx out of the harbor. Something I can fix later.

You grab a chair and settle on the side of your bed, taking out your suturing kit and disinfecting your hands. This shouldn't take too long, but that was never the problem. The problem was what would happen after Jinx wakes up.

You initially thought of just taking her to her hideout, but you ran the risk of running into Silco's people. While you could've just left at the docks—well, you don't really have a reason to not have left her at the docks, now do you?

You shake the thought out of your mind and get to work on closing the cut. It wasn't bleeding as much, but leaving it alone could get it infected, plus it would take forever to close.

Not that I care. You futilely tell yourself. As if saving her from dying, carrying her back to your home, and stitching up her wounds were normal activities between an enforcer and a fugitive—a fugitive of your creation!—on any given day. You weren't even originally planning on stopping her from dying. You know she comes back, pumped full of shimmer and allegedly a thousand times faster. Your only concern was getting Ekko to safety, but then one thing led to another, and you had your gun pointed at her as you were telling her she was under arrest. Everything should have worked out fine, if only the bridge didn't blow up.

Once her cut's been stitched up, and you change the bandage on an injury on her leg. You do a once over to check if she has any other life-threatening ailments. Once you deem that there are none, you decide change into a clean set of clothing. After slapping on a bandage over your cut—also bleeding a lot less—and putting on a sweater, your eye catches the mark the wild rune left on your forearm. You're reminded about another discovery you made: The mark was slowly fading.

You hypothesize that it had something to do with the number of times you were jumping through timelines. Did that make it a timer? Or was it a limited number of lives that was counting down to zero? And what does that mean when it runs out? Will you be stuck in that timeline forever? Or will it return you back home?

Learning about Hex Tech and runes was proving to be difficult jumping around to different timelines every few days. You'd have to pick up right where you left off every jump, and even then your access to resources was limited depending on the timeline. Not that you were making any progress, anyway. You were convinced that you needed to be a proper magic user before you could make sense of what you were learning.

You put your first aid kit away and head back into your room. It's not without difficulty, as you feel the adrenaline rush you had back at the bridge slowly ebb away; you're surprised it even lasted this long in the first place. But now you needed to rest a hand against your dresser for support, a feeling of lightheadedness starting to take over. Staying steady was actually becoming a bit difficult.

The hand you're using for support shifts to the side, as you struggle with your balance, and tips over a small container. The familiar rattling of pills catches your attention. You pick up the bottle and rattle it again before reading the label. A nagging feeling at the back of your mind is telling you that you've forgotten about something.

...Iron supplements. It read.

Uh oh.

"Fuck"

You suddenly feel like the best course of action is to close your eyes for a bit and sit on the floor to collect yourself, as you vaguely register the pill bottle clattering onto the ground.

Five seconds. That's all you need and you'll be back in tip top shape.

One.

Two.

Three.

A weight on your stomach, pushing out all the air you're trying to breathe in.

Four--

Click.

Your eyes open blearily, barely registering the barrel of a gun right in front of your eyes. Your gun, in fact. Panic and dread start to fill your senses, and for the first time since you hopped into this plane of existence, you agree with Other You's

feelings. If this was any of the preceding timelines, you would've been confident that Jinx wouldn't harm a hair on your head.

But not in this one.

You look past your gun and spot blue eyes staring at you. Some of the panic you feel dwindle when you see the curious look in her eyes—you can read her like a book at this point—and the slack of her grip on the gun. At least she isn't planning on shooting you immediately.

"Hello." You croak out, your voice hoarse from sleep. Oh no, were you a mouth breather in this timeline too?

Her hold on the gun straightens; your attention is immediately rapt and trained only on her. "Silco got you in his pocket, or something?"

You hesitantly swallow. Saying yes to buy yourself time was certainly one way to do it, but on the off chance that this was a test, that was a one way ticket to getting a bullet in your cranium.

"No."

The tip of the gun leaves your vision for a second, but you're spared no relief when you feel it jammed under your jaw. Wrong answer, then.

She comes into full view, sitting on your stomach—so that's why you couldn't breathe—boots on either side of your chest. "So what, you some kind of sicko? Saving poor 'ol me, patching me up? Or are you one of those delusional Pilties that think you can save some misunderstood girl from the Undercity?" Her head tilts to the side, a lilt in her voice as she says the last part.

"No." You struggle to get the next words out. "I swear." Your hand ball into fists as she jams the gun in deeper. Wait a second, my hands are free. I can take her do—no. No. I am not going to escalate the situation.

An oversight, or a challenge?

"You had a clear shot at me, you didn't shoot. I try to blow you up, you fish me out of the harbor and stitch up my wounds." Your eyes flit to her bandaged side She leans her face closer to yours. "Why?"

Well you see, I think we're kind of made for each other. You're tempted to say, but you doubt she's in any state to believe you. In any case, you'll actually come across as some sicko. Not that Other You would have shot her, either. You could feel the hesitation on her end when you had the gun trained on Jinx. If Marcus hadn't pulled his gun on Kiramman, she might have, but she thankfully had some sense of justice, and seeing the sheriff's true colors come out was enough to view everything with more scrutiny.

You have an inkling feeling that Other You would still end in the situation you're currently in. One way or another.

"I…I don't kno—"

"Liar!" The butt of your pistol connects with your temple, and you're nearly knocked out again. The room spins, and you're barely able to focus on Jinx again before her nails are digging into the skin on your cheeks, forcing you to face her. There's frustration written all over her face, but you know that she's just trying to make sense of the situation, if her shaking hand is any indication. Your fault, really, Other You is confused as hell, too.

She moves a foot back, and shifts so that her knee is carrying her weight—you're half thankful that it's not on your stomach anymore—as she leans forward. Her face closer now.

Your eyes focus back on hers. A mix of emotions swimming on those pools of blue; frustration, hostility, anger. But you also see panic, vulnerability, regret, and confusion. Her grip on you face loosens marginally. And then it hits you.

She didn't want to hurt you.

One thing constant in every timeline that you've been to, is the almost magnetic pull you felt towards her; the need to always have her in near proximity, and the sense of calm that would come over you if she was. And try as you might, you couldn't ignore the wave of affection that you would feel while you were with her.

Is it possible she feels this as well?

It's a risky thing to test, especially since you didn't know what would happen to you if Other You died. But it is kind of your own doing at this point.

You say nothing, hoping that she'll fill in the silence.

Her hand continues to shake, but you can tell that her anger is already wavering. You almost miss her asking you why again, she probably meant to keep it to herself.

"I don't want to hurt you either."

Risky. But you don't have a lot of options left.

She lets out a breath at your words, the gun retracts.

"Who are you?" Her voice is quiet, unsure.

Your soulmate, apparently. "Nobody." You answer semi-honestly. You were, technically, she hasn't had the chance to know you in this timeline yet.

She shakes her head and looks away. "No you're not." The softness of her tone catches you off guard. Her hand moving away from your cheek to clutch the collar of your sweater, doubly so. "You…you're familiar."

"Like we already know each other." Her eyes meet yours again, the surprise in them evident. She said those same words to you in a few past timelines. You always thought they were just little variations in those particular versions of her, but now…this just supports your hypothesis that she also cycles through the same sensations you do.

Your eye catches a faint streak of light manages to slip through your closed curtains, providing a miniscule amount of light into your dark room. "It's morning." You muse out loud, looking back at the still speechless girl on top of you. "Enforcers are going to be everywhere. You need to get out of here."

Her sense of urgency is seemingly stirred by your words, and she pulls you up along with her. Confusion still litters her features, you hope the smile you offer her is enough for comfort.

"Can you walk okay?" her mouth opens and closes a few times, still at a loss for words. You decide to push your luck, slowly reaching a hand over to touch her free arm. "Jinx."

Her brows furrow. The question of your knowledge of her name accusingly reflected in her eyes.

"I heard Kiramman say it, at the bridge." Thank goodness she actually did. Otherwise, this would've been very confusing for Other You in the future.

"I—" She starts. "I have to go."

You nod. "There's a fire escape out the bathroom window. Hold on—" You go to your dresser and pull out a hooded coat, moving to drape it over her, only to stop short when her shoulder tenses. Her eyes are trained on you, a slight air of hostility between them. You don't push to put on the coat, but you don't lower your arm either; waiting for her make the decision for you.

Her eyes flit around the room, seemingly trying to find her words around your home. She lets out a sigh, her shoulders drooping slightly. You take this as a positive sign, and gently place the coat over her shoulders. You see her hand tense around your gun, not in a threatening way, instinctively.

You slowly back away from her to give her space. She looks away from you as she slips her free hand into one of the sleeves, before grabbing the gun and slipper her other arm into the remaining sleeve. It's a little big on her, but the size and the addition of the hood is enough to hide anything that could immediately identify her.

There's uncertainty in her eyes when she looks back at you; she hesitantly lifts the hand holding the gun, the barrel clutched in her hand. "This is yours."

You shake your head. "As much as I hate to say this, you might need it."

She mutters an oh before holstering the gun in her hip. You gesture to an open door and lead her into the bathroom, pulling the window open and checking if there was anyone in the alley below. The sun was slowly but surely rising, it's rays already illuminating the dim streets in the main road.

"Coast is clear, stick to the alleys and you should be fine." You stand aside and let her climb out, her hand resting on the windowsill. The look she gives you tells you that she's trying to find an ounce of deception in your features. But she won't find any, not when it concerns her, not ever.

"I'll…I'll get you your gun back."

"Don't worry about it." You shrug. "I'll find you."

You see the ghost of a smile on her lips as she turns around and climbs down the ladder, disappearing into an adjacent alleyway.

"I always seem to find you." You mutter to yourself.

-----

One Hundred Sixty-Eight

The familiar smell of grease and burnt metal fills your nose as you enter your old workshop. Jayce had been kind enough to hand you the keys after you had asked if you could see the old place. Don't go too crazy he said. You rolled your eyes at his comment, of course. It wasn't as if you were going to steal anything as a souvenir; maybe draw something inappropriate on a whiteboard, sure. But as you drew closer to the lab, you spotted Jinx's car, and well, now you were going there for two reasons. You should have just turned around and not indulged Other You's—not yours!—thoughts. The length of time you spent in each timeline was getting longer on average, and you had to make the best of it while you could, especially with the mark slowly fading with each pass.

You walk towards the wall of the shared space, everything was still as messy as you—Other You—remembered. Diagrams and papers still littered table tops, probably permanent coffee stains on tables. But the hanging photos were new.

The first one was of Viktor and Jayce when they first started working on Hextech, just two young adults that barely knew what they were doing. The second one was of you three right after they had officially hired you. The third one was Jayce, Viktor, Ekko, and Jinx. Your eyes stray back to the middle photo, the one with you in it. The moment felt like lifetimes ago.

It's strange, looking at the person cheekily smiling back at you, already older than you in your original timeline. This body felt terribly tired, like the Other You here went through the ringer trying to get here.

The sound of a chair screeching and shuffling around one of the rooms grabs your attention. Your eyebrows furrow. Jayce didn't say anything about someone else being here, especially nearing midnight. You cautiously make your way to the room, trying not to make too much noise in case they'll think you're an intruder. The door is ajar, letting light seep through the darker main floor. There's a pull in your chest again, and you're reminded of your second objective here. Other You had wanted to speak to Jinx earlier, but couldn't because there was a line of other people that wanted your attention. By the time you broke free from the others, Jinx had already left.

A familiar warmth fills your chest. It looked like she had gone straight back to work after the party, still in her dress, heels discarded on the side, twirling a pencil as she looked over notes. Her headphones were on, and the couch she was lounging on was turned away from the door, so you doubt she'd hear or see you moving around.

You open the door fully and lean against the frame, deciding to wait until she notices you standing there. Not like you'd go unnoticed long, she probably felt the tugging too.

It's not even a minute before she stops what she's doing and turns around. There's a split second where surprise crosses her features, but she quickly recovers, raising an eyebrow at you instead.

"Come crawling back to the slums have we?" She says as she takes off her headphones and leaves it at her neck. She wears her hair down nowadays. It's also shorter here, only reaching the middle of her back. It's refreshing to see, and you find yourself brushing off the question of whether or not the older Jinx in your timeline would cut her hair the same one day.

"Something like that."

She scoffs, turning back to look at her work. Her words are friendly, but there's tension in the air. You're not sure if you should move into the room, or leave.

"Don't stand there like a creep, come sit." She pats the space next to her. There's no edge to her words either, so maybe the tension is coming from you. You're aware that there's a significant amount of history between her and Other You, but you're not sure whether this is the time or place to be settling past issues. What you do know, is that you shouldn't wait any longer before sitting down next to her.

There's a metal box in the coffee table in front of you, next to where Jinx has propped up her legs. "It's a prototype for a gemstone case." She says before you can ask. She takes the small box and twirls it in her hand, small prongs are protruding on the inside. "The goal is to make sure the gemstones only work if they're in these. So we can start using them for the more dangerous jobs around here; stop people from stealing them, since you have to break the case to get the stone."

You take the box when she offers it, testing the weight of it in your hands. "Did you go straight here after the party?"

"Not much to do there for me." She shrugs. "I'd rather work on this. Besides, you went here after the party, too."

"Fair point." You set the case back down on the table, and watch Jinx place it on a small stand to the side. "You work until midnight often?"

The corners of her lips quirk into a smile. "Talis is drowning in debt with the amount of overtime he has to pay me." You're about to laugh along with her, till you remember Jayce's comment earlier. Jayce you little—

She nudges you with her shoulder. "You're thinking again, that can't be good."

"Jayce."

"What about him?"

"Some dumb comment he said earlier when he gave me the keys to here."

"Oh?" A mischievous look in her eyes. "What did my boss say, exactly?" You grimace. This isn't fair, she fully knows Jayce said something completely out of pocket.

"Nothing."

"Bull. Tell me so I can take it out of context and bully him into giving me a raise." At this comment you actually laugh. You don't doubt that Jinx has probably done that at least once already. Jayce's tendency to say things without thinking is the worst thing to have when working with someone like Jinx.

"Tell me." She nudges you again, this time with a little more force. "Or else."

"Or else what?"

"I'll kick your ass." Just like that, the tension in the air lifts. You remember the times this version of yourself was at odds with Jinx, only to make up after spending a few minutes together. It's terrifyingly so easy, how fast she can disarm you—literally and figuratively—like it's nothing. How she beckons you over and you oblige with desperate speed. But Other You isn't as experienced in resisting Jinx's charms—ie your souls being tied together, apparently—so you still have the audacity to push her buttons.

"Aren't you too old to be threatening to kick people's asses?" She leans back, mouth agape, you snort at her expression, but the entertainment is short lived as a throw pillow connects with your face. You huff, genuinely surprised that she'd hit you. She throws her head back and barks out a laugh at your expression.

"Can't believe you're still a brat at thirty."

"Watch it, buster. You're the same age as me."

"You know what they say about growing up being a choice." You duck this time when she swings, grabbing the throw pillow next to you and decking her in the face with it. For a second you think that you hit her too hard—and these throw pillows were notorious for being harder than regular pillows—but the second you drop the one in your hand, she tackles you.

You're momentarily disoriented as your back lands on the seat. Jinx hits you a few more times, before she pins you down with the pillow, legs on either side of your waist, chest heaving. You sink further into the couch as she leans in close.

"Take that back."

The logical side of you knows that you should just say sorry, but the prideful side of you refuses to relent. "Which part? Growing up being a choice, or you being a bra—" The pillow thuds against your face. "Ow! Hey! Those things hurt."

You sit up to grab her wrists before she can land another blow. She pushes you in response, getting herself pulled down with you in the process. You lean a bit to side to stop your heads from hitting each other, Jinx pressing flush against you. The last thing Jayce needed was one of his employees getting a concussion because of a pillow fight. Though, you could use that as an excuse to get rid of the old throw pillows, but that would come with the price humiliation for you and Jinx. Not to mention relentless teasing from your other friends.

You shake your head at the train of thought. You were thinking too much about this, you really should have just turned around earlier.

The sound of her laughter brings you out of your musings. The way her chest rumbled with each breath. She rests her head in the crook of your neck, it doesn't even occur to you that you've let go of her hands, instead moving your them to her back and keeping her close—so she doesn't roll off and hurt herself, of course.

You yourself were out of breath, and probably flushed—because you were getting older and tire easy, nothing else!—as you felt yourself laughing with her.

When she lifts her head to look at you, she makes sure that she's still close enough that her lips brush against your jaw. The both of you know it's a proven and effective way for your mind to go blank, for you to focus solely on her. You keep telling yourself you be able to resist it, eventually. You never do.

The logical part of your brain once again reminds you that it's not a good idea to be this close, to prolong the time you two are in close proximity to each other. That you need to prioritize finding a way home, that there are people that depend on you and that this is irresponsible behavior. But for some reason, you find yourself not wanting to listen for once.

Maybe it's just because your souls might be tied to each other. Maybe it's because you spent the last one hundred sixty-seven timelines watching other versions of yourself being in love or falling in love with her. Maybe it's because of the Other You here, and her relationship with this Jinx. The both of you are older in this timeline, you've known each other longer, know each other better, seen each other grow together and apart, only to find your way back to her, over and over again.

It's not just that, though.

It's the softness in her eyes whenever she looks at you, the way she brushes your hair out of your face. It's every time she checks on you if she senses that you're not alright. It's her knowing what you want to say before you say anything. How immersed she gets in her work, drowning out the rest of the world while she works on a project. Every morning that you've had to wake up next to her, watching her sleep peacefully. It's her temper, and how passionate she gets when arguing over something. It's finding her doodles and notes that she's left for you every single timeline. It's the urge to find her when you end up in a timeline where she isn't immediately by your side.

It's her, all one hundred sixty-eight versions of her, and every version after. Honestly, how many variations of yourself do you have to watch love this girl before you finally admit it to yourself?

Too many.

"Got something to say to me?" The corner of her eyes crinkle as she smirks at you.

It's how she knows you.

"I love you." You breathe out. She doesn't try to hide her surprise this time, or isn't able to. She blinks a few times, and you smile at the fact that it's her mind going haywire for once.

You take advantage of her being momentarily stunned, sitting up, keeping your hold on her so she actually doesn't fall over.  She instinctively grabs onto your shoulders for support.

"It's getting late." Her eyebrows furrow at your words.

"You just told me you love me, and now you're dipping?"

"I mean…You haven't answered, and I'm getting sleepy. Plus, the bed at the hotel I got is really ni—"

She doesn't let you finish as she yanks you into a kiss. You happily oblige, sighing and pulling her closer. Sadly, it doesn't last long as she breaks the kiss with a start, pushing your shoulders back when you try to chase after her lips.

"You really need to learn when to shut up sometimes." You take the hint and stay quiet, trying to bite back the smile already forming on your face. She rolls her eyes at your expression, having trouble hiding her own smile.

She doesn't need to say it back, not really. You understand that she hasn't seen Other You in a long time, and although the latter felt the same, your confession was more of a selfish move for yourself, really.

You can wait. As long as she wants, as long as she needs.

Her eyes flit back to your lips, before returning to your eyes. The mischievous glint returning.

"What's this about your hotel room having a nice bed?"

---

Two Hundred Fourteen

Meetings at the Firelight hideout weren't unusual.

In fact, a lot of your meetings with the group were often held here. Especially once Jinx had found out where you lived. So when you received a message from Ekko asking you to head over there because they had gotten a tip about a shipment of Shimmer, there were no alarm bells ringing in your head. A rookie mistake on your part, really.

To be completely fair, you had taken advantage of the two months you were here. You've never stayed anywhere over ten days, and the fact that you still had some semblance of the mark on your forearm meant that you were still going to get pulled into a different timeline at some point. But in the meantime, you started tinkering with equipment you could use to build your own Hex gate. The only thing missing was a gemstone.

Also in order to be completely fair. You were busy with Jinx, who you were slowly trying to convince to leave Silco's employ entirely. Which was a complicated thing to tackle, because you were an independent contractor that often worked with the Firelights. This meant that when she started showing up to your home unannounced, you had to switch up your dead drops and meet up points with the group, if only to keep the peace while maintaining your most consistent client.

And now you're in this predicament.

Surrounded by Firelights, plus Vi and Caitlyn.

You had hoped, foolishly, that this was as similar to your timeline as it was gonna get, at least with the limited amount of jumps you probably had left. You were lucky enough that Other You here and Jinx had met previously, and already kickstarted the inevitable chain of events that would have brought them together. You thought you had time before Vi and Jinx would meet, which was due in a few days from now.

You thought a lot of things, but at the end of the day, that was all they were. Two Hundred timelines in, and you still had trouble dealing with unpredictable situations.

"Piltover is one bad day away from sending enforcers to find Jinx."

"Damn, I hope they find her, then." Ekko groans, clearly not in the mood for the clueless act. Caitlyn steps forward a bit too abruptly, you draw your gun, everybody draws their weapons. Caitlyn glares at you, daring you to make the first move. You're a good shot yourself, but you know from past experience that there was no way you'd beat her in a gunfight.

"Hey—hey! Easy!" Vi gets between all of you, arms up, trying to lessen the tension. Ekko nods at his people—your people—and they lower their weapons. You shake your head for a second, before lowering yours. Other You was being protective and reckless, you had to control yourself. The last thing you want to do is hurt your people.

Caitlyn keeps her rifle trained on you, you maintain your glare towards her until she puts her gun down. "This is pointless." She looks towards Vi. "I say arrest her, and lure Jinx out."

"Can't arrest me if you're out of a job." Caitlyn narrows her eyes at your response. Fuck, wasn't supposed to know that.

"What, you think I don't have eyes and ears topside?" You're fairly sure that she'll buy your bluff, purely because there's no other explanation for you to know that. Thankfully Vi calls for everyone's attention.

"Look, we won't get anywhere arguing." She looks over to you, a silent plea in her eyes. You feel terrible about all of this, of course. You know she's just trying to find her sister after years of being locked up unfairly, in Stillwater no less!

"I know you care about her, and that you're the reason she's been quiet the last few months." It takes a bit of effort to keep your face neutral, your mind already working to figure out just how exactly they knew about you and Jinx. Had you become careless these past few months? Was she careless?

She moves a bit closer to you, arms in a placating gesture. "But if she doesn't return the gemstone, or worse, Silco gets his grimy hands on it, then Piltover will flood the streets with enforcers, and it'll be another civil war."

You wish you could tell them that Piltover wouldn't be able to handle the Undercity now, not with shimmer already being weaponized.

"I don't know where she is." You answer truthfully. As close as you two were these last couple of months, you didn't make it a point to know her whereabouts at every single hour of the day.

Caitlyn interjects. "Six enforcers are dead because of her, even more people wounded. Are you really going to protect someone who was willing to kill so many people in cold blood?" She makes a move to grab you, but Vi holds her back. Your jaw clenches. You thought you had swayed her enough that she wouldn't have gone through with the Progress Day attack.

Vi looks over to Ekko, who has mercifully stayed quiet. There's a disappointed look on his face, either for your involvement with Jinx, or your indirect betrayal on the Firelights, you're not sure. He nods over to the other FIrelights, who all lunge at you.

You try to fight back, easily sidestepping to avoid the first person to lunge, then using their momentum to launch them into the next person. A third person tries to hit you with their club, and you narrowly duck under their swing, springing to push them off their feet, and make your way to the door. On any other day, this would've been a fun sparring session, but sadly it wasn't any other day. And this was quickly becoming a one-on-seven fight.

Ekko grabs you from behind and bear hugs you. You feel the air being pushed out of your lungs as you struggle out of his grip. You drop to your knees, using his temporary loss of balance as leverage, and swing your body forward, he stumbles enough that his grip loosens, and you throw the rest of him over your shoulders. You turn around to make your way to the door again, before a fist connects right on your jaw. That's right, Vi is here, too

You quickly fall to your knees, the room is already spinning. you pitifully try to maintain your balance while on all fours, hanging onto a nearby chair for support. Two people grab you by the arms and begin to drag you away, you try to pull your arms free, but are met with a kick to the gut. You relent, letting them drag you into a dark room.

Their version of a holding cell, tying you down and taking your holsters and your coat. You're still a bit disoriented, but you're lucid enough to recognize Ekko's shadow when he approaches you.

"I'm sorry it has to come to this," He starts. "But if Silco gets his hands on Hextech, the Undercity will lose a lot more people. Good people."

You feel your chest ache at his words. You've been fighting for the Undercity your entire life, that's the last thing you want. But never in a million lifetimes would you betray Jinx. "You have to let me find her, Ekko." You plead.

"I can't trust your judgment on this."

"Try." He purses his lips, for a second you think he'll let you go. You weren't as close her as you were in your timeline, but you hope that your reliability in this one is enough to convince him.

He sighs, and the spark of hope you have is snuffed out. "This is for the best." He stands up and leaves the room, two guards replacing him.

Normally, you would be flattered. Two people guarding you even though you were already unarmed, and it doesn't even look like they're changing shifts soon. They don't take your eyes off of you either, so you pass the time counting the seconds. They probably already left to go find Jinx, which meant you had to give them at least a half hour head start before you could try to escape.

The minutes pass by quickly, and once you're nearing the thirty minute mark, you start prepping your escape plan.

They took away your coat and your holster with your weapons, but they didn't take away your belt. Which was a good thing because you actually needed it to pull your baggy pants up, but also because you had jammed a blade in between the leather. A knife was also welded into the buckle, built to quick release with the push of a button.

You carefully start to pry the blade out of the leather, being mindful not to cut yourself. You successfully get your knife out, quietly cutting your hands free. your next order of business was your feet. You'd have to time it with taking out both guards, who were both about six steps away from you. If you were lucky, you'd be fast enough to cut your feet loose and take them down at the same time.

You hedge your bets on yourself, and quickly lunge forward, cutting your feet loose in one swift motion. Both guards stand up, and you toss your knife just close enough to one of them that they freeze. You grab your other knife from your buckle, meeting the one still running towards you halfway. You slide downwards, jamming the butt of the knife into his knee, then following up by clocking him in the jaw with it as soon as he falls down. The one that was momentarily stunned launches himself at you, but you expertly roll out of the way and jump from behind him, putting him in a headlock. You tighten your hold, hoping to knock him out quickly. He struggles for a few moments, before his arms go limp, and you let him fall to the floor.

"Not bad." You say to yourself, impressed. You take the keys off of them and their mask, hoping it'll help you sneak out. Thankfully, you find that your stuff is just in the next room, and you hastily put your gear back on before sneaking out to find Jinx.

She wasn't in any of her usual haunts, or any of your haunts for that matter. You realized halfway through your search that she was avoiding you as well. It made sense; you had gotten her to stop with the over the top antics for Silco, and you were sure she knew that you didn't want her to continue working for him anymore. So this… whatever this was, you were probably not supposed to find out. Unfortunately for her, you're keenly aware of at least some of the events about to transpire. Which meant you didn't have a lot of time left; maybe the timeline of events was sped up somehow? The butterfly effect tended to go crazy, who knows what got kicked into gear when you showed up here?

You're halfway to giving up and going straight to Silco when you catch sight of blue smoke come off of one of the taller buildings in The Lanes. A flare?

"She told me that if I lit this up, she'd find me."

"Anywhere?"

"Anywhere. She promised."

Your feet are already kicking the ground before you even register it.

She had to have heard about Vi being back. How the hell did you forget? The most important thing you didn't take into consideration before running around the Undercity like a headless chicken. Of course she would find out. If they had met Ekko this soon, that would've meant that this timeline had an entirely different flow from yours.

So much for considering variations in the timelines.

The entrance to the old building is bolted shut, so you start climb up pipes and rooftops, anything to get there before the others did. Your arms were burning, but you sure as hell preferred that than having to fend off Vi and the others if they got there first. From the last time this happened, Jinx did not have the best reaction.

You're barely able to shout her name once you get half onto the roof, but you push yourself up and run towards her, swatting the flare out of her hands. Her shock lasts only a second before she rams you in the stomach with Pow-pow. It only occurs to you now that you're still wearing a firelight mask.

"It's me, it's me!" She recognizes your voice before you can even take off the mask. Her hostility quickly dissipates, before being replaces with hesitation.

"I—What are you doing here?" Her tone is accusatory, but it's only half meant. You know she's nervous because she thinks you haven't heard about the Progress Day explosion. You pull her into a hug, hoping to provide some comfort, if any, to make sure she doesn't have a panic attack.

"I'll explain later, okay?" You say as you pull back, cupping her cheeks. "We need to get out of here."

There's a smidgen of doubt at the back of your mind that she'll go with you, but thankfully, she nods as you lead her off of the roof.

The both of you head to her hideout. Not the safest place to go to, but your house was definitely the worse option. You're not even there for a minute before you start questioning her.

"Did Silco ask you to do this?" You say as you set down Pow-Pow on a table. She looks away from you, the shame on her face evident. Your gaze softens at the sight, and you remind yourself that this is Silco's fault, not hers.

"Hey," You walk over to her and gently turn her chin to look at you. "You don't have to go through with what he has planned, alright? I'll return the gemstone, Tell them I found it rolling around in an alleyway."

Fear flashes across her features. "I can't." She pushes herself away from you. "I need to finish what he asked me to do. Then we can…"

You're tempted to reach out a hand and hold her, but you stop yourself short, afraid that you'll scare her away. "What is he asking you to do? I'll do it, just…don't go back to doing the dirty work."

She smiles at you sadly. "He wants me to build something with it." Her launcher.

"Jinx." There's a sudden urgency in your voice that catches her off guard. She doesn't know what'll happen if she makes it, but you do. You know who dies, and what happens because of it.

It's instant, how she recognizes what you want to say, just by looking at you. She walks back over to you and pulls you close, until your foreheads are touching. "It'll be okay."

There's a sincerity in her eyes that nearly convinces you. If you hadn't brought with you the knowledge from your own timeline. Your chest aches for her, how sure she is that things will be fine. "We can just drop this, Jinx." You say softly. She shakes her head.

"No. I can't."

"Why not?" There's a storm brewing behind her eyes. You know she doesn't want to do this. Maybe if you just—

"You just have to trust me."

"I do trust you." You pull away from her, ignoring the instant guilt you feel when you see the hurt flash across her face. You run a hand through your hair in frustration, your hand rubbing the side of your brow. "It's Silco I don't trust! We can just toss the stone into the harbor and call it quits—"

"I told you, I can't!"

"Why?!"

"Because I can't risk it!" Tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. It takes you a few seconds, silence stretching between the both of you, before it dawns on you.

She was doing this for you.

You shake your head. "No. You are not going to do something you don't want to because of me."

She smiles at you sadly. She wasn't going to budge.

A lightheadedness starts to come over you, and you grab onto the desk for support. All of those timeline you had to go through, only for you to cause one to go through the same path yours did. No, you can't let it happen here. There has to be some way to stop all of this.

A pair of arms grab onto yours, grounding you. "Easy there, jelly legs."

You look up at concerned blue eyes, and a thought occurs to you.

"What if we leave?"

She blinks, taken aback by your question. "What?"

"Leave. Start over. Away from the undercity, from Piltover, everything."

"We can't just leave." She tries to look away from you, but you lean towards her.

"What's stopping us? I can get us an airship. Didn't you say you always wanted to ride one of those things?" For a second, you see hope in her eyes. You want to think that she's imagining a simpler life with you—Other You, you quickly remind yourself—away from everything that's ever caused the both of you pain.

And then It's gone, and she backs away from you. "You should go." She turns away from you, idly looking at her notes.

Anything she wants, anything she needs. Your jaw clenches, but you're dead set on this solution. It's the only way to keep everyone alive in this.

"Tomorrow, at the docks. I'll have an airship ready."  

Tomorrow couldn't come sooner.

It could, actually. Because the time between you leaving Jinx's hideout and waiting on your newly acquired airship seemed to have passed in the blink of an eye. And now you were pacing around the outside, waiting for her to show up.

You shouldn't be this nervous, you know she'll show up. It's nearly guaranteed that she'll show up, nothing's stronger than the bond between the two of you. There's a slight pang of guilt as you consider that you took advantage of this, eliminating her choice in the matter entirely. But it'll be fine, this was the best way to avoid a war.

It isn't long before she shows up. She always does, but you feel the weight of the world lift off of your shoulders anyway. You waste no time running towards her and enveloping her in a hug. She holds you just as tight. You know how much she's leaving behind by agreeing to this, her whole life, her memories of her family, everything.

"We'll be okay." She whispers into your ear. You will be forever thankful for how well she can read you.

You pull away just far enough so you can plant a kiss on her forehead. "As much as I want hold you like this." You start. "You'd best get on the ship so I can untie it."

She chuckles a bit before pulling away—not before placing a chaste kiss on your lips—and disappears through the door. You move to hurriedly untie the cleats for the ship.

This is it. You're almost out.

"Stop!"

Almost out.

You whip around and see Ekko, along with some of your Firelight friends. You pull out your gun, absolutely loathing the possibility of having to use it on your own people. The thought of them harming Jinx does little to quell your inner turmoil.

"Just let us go, Ekko." You plead, pride thrown aside. "You and I both know it was Silco who put her up to it."

He shakes his head. "We can't do that. Not when Piltover is threatening to knock down our doors."

"So you're giving up one of your own?!"

"You think I don't understand what that means?" He steps closer to you. "Everything I've done was to help our own. Do you have any idea what it's like having to give up someone you grew up with, to save hundreds more?!"

"So don't give her up, let us leave!"

"She killed half a dozen people—"

"She had no choice!"

"Everyone has a choice!"

"You would've blown up a hundred enforcers if one of them threatened someone you loved!"

"It doesn't change what she did!"

"She only did it because Silco forced her to! Why hell aren't you going after him?" You lift your gun and point it at Ekko, who doesn't back down. All of your Firelight friends lift their own weapons, and you notice some of them gliding around in their hoverboards.

You always wondered what would happen if you died in a timeline.

Maybe it was time to test it out.

"Don't do this." There's hesitation in Ekko's eyes, but the both of you know that there's only one way left for this to end.

His eyes pull away from yours, moving to look at something just behind you.

You hear her call out your name, and you turn, oblige, anything for her.

She smiles at you, The softness in her eyes only reserved for you.

"I love you."

Dread seeps into your bones. There's no reason for her to say it with such finality. You know she loves you, she always does, she always will. You say it back just so she knows that you'll love her in every one, too.

"Take care of Vi for me, okay?" You nod dumbly and she turns around, walking back towards the airship.

The sound of a gunshot echoes across the docks, you think it's you who's been hit, the way the air is knocked out of your lungs, the way your ears start ringing, and everything goes numb.

"It's okay, you're okay, I've got you."

But it isn't you who falls limp onto the floor. It isn't your gun that clatters to the ground. It isn't you who's no longer breathing—not in this timeline.

“I was just starting to find you attractive.”

You stumble towards her, all but falling to your knees.

"Stop thinking."

Tears start to blur your vision as you try to reach for her hand.

"It's like we already know each other."

Your breath catches in your throat, you gently pry the Hextech gemstone from her fingers.

"I love you."

A sob escapes your lips. You can't let anyone see her like this.

"We'll be okay."

Your hands shake as you pull off your coat, draping it over her like a blanket.

You don't hear Ekko tell the Firelights to stand down. You don't hear him tell the Firelights to swear to silence.

You found Jinx before she could escape. You were the one who shot her. That was what they were going to tell everyone.

And you—you sit there, holding her hand, as everything else around you falls apart.

-----

Two hundred fifteen

"You need a top up for that, love?"

"No—" A shaky breath escapes your lips. "No, thank you."

How cruel must the gods be,

"Okay, you need anything else?"

To drag you through hell, then bring you back to the start?

"Love? You alright?"

The tears register a bit late, and you quickly wipe your eyes, meeting the concerned gaze of the man behind the bar.

Vander.

"Allergies." You blurt out. "They get pretty bad this time of year."

An eyebrow is raised, clearly doubting your poor excuse. You place your hands on your lap, safely out of his view, just so he doesn't see how much they're shaking.

"That so?"

You let out a nervous chuckle. It's taking everything you've got not to randomly break down at The Last Drop in the middle of the day.

"Yeah, yeah. I uh—I think I'll go blow my nose outside, actually."

"Hold on now—"

Whatever Vander says falls on deaf ears as you slide out of your chair, heading for the side door.

A wave of nausea starts blankets over you as you reach for the door and quickly step outside. You try to take a steadying breath, but there's a painful tightness in your chest, and all you can manage are a few stuttered gasps. Your vision starts to swim, legs collapsing from underneath you—the image of her blood spraying in the air replays in your mind—and you lean against the wall for support. Try as you might, a choked sob forces its way out of you. You clamp your hand over your mouth to keep your cries quiet, as your shoulders violently shake.

She died. Because of me. Because I was brash and reckless.

I shouldn't have tried to run.

I should have waited for things to die down.

I fucked up.

If I hadn't interfered, she would still be alive.

It's my fault.

"We'll be okay."

Your fist connects with the wall. The blooming pain in your knuckles provide a welcome distraction from your thoughts. So you punch the wall again, then again, and again, until red starts to coat the once grey cement. Anything to block out the image of her dying. Anything so you don't see her lifeless body when you close your eyes.

You only stop when you can no longer close your hand into a fist.

You hear the door open behind you, someone stepping out to puking on the side. Poor sap.

There's no way to make any coherent conversation with whoever this drunk person is. So instead, you gingerly cover your injured hand with the uninjured one, and push yourself off the ground.

You stiffen when you see who's throwing up in the corner.

Ekko.

What you'd do just so you could speak to him again. You miss your home, your friends, your people, your tree. Hell, even the grimy smell of the tunnels headed there.

When he's done heaving his guts out, he turns around and flops onto the floor, looking up when he notices you, and you lock eyes.

There's a disoriented look in his eyes, one you're extremely familiar with.

The door swings open again.

"One can't go shouting from the rooftops about being thrust into parallel dimensions without—Oh!" Heimerdinger shuts his mouth when he catches sight of you. He tucks the book he was about to hand Ekko under his armpit. "Hello there miss!" He chuckles nervously. "Quite a day we're having, isn't it?"

No.

No way.

"Ekko? Professor?"

It's Heimerdinger who recovers first. "Oh how wonderful!" He exclaims as recognition flashes in his eyes. "It seems the anomaly which dislodged us from our proverbial reality, also scattered us throughout time!" He throws his hands up, dropping Ekko's book to the ground. "But we're all here now, so everything is fine."

Ekko lets out a sigh of relief, before standing up and dusting himself off. "Man, I thought I was going crazy." Heimerdinger shuts the door again and begins explaining what happened to him while he was in this timeline.

Their conversation barely registers with you; tears once again well in your eyes. You walk forward, barely trying to contain the sob that comes out of your mouth as grab Ekko and pull him into a hug. You don't even try to stop yourself from shaking while you're crying into his shoulder.

The Firelights were a tightknit group, but you were always the less emotional, sometimes cynical one. So Ekko is understandably surprised and concerned when you're clutching onto him for dear life and bawling your eyes out. He holds you and rubs circles on your back either way, and lets you cry.

The door swings open a third time. Heimerdinger lets out a surprised squeal.

"Oh—uh sorry."

You flinch at the sound of her voice. Quickly pulling away from Ekko, you step back a few paces, and wipe your eyes. Your eyes stay glued to the ground, you can't bring yourself to look at her. Jinx's final words start replaying again in your head. There's not much you can do to distract yourself but to try and move your injured hand. It works, and the immediate pain keeps your grieving mind at bay.

"Hey, your hand." She speaks up again.

Fuck.

"It's nothing." You put your injured hand behind your back, grimacing as the pain shoots through you. "I…slipped."

A poor excuse, really. You're sure all three of them can see the blood stain on the wall, but you're not looking at any of them. So who knows, maybe they didn't see it.

"I uh—have something to do with Ekko and Professor." You keep your eyes low as you send a pointed look to Heimerdinger. He shrugs in response. "So we should really go—" 

Ekko thankfully mutters in agreement with you, but Powder doesn't budge. "Ekko! Your friend's hurt, and we have a perfectly stocked first aid kit here."

As if on cue, you hiss as pain shoots up from your hand.

"See?"

"Perhaps it would be better if you allowed Ms. Powder to take a look at your hand." You let out a defeated sigh. Not like you can blame either of them—they don't know what happened to you.

Powder tries to reach for you, but you step away and start walking to the door. She thankfully takes the hint and guides you all through the bar.

------

You're all ushered into the back room that serves as a storage area for the staff, which just meant Vander's children. Powder sets you down on a chair, while Ekko and Heimerdinger whisper in hushed tones in the opposite corner of the room.

Against your request, it's Powder who cleans your hand, and dress it in bandages. She's also the one to put a bag of ice on it to help with the swelling. You're the one blinking back tears or wiping your eyes, claiming it to be pain from your hand.

She's the one to make small conversations, that you give curt replies to.

She's the one to ask you about yourself, that you shut down immediately, claiming to be uncomfortable with personal questions.

She's the one that reaches out, you're the one to pull away.

You still can't look at her, so you settle on staring at whatever interesting item is off to the side or on the ground.

Eventually she gives up, and leaves you with Ekko and Heimerdinger while she goes back to work, claiming she'll be back in a bit.

"What happened to you?" Ekko rushes over to you as soon as the door closes, concern written all over his face. He gestures to your bandages. "And what happened to your hand?"

You shrug tiredly. You could really use a nap right now. "I jumped through one too many realities."

Heimerdinger pipes up. "One too many?"

"Yeah, like, multiple ones…" Your eyebrows knit at his question. "Have neither of you…"

"No." Ekko shakes his head. Moving his chair to sit next to you. "How many realities have you been to, exactly?"

You blink. "This is two hundred and fifteen."

"Two hundred and fifteen?" Heimerdinger drops his banjo and rushes towards you. "And you're still mentally intact?" He drags a chair towards you and hoists himself up onto the table. Pulling out a pen light, he starts shining it on your eyes. "Your pupils looks normal, and I don't see any burst blood vessels…" He continues ramble to you until Ekko steps in.

"Professor, give her some breathing room."

"Oh right, my apologies." Heimerdinger scratches the back of his head sheepishly as he puts away the pen light.

"Okay then." Ekko sits back in his chair, leaning a bit toward you. "So, does jumping through different realities make you beat up a wall and cry?"

Fuck.

"I…I'm fine."

A sigh escapes your friend's lips as he crosses his arms, a frown on his face. "I've never seen you cry, then suddenly you're a sobbing mess."

You let out a shaky breath at his words, muttering a complaint.

"Look, I can't imagine what could have happened to you in over two hundred timelines. I can't even imagine how much time passed for you—"

"Five years, and a few months?" Ekko's eyes widen at the revelation.

"Five years? No wonder you're acting different." He puts a hand on your shoulder. "I can't help you if you won't talk to me—"

"Yeah, well maybe I don't need help." You quip, shrugging his hand off your shoulder. The expression on his face doesn't turn sour. If any, it becomes sympathetic.

"A friend to listen to you, then." He sends you a small smile, and you immediately regret snapping at him.

You tear your eyes at him to stare at the door Powder went through. "It's…illogical and kind of absurd if we're being honest."

"If I may, my dear. We're in an alternate reality where our lives are drastically different."  Heimerdinger says as he picks up his banjo. "I think we've long departed the realms of logic and coherence."

You're hit with a sudden appreciation for your two companions. The familiarity, and the fact that you finally have people to speak with about your timeline jumping, makes you feel less alone after so long. And Heimerdinger is right, you're long past logic, so why not explain to them that you think you're meant to be with one person for eternity?

You run your uninjured hand down your face. "Do either of you believe in soulmates?" Ekko and Heimerdinger exchange looks, before turning back to you with puzzled expressions.

"Soulmates are a thing?" Your friend asks.

You sigh, trying to find the best way to explain. "I'm not exactly sure." A lie, and you know it. "No, wait, I'm sure. Soulmates are a thing, at least for me. I can't confirm for anyone else."

A look of realization hits Ekko. "Jinx... Wait, Jinx?"

"Yeah, that was my reaction too." You say as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

"So you're saying, you're soulmates with one of the Firelight's biggest enemies?" His eyes are wide, you can almost see the gears in his head move.

"You know, enemies to lovers stories are usually a huge hit."

"You don't even read."

"A lot can happen in five years."

"Alright, children, settle down!" Heimerdinger puts his hands up in a placating manner. "I for one, would like to know how you came to find this out. How fascinating! To know your soul is tied to someone." Yeah, fascinating.

"So, how did you find out?" Ekko nudges you with his elbow. You throw him a scowl in response, before rolling your eyes and looking over to Heimerdinger.

"Every timeline. It was always her." You think back to the first time you jumped. "I remember the first jump I did. I was hurt, and she came running over. I remember feeling safe around her; I was only there for a few minutes before I got dragged somewhere else. And then, every jump after, I was either with her already, or at some point headed there. There was never anyone else."

"Was that all? Relationships that kept spanning across timelines?" The professor asks.

"No, not just that. I felt—" Feel. "—this pull towards her. There were times that I'd know where she was if we were close enough to each other."

"How intriguing." Heimerdinger starts pacing the room. "Never in my long life would I have guessed the existence of soulmates. And I've lived a very long life!"

"So something happened in the last one, then?" Ekko cuts in. Your jaw clenches, the reminder hitting you like a bucket of cold water.

"She died, in the last one. Shot herself, to protect me." His mouth falls open at your words, eyes widening slightly.

A heavy silence falls over the three of you; Heimerdinger sighs and walks over, giving you a pat on your knee. "Loss is already such a confounding and jarring experience. I can't imagine it what it felt like to lose one you're destined to be with."

"I didn't even have time to deal with it. I got pulled here right after it happened." Your run your good hand through your hair. "I feel the grief, but I also feel how happy the me in this timeline is when she sees Jinx."

"You coexist with the version of you in this reality?" The professor cocks a bushy eyebrow. You nod.

"Yes, it took a while to get used to. Even longer to manage."

"Well, if that isn't a shining example of your mental fortitude, then I don't know what is!" His enthusiasm softens as he gives you another pat. "You'll make it through your grief, I promise you that." He throws you a reassuring smile. And you feel your spirits lift a bit.

"You and Jinx, huh?" Ekko rubs his chin thoughtfully. "You know, I could see it." He yelps as you punch him in the shoulder with your good hand. "What? I'm trying to be helpful."

"Well you're not."

Heimerdinger ignores yours and Ekko's antics, curious eyes looking at you in anticipation. "So dear, tell me about these realities. Were all two hundred of them different from each other?" You shake your head.

"Not all of them were different, some timelines have very miniscule variations from each other, but are still the same with everything else that's there." You look up around the room. "I've been to this reality at least thrice."

"Incredible!" Heimerdinger exclaims, jumping up from his seat. "And how many unique realities have you been to?"

"Seventy-one, I think?"

"Was there a pattern you followed?"

"No, I just got jumped from one to another."

"How long were you in each reality?"

"I—usually a little over a week."

"Were there consistent behaviors between timelines?"

"I can hear you thinking from over there."

"Got something to say to me?"

You wince, shaking the memory away. "How big did the variations get?"

"Okay, jelly legs."

"Easy there, jelly legs."

"I don’t—"

"Oh, what about the people! How different were we from ourselves?"

"Okay, professor! Breathing room?" Ekko cuts in. Heimerdinger mutters an apology for his excitement. You pinch the bridge of your nose with your uninjured hand and sigh. So much for a distraction. "You okay?"

You nod despite obviously feeling the opposite—if Ekko of Heimerdinger notice, they mercifully don't bring it up—and sink a little further into your chair.

"Let's take a step back from the reality hopping, alright? We still need to figure out how to get home." He looks towards Heimerdinger, who's taken to plucking a tune on his banjo. "Professor, you said that Hextech doesn't exist here, which means there's no anomaly?"

"Precisely."

"Which just means we need to figure out a way to make our own Hextech." The both of them turn to you.

"I'm afraid once just can't go about creating their own Hextech, my dear. Without Jayce's notes, and the crystals—"

"Powder has a stash of them."

"—Excuse me?!"

"—A stash?"

The corner of your lip twitches, and you almost smile. But the crushing reminder that comes with Powder's name quickly grounds you. "She has them at her hideout."

Ekko's eyebrows furrow. "And you know this because…"

You shrug. "She told me, in the other timelines."

"Even so!" The professor gets in between you and Ekko. "Tampering with the Arcane is the reason we're in this very predicament! Who knows what mayhem we'll cause if we try to do it on purpose." Heimerdinger nods over to you. "It's a miracle we didn't have any physical side effects from changing realities."

"Well…" You say before you can stop yourself, causing Heimerdinger's eyebrows shoot up. "I had this thing on my arm." You pull the sleeve of your shirt up, revealing only the faded outline of the mark. "When I first noticed it, it was only my second jump—it was the same pattern as the one on our tree. But now," You run your hand over the faded outline. "It's just this. It was fading every jump I had."

Heimerdinger walks over and pulls out a magnifying glass. "Incredible. To think that the anomaly attached itself to you… Did you take note of any side effects?"

"There weren't any. I was disoriented the first few jumps, but eventually I got used to them."

"Well, if anything. This is a damning reason for us not to further meddle with the Arcane." He pockets the magnifying glass and huffs, Ekko and yourself understandably in disagreement. The latter stands up from his chair, frustrated with the professor.

"We don't belong here, professor. We have people who need us!" Heimerdinger tuts at Ekko and picks up his banjo, idly plucking the strings.

"You two just need to give it time."

"I've been jumping around timelines for five years, I've had more than enough time. I want to go home." The chair you're sitting on screeches as you push yourself off of it, and you start pacing the room. "Besides, I don't know if losing the mark means I stop jumping. I have a little over a week at most. The least I can do is get the both of you out of here."

A frown tugs at Ekko's mouth. "Wait. You mean there's a chance you can't come home with us?"

You sigh. "The conservative answer is yes. Look, we can recreate the anomaly here. We just need the—"

"Am I interrupting smart people discourse?"

You jump at Powder's words, and quickly retreat beside Ekko, eyes glued again to the ground. You don't miss the concerned look your friend gives you.

"Of course not, Ms. Powder." Heimerdinger starts walking to the door, much to yours and Ekko's chagrin. "You two take some time to get situated, clear your minds, and come find me afterwards."

Ekko shrugs from the corner of your eye. "I should get going."

You whip your head around to stare at your friend. "What?"

He puts his hands up. "I have to go uh—look at that thing you told me to check out."

You narrow your eyes at him. Did you miss some code word that was agreed upon? Ekko sighs as he walks behind Powder, you abandoning your quest to avoid looking at the girl in favor of figuring out what the hell your friend is saying.

"You get the thing you told us you needed, and then we can meet back with the professor."

"What?" Ekko looks at you pointedly, then at Powder.

Oh. The Gemstones.

Realization seemingly crosses your features, as Ekko promptly says his goodbye and shuts the door.

Leaving you with Powder. Did they not listen to your grief-filled monologue?

"Well, at least you're finally looking at me." She lets out an awkward chuckle. "Or at least, my general direction."

It's unfair, really; seeing the love of your life die in front of you one second, only for her to stand in front of you—alive and breathing—in the next. Her eyes still alight, curious, inviting.

And you, the mess of you. With your confusion, shock, grief, guilt; melding with relief, and the urge to hold her. The self-conscious look on her face already tearing down the walls you had just put up to protect what was left of your sanity. You couldn't even get away if you tried—and you've tried—because she'd follow you somehow, or you'd inevitably find your way back to her.

The bond of your souls demands to stay intertwined.

"So, do you need help with whatever you were getting?"

You blink. "Huh?"

Her lips curl into an amused smile. "Ekko said you had a thing you needed, that I totally believe exists by the way."

The easiness of how she speaks to you feels like a pair of hands wrapping around your throat. But it was between the friendly approach, or the concerned approach. The latter meant she'd ask why you were crying, so you'll just have to take this one and run with it.

"Uh, yeah." The words come out scratchy, there's an ever-present heaviness in your chest as you look at her, smiling at you. You clear your throat in an attempt to collect yourself. You found Ekko and Heimerdinger, and you have a week to get them—and hopefully yourself—home. You just need to push down the grief until then.

"You know anything about intradimensional travel?"

------

"So let me get this straight. You think you can create a way to transport anything from point A to B at light speed?"

"Not light speed, that's an entirely different can of worms." Powder rolls her eyes at you, leaning back into her bean bag chair.

It surprisingly took no effort for her to take you to her hideout; she even introduced you to Vi. A part of you wonders if this is because she felt sorry for you, but you can't really complain if it brings you closer to the energy crystals.

"Alright hotshot, what is it then?"

"It's more like—" You wince as you try to gesture with your injured hand. "—teleportation." You slouch into your own chair, resting your hand carefully on your stomach. "With magic."

She scoffs. "Can you do magic?"

"Nope."

"Pfft. Get a load of this guy, sis." Your eyes flit to Vi, sitting in her corner. "Sorry." There's a hint of embarrassment in Powder's eyes when you look back at her scratching the back of her neck. Only a second of confusion before you remember that you're a stranger to her here. "You must think I'm weird, talking to a plush of my dead sister. Which I'm not—I mean, I am talking to her. I meant the weird part, but if you ask my brothers they'd probably say I am weird—"

"I don’t think it's weird."

Another roll of her eyes. "Sure you don't."

"I think it helps." You say firmly, sitting up as best you can in a bean bag chair. "Talking to someone who's died, it keeps their memory alive, keeps me sane. Makes me feel like…everything's still normal, even though it's not."

Her eyes soften at your words; an expression you've seen thousands of times. One that used to give you comfort, now also draping you with the blanket of grief and guilt.

"You lost someone."

You tear your gaze away from her, choosing to stare at the drawer you know the energy crystals are stored. "I got her killed."

There's a shifting from Powder's side, and you turn to find her dragging her bean bag next to you, before flopping down and sighing. A few beats of silence pass before she speaks.

"When my sister died, I blamed myself for a really long time." Her eyes glisten as she looks at the altar she made for Vi, distant. "Back when things were harder for us down here, we did odd jobs from tips we'd get from Ekko."

A story you've heard hundreds of times, every version a bit different than the one before, but you'd listen every single time.

"There were these crystals. They looked valuable to me, so I took 'em. Didn't realize I dropped one and I guess it hit something." She sits up, hugging her knees towards her chest. "Next thing I know, half the apartment's blown up, and Vi…she put me under her so I'd be safe." You hear a sniffle as she suddenly looks away, not so subtly wiping her eyes. "We stopped doing jobs after that, focused on making things better here."

"I'm sorry." She snorts.

"Hey, I'm trying to comfort you, not the other way around." She puts her legs down, knocking her knee onto yours. "Anyway. My point is, she would've hated it if I spent the rest of my life blaming myself for what happened. If I just decided to be miserable all the time." A shrug, and she's standing up and stretching. "I sure as hell wouldn’t want her to blame herself, anyone of my family or friends really, if I was the one that died protecting them."

Forgiveness, handed out so nonchalantly. Completely unaware of the weight of her words. You almost hate feeling the weight lift off your shoulders; her forgiveness hadn't been earned, could never be earned. Not for Jinx.

But she still has the same soul.

"Alright, how exactly are we making your non-magic magic machine?" She says as she offers you a hand.

Still the same soul.

"We'll need to clear out some space." You say as you take her hand.

-----

Zero

"How fucking long were we gone?"

"Professor Heimerdinger…"

"There's Noxian's everywhere. What the hell's going on—Ekko!" You grab your friend by the shoulders, shaking him. "We won't have time to mourn the professor if we get sliced in half. We need to get home."

Ekko blinks a few times, before taking a deep breath and nodding. "You're right, you're right." He peeks his head out of the alleyway you're both hiding in, spotting Noxians soldiers pushing people out of their homes. "Why are they all here?"

"Beats me, but this can't be good." He ducks his head back in, unconsciously tucking the Z-Drive closer to him.

"We're you in any timelines where this happened?"

You nod. "Yes, but they were never in the Undercity. We were the ones taking the fight to them and Piltover."

The both of you stick to the wall as a group of Noxians soldiers march past, headed deeper into the Undercity. There was no way the both you could sneak back to the tunnel lines with that many eyes moving around. A curse is muttered at the thought, you needed to know how much time passed, and how much had changed in your absence.

"If only we could've gone back right after we left here." You rub your face in your hands. "I must've messed something up with the runes—"

"Hey, what happened to getting home being the top priority?" Ekko elbows you lightly on your side. "We can refine your rune work later," He points up to the roofs. "If we can't avoid getting to the tunnels from the ground, we'll have to cross the rooftops."

"Rooftops." You nod.

The both of you start climbing up pipes that are sticking out of the ground and around the buildings. Eventually making it onto a balcony, before jumping across the top of a smaller building. It provides you with a clearer view of the Undercity, still looking the same from where you are, despite the obvious changes occurring on the ground. The neon glow from various establishments, the ever present whir of the vents running through the streets, the gloomy allure atmosphere. Hell, even the smell was the same.

Ekko lands next to you, dusting himself off before surveying the skyline. "It's like nothing's changed from up here." He muses, reiterating your thoughts. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

"We made it back...We actually did it." He looks over to you, putting a hand on your shoulder.

"Welcome back."

"Welcome back to you too, Ekko."  He snorts, giving your shoulder another squeeze before letting go.

"Alright, let's head home." Ekko starts moving towards the next roof, and you follow suit. Each step you take giving you more confidence. Son enough, the both of you are running and leaping across rooftops.

You greedily breathe in the air, not caring at all that most people would consider Undercity air to be polluted. This was home. After spending five years trying to find a way back, who the hell could judge you?

"Hurry up!" Ekko shouts from ahead of you. Grinning, you lean forward and start kicking the ground harder.

"I'm just giving you a head start!" You say as you easily speed past Ekko, who huffs and matches your speed.

For a moment, you forget about all of your worries. You forget about the two hundred and sixteen jumps you did, all of the panic you went through, all of the memories you made, the lives you lived. It's just you and once of your closest friends, running through the rooftops of your city—your city. Not a variation of it in some other timeline. It's the place where you grew up, the place you're trying to fix and make better for the people. You run past familiar stores and landmarks, feeling your nostalgia grow by the second. It's a freeing sensation; leaving for years, then coming back home. Seeing everything be both familiar and new at the same time.

There's a billowing of dark smoke from your periphery. You almost miss it, but you turn your head and spot the smoke growing steadily. Unconsciously, you turn and start heading to where the smoke is. Ekko calls out to you, but starts to follow when he sees it as well.

You stop dead in your tracks when you find the source of the smoke. Dread starts to build in your chest.

The Last Drop, engulfed in flames.

There's no thought process involved before you jump down and enter the burning building, telling Ekko you'll meet him back home. You don't even heed Ekko's calls as you slide through a doorway before it collapses behind you.

-----

Your hands feel around for your gas mask hidden inside your coat, a sigh of relief as your eyes stop watering and you're able to breathe. Navigating The Last Drop is easy enough, you've been here plenty of times in the other timelines. But the problem wasn't finding your way around, it was figuring out why you decided to jump in in the first place.

Was it the thought of someone being stuck inside and needing help? Or was it the feeling of dread creeping up on you?

The sound of crackling wood fills your ears as you look up, a supports beam starts to collapse. You quickly duck out of the way before it falls, having no choice but to push in deeper into the bar. You start to think—hope—that no one is inside, since you haven't seen a single soul as you went from one room to the next.

You feel the pull before you register that it's her.

But this one is different, stronger. Enough that you almost stumble forward, as if it's somehow physically pushing you closer. You feel it wrap around your heart, clutching it tight, almost painfully so. The feeling of longing rushes over you, not the small waves that you felt in the other timelines, but a raging current, crashing through you and sweeping you towards her.

You wonder briefly why the feeling was much more intense. Was it because you were in other timelines? Did your soul know that they were Jinx, but they weren't your Jinx? Will she also feel this when she sees you? If this is what every other version of you felt when they were with their Jinx, their Powder, no wonder they can't keep themselves away from her.

She hasn't even seen you yet.

She has her back turned to you, hands limply at her side. Her hair jaggedly cut short, just above her shoulders, which are slumped in defeat. An almost instinctive need to comfort her enters your mind, but you push it down. The first thing you need to do is get her out of here.

She doesn't react violently when you pull her towards you, telling her that you had to get out of there. Does nothing when you pick her up and bring her out the side of the building. The same alleyway where you two would sneak off to steal kisses in one timeline, and mourned the loss of her in another. She's too stunned to do anything really. Maybe she felt the pull, maybe she was just surprised that someone had gone in to fish her out. But she doesn't do anything as you set her down and take off your gas mask. Nothing when you look over her, covered in soot and grime, to search for any injuries.

The second you meet her eyes, you know, you're sure, that her soul is letting her know who you are. That she's suddenly fallen into that same raging river that you find yourself in right now.

The surprise in her eyes softens, the same look you've seen thousands of times, that you'd try to find wherever you are.

The pull makes itself known again, probably ecstatic that you've found her in your own timeline. Not that you wouldn't have, anyway. Not even the omnipotent force that created every timeline to ever exist can keep you from finding her.

CRACK

But maybe a broken nose will.

You stagger backward. A hand over your nose, eyes wide from shock and confusion. She's polite enough to not say anything after she punches you. She awkwardly stands there and watches you curse as you push your nose back into place, wiping off the blood with your gloved hand. Yup, definitely broken.

At this point, two hundred and sixteen jumps after, you should really learn to be more vigilant when it comes to tackling unpredictable situations.

You keep a hand on your nose, one hand up on surrender. She still has her hand closed into a fist, but there's a shocked look on her face.

She Blinks a few times, before a look of frustration is on her face. "Who the hell are you?!" Her eyebrows are knit together; if your nose wasn't broken, you would find her confused frustration adorable.

"I thought you needed help." Your voice comes out nasally, and you can almost feel the bruises start to form.

"I don't need your stupid help."

Stubborn.

"Well who just stands inside a burning building?!" She huffs crossing her arms over her chest. It's now that you notice she's missing a few things from her usual outfit; her choker, the string marking the X on her top, her gloves—and had she been crying?

"First of all, stop looking at me like that, you creep. Second, it's none of your business."

"I literally just saved your—" The sound of clanking armor, and boots hitting the ground cuts you off.

You grab her hand without thinking, and pull her farther into the alleyway, away from the fire and the soldiers that have started to gather. Again, she's surprised, but doesn't protest. She doesn't let go even after you've stopped running.

"We need to get out of here. I have a safe house but it's a bit far. If we start moving now—"

"My place is closer." She tugs at your hand to get your attention—your eyes flitting down the same time as her—and you both realize that they're still clasped together.

You wait for her to let go of you, throw your hand and call you a creep again. For a moment you think she actually will; you see the conflicting emotions in her eyes. But she still doesn't.

"Just... follow me." She says tiredly, nodding down a road and half dragging you to her hideout. She only lets go of your hand when there's a tight squeeze into a tunnel and it would be too awkward to walk in side by side.

Neither of you talk the entire way there. You don't ask her where her hideout is—not that you need to, you could get there with your eyes closed at this point. She doesn't ask you how you can easily navigate through tricky the walkways and hidden passages.

At first you think she's still processing how she's feeling, but you remember the tear streaks, and the way her shoulders sagged as she looked at The Last Drop burning down. You wonder again how long you've been gone, what had happened to her in the meantime. Even now, she has her head down as she walks. Her demeanor completely different from the last time you saw her.

"I can hear you thinking from over here." She says nonchalantly. She sounds tired, her irritation from earlier long gone. "I'm not leading you to some murder house, if that's what you're wondering."

You shrug out of habit. "I know, I trust you."

Her head tilts up just a bit as she stops walking. She turns her head slightly to the side, just enough that she can see you from the corner of her eye. "You shouldn't." She doesn't wait for an answer before she starts walking again, and you're left to follow her in silence the rest of the way.

There's a hesitation in her step once you reach her hideout, stopping right in front of her desk, hands balled into fists. She tries to take a steadying breath, but it comes out shaky and uneven.

You take a look around her space, noticing how brighter everything is. Not like the other timelines where you meet her as Jinx, not like Powder's either. The space was more cleared out, lights had been added, a makeshift fort had been put over her couch.

She picks up something small on the desk, you recognize it as a smaller version of the robots you two made in a few timelines. Her eyes are distant as she turns it over in her hand, before setting it back down on the table. She doesn't look back at you as she speaks.

"Why'd you help me back there?"

"I would've helped whoever was in there regardless."

She scoffs, turning to face you, leaning against her desk. "Figures with you people."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You ask as you walk closer to her.

"You're a Firelight." You halt in your tracks just a few steps away, a puzzled look on your face. She's never figured that part out in any of the other timelines, either. "I've seen you before." She adds. "You always have your stupid mask on, but," A shrug, as she looks off to the side. "I recognized your eyes."

It's almost funny.

You spent the last five years learning that your soul wanted to be with Jinx, and this entire time, she's probably known hers wanted you.

There's a myriad of questions that pop up in your head, but Jinx is still upset about something, and figuring that out was more important.

"Why'd you burn the place down?" She crosses her arms at your question, keeping her gaze on the ground.

"I was breaking the cycle, or whatever that means." She sits down on a chair, and starts tinkering with a chomper on the desk.

"What were you gonna do after?"

"Haven't figured that part out yet."

"What about—"

"Coast should be clear by now, you can leave if you want." Her tone maintains the same aloofness she's had this entire time, but her shoulders are tense, her movements as she works on the chomper almost robotic.

Even though you’re guaranteed that your souls are entwined in every possible timeline, you find yourself at a loss for words. All the bravado and confidence that you’d carried with you with every other version of her, gone out the window. You really shouldn’t be worried, you know she’ll love you, she always does, she always will. Even when she's kicking you out.

Only this wasn’t the Jinx fighting for Zaun’s liberation, wasn’t the mildly annoying Academy classmate that got you into trouble, nor was she the Jinx that waited for you for years to be ready to come back to her.

This was your Jinx. And you know something is wrong.

"Do you want me to leave?"

Her hands stop moving, but you can see that her grip on her tools has tightened, her knuckles going white.

She knows you. Longer than you've known her in your timeline. You're not leaving her knowing that. So instead, you finish walking the last few steps to get to her, your hand hesitating slightly before resting on her shoulder.

The dam breaks, as she drops her tools, hands closing into fists. "You're not safe here." Her voice cracks as she speaks. "Everyone around me—" She clamps her mouth shut and looks away.

Things start to fall into place. "You lost someone."

She lets out a bitter laugh. "I've lost a lot of someones." You see her blink a few times before she turns to you, shrugging off your hand in the process. "So you best get out of here, toots. I'm no good for you."

"I don't know, I think I've survived you enough times." She shakes her head, turning back to the abandoned chomper.

"You have no idea what you're saying." You sigh, getting down on a knee so your eyes are level with her. She's taken aback by your actions, her eyes reflecting a cautious but curious glint in them.

"I do, actually." A questioning look is the only response you get from her. "I'd explain, but I'll have to ask you to not to think I'm crazy."

Her gaze softens, just a pinch.

"Have you even met me?" Yes, you want to say. I've met you two hundred and sixteen times, and I'll gladly stay here until my knee is sore just so I can explain to you how.

"Not yet," You say instead, you extend your hand. "But I'd like to."

Destined souls or not, you're aware that you're pushing your luck. A smidgen of doubt starts to form in your mind, when she does nothing but stare at your outstretched hand. You can see the conflicting emotions in her eyes. Whoever she lost, it was enough that she doesn't want to keep anyone close to her anymore. A sentiment that you can understand, given that you wanted to stay away from any variation of her after you lost her once. But you don't want to leave her, not like this, not when there's a gnawing feeling in your gut that she's not okay enough to be left alone. So you hold your breath, standing by your decision.

Her eyes flit back to yours, and you hope the determined look in your eye is enough to sway her.

"You're gonna regret this." There's a pleading tone to her words, as if she's begging you to turn away and leave her. Fat chance, really.

A soft, reassuring smile. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there."

She searches your eyes for any trace of doubt, or deceit, but she will find none.

Her hand reaches out to yours, and you wonder if she feels the same spark of electricity that shoots through you when your hands touch.

"Grab a chair." She says, but inconveniently doesn't let go of your hand. "You down on a knee is too intimate."

You laugh, and for the first time since you've met her, you see her relax, a smile on her face.

"Fair enough."

And she listens. About Ekko seeing the anomaly on one of the leaves of your tree, the three of you breaking into Jayce's lab, heading to the Hex gate, you idiotically reaching out to the anomaly. You show her the faded outline that the anomaly left on you, and she gingerly traces the mark with her finger.

You tell her about your first jump, how your mind struggled with the Other You, as you crawled your way to cover. How you she came and saved you. You don't outright say that you're soulmates, simply because you don't want to scare her off. Not even if she probably already knows. She doesn't say anything when you first mention you two meeting, but you see her figure it out by the time you're telling her about your eighth jump. Her eyes narrow, but she lets you continue. Patiently listening as you explain, part by part, that in every reality, in every timeline, it's always you and her. It will always be you and her.

You're able to coax a laugh out of her when you tell her about your misadventures as academy students, she even teases you for being a stickler for the rules. She argues with you when you tell her that you always beat her in hand to hand combat "I could beat you any day, toots." Denies it when you tell her that she tended to sulk if you didn't give her attention, when she's be uncharacteristically thoughtful.

She holds your hand when you tell her how you lost her, how she sacrificed herself for your safety. Squeezes it when you tell her that the next version of herself is the one that pulls you out of your grief.

You explain the pull you feel when she's around, and how much stronger it feels when it's her. She interrupts you, then. Confirming that she had already known about it for a few years, right after she first saw you in a firefight. There's a blush on her cheeks as she confesses that she'd always tried to not hurt you after, and that she'd randomly seek you out to mess with you from time to time.

Eventually, she tells you how long you and your friends have been gone. What's happened to her since, about the attack at the Piltover Memorial, Vi and Caitlyn coming after her. How she met a little girl named Isha, and the strange little family she had formed with her and Sevika. You don't miss the sad, faraway look in her eyes when she recounts the adventures they had, their own little robot fight club, them making over her hideout. How they made a good situation out of everything, despite the Noxians and enforcers occupying Zaun.

You're surprised when she mentions Vander, and the short stint of happiness her and Vi had when their little family was able to reunite. She chokes up when she tells you how short lived it was, how she had been reckless in allowing Isha to come with them, that she finally understood why Vi told her to stay out of a fight all those years ago.

You hold her close to you when the tears come, and she shakes in your arms.

By the end of it all, you're both lying on her couch, and she's passed out on your chest. The physical and emotional exhaustion from the last few weeks finally catching up to her.

You spend the time processing all the information you learned; about the war, Viktor, Jayce. How there was a lot more weight now to the sacrifice Heimerdinger made for you and Ekko. You're sure he's already rallying people to join the fight, but from what Jinx had told you, Zaun won't fully unite until she's on board, too.

She's tired of it all, but she'll probably relent if you ask her. But that's an issue for tomorrow. Right now, you settle on holding her close.

And if only you hadn't asked her.

If only you had kept your mouth shut, and let her rest.

If only you hadn't put her in danger, again.

Your lungs burn as you run through smoke, not caring if your eyes can barely see anything, or that your legs are screaming for you to stop and take a break. You can't, not when you didn’t try hard enough to stop her, not when you could've asked her to stay instead. 

You make it to the Hex Gate, the smell of burnt metal and wiring fills your nose and brings you to a coughing fit. You still shout her name, at the top of your lungs, hoping that she'll hear you. You start to lift debris and stray slabs of concrete. There's only a numbness in your hands as you cut and burn them while digging our rubble. Not a care in the world that there could still be explosive hazards in the area. The only thing on your mind was Jinx.

The desperation starts to build with every passing minute, the pull in your chest is painful, screaming at you to find her. Even as the smoke slowly clears, the momentary reprieve from searching blind not stopping you from your erratic search. You continue to clear the rubble, your hands smearing blood on every piece of debris you touch. This does nothing to bother you, though. You'd paint every inch of this room red before you stop looking for her.

You collapse to your knees, grabbing onto a large piece of rubble for support. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. Just when you find your way back, when you finally have her with you. Five years and hundreds of jumps, only for you to lose her again.

You lay your head against the concrete, as the tears start streaming down your face.

Then a cough, the sound of shifting debris and rock hits your ears.

You bolt upright, ears straining to listen. For a few seconds, there's nothing, and you almost thing that you're getting high from the fumes. But you hear a groan, then you're feet are already kicking the ground.

Smaller pieces of rubble start moving around, and you quickly claw away it, clearing everything away until you catch sight of a hand. You've never been happier to see chipped nail polish in your life.

You ignore the ache in your arms as you lift every piece of heavy rock, until Jinx has enough room to grab onto you and you pull her out.

There's a deep gash on her side, a few cuts, and bruises already forming. She starts coughing, but there's no blood. Good. She's breathing, alive.

"You regret meeting me, yet?" She manages a smile, and your heart soars.

"No, not yet, at least." You wipe your eyes with the back of your palms, sniffling.

"Hey, hey, easy." She puts a hand on your chest to stop you from picking her up. "Your hands are bleeding."

"You have a gash on your stomach."

"I heal quick, you don't." She shoots you a warning glare when you try to pick her up again, and you relent.

"I thought I lost you again." The tears well up in your eyes, and her glare softens. She pulls you closer until your foreheads are touching.

"Sorry to disappoint," She starts. "But you're stuck with me forever."

You fail at stifling your laughter. "Sounds like a good deal to me."

She cups your face in her hands, running a thumb across your cheek, and you instinctively lean into her touch.

"Help me up, yeah?"

You oblige. You always do. You always will.

[borkunlimited]

Take Your Time, Miss Deer (Sylus x Reader) - Ch. 8

In a tailor shop tucked in the calmer side of the N109 zone is a little room where all clothes of many different designs come together under the delicate hands of an unassuming deer living in the den of all sorts of beasts and sitting on them is the dragon who wears your clothes.

Your many interactions with Skye, Mr. Sylus’ messenger or-

-Sylus is waiting for you to finally figure out he is playing his own messenger.

A Deer Hybrid! Reader x Dragon Hybrid! Sylus Fic

Tags: Sylus x Reader, Hybrid AU, Suggestive Themes, Fluff, Angst, Predator/Prey

TW: Sexual Assault, Sexual Harassment, Guns, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Dissociation, Trauma, Blood, Cursing

Chapter Summary: The more fierce the action, a more extreme reaction. He had long abandoned his scales but he would gladly become a monster to ward off trespassers that would enter your forest. When dawn arrives, would you see your dragon in the horizon?

Author's Note: This went through so much revisions and I had to talk to my beta reader many times about how certain scenes should go. (I just have ridiculously high standards.) Many parts in this chapter had transformed from what I have in mind, mostly for cohesion but I am quite satisfied because I still managed to retain the canon events I set.

To everyone, thank you for reading. Your comments make me smile and while I do write for myself, I never regret the day I shared this to the world.

Tagging: @phisen @wrimaira

AO3

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch.4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10 / Side A / Side B

8: My Dearest, Enduring

A population of less than 50.

Louis knows the little community of prey hybrids residing here in this corner of the N109 zone basically know each other and everyone, to his surprise, is very cordial with the predator hybrids who come by to shop and buy artisan goods.

Good.

The residents here are good people.

He doesn’t really know there is a community here after becoming the head of this organization composed of lion hybrids and since then, he had made up his mind that protecting the residents here should be a top priority.

A hypocrite, Louis knows he is one having been raised in one of the more fortunate prey hybrids who taught him how to play with the rules the humans had set and it is only because he is rebelling against his father that he realized not all hybrids are as lucky as he is.

Perhaps he is even more of a hypocrite every time he reminds each resident here to be wary of the predator hybrids they welcome in their homes like friends because he had grown to respect the rowdy group of lion hybrids that followed his every command.

Even then, his worries are heard and the older prey hybrids understand his concerns except for the younger ones and one of them is you.

You were so polite.

Polite on telling him off and you weren’t even sarcastic, you are just so blatantly honest.

“Thank you, Mister Louis but Skye likes his food cooked so I am sure the rumor isn’t true.”

It was amusing, hilarious even how you brushed off his warning just like that but even then, Louis had already made up his mind to watch over you and this community no matter how stubborn some of you can be.

“The tailor shop owner is on the line.”

“The old deer?”

“Yeah, he is asking if we can drop by and check on his daughter,” the older lion hybrid holding the phone answered, covering the receiver to keep the conversation between them, his eyes flicking at the clock nearby.

It would be a miracle if your father can catch the last train back and any taxi drivers charge anyone who wants to go at the N109 zone with exorbitant prices.

“Can’t he just ask his son-in-law for that?”

“I don’t think they have any relatives- Wait, you mean Sylus ?”

“Who else? That dragon is coming there almost everyday that the miss and him might as well be married.”

The older lion hybrid laughed at the young deer’s remark but relented, answering your father that Sylus would be the better alternative but his smile turned into a frown as he continued to listen to the other line.

“What’s wrong?”, Louis asked, his brows furrowed and the lion hybrid put down the phone after telling your father they would come check.

“He said Sylus isn’t answering.”

“Must be out there smuggling god knows what.”

“Are you sure? Because he said he called the shop again just now and his daughter didn’t answer.”

The curtains of the open window billowed against the cold breeze, a silence settling inside the office.

“And then I thought that son of a bitch is down bad-”, Louis mumbled, grabbing his coat hanging on the nearby armchair and the older lion hybrid did the same, their footsteps thudding against the hardwood floor.

Did Sylus manage to deceive everyone here? 

No.

No, Louis saw how that man held you before you two went out yesterday. Both of you were the talk of the community, no, the entire N109 zone. The little display of affection where Sylus spun you around like both of you were newly-weds had turned everyone’s heads and people are convinced that you were able to do the impossible.

The unthinkable.

In your hand, Sylus had willingly placed his leash for you to hold and Louis doubts that you even know it.

As Louis took his place in the passenger seat in front, he silently prayed that your father was simply an overprotective parent tonight.

But, when he gazed at his reflection in the side mirror, a quiet thought passed in his head-

-Something even more dangerous is lurking in a place already crawling with beasts and oddly enough, a small voice is telling him it isn’t Sylus.

────────────────────

The little baseball team always loves watching the evening cartoon reruns on the old television your father placed on the receiving area of your old shop.

They were such tall hybrid children for their age and oddly enough, they all managed to huddle together in front of the small screen, their attention towards the little pink dog hybrid and his adoptive human grandmother.

A small gasp, sometimes a burst of laughter, and then they will be quiet again as the show goes on.

It was one hour after your old shop closed when he came by and you found it odd that the people who follow him around are not here with him. He first greeted the children who just murmured a polite ‘Hello’ and ‘Good evening’ but their eyes had always remained guarded before going back to their show.

His attention never always linger longer at anyone else.

It was always at you.

Every little step you take away from him, he tries to close the distance even further and his distorted voice is becoming angrier by the second until his grip around your wrist was too much to handle, your eyes blurry because of the pain.

“I’ll watch over you until you die. Why can’t you understand that?”

Even to this day, you never understood why he was fascinated by you.

The reel of that old and distant memory ended with your cry for help, small, so small followed by your favorite little baseball players shouting in anger and then the tape ended abruptly, a film with no conclusive ending. You have left that tape with everything including the ashes and the scent of fire together with the concrete pillars of your old shop that remained standing.

In the old cinema hidden in the deep recesses of your mind, you have returned as the sole audience of the only film showing and the main actress is no other than-

The defenseless deer hybrid wearing your face with tear stained cheeks.

Why did she (you) scream? To try to warn her (your) dear crow friend to not try to go near the mass of black threads or else it will never fly again but it did not listen.

Why are there tears on her (your) face? Because his hold on her (your) wrist hurts, the gun she (you) hastily tried to hold is now lying on the floor.

Why is she (are you) praying? Because there must be a way out of this hell, for heaven to not punish him anymore if that is what it takes to just to let her (you) go.

“Did you think you are like them now just because you know how to shoot, branches?”

You always play hard to get.

At least, that’s what he thinks. The more you stay away, the more he gets annoyed.

Shy. Skittish. Wary.

You little deer hybrid. 

Common. 

So relatively common and there are so many of you but he just can’t help being attracted to you even when you always keep your damn eyes on your shoes.

He and his group kept you safe so why can’t you stay put? Why did you have to scream like he is the monster here?

He came prepared this time, making sure you are alone. Just outside your shop are other humans armed to the teeth, capable, and one ridiculously strong predator hybrid such as that brute you just kissed goodbye a few hours ago can only handle so much.

How is it you chose Sylus of all people, a hideous beast, over a human?

“Stop crying.”

His command echoed across the old theater together with your cries of trying to run towards the only exit but no matter how hard you push your legs, you stay on the same spot, the distance between you and the exit unchanging and you wonder if it is a crime to say no that the heavens decided to grant a cruel punishment on you, forever trapped in a loop.

“I’ll blow your fucking brains out.”

A low warning and the human holding you down froze for a moment, the cold barrel of the gun on the back of his head but the hand holding the weapon trembled just slightly and he smirked as he slowly raised his hands, letting you go.

“I wouldn’t even count that as an option.”

“But I do.”

“What is it with you prey hybrids thinking you are all capable of holding a weapon?”

“I am surprised myself,” Louis replied, watching the man slowly turned around to face him, letting you go in the process and in the corner of his eyes, he can see you slowly walking away, reduced to a shambling fawn and cradling the crow with the broken wing, your only source of warmth and even then, wounded little beings can only offer each other comfort and nothing more.

When they arrived a block away from your shop, Louis was bracing himself for the inevitable, to see one of Sylus’ expensive cars parked right in front with the lights of your shop all out, the crack of bones and blood but they were all welcomed with an unexpected surprise.

The car plates.

Bullet proof vests and rifles.

Humans.

It was luck alone that Louis managed to sneak in through the back door of your shop with the rest of his companions making small talk with the friends the human brought along.

“You should be grateful we are the first one to come over,” Louis added, his eyes trained at the human’s hands, “Sylus does not bargain when it is her on the line.”

“Then he will learn.”

“He is already wanted for several crimes. Do you really think he would give a shit if a new line is added to the list?”

“He will if the crime wasn’t his.”

The male deer hybrid’s brows furrowed, confused and his eyes wandered briefly on where you were standing earlier.

The gun he gifted you on the floor.

The feathers of that crow who uses your antlers as a perch.

The cuts around the human’s eyes, bleeding.

“Do you see it now? I hope his pretty little deer knows what happens when abominations like you lays a finger on someone like me,” the human grinned and it only grew further while he watched the look of realization dawn on the deer hybrid’s face.

If he can’t have you, then no one can. Even fucking Sylus.

“Sylus will negotiate, or he would have to say goodbye to the little miss seamstress over here. Do you understand, brat?”, the human continued, stepping closer until the cold barrel of the gun was pressed against his forehead.

Everyone knows Sylus can pay every high ranking official in the government.

He can pay the police to turn a blind eye on this.

He can pay the judge to rule down this accusation.

He can pay the jury almost composed of all humans to vote for your favor.

But he can never pay the overzealous humans who just need one reason to burn down your homes, your businesses, to throw rocks at your windows-

To take every part that makes you a hybrid.

They would come here. Oh they would, and you will be the first one whose head will be in the silver platter.

But all of that will only be possible if the human manages to leave the N109 zone alive.

The paper the human slipped on his breast pocket is heavy, heavier than the gun he kept pointing at where the human was standing even when he already left, the chimes of your doors announcing his departure.

────────────────────

Luke and Kieran always set a portion of their allowance for candy and anything sweet much to Sylus’ disapproval.

Not that they have an addiction, it was mostly because the scent brings a sense of comfort, of a childhood lost then slowly regained, and they recently found out that the treats always taste sweeter when shared.

One of the benefits of having your noses tinkered by humans is that you don’t have to pull out your phone anymore to check where the nearest bakery or candy shop is.

They just have to take a deep breath, shift through the many scents that permeate where they are standing and follow the distinct smell of freshly baked pastries or caramelized sugar. 

A yellow brick road and the two wolf cubs weave past the crowd of hybrids and humans who cast them odd looks, mistaking their excitement for manic obsession for something else.

Their favorite sheep hybrid once told them predator hybrids off their rockers wear the same expression when they caught the scent of a terrified prey hybrid’s papercut.

Those hybrids, the worst of the worst, are locked up far, far away from humans and hybrids always say the same thing.

They even taste better when they are scared.

Luke always played it off but it is a thought that lingers in Kieran’s mind, the memory of that stained handkerchief lives almost rent free and comes back during the early mornings while waiting for sleep.

“Let me in.”

It wasn’t a request, a command coming out of the boss’ mouth when the oldest lion hybrid stood between him and the door of your shop.

Kieran knows everyone can smell it. 

Every predator hybrid outside your shop practically covered their noses at this point and he and his brother not only covered theirs but their mouths too because-

-They were drooling.

His brother holds onto the railings of your shop and if they weren’t in the company of other people and Sylus, he is sure Luke is going to vomit out his dinner.

“Do I need to repeat myself or do I have to move you out of my way?”

“You, of all people, should know what happens if a predator hybrid like yourself comes near a terrified hybrid such as her.”

“I am well-aware,” Sylus answered, his resolve firm and his eyes trained directly at the lion hybrid, “Now step aside and do not take my words as suggestions.”

There was a pause, the old hybrid blocking his way to you scrutinizing him for any telltale signs of a predator ready to hunt and even with the scent of fear settling in the cold night air, inviting anyone with sharp teeth to this forbidden supper, and he noticed one thing.

Sylus’ pupils were not even dilated like the rest right now.

A dragon hybrid’s senses are far more superior than a lion but here is Sylus, not even slightly bothered and it is only because of his age that he is able to pick up a subtle hint of worry on the dragon hybrid’s eyes.

The older lion hybrid took his word this time and opened the door for him which granted him a nod of approval from Sylus.

“Luke, Kieran.”

“Yes, boss?”

“Open the windows. That human stink is everywhere.”

The twins looked at each and then pulled the neck scarves you have sewn for them over their noses before wearing their masks back, following their boss inside.

The human is lucky he arrived a minute later because Sylus would not hesitate to show how serious he is when it comes to your well-being.

It was an affront, a clear disrespect to his precious deer and even until now, that human stink is trying to blend with the scent of cotton and wildflowers. 

No, blend is a kinder term.

It is trying to force itself onto it.

It all concentrated at your front desk and he stood there, his mind reconstructing what took place as he bent down to pick up the gun he assumed you dropped, his eyes lingering on the droplets of blood.

It isn’t yours.

It’s from that insolent human.

“That crow of yours tried to pick out his eyes.”

It was a quiet voice but it resounded through the entire room and Sylus turned around to see that male deer hybrid standing next to the stairs leading to the second floor of your house.

“And did it manage to blind him?”

Sylus initially thought this upstart’s words are empty, flowery phrases to earn the trust of the other prey hybrids but he had proved him wrong.

“If your bird’s wing weren’t broken, the human would be carrying his own eyes on his way out.”

Louis watched Sylus took measured strides to approach him but this time, the subtle animosity between them from before is set aside in favor of you. 

The stairs ahead of them looms, the path that used to be warm and inviting when Sylus made his way of your little game of hide and seek earlier is now an entrance to a dark forest even the sunlight refuses to penetrate, your home shielding you from the prying eyes and if it can, it will keep you forever, away from the hunters and their dogs.

“The human had already placed a price for his silence,” Louis began, pulling out the folded paper on his breast pocket and passing it to Sylus, “He is open to negotiate but we both know he wants full compliance.”

“I do not concede against the demands of a trespasser especially right now.”

“That trespasser may not see eye to eye with his fellow humans but they will hear him out if he points his finger at her.”

“What’s your proposal? Give everything he wants free of charge, pat him on the back and let him be on his way?”

“No, I am just passing his words to you,” Louis answered, then glanced at Sylus who briefly scanned the paper he had handed before passing it to one of the twins, “If you want my opinion-” 

There was a pause.

“-I would say stories don’t hold much weight if there is no one to tell it.”

It would be an unfair trial if you stand against the court of law mostly run by humans.

How many friends did the human bring along? Too many based on their scent that still lingered. Too many people that would bend the truth until it is unrecognizable, reversing the roles of the actual victim and the criminal.

Even then, they don’t need to do that. People had already passed judgment without hearing you out.

It would be your words against an insolent human.

Your silence would be taken as acceptance for your crimes, your cries would be treated as crocodile tears.

“The abandoned warehouse will meet with an unfortunate accident later tonight,” Sylus answered, slowly making his way up to you and then he turned to look down at Louis, “Those who are inside were not able to call for help in time.”

Only humans negotiate. Monsters like him don’t.

A silent agreement passed between them, a plan, and Louis watched Sylus skipped the fifth step of your stairs.

Sylus would gladly wield the needle on your behalf, to sew together a tapestry of lies so carefully knitted that he will use it to cover you, to shield you from those who would take you from here, from your new home.

────────────────────

“You’ll always be alone.”

It was before the sun broke from the horizon when an older dragon spoke to Sylus before, watching their reflections against the gentle flow of the stream.

Sylus had snapped both of his horns, his tail was short back then, easy to hide behind the thick coat and he practiced his laughs and smiles enough for his lips not to reveal the unusually sharp canines.

All those efforts, just so he can play with those human and prey hybrid children he always sees beyond the treeline where their group is staying-

No, hiding.

He was angry at the older dragon back then. 

What’s wrong with wanting friends? He wanted the same thing those humans and lucky hybrids have. 

His room always became a theater during the evening, the memories are old films that persist despite the dust that settled, and he is the lone audience.

That memory always stood out before.

You’ll always be alone.

The older dragon wasn’t mocking him.

The older dragon wasn’t even talking to him.

The older dragon was talking to his own reflection.

What did his kind do to merit such treatment? Must there always be a price for everything he cherished with his heart? Why would his nightmares refuse to stay in the realm of the unconscious?

“Sweetie?”

His voice was soft through the wooden door of your room, his hand on the handle. The sweet scent of cotton and wildflowers was almost comforting if not for the undercurrent of terror, fear, and most of all-

-Sadness.

Your answer is only a quiet sob, so soft as if making sure no one would hear even the tears that touch the hardwood floor of your room.

Sylus was hesitant at first but he slowly turned the handle of your door and through the small gap, the trail of Mephisto’s feathers led inside your cabinet.

“I am sorry I am only good at sewing.”

Mephisto’s beeps were distorted, even with its damaged voice box, Sylus knows it is still trying to comfort you, telling you it suffered worse.

You have always found Daisy an odd little crow. Too smart, too observant and its exposed wirings finally revealed why but it is still your friend, badly hurt and your needle and thread won’t be able to fix it.

Your crow friend rested its head on your chest, cawing softly and it is only when your blurry eyes landed on the silhouette standing just outside the cabinet both you and Daisy were inside that you trembled violently.

“Daisy didn’t mean to,” you pleaded, “Daisy’s a good bird-”

No, begged.

You begged through the wooden panels of your cabinet thinking he is the human who welcomed himself in your own home.

Is Sylus angry?

No, there is a better word to describe the wrath that is simmering under the surface of his collected self, close to breaking loose and it was simply because he doesn’t want to terrify you with acts of aggression reserved only for those who are deserving that he held himself together.

“I know, sweetie.”

There was a pause, your sobs coming to a sudden halt and weakly, you called out his name, the sound so fragile but he would always recognize your voice even among the crowd.

It was enough of a reason for him to slowly open the door of your cabinet, crouching down and bracing himself for the inevitable heartbreak, suffering. Suddenly he is the most powerless man alive, the only comfort he can provide is to hold you close and even then, it will never be enough to lighten each drop of your tears, each single tear heavier than the weight of this wide and uncaring world.

Suffering is never a foreign concept in his life, bullets wounds and cuts were painful more so are insults, and when he thought something finally beautiful had taken root in his life, the storm looms on the horizon, threatening to pull it from the soil.

“Skye,” you repeated, your face buried against his chest until you slowly looked up to him.

“Daisy’s-”, you stuttered and you slowly revealed to him his companion that is worse for wear, “Daisy’s broken, Skye. I don’t know how-”

“I’ll put our friend back together, little doe.”

“I tried to warn Daisy, Skye, I tried to do what you taught me-”

“You were the bravest girl, sweetheart. The bravest I have ever known.”

“I am not-”, you shook your head sadly, looking down at his fingers grazing at the exposed wirings of your beloved crow and to your wrist still red, “Brave girls are strong. Brave girls don’t let other men touch them like that-”

You didn’t even land a scratch on that human. 

“His hands were-” you continued, your next words incomprehensible as you clutched his shirt, “I didn’t like it but he said I was lying.”

Sylus didn’t say anything but he understood each word as he listened to you pour out all of your grievances, all the heartache and he rubbed one of his horns against one of your antlers, a gesture you found soothing as he waited for your heart to slowly return to its steady rhythm, the scent of fear slowly dissipating. 

He wanted to kiss your tears away yet he knew he had lost that right when he came here a minute later.

But he will earn it back.

Each drop of tear he tallied, each apology that isn’t supposed to come from you he counted, and in the darkness of your room only lit by the distant moon, this little corner of paradise mourns with you. 

It was when you quieted down that he carefully gathered you in his arms and every step he made while he made his way back to his car parked at the entrance of the shop together with the twins, his resolve only grew stronger.

Sylus eats his enemies alive.

Sylus doesn’t leave any survivors.

Sylus is a man that takes without remorse.

Each rumors echo in his mind and oh, they are baseless claims, false accusations he did not bother to deny. Insignificant but it served his reputation well.

It doesn’t matter, he would normally tell himself.

Until now.

Tonight, he wouldn’t be the man of many rumors.

Tonight, he would make those whispers grow into terrified screams.

Tonight, he would live up to each and every one of them.

The dawn will break tomorrow and Sylus will make sure only ashes would remain by then and it would end with his triumph.

Very soon, sorrows will plague you no more.

────────────────────

“We’re alone because we look hideous.”

Sylus is not the most well-mannered boy when he was young and he will never forget how the frown of the older dragon reflected in the surface of the running stream at his answer.

Pointed horns. Sharp canines. Tail.

All they are missing are hooves for feet to complete the look of a demon he sees in pictures of old fairytale books. 

No matter how many stories the older dragon hybrids told over the small campfire of the days where they used to soar the sky without fearing of being shot down, those who lost the feud had already lost their right to say their side of the story.

The only benefit of being given the role of villain by default is you have no one to please but yourself.

He knows every choice he makes will culminate to a bad ending anyways, a sad note. 

The last dragon, alone on top of his treasures, will draw his last breath and then finally, maybe he will understand why that older dragon is looking at the reflection of the sky in the stream.

It has been a self-fulfilling prophecy, one that he prayed fervently for it to change during the long nights and in the crossroads of his long journey, he had finally received a response and the answer is-

You leaned against him, holding on to the sleeve of the coat hanging on his shoulders, your gaze at his hands deftly repairing your crow friend in his lap.

The abandoned warehouse a few meters ahead from where the car is parked looms, lit by a few sodium lights with rotten shipping containers piled up on each other. The lightbulb of the small guardhouse flickered accompanied with the radio announcer’s voice, the night shift guard leaving in a haste after Sylus gestured him to leave through the open window of the car earlier.

“Sweetie, you and the twins will have to go somewhere for me.”

“Why can’t you come with us then?”

“I am going to have a talk with that human, miss seamstress, and I want you to be far away from here as soon as possible when I do.”

“That man?”

“Yes, that man,” Sylus answered and he watched Mephisto stand up, stretching its wings and flying out the window for a test flight. It was a quick fix but Sylus knows he had to a more extensive repair after this.

“Can I go with you?”

It was a silent question, and your ears drooped when he didn’t say anything, silently assessing your peculiar request.

“Sweetheart, I am afraid I won’t be able to indulge you on your request this time,” he answered, shaking his head and he removed the coat hanging from his shoulders, draping it over your petite frame.

“Just for tonight, little doe. Count this as me owing you a favor.”

“I don’t want you to owe me anything.”

“Then consider this as my duty as your protector. Something that I must do alone,” he replied, watching you lean against his hand when he traced the shape of your ear drooping. “Your dragon will fly back to you before the sun rises.”

Did those dragons in the paintings you saw with him also made the same promises to the people they love? Is that why they were called liars? That the word did not come from a place of disgust but anguish of a vow that met an abrupt end?

In this crossroad, is there why you have to say your goodbyes?

What can you do that this story will not end with a long, long, sigh? You can barely even use a firearm and if anything, you’re only good at sewing and cleaning.

Sylus smiled gently when he noticed your furrowed eyebrows, smoothing them out with his fingers and your eyes drifted on his sharp canines.

“My protector is too kind,” you finally answered and then you reached out to fix the good luck ribbon around his horn, “If he doesn’t mind, can I ask for another request?”

“Then what is it that my bravest little doe wants?”

His breath hitched when you undo the first two buttons of your blouse, pulling the cloth just enough to expose your skin, his eyes tracing the slope of your neck.

A vial of prey hybrid’s blood can sell for so much in the black market. An option you almost considered when you lost your shop in the fire back at Bloomshore District.

Every predator hybrid has one, at least that’s what the rumors said. 

A small indulgence but mostly because it enhances their physical abilities, and even when you believe he doesn’t need one, this is the only solution you know that would greatly benefit him especially when ahead of him are humans you are sure would harm him just like how they culled his kind.

Just like how they hurt you.

“Don’t let a single drop go to waste, alright?”

“Are you sure about what you are offering-”

You silenced him with a gentle press of your fingers against his lips, a gentle smile on your face.

There is no room for doubt, that he is sure, and you are not going to take a no for an answer this time when you pull him closer to you, tilting your head up for him.

Of course, Sylus had always dreamt of sinking his teeth on your neck but certainly not hard enough that his sharp fangs would break the skin and certainly not in this situation.

Yet, you are always one who is clear with your wishes.

“I want to be with you.”

“Then be with me.”

Breathe. He inhaled sharply before holding you closer and the scent of cotton and wildflowers almost clouded his senses, his tongue darting out to lick the supple skin while looking for a suitable spot to nip.

(You wanted to bolt but you won’t allow your deer side to take precedence.)

Bite. His canines sank on your skin and his heart raced in a rapid staccato, a dizzying concerto as he groaned in satisfaction against your trembling body, your hands holding his shirt tightly and a quiet sob escaped your lips.

(He wanted to take a piece of your flesh but he won’t allow his dragon side to overcome him.)

Taste. He had always considered the prey hybrid black market barbaric but every predator hybrid who tried the blood of a prey hybrid says it tastes like vintage wine, the finest among the collection but yours is different, completely unique.

(An exchange, a mutual understanding, and blood of the sacred deer is the offering of this long-awaited union.)

If pure love has a flavor then it would be-

White rabbit milk candy.

You will be the first and last, the only hybrid he would partake in, and even then, the gods must be laughing at the sheer absurdity of a carnivore not pouncing on a prey’s throat but Sylus is going to make sure he will return to your side.

Not all meetings have beautiful endings but your story and his has always been one of a kind.

His tongue swiped over the bite mark and then he pulled away, making sure to button your blouse for you and even with his head slightly bowed down, you can see his pupils dilated and his attempts on making his breath steady.

“You’re a good dragon,” you said quietly and he smiled when you kissed his cheek.

“Good dragons don’t burn down cities for their sweethearts, darling deer,” he answered and he pushed the gun he picked up from your shop earlier to your hands.

Just a safety precaution as you and twins make your way to the safehouse he directed them to bring you to and he let out a quiet sigh when he heard the twins tap through the tinted windows of the car.

“It’s time for me to leave, Miss Deer.”

You reach out to fix the collar of his shirt, adjusting the silver accessory to stay in its proper place.

“Take care, Mister Dragon.”

The ribbon you have tied on his horn swayed against the night breeze after he stepped out of the car, the door closing behind him and the tip of his tongue darted out to lick the remaining blood on the corner of his lips.

With your blood running in his veins, the world will be yours and more.

────────────────────

“Did anyone tell you that you are too overconfident for someone who is the last of his kind?”

Sylus approached the human sitting at the center of the warehouse, not slightly bothered by his insult and his tail swishing lazily while his eyes roamed around his surroundings, mentally counting each human equipped with an assortment of firearms.

Perhaps negotiation is a more recent term to describe a trap.

As always, the two wolf cubs did not disappoint, the numbers they provided were always on the mark.

A small army.

“I do not see the need to bring anyone with me tonight.”

He answered, taking a seat across the human and then crossing his legs. His eyes narrowed slightly when he caught the remnants of your scent that clung to the human’s clothes.

The human studied him before speaking, taking note that the coat that always hangs on Sylus’ shoulders is missing. His hair is slightly disheveled and there is a little detail that made his smirk grow back.

Sylus came here unarmed.

“In a rush, Sylus? Did my gift catch you off-guard?”

“Gift? Is that what you call packages such as those these days?”

“I prefer to call it a reminder. Your precious seamstress wouldn’t be hiding in this dump you call your empire with her father if she didn’t play hard-to-get.”

“Or if you learned to take no at its face value,” Sylus answered, watching the human’s face soured and his eyes flickered at the human tapping his finger on the armchair.

The more he looks at this beast, the more he detests Sylus further.

He was supposed to be in the advantage here. Didn’t Sylus knows he holds your fate in his hands? How is it then that he walked here as if this is just one of his business meetings?

“I came here all the way as you requested,” Sylus continued, his voice betraying nothing, “So tell me your price yourself.”

Greed. This human stink of greed and desire out of everyone inside this room and it only grew when he asked his question.

“Oh, I am very easy to please,” the human grinned, and his finger tapped faster on the armchair, “A monthly deposit of a ten million in local currency, a monthly shipment of firearms and ammunition, and-”

The human let his words hang in the air and Sylus had to resist the urge of rolling his eyes, his tail twitching in annoyance.

This one has a flare of dramatics, doesn't he? It is almost hilarious as if he is watching one of those stage comedies held by those students at one of the universities he is a sponsor to.

“-Her antlers.”

And people call him a monster.

“Is that all of your demands?”

The human nodded, practically drooling just at the thought of those majestic branches that grow from your head that you shed every winter. You and your father kept them hidden at the back of your old shop, a tradition the deer hybrids uphold, and before they started the fire, he made sure to secure yours first.

Oh, they were just so pretty and they still smell like you if he puts his nose close enough even after all these years.

Sylus didn’t answer, smiling coldly and he scanned his surroundings for one last time, deciding he had heard enough.

This sick bastard.

Then, Sylus laughed.

He laughed carelessly, even when the human in front of him and his men were taken back and he continued to laugh until his voice filled the wide expanse of the warehouse

“You trespassed my empire even if I sent you and your people on your way last time and now you are demanding a share of my fortune and my firearms,” Sylus said, his laughter slowly coming into a halt, “And you thought I would willingly give my sweetheart’s antlers she loves so much to you? To you of all people?”

He slowly rose from his seat and all guns were immediately pointed towards him, his tail flicking in anticipation.

“Stay where you are-”

“You are not in the position of giving me orders.”

“You’re outnumbered, you’re unarmed-”

“You should have listened more to those little fairy tales you humans made yourselves.”

There was a roar, enough to shake the earth, and among the small army of mercenaries and loyal bodyguards that the human had brought with him, his face was the palest as their eyes slowly looked up from where Sylus is standing to what is now standing in his place.

Wings so wide, it will blacken the sun- An omen.

Claws so sharp, it can tear through the thickest metals- A catastrophe.

Maw so large, everything that will go inside of it will disappear- An apocalypse.

The pain did not register in the human’s head when the dragon bit almost half of his arm off his body and it was only through the adrenaline that the human managed to roll to the floor in time because the beast was aiming for his head next.

“Fuck!”, the human screamed in pain and pointed at the dark abomination before them, “Shoot him! Aim for his eyes.”

Sylus had long abandoned this form, even back then as a child. The few remaining older dragons who raised him had always looked up, their hands reaching for the heavens once again but never did.

Times have changed. When your kind is culled, you would do anything to survive.

Horns, tail, claws, teeth, wings, scales.

They have no place in this modern world.

These features were traded for firearms and his bare fists and they just became an accessory, a reminder to anyone his kind is still here but barely.

For you, he will wear this atrocious form.

His roars were earthquakes, bullets barely penetrating his scales and the closest wound they could ever inflict on him is when they managed to shoot one of his horns, shattering it.

When did the animosity between the humans and dragon hybrids started?

The embers of this feud still remained, flickering and even when Sylus had tried to search for answers, he never discovered what sin so unforgivable his kind did that everything in this world had conspired for his happiness to be fleeting and every word shouts and screams of horror made him greedy for more, the fire around him growing larger.

Here he is, the product of all desires and hate the dragons had harbored for all years of being hunted and your tears is what broke his self-imposed curse of hiding this form.

No nice and friendly dragon would do this.

He is a wicked dragon, corrupt by all means, but he is yours. 

Your blood coursing through his veins is his fuel together with every memory of you and even if the blood from the wound of his shattered horn is making his vision blurry, he refuses to stop even if he is tasting iron from the limbs and heads he had torn off.

“We are losing people here!”

“Throw more grenades at him!”

“Fuck, we are going to die here!”

The distant glow of the roaring flare reached the N109 zone and even the outskirts of every district nearby together with the smell of burnt meat and the shaking of the earth.

Let this be a final warning to anyone who would dare trespass in your home.

Sylus does not bargain when it comes to you.

────────────────────

You were a crybaby back then.

Your antlers were shorter before and the thin, warm glow of the light downstairs was  a yellow thread, your guide towards your father who used to stay up all night making clothes.

Unable to sleep, you were his little assistant back then, and he smiled when he saw your ears poking just above the table you could barely reach.

Your first task was to put a thread through the eye of the needle. It was difficult and you pouted when you kept failing several times.

“Now, twig, if you cry too much, you won’t be able to see the eye of the needle now.”

It was only after several tries after blinking out the tears of frustration that you were able to finally manage to get it right and you handed the needle to him that you realize that if there is a thread connecting you and your father, it would be a warm color and ever since then, you always try to imagine what color is the thread that connects you to another person.

Yellow. The color connecting between you and your father, the same color as the tulips he always brings to you for your birthday.

Pink. That is the color you see for Luke and Kieran. The same color as the strawberry macarons they always bring to you and the three of you share while they let you examine the latest plushies they made.

Green. You even put a color for Daisy’s and while it brought you various colorful gems and flowers, you will never forget the time it brought you a four-leaf clover.

Then, finally-

You gazed through the tinted windows of the car, watching Skye talk with the twins and in a few moments, the distance between you and him will grow as he makes his way inside the warehouse.

Red. The same color as his eyes, the first bouquet of roses Mr. Sylus sent over, and the red wildflowers painted in the fields of your music box.

The red thread you are afraid will be snipped off because you aren’t good enough to fight.

Why did you want to go with Skye when the sheer presence of that human alone is enough for you to cower in a corner?

Because you want another chance and this time, you will not be the deer caught in the headlights.

No, you have to come close.

The closest you can to that human.

And when you do, you will cut the black thread that ties you to him.

Your footsteps barely make a sound at the smooth pavement, your hand sweeping at the cold metal of the shipping containers while you make your way closer to the warehouse. Every now and then, an occasional light will flicker in this labyrinth of towering metal.

From a distance, you can hear the twins’ calling out your name, their tone becoming more worried and you shiver against the cold breeze, pulling the coat hanging on your shoulders tight against you.

It was almost similar to your dragon’s warm embrace.

Even when he isn’t here, the scent that clung on his coat seemed to say otherwise and a sense of security almost washed over you until you were reminded of your farewells earlier.

If you were born as a predator hybrid, would you be fighting alongside him right now?

If you were born a fighter, would your old shop still be standing today?

If you pulled the trigger just on time, would your tears stop spilling?

Your knees buckled down and you leaned against the shipping container, the gun in your hand is cold and heavy yet you wrap your fingers around the handle firmly, the muzzle touching your forehead.

Holding the gun like this is like praying.

Would a part of you that you let Skye take be enough? You prayed it would be but prayers will always be just dandelion seeds carried by the wind, wisps of fragile dreams.

A familiar weight pushed on your shoulder and you smiled, putting down the gun and glancing at your crow friend. The shadows are enough to cover the exposed metal and wiring on its wing and it gives you a soft beep.

We should leave.

It tried to pull the small braid on the side of your face gently and when it didn’t work, it went for your skirt this time, any parts of your clothes, gesturing you to go back from where you came but you only shook your head.

“I don’t want to run anymore, Daisy.”

Not running.

Mephisto’s caws are lost to you, trying to reason with you but your ears unable to understand its words and it is growing frustrated at every tug but you refuse to move, your eyes trained at the boarded up windows of the warehouse further up ahead. It is awfully quiet, the only sound you heard was the warehouse door closing a few minutes ago.

Seeing that it is taking so much to convince you, Mephisto gives you one last look before flying to where the twins are, a few shipping containers behind, both jumping from one container to another, looking for you from above.

“I can’t smell her.”

Luke complained and Kieran nodded, their eyes taking in the dark surroundings searching for your familiar form. One heart beating too fast was already nerve wracking but being able to sense his twin’s as well? Kieran doesn’t know how they are both alive with how much they are worried right now.

Hell froze over when they opened the car only to find you were not there after watching the boss go to the warehouse and they had suspicion you most likely ran off to follow the boss but the question is-

Why?

Is it innate for every prey hybrid to flee when they are backed against the corner? To blindly run until you believe you are no longer in danger?

“What, bird?”, Kieran asked, watching Mephisto perched on his shoulder and it let out a beep.

It found you.

There you are, a few meters ahead of them, the boss’ coat hanging on your shoulders and they finally understood why they can’t pick up your scent.

The boss’ scent interlaced with yours, a perfect harmony and a cover. Any predator hybrid who would want to look for you will be thrown off your tracks.

Even if the boss is not by your side, he took all the measures he could to protect you.

They both landed in front of you, their tails wagging slightly when you looked up to smile at them.

“Miss, you shouldn’t be running away like that.”

“Yeah, not a good time for pranking, you know?”

“I am sorry,” you answered, and your gaze moved to one of the doors of the warehouse. The only entrance and exit because the rest was also boarded up. “I just want to-”

What do you want to do?

See your dragon step out of the warehouse without any scratch?

Sever the thread connecting you and the human who had given himself the title of hero of this story?

End this nightmare?

“Hey, it’s okay, miss,” Kieran started, sensing you are about to cry again, reaching out to embrace you and his brother did the same, their tails wagging, “Didn’t we tell you? You already have us and the boss looking after you.”

There was a caw.

“And the bird too,” Luke added, looking up to see Mephisto perch on your antlers, “It says it cares for you so much.”

Even if you lost everything in the fire of long ago, life still continued its symphony and something beautiful has taken root in the ashes of despair, something you want to see grow until it covers the landscape.

“Can’t we wait for him?”

“The boss? No, we really need to leave, miss.”

“It’s cold, you know, he doesn’t want you to get sick especially after you have been through,” Luke added to Kieran’s statement but you shook your head and the two looked at each other.

The boss had specifically asked them to bring you far from here and that they will even when you are oddly adamant on staying on this place they are sure the boss would raze to the ground.

Kieran was about to carry you when a roar cut through the silent night, enough for the shipping containers to shake.

“What was that?”, you asked, alarmed.

“Shit, we need to move her away here,” Luke muttered, shielding you together with his brother as the surroundings continue to shake and you can hear gunfire and roars from inside the warehouse.

Roars so furious they broke all the windows of the warehouse.

Roars so loud they herald the inferno that followed after.

Roars so violent they overpowered the screams inside.

“Don’t look.”

Luke covered your eyes with his hand and Kieran covered your ears but even their attempts to shield and comfort you is not enough, your eyes widening through the gap and your ears twitching against their hold.

The roaring flare intensifies, it eats anything on its path of rampage and it will only stop once dawn arrives, once black snow falls.

“He’s still in there-”

“Boss’ fine,” Kieran replied quietly, his gaze at the flames that continue to pick up. “But the humans? Not really.”

Beneath the frenzied roars was a thin layer of anguish and despair. Whoever is making them, they are in pain.

“The boss,” Luke added slowly, “He’s still just like you and me.”

He has been called a monster many times but his true heartbreak would be if the word comes from your mouth.

“I want to wait a little longer,” you murmured softly and they slowly let go of you, listening, “He must be tired. He might take a while if he has to fly back to us.”

Underneath their masks, a sigh of relief and a smile.

You really have spent too much time with them that the fearsome faces of predator hybrids don’t bother you so much.

Kieran was about to answer when his ears perked up, his nose picking up a distinct scent over the smell of burnt meat and ash.

That human stink.

It is the same human who welcomed himself inside your home.

Their gazes immediately move to the human who staggered outside the warehouse, the flames trying to reach him but barely.

“He won’t be alive for much longer,” Kieran commented, watching the trail of blood behind the human who is trying to stop his wound.

“He left his people inside? That’s quite pathetic, don’t you think?”, Luke added and he had to stifle a chuckle when he noticed Mephisto puffing up while perched on your antlers, as if wanting to square up with the human again.

The twins kept hurling insults upon insults, observing the human in amusement who is trying to shout for help in an empty field, trying to open the nearby cars he and his men most likely brought to get here.

There is no hope for him.

You should stay put.

Yet, you are afraid that if you move your eyes away from him, he will arrive at your doorstep tomorrow morning, alive and well.

Ambush is a certain dance.

Rule number one.

Conceal.

Luke and Kieran thrived on the art of surprising their opponents but that only works if you blend yourself against the shadows.

“I want to make sure he doesn’t visit me again.”

They were taken aback when you told them your request but your conviction said otherwise and here begins your first lesson and likely the last.

You weave through the winding shipping containers, your eyes trained at that mess of black thread walking aimlessly, yelling at anyone to come to his aid. Your steps were almost quiet, the sounds you made muffled by the dark and heavy coat hanging on your shoulders.

Rule number two.

Know your enemy.

A predator can be anyone, a loose term for people who had an intent to kill but what do you call yourself now if you are now the hunter and the man who had pursued you through the winding path of your forest is now the hunted?

His dominant hand is missing, his other hand trembling as he tries to hold the gun while he makes his way to the telephone nearby, lit by a lone fluorescent light.

Rule number three.

Exploit your advantage.

“Oh, need a hand?”, Kieran asked and the human recoiled in fear, dropping the phone and immediately pulling out the gun he hastily tucked on his back.

“Y-you-”,

“Me?”, Luke and Kieran both answered and the human trembled, stepping back to put more distance between the twins who were leaning lazily at both sides of the telephone booth, the dial tone missing, tilting their heads in amusement.

He thought he had planned everything out, that Sylus would cower knowing the weight of a human’s words is heavier than the rest of the hybrids combined but they were right, that dragon hybrid is not afraid to commit atrocities.

A faint rustle and he almost blacked out when he saw a silhouette standing just outside the light of the lamp post.

That coat.

Two horns protruding from the head.

And that damn fucking bird-

He was aiming for the head but his hold was lousy and the bullet hit the other horn, shattering it immediately and instead of a deep groan of pain, he heard something else.

A soft whimper.

“What the hell-”, the human muttered and you stepped inside the light, blood pouring to the side of your face and this time, you aren’t looking down on your shoes.

Your eyes are gazing back at him.

“You really do think you are like the rest of them, huh?!”, he shouted, and he was about to take another shot when the crow flew too fast, knocking the gun out of his hand.

“I am like the rest of them,” you answered quietly and you raised the gun, aiming at him.

Breathe for me.

Your dragon’s words were louder than ever, and the weight of his coat almost close to having his presence nearby and you blinked your tears away, never removing your eyes at the mess of black threads that threatened to engulf you.

May this bullet forgive him for what your heart cannot.

God, please.

A merciless shooting star, speeding fast, and for once, the heaven had finally turned an eye and ear to your prayers, the surface of the tangled black threads erupted like the waves of a dark and deep lake.

The black thread connecting you and him had been finally severed.

────────────────────

Opening a door for Sylus meant bracing himself for impact.

Opening a door meant surprises, most of them bad ones and he was fortunate to be gifted a set of senses that can detect danger ahead.

Not all business meetings are actual talks, most are disguised as attempts to take his life and the merchandise he had brought alongside with him.

It is an irrational fear but in his line of work, it doesn’t hurt to be too vigilant.

Sylus only ceased his rampage when the fire had slowly died down, the sun slowly breaking out from the horizon and he knew he had to return soon.

Return to you.

Hearing your gentle voice through the other side of the door made him too eager to turn the handle and listen to your warm greetings.

“Welcome back, Skye.”

“Good afternoon, Skye. Have you eaten yet?”

“Hello, Skye. Slow day?”

He had always looked forward to hearing those phrases with his real name and there is a certain sentence he has yet to hear but has been praying for that day to come soon. 

In this hideous form where everyone would certainly flee when they see him open the door, he was met with an unexpected surprise.

Through the gap of the warehouse doors barely held together by its hinges was no other than-

You.

Disagreement is not a foreign thing, even if you are twins who know each other’s thoughts and emotions.

They had debated over leaving after you took out the trash, after they left the body under the flickering light of the lamp post, and helping clean up your wound, their worries overriding their instincts. 

Kieran had insisted to still follow the boss’ orders but Luke was the stubborn one this time, pointing out to might as well wait considering you aren’t budging ever since you put yourself near the warehouse doors, waiting patiently.

The screams had died down then, the gunshots gone, and all was left was the soft crackle of fire slowly dying down.

Here they are, standing near you as you sit on the ground with your beloved crow perched on your remaining antler, the good luck ribbon swaying against the wind.

“Didn’t I tell you I will fly back to you before the sun rises?”

A deep voice, familiar, coming out from inside the dark warehouse, black snow falling around you and your ears drooped.

“Then we still have time,” you smiled and with outstretched hands you continued, “Fly to me then.”

He should be angry.

He should be angry that you chose to be stubborn at this time.

He should be angry that the twins listened to you.

Yet, he can’t find the heart to do so, not right now, when the ash is slowly settling and all he wants is to indeed, return to your side.

He was about to step out and it will just take him five more strides to get to you but he hesitated when he get a glimpse of what he looked like right now through the metallic door.

He really does look hideous.

Will you still look at him the same if he wears this shape?

“The sun is rising,” you gently said, coaxing him.

His sweetheart, so naive.

“Close your eyes for me,” he answered and you did as you were told.

Earnest.

Sweet.

Precious.

He rested his snout on your hands and he watched your reaction, your fingers mapping out the scales, occasionally grazing the exposed teeth.

“When did you become so rough, Mister Dragon?”

“All so I can defend myself, Miss Deer.”

You hummed, pulling him close with your face leaning against his snout. 

“When did you become so warm, Mister Dragon?”

“All so I can hold you closer, Miss Deer.”

He laughed softly, pushing his forehead against yours, and oddly enough, he found himself purring in delight that you have always managed to surprise him.

“When did you become so large, Mister Dragon?”

“All so I can protect you, Miss Deer.”

You never opened your eyes once, and slowly the scales you were touching were replaced by warm skin, his forehead against yours and he leaned down to rub his remaining horn against your sole antler.

Both of you, a mirror image of each other but not quite.

“Of all the creatures I have held, you are the warmest.”

“And you are the kindest.”

This time, he leaned down and kissed both of your eyelids and he wanted to keep his eyes at you longer, to see the morning light on your face but his eyes are becoming heavier.

How long was it since he slept on a hard surface? To sleep unguarded?

Exhaustion never crept in so fast before but here he is, already making himself comfortable on your lap and you didn’t stop him, your hand trying to look for his hair and he gently held your wrist to guide you.

“You know, boss, you have a bed back at the base.”

“Never thought I would see you sleeping in a place like this.”

You chuckled softly and Sylus did too, barely audible, a small huff, as he leaned further against your touch and with sleep finally creeping in, the night slowly becoming day, the radio left on in the guardhouse played from a distance and a brief smile cross his face, recognizing the last lines of the song. It was, afterall, the famous aria played in the opera where he first laid eyes on you for the first time.

Who would have thought using that form would tire him out?

Maybe you did the right call staying within the edges of this already burnt warehouse because he might fall asleep on his way back and he knows you wouldn’t be too happy if he come in a little later.

You and your adorable pout and drooping deer ears.

He would really hate to disappoint you.

“Let sleeping dragons lie.”

It was a quiet answer, your fingers on your lips and the twins laughed with his mechanical crow letting out a small beep. His eyes are closing, watching the morning rays overwhelm the brilliant stars and the skies have never felt nearer with him on lying on your lap.

Night is coming to an end, the fateful day that you will finally say his real name, he hopes, has arrived and one by one, each of your voice faded in the background until the last thing he heard was the last line of the song, and he mumbled along with it, a faint smile on his lips.

"All'alba, vincerò!

Vincerò! Vincerò!"

.

.

.

Victory tastes like white rabbit milk candy.

────────────────────

Author's Note: I think I used a lot of symbolism and references in this part but my favorite is the white rabbit milk candy and (the last lines from the opera Turandot). I got that after listening to Mili's Iron Lotus (Yes, I had second hand suffering watching people's playthrough getting their asses burn by Xiao from Library of Ruina). I think I would have finished writing this earlier but I live in a place where public spaces like libraries is a foreign concept and walking around is like Subway Surfers here.

I might make a playlist of all songs I made references to in the future after I am done with this. This chapter mentally exhausted me tbh I think I need to rewatch Delicious in Dungeon for the nth time again this weekend.

Four more chapters (Already including the epilogue)! See you next update!

AO3

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch.4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10 / Side A / Side B