#as I sit here screaming crying losing my marbles

[ahsokatanohno]

HERA AND LEIA ARE PALS. AHSOKA AND EZRA AND SABINE REUNITED. AHSOKA IS HOPEFUL AND THRIVING. THREEPIO IS HERE ON BEHALF OF SENATOR AND DEFENSE COORDINATOR LEIA ORGANA. ZEB IS TRAINING RECRUITS. MY HEART IS FULL.

[urf1lterr]

afterglow | pedro pascal [2/3]

"tell me that you're still mine, tell me that we'll be just fine, even when i lose my mind"

previous chapter: [1]

summary: being nominated for an oscar was a dream come true, until you had to spend the rest of the night near your deceitful ex who still loved you.

pairing: actor!pedro x actress!reader

genre: acting world!au, enemies/exes to lovers ?? au | angst, fluff, fighting, mature

word count: 15k

status: 2/3 complete

author's note: SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT LOVES. even though its gonna be three parts lol i still want you to want more. i've been confused on my writing because tbh- i feel like i could do better and keep rushing with these storylines and end up regretting them AFTER they are posted lol. not edited- it really isn't.

"Let's cut the chit-chat and get some real answers, why did y'all breakup?"

"Andrew!"

"Three days have passed, she's fine now," he defended, shrugging as Florence shot him an irritated look by his prying behavior.

It has indeed been a few days since the terrible night that consisted in you meeting your favorite artist, crying beside her, running awkwardly away right after, having a screaming match with your ex, and then passing out in the car.

So, you couldn't deny it wasn't a memorable night.

The past three days could've been better to say the least if your management team stopped spamming you with text messages concerning the fight, maybe even ignoring the loads of pictures of your crying face.

Oh, the pictures. Not a fun sight to see.

Luckily for you, the pictures were only ones inside the party near Andrew- not Pedro. Unfortunately, though, your picture was turned into a 'crying in the club' meme.

You couldn't exactly be mad over it, you loved memes.

Thank the Lords the paparazzi were clueless and never ended up catching your argument with Pedro or you wouldn't know how to cover it up.

You could never get away with the typical 'friends fighting' after he shouted how much he loved you.

And bless the celebrities near you for minding their business.

To clear up your meltdown, you took it upon yourself to send out a quick tweet the next morning with a "i'm sorry i'm an emotional drunk. one second we're talking about 500 days of summer and then...well you already know how THAT ends."

In that moment you couldn't care less if people believed you or not, this was going to pass fast anyway.

Now here you were, sitting in front of your kitchen bar as Andrew and Florence decided to pay you a visit because they missed you- or so they say.

Realistically, they wanted to see if you were still a hot mess.

Which you weren't, obviously.

Shailene would have tagged along, but she was busy doing grown up things, such as working on her latest project Andrew claimed which was a slight bummer. She was the mediator, now who else was going to stop the arguments calmly between your two friends.

Florence disagreed, shaking her head. "You can't just ask her that, it's impolite."

Sighing, Andrew sent you an apologetic glance. "Okay, I am sorry." Not taking his eyes off you, you could feel his curiosity and eagerness from the other side of the kitchen. "But we're all thinking it."

Judging by how unresponsive Florence became, you could tell she wasn't going to fight him on this. And well, she was secretly on his side because your fight with Pedro was seriously excessive.

She just wanted to know what he could've done to make you so angry, it didn't make sense to her if he did cheat. He didn't seem like the type, but some people do the most surprising things- so she couldn't really tell.

"Do you want the last reason or all of them?"

Widening his eyes, Andrew shares a glance with Florence for a swift second before finding your eyes. "Last reason?"

"The last fight we had that led us to finalize our breakup."

"Finalize," he giggled, leaning on the marble counter. "This isn't a divorce process."

"For a person who is so concerned about my relationship crisis, you seem to be catch on to the most irrelevant stuff."

"So you admit you still want to be with him," Andrew declared, giving a smug look as you tried to process his words. "If you're still stressing over him, it means you don't want to let him go."

"I never said I was stressing over hi-"

"Did she or did she not just claim she was undergoing a crisis-," Andrew interrupted, slightly raising his voice. "-a relationship crisis, to be exact."

Florence sheepishly looked your way, capturing your stern expression before slowly nodding.

Your male friend clapped his hands loudly before bursting out a wider grin, happy someone had his back. "There we have it, if he's on your mind that much to turn into a crisis- you still love him!"

Furrowing your brows, you didn't know how to respond. It was true, you had many moments where Pedro agitated you even when you haven't been near him for quite some time.

But isn't being wound up over an ex part of healing?

Truth be told, you knew your feelings for Pedro hadn't completely disappeared, but love? You weren't even sure love existed by your past experiences.

"I do not love him," you hiss, vigorously snatching the water bottle on the counter and aggressively opening it. "How can love be real? It's baffling."

"Questioning the real question with a question," he sneers, making Florence and you become confused as ever. "You're so in love him."

Florence cuts in, squinting her face in puzzlement. "Wait- what's the real question she's supposedly questioning with a question?"

"Love!" he cheers happily before placing his hand on his palm, dreamingly gazing at you. "You have your doubts on what love may be, but without knowing it you're having them because you're questioning your love to Pedro since you're too scared to admit you still love him."

"I don't get it."

Rolling your eyes, you swiftly turn away and head towards your living room to lay on your couch. You were not in the mood to have someone else tell you what your feelings were when they weren't you. "I'm done with this conversation."

Hearing a low slapping noise, following an irritated hiss, you could make out Florence's displeased voice. "See what you did! Now she's not going to tell us."

"So much for moral support, you really are nosy," Andrew fought back, whispering loudly.

A minute or two went by since you couldn't make out what they were saying before rushed footsteps soon made their way near you as your friends awkwardly smiled, hoping they didn't upset you too much.

Because they really wanted to know the drama.

Pushing him roughly from behind, Florence sent you an innocent smile as Andrew landed near your side of the couch, trying his best to hold his composure and not turn back around and start another fight.

Placing a light hand on your shoulder, you blankly glance at it before meeting his attention. "We just wanted you to know we totally understand if you aren't comfortable...expressing your past-"

"Get your hand off me and let's get this over with so you two can leave already."

Florence quickly sat right beside Andrew, both not offended with your statement because they were fully aware of how annoying the were becoming.

Before you could say anything, Florence quickly spoke aloud. "Start from the beginning!" Andrew slowly looking back to her, he sent her a confused look. "So we aren't lost, of course."

Laughing lightly, you nod before adjusting yourself on your seat. It was going to be hard to remember all the details clearly because there really wasn't an exact time issues occurred, it kind of just naturally appeared here and there.

Now that you think of it, majority of the tiny disputes during the earlier days of your relationship were probably on the same level as when you two were splitting, but maybe the dense ones created towards the end really made it hard to continue.

"If I'm being totally honest, we never really had problems when we first started dating. He was really great," you begin, clutching onto a pillow you found right beside you. "And he would always make sure to watch me make it inside my house before leaving, that was when I knew he wasn't some fling."

Andrew smirked, nodding proudly. "Classic move."

Smiling at the thought, you focused your mind to uncover the ugly truths that slowly tore you two apart.

"But then one day, I wanna say a few weeks after our second anniversary, we just started...fighting?"

Tilting your head, you look down as sad memories began pouring through your mind completely. "It wasn't our usual small fights over who left the bathroom floor wet or dropping his ipad in the pool-"

"-you dropped his ipad in the pool?" Florence coughed, bewildered by your scandalous actions.

"He wanted to know if it was waterproof," you defended.

"Was it?"

"No," you nervously reply, avoiding their eyes. "But he had it backed up and I bought him a new one!"

"That was kind of a bitchy move," Andrew muttered, catching your pissed gaze. "But at least you made up for it!"

Maybe it wasn't that great of an idea to just throw it in, but he did say he was really curious and wanted to dump it under the sink.

"Anyway," you start back up again, making Andrew lowly sigh in relief. "Our fights were never that serious, or at least not until he started filming for that new tv series he joined."

Florence spoke up, lightly questioning "The Last of Us?"

Nodding, you shrugged. "I guess it's normal to say the time apart did cause a rift in our relationship, but it wasn't too bad. He always made sure to call and facetime at least once every two days."

"But one day when he was visiting during his week break he just...snapped?" you frowned, not even wanting to visualize the tiny argument.

You had to for your own good.

"He had been home for maybe two days before he suddenly became moody. Like- his attitude was insane, I have never seen him like this ever," you sigh, closing your eyes for a second before continuing. "He didn't want to go out to eat, didn't want me to make him food, and when I offered to have it delivered he slammed the bedroom door on my face and claimed he was going to bed."

"Woah, why would he do that?" Andrew asked, seriousness splattered all over his face.

You wish you knew.

"Not sure, I just thought maybe work was stressing him out so I wanted him to have his alone time to clear his mind."

"Did that work?"

Sitting up straighter, you send a sorrowful smile. "For the rest of that week-yes. He ended up apologizing to me when I tried going to bed and said his manager was being tough on him for some scenes they had done."

You remember the moment you walked inside your bedroom, disappointed that he was awake. Not wanting to cause more tension, you planned to sneak under the covers and deal with the incident in the morning.

But his arms slowly wrapping over your waist as you had your back facing him said otherwise. Pulling you closer, you remember the soft "please don't be mad at me" he whispered near your ear, making sure you felt his tight embrace as if to prove you were his.

That night ended with you turning your body over to face him, accepting his open arms as a way to answer his pleading way of forgiveness.

Like always.

"Once he went back to work, we still talked- but I could tell he wasn't fully engaged like he always was," you sulk, remembering the first time you caught him not listening. "It got to the point where I purposely stopped answering his calls."

Your friends quickly send you a shocked look, you continue before they could intercept. "I couldn't handle his lack of attention, I would rather have him panic from the rejected calls than just tell him why I was upset."

It wasn't your best move, but you were frustrated. It wasn't fair that he was the one who got to treat you poorly and you had to accept it.

You admit, maybe if you communicated with him about these issues you could've prevented many future arguments and even saved your relationship.

But you were human and sometimes humans act human.

"Then what happened?" Andrew asked, a curious appearance plastering his face. "You continued ignoring him?"

Laughing lightly, you shake your head. It was the plan, but plans don't always work out. "Actually, he secretly took a flight back home one weekend and confronted me."

Gasping, Florence jumped up in her seat and moved her leg under her. "No way!"

"Yes, way," you sheepishly reply, embarrassed at the memory. You can still picture the way Pedro stood in your shared bedroom as you stepped out of your bathroom, jumping at the sight of him.

Standing with his arms crossed with his bags thrown by the door, he was determined to figure out what was going on with you.

"I wouldn't say we engaged in a heated argument, but it was surprisingly really emotional."

Andrew leaned his body closer, too interested not to let his questions slide. "Were you guys never emotional? I feel like every couple experiences those moments together- it's what makes them stronger."

It should've made you two stronger, but instead it made you weaker without you realizing it.

"Pedro and I had our minor instances, but it never involved problems we were facing," you began, sighing slightly. "All I remember was finding him standing near the bed with no emotion- none. I couldn't read what he may have been feeling, he just looked so....empty?"

"Empty? That's not good." Florence commented.

"That could mean a lot of things, not necessarily anger," Andrew added, trying to make you feel better.

"I knew deep down he was mad, as he should be- I was the one ignoring him," you defended him, taking full responsibility over your childish actions. "But I could tell he was more hurt that mad."

"What did he say?"

"What's going on?" Pedro questioned, his eyes not daring to leave yours as you freeze- stopping your attempts at brushing your wet hair, extremely confused as to why he was here.

He wasn't supposed to visit for another month, or so he said.

"Pedro?" you squint your eyes, still not sure if he was really in front of you or maybe you were daydreaming. You were high off many shots of espressos, it's finally hitting you. "Is that you?"

Still staring plainly at you, he stays right where he was. In any other circumstances he would have run up and wrapped his arms tightly around you, but this night was different.

He looked disorientated, out of place. His eyes lacked intensity as his body followed, looking as stiff as ever. Even his breathing matched his energy, calm yet unsettled.

You left him confused and he did not like that. "Answer my question."

Batting your eyes faster, you realize what was going on and where he was. Gasping, you do the exact opposite of what he wanted. "What the hell are you doing here?! You're not supposed to be home- you could get fired a-"

Taking a hold of your arms, he stills you and ignores your rambling. "What-" he begins, moving his right hand to the back of your neck and forcing you to focus on him only. "-is going on?"

Freezing, you try to back your head away from his grip but he tightens his grasp, making sure to not be too rough so he doesn't actually hurt you- he would never do such a thing. "I don't understand-"

"You haven't been answering my calls, what else is there to understand?" He sternly recalls, not wanting you to bullshit your way out of this. "So you either have been ignoring me on purpose to be petty or this is your way of hinting you don't want to be with me anymore."

Shaking your head frantically, you try to talk but he cuts you off again. "-And don't say you've been busy. You and I both know I would have figured out if you had added projects to your schedule- your mom tells me everything."

If this were a good time, you would have laughed at his side comment regarding your mother, but it wasn't.

"Not everything," you spit out, causing him to squint his face and release his hands from you.

"Are you trying to tell me something? Are you not happy? Is that why you've been avoiding my calls?" he questions, tilting his head in bewilderment, not liking your attitude at the moment. "Because if you really don't want to be with me you should've told me sooner than leaving me feeling fucking clueless while I'm out in another country working."

"I'm not saying I don't want to be with you-"

"But you aren't denying it," he intercepts, firmly nodding in realization. "I get it, I'm just glad I know now and won't have to wait another month to finally understand how you're feeling."

Walking away from you, Pedro walks towards his bags and reaches down for them. You scoff at his disturbed demeanor. There is no way you should be the only one at fault here- you both made mistakes.

Pushing his backpack off his hands, he watches at it lands on the floor before instantly finding your eyes. "Are you seri-"

"Just because I'm avoiding your calls doesn't mean I want to end our relationship" you shriek, glaring at him as his eyes soften at your hidden truth.

Your angered expression and stiff posture hits him like a brick, there was something really bothering you and he was too oblivious to acknowledged it until you began overlooking him.

Taking a deep breath, you watch as your boyfriend intently examines you as if he's trying to read your impractical mind. Sometimes, he wished you would speak up when something was bothering you, in fact- he has told you many times in the past to do so.

But the idea of patiently waiting until it erupts is what he's sure you've normalized in fear of desertion. Or maybe refusal of reality- the two of you weren't perfect.

"What's going on?" He calmly questions again, dropping any signs of fury and replaces it with worry and concern. Reaching out to you, he softly clasps your shoulder before moving in a few inches. "Am I making you upset?"

Slapping his hand away, you cross your arms over your chest in agitation. "I'm mad at you!"

Blinking a few times, he couldn't believe how fast you spilled and chaotic your energy was. He's never seen you act this hysterical and to be honest, he was really debating asking if you were on your period or not. "Why?"

Pursing your lips together, you release your arms and let them fall on your sides. "You know why!" With that, you turn your back to him and make your way back to your bathroom to hide.

At this point, you felt it was acceptable to act unbearable- he left you feeling insignificant and you weren't going to hold it in anymore.

If you stayed there any longer you knew you would break down into tears. Showing your vulnerable side this early into an argument was too easy, you have to show how bold you were in order to get your point across.

Or anger across.

But it was really hard to hold a grudge, he was just so- loving, despite your recent incidents. Deep down, he did care about you and wanted to validate your feelings- or as best he could.

Grabbing anything you could find near your sink, you begin opening some moisturizer and splatter it around your hands to keep you busy. You could feel Pedro come inside your shared bathroom but you don't dare to peep his way.

"Honey- please," you heard him release a soft sigh as he stood behind you, watching through your huge mirror in front of the two of you. He could make out your distressed appearance and you were absolutely not fine. "You can't just steer clear from this, we need to talk about it-"

Slamming the poor jar on the counter, you swiftly twist your body to his front and feel all the rage taking control. "But did you want to talk all those times I called you?! No, you didn't give one fuck about me or Leia!"

"You named your dog after Princess Leia? That's smart," Andrew butted in, grinning. "You know, since he's in the Mandalorian and Star W-"

"We get it."

Maybe it was wrong to bring your beloved corgi into such a serious topic, but she was abandoned by her father too.

"I did talk to you! I made sure to call you whenever I had time an-"

"I'm glad I made it into your schedule- but maybe if you considered adding some compassion and empathy it wouldn't feel like I'm just another business call you hate!"

Panting, you send daggers his way as his eyes widen. Did you just say he doesn't care about your calls? Impossible- he loves your calls, it makes his days better.

"You aren't a business call and you know that. Honey, please understand- hey!" He cuts himself off once you finally had enough of his poor attempts to defend himself, trying to flee but he ends up being quicker on his feet and yanking you back to his arms.

But once you were wrapped around him, even though it was for pure captivity and not warmth, you instantly broke down. He didn't know you were in tears until he felt his shirt become damp and still then he just thought you were trying to spit on him out of anger.

Hearing your tiny whimpers, he immediately glanced down and lifted you up to catch a clear view of your face, despite your protests and blockings. "Baby, I-I didn't mean to make you cry-"

"You don't mean a lot of things," you spit out, swatting his hands that dared to reach your face. You weren't in the mood to make up, all you wanted to do was sleep your troubles away, especially with the draining work day you had.

Continuing your pulling, Pedro began becoming annoyed with your strong protests against his affection. Isn't this what you wanted? "Why won't you let me hold you? I want to console you, can't I be your boyfriend for the night and tomorrow you can continue hating me?"

"You see my tears and now you want to hold me but admit we'll still be out of place tomorrow? That's acceptable for you?" you laugh ruthlessly, allowing space to be brought in front of you. "Do you hear yourself?"

Groaning, he rubs his face hard before speaking his mind, trying not to sound too furious and scare you. "What do you want me to do? I admit, I did lack some energy-"

"Some?" you snort to yourself, your face still wet.

"Don't interrupt me," he declared, shaking his head at how rude you were becoming. "I wasn't the best partner, okay?! There, I admit it, but you don't understand how it is working constantly and not being able to see family and friends and-"

"It's like you don't even know me at all," you ignorantly chuckle over his nonsense and walk towards your bed.

What a way to dismiss your feelings.

"That's not what I meant," he sighs, following after and stopping you from opening your covers and hiding underneath them. "It's just hard being away from everyone I love, I'm in a different country. It's not like I can drive an hour away and suddenly see them!"

"I can't do that either!"

"Can't you just please, please, please- consider that my mindset is not good right now," he declares, his eyes filling with sadness as his arms slowly find your waist. Taking a deep breath, you watch as he looked up at the ceiling before biting his lip. "I know I am not being the best partner right now- or for the past few months, but I am trying."

As soon as uncertainty flushed your face, his hands tightened as his expression deepened into an emotion you never seen him explore before- dejection.

"I can't promise you I'm suddenly going to wake up and give you 110% every interaction we have," he began, his voice lowering as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "But I confess- I am being a little shit and I am willing to work on that. Just please- please don't push me away. Try to understand my situation."

He wasn't wrong, his life switched around once he accepted the role of Joel Miller and you should've known from the start he would face some difficulties. Maybe you were being too self-centered and invalidated his feeling too, not just him.

Sometimes he wasn't good with words when expressing himself and made you feel as if you weren't as popular as him, but you knew it was never his intention to hurt you like that. He had a heart and loved to use it.

Fighting over work should never be a reason to be miserable especially when it's how you both get your income.

"I-I understand," you lightly speak up, watching as his eyes light up by the sound of your now calm voice filling his ears. "I just want you to know that it didn't make me feel good-"

"Of course it wouldn't make you feel good, I was being horrible," Pedro intercepted, pulling you into a tight hug and landing his face in your neck. "And if I wasn't thousands of miles away I would totally spoil you with kisses and chocolates as my sorry."

"Chocolates are still in favor," you joke and feel him softly swat your bottom in disapproval.

Pulling away, he leans his face closer to yours and plants a sweet kiss upon your lips before backing up an inch and whispering softly, "I love you, you know that right?"

Smiling, you slowly nod and surprise him with a deeper kiss before answering him back with a familiar, "I love you, too."

"You better," he smirks, pulling his body on top of yours, hearing your light squeaks once your back hit the mattress and his lips snuck their way into the crook of your neck.

"Did you end up getting chocolates?" Andrew immediately questioned once you finished your long recollection of memories.

"That's not important," Florence rolled her eyes.

"I mean he did promise her it."

Chuckling at his curiosity, it amused you how focused he was about some candy. "Yes, he did- for like a month and then I got over them."

"Understandable," Andrew replied, looking down at his lap.

Florence jumped over him, making herself sit closer to you as he winced at her sudden movements. "Then what happened?! I mean, there had to be more right?"

"My god woman, I hope you're not working for TMZ," Andrew joked.

She shushed him before leaning closer to you, signaling you to continue on with your memories. "After that fight, things became pretty normal again. We would call each other with far more energy than before and he would even fly back home often to keep our communication strong."

"And how long did that last?"

Frowning, you took a small breath. "Like three months- then we started fighting more."

"Over?"

Rubbing your face, you groaned. "He went back to lacking energy! But that's not even the worst part."

"Please don't tell me he cheated," Andrew begged, covering his eyes with his hands while pulling a sorrow look. "I would never be able to look at him the same."

"I don't know if he did cheat- but I did find out two months before we ended things that he stayed the night at his exes."

Loudly gasping, the company you had began freaking out with their jaws dropping- literally. Florence angrily furrowed her brows, "you've got to be kidding? How is that allowed in a relationship?- It's not!"

Crossing your legs, you shrug as a way to answer her. You really did wonder what was going through his head when he did that. Sadly, you couldn't believe a word he said after you found out what he did.

Maybe that's why you were fine with ending things- because the trust was slowly disappearing.

"Not to mention he would always be with her and ditch plans with me," you form a tight smile, trying not to make things awkward but it was too late.

Who could possible hear this and not feel embarrassed for you? Classic move on his part to follow the 'being friends with my ex is okay' stereotype, but it only left you feeling unwanted and flawed.

Were you not good enough to be in his arms all those times he ditched you for her? And why couldn't he tell you what was really going on- unless he was truly hiding something unspeakable.

"Spill the beans."

Hearing a door slam, you jump up in a daze. You could feel sleep still linger on your body as you crank your neck to the side, capturing the bright '12:47 pm' located on top of your nightstand.

Slowly yanking your body up, you don't stretch as you hurry out of your room to the living room in search of the mysterious person who was either your missing boyfriend or an intruder.

Catching sight of his bright yellow t-shirt as he opens the refrigerator, you could feel your body boil up. "Where have you been? You snuck out last night without even telling me- do you even understand how worried I was?!"

Watching as he gradually turns his head to face yours, Pedro closes the fridge before leaning against the kitchen counter- completely relaxed despite your current state.

"I was out with friends," he declared, grinning to try and take pressure off from you- it didn't work. "I'm sorry, I will tell you next time. I didn't mean to worry you, my love."

Placing your hands on your hips, it pains you that you secretly don't believe a word he's saying. Normally, if this were the case, he would text you if you were sleeping or call you in the morning to inform you with what he'd done.

He did neither one.

Maybe you should test him? Ask him questions and see if he'll freeze up?

"And who were you with?"

He smiled, grabbing a cup from the pantry while easily answering, "Diego and Oscar- we had a couple of drinks and Oscar thought it would be best I stay the night."

Nodding swiftly, you examine him to see if there were any signs of him lying- there weren't. Fuck, you forgot he was an actor. It's literally his job to control his emotions! "And why didn't you call or at least send a simple text?"

After hearing your words, Pedro sends you a small smile before gently placing his cup down. Walking up to you, he opens his arms. "Baby, is that why you're so upset? Because I didn't call?"

Before you could answer, he engulfs you in his arms before swaying you both around. Feeling vibrations as he let out light giggles, you instantly dropped any suspicions you may have had because he had to tell the truth- he would never lie to you.

It's surreal how easily you could throw any convictions out the window when he touched you. It's like he jogged your memory.

"Well, why didn't you at least text?"

Removing his head from your neck, he squeezes you waist and sends you an amused smirk . "Because I was insanely drunk and if I would've used my phone it probably would have resulted in me leaving you hundreds of drunk voicemails confessing my love for you."

"And that's bad?"

He chuckled, shaking his head before pinching your side. "No, but it sure as hell is annoying."

Standing up straighter, you cautiously nod at his answer and watch as he lovingly smiled down at you. "Okay, I believe you."

"Did you really believe him?" Andrew asked.

"I call bullshit," Florence confidently declares, strong on her view that Pedro was not an honest person.

"Let me finish the story!"

Loud footsteps could be heard near your hallway as you stood behind the oven, trying your best to not burn these damn chocolate chip cookies.

Such a basic recipe yet so complex- it was truly aggravating.

"Y/n? Where are you?!" you heard you assistant squeal from a distance.

Trying to properly put your mitten on, you murmur a small "kitchen" before preparing yourself to open the oven. The amount of times you burned yourself thinking it was cool enough not to wear protection-

Point is- always wear protection.

Opening the oven door, you pull the tray of freshly baked cookies towards you as the footsteps became clearly audible. Right when the cookies were in your grip and being lifted, you heard your assistant yelp-

"Pedro was caught leaving his ex's house two days ago."

Throwing yourself up into a standing position, you forget about the tray of cookies until you feel the burning sensation upon your left arm. You accidentally pulled the tray too close to you. "Ow!"

Instantly panicking, your assistant rushes to your side in support and grabs a towel to fill with ice. Pressing downwards on the wound, you wince at the pressure that was building.

"What the hell are you talking about?" you still question, extremely curious to uncover what this situation was.

His ex? That's absurd, he hasn't dated anyone in years when you first met. It's definitely not like he was in contact with them when you made it official, he was always firm when it came with communicating with past relationships.

That was a big no-no, especially when one of your ex's tried reaching out after your last movie dropped. Pedro made it very clear how unhappy he was when he made an appearance at your premiere- your boyfriend not daring to leave your side and even blocking your view whenever your ex had the chance to gawk you up close.

At the time, people thought Pedro only attended because he was close with the director and has always been friendly with other actors. Little did they know he was being extra friendly with you behind the curtains.

"Someone snapped photos of him outside of her door! It looks like he just woke up, too." Grabbing the phone from her hands, you pull it closer to your face and watch what the screen uncovered.

There he was, your boyfriend of two-years smiling brightly as he steps outside her door in the clothes he wore the night before. The same ones he manipulated you with about being with Diego and Oscar that night.

Not just that, but peering on the side of the door was indeed his tall, beautiful ex who definitely aged like fine wine. Hell, she was gorgeous and everybody knew that.

And the fact that they broke up due to their long distance, at the time, did not help this situation. Now that they lived a few cities away, what now? Were you just a doormat he could walk all over and eventually throw away whenever he wanted something new?

Placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, you refuse to take your eyes off the screen as your assistant begins speaking. "Did you know he slept over?" Glancing up, she takes your downcast face as an answer and swiftly pulls you in a tight hug. "Oh no, I'm so sorry."

You were sorry for yourself, too. How could he lie right to your face so easily knowing he was doing it- intentionally. And the most fucked up part was he probably knew you would believe him- just like all the other times you did.

"I saw that picture!" Andrew exclaimed, bewildered at his recollection. "I thought the paparazzi caught him lacking after a hook-up- damn, I wish I would've known you were together sooner."

"Same, I would have unfollowed him," Florence added. "And nobody would've known it was because of you- since you two never been public."

Forcing a smile, you give her a tiny nudge on the arm. "Gee, thanks for being so considerate."

"Continue!"

"Open the god damn door, y/n. You are being overdramatic- it was one night! Nothing happened!" Pedro yelled, pulling the car handle harshly as you searched through your bag that sat on your passenger seat- looking to see if you had everything you needed before your flee.

Let's just say, things were pretty...eventful once you discovered his scheme.

For starters, after bawling your eyes out on your poor assistant's shoulder, she made her departure in order to clean up the spare bedroom she offered you to take if you weren't comfortable staying at your own place.

You accepted.

Once she was out the door, you fled to your bedroom and grabbed any suitcase close by and began stuffing it to the brim, not caring how disorganized it was professing as you reached for more clothes.

You were almost done packing your second bag full of makeup and bathroom necessities when you heard your front door open. Jumping up, you felt your eyes widen once you heard your name being chanted on by your boyfriend. "Y/n?!"

"Fuck," you whispered to yourself, drastically glancing around your now messy bathroom to make changes to your plan- only take things you really need.

Seconds pass and you find yourself zipping your bag and rushing out the door, that was until your body roughly collided with another- causing you to drop your belongings and land on the floor. Groaning, you hesitantly rise, immediately finding your boyfriend's body nearing yours as he pleads to help you off the ground.

"Baby, I'm sorry! I didn't see you coming out," he apologizes, using his fingertips to clasp your forearms to level you. "Look, I need to tell y-"

"Get off of me," you grit, forcibly slapping his palms off you, causing him to cease and stare stunned. He has never seen you once be this aggressive. Sure, you would reject his embrace whenever you two fought here and there, but slap? Not ever.

Brushing roughly past him, you gripped your larger suitcase by its handles and made a beam to the closest exit. You couldn't be around him, not when thoughts of him being unfaithful constantly drowned your head.

A strong tug of your makeup bag made you halt your movements, not by choice, as Pedro made sure to tighten his grip to prevent you from leaving. Glancing down at his now white, clenched hands, you glare. "Let go."

Shaking his head, he stared you down- irritated that you would just pack up and leave so quickly without even hearing his side of the story. Yes, he should have told you what really happened that night- but he knew how you'd react.

It was better to keep it sealed until he was ready to unveil- or so he thought.

"You let go," he hissed, raising one of his hands and smacking yours with it. You hate how much stronger he still was while only using one hand while you had two- fuck his strength and your poor muscles.

Groaning, you dig your feet onto the ground harder as you continue your tug-a-war charade with your selfish boyfriend who didn't seem to believe space was an understandable coping mechanism after he shattered your small heart.

"Fine," you yelp, shoulders falling slightly as he eases his grip- still holding on though. "We both let go on 3."

Tilting his head, he suddenly grew suspicious by your random middle ground. He knew you well enough to know you don't give up that easily, especially when he's fully sure, by your bolting efforts, you saw the picture. "How do I know you won't just run off after?"

"You're faster and stronger than me, you'll catch me eventually."

Internally agreeing, he knew you had a point. Even if you did escape, your little legs weren't going to get you far- he knows from all the times he tackled you down after you countlessly would steal his food.

"1," you begin, eyeing him to see if he would follow.

"2," he stared at you back, cautiously watching your every step.

Taking a deep breath, you count again. "3!" With that, you release your grip from your bag and watch as he still clutches on to the strap. "What the hell- we agreed on 3 we'd both let go!"

Nervously chuckling, he placed the bag on the ground and sheepishly smiled at you. He was glad to see you finally calming down. "Sorry, I didn't think you would actually do it."

Sending him an annoyed glance, he scratches the back of his neck for assuming you wouldn't follow your word. "Trust me, I always tell the truth."

Wincing at your cold tone, he frowns by your hard demeanor. "About that- I was going to tell you-"

Softly placing a hand over your head, you release a sound of discomfort and miss the way his eyes wander in curiosity.

"Can we talk about this after I take my supplements? I am not feeling too good," you cut him off, slowly touching your forehead as you watch his concern grow. "I forgot to take them this morning."

"You know you get bad migraines when you don't take them," he declared, sighing as he raised his hand and began softly rubbing your temple in ease.

He believed you were being serene because you weren't livid and allowed him to stop you from leaving- how wrong he was.

"I know but I had a crammed morning-"

"This is why we need to hire someone to walk Leia, we don't have enough time majority of the week!" he exhales, making you stare at the floor for the point taken. But there was no way you'd hire someone to walk your dog, that's ridiculous and a waste of money. "We'll talk after, let me grab them- stay here."

Sadly nodding, you allow him to flee towards your bathroom in search for your medicine. Peering you head a few inches to the side, you wait till the coast is clear before slowly, but firmly, grabbing your once lost bag and dashing out of your bedroom.

"I almost forgot about Leia," you muttered to yourself, instantly feeling bad at the thought of how quick you were to forget your baby. How terrible of a mother were you.

And what even was more mind blowing was how Pedro didn't catch your innocent acting. Truthfully, he must be trying to be extra helpful so you would believe him. Too late.

Finding your white corgi near the kitchen, you whistle lowly for her to follow as you peddled your way to your garage. "C'mon doggie, if daddy notices our escape plan he won't let us leave that easil-"

"Y/n?!"

Jaw dropping, you shoot a glance of panic to your dog, who only blankly stares back, before rushing to your parked car. "Just like Batman and Robin- now jump in," you hushed, opening the back seat so you could not only throw your bags back there- but also your tiny-legged corgi who struggles at first, but eventually makes it in.

Once you jumped into your seat and turned on the car, you catch a breathless Pedro rushing out through the door to your side. "Fuck."

"You tricked me!"

"You slept with another woman, asshole!" you yell back, glaring as he rolled his eyes- outraged by how unreasonable you were becoming. All he wanted to do was sit you down and have a normal conversation about this, but instead you kept running away.

Once again, he thinks you need to work on your communication skills.

"You used your failing health to your advantage- how sick are you?" he yelped, offended.

"They were gummy supplements!"

Touching your car door, he sternly peers at you as you quickly lock your doors in case he tried opening it. "I did not sleep with another woman," he started, inhaling strongly before releasing it. "Why would I do that when I am in a committed relationship? Huh? Do you think I am capable of cheating?"

Shrugging innocently, you pull a sarcastic face. "Not sure, I do know you're capable of lying- maybe infidelity is the cherry on top?"

Mouth gapping, he sends you a look of hurt and for a second you feel terrible by your choice of words. In your heart, you wanted to take it back- but your head thought otherwise.

"I would never be unfaithful to you- that's not who I am," he firmly states, feeling like absolute shit that you would even accuse him of being with another woman when you were all he thought about every single second of the day.

Dryly chuckling, you nod along to his words. He feels his heart ache, as if hundreds of knives jabbed through the delicate muscle by your painful mien. Did you really think that lowly of him?

"That's who you are to me now."

Once those words flew out of your mouth and he was able to process it clearly, he paused. Whole body turning stiff and cold, he scolded you profoundly before fiercefully charging towards your car door and pounding for entrance.

It was like a nerve was touched and he was not willing to be forgiving anymore. You struck him hard and he knew you meant it out of pure anger- not genuinely, but his awareness soon became replaced with treachery and he so badly wanted you to pay for your foul words.

"Open the god damn door, y/n. You are being overdramatic- it was one night! Nothing happened!" Pedro yelled, pulling the car handle harshly as you searched through your bag that sat on your passenger seat- looking to see if you had everything you needed before fleeing.

Mentally checking off your items before departure, you inhale sharply before lowering down your car's mirror and pressing your garage remote- allowing the door to gradually rise and Pedro to panic.

Cursing in his head, he couldn't let you drive away or else he might never see you for days and he couldn't bear the thought of you moping around in agony without at least hearing from him- the man in the picture- what actually happened that night.

Pressing on the lever and angling down to reverse, you nervously press on the gas and allow your car to drift back as your poor dog watched through the backseat his dad embarrassingly urging you to not go.

You prayed the neighbors couldn't hear a thing, if the cops came you're sure you would never go out in public for at least six months.

Realizing that it was now or never, you see from the corner of your eye a figure running towards the back of your car before a loud thump was heard.

Shakily, pressing on the brakes and putting your car on park, you jump out in horror by the sight of legs near your back tires.

You hit him.

"Shit!" you gasped, involuntarily sprinting- as if your body just knew how to react- and dropping down to your boyfriend's lifeless body-

"You ran him over?!" Andrew and Florence shrieked, interrupting your storytelling, causing you to glare and shush them.

"Shut the fuck up- it's getting to the interesting part!"

Hugging his body tightly, you could feel your face began to fall down and your body slowly begin to tremble. In a matter of seconds, you just knew your garage wasn't going to be a pretty sight to see.

Hitching your breath, you run your hands to your boyfriend's chest and shake him softly in hopes he would open his eyes- he didn't. With tears flushing down your face, you sniff as you grip onto him harder. "Please w-wake up," you begin, trying your best to keep your touch on him but you were a jittering mess. Not being able to stay still, you press your ear over his chest to see his he still had a pulse.

Sighing in relief, he did.

Squeezing his face, you frown as his expressionless face stills. Realizing he might have passed out over a concussion, your lips begin to tremble as you finally breakdown in tears and cradle him.

Leaning over from his side, you bend your body and embrace his head into your neck. "I am such a-a fucking idiot," you squeak, your eyes shutting as you don't have the power to keep them open. "I-I love you- I should've just stayed and t-talked-!"

Cutting yourself off, you ironically feel like the lifeless one despite your literal unconscious boyfriend being in your arms at the moment. Bitch, you really had the nerve. Swiftly kissing his cheek, you plunge yourself into his neck and cushion him with your body- being as fragile as ever when handling him.

Quivering in misery, you keep a strong grip onto him before you felt pressure along your side. "It's been minutes and you still haven't called 911? I could've been dead by now."

Screaming, you instantly drop the figure once on top of you and force your thighs to back up, causing you to sit perplexed on the concrete floor.

Glancing back up, you find your boyfriend brightly grinning your way, using his arms to hold his upper portion up as you looked back in confusion. Didn't you hit him?

"I was my own stunt double for some scenes," he speaks up, smiling to himself proud as you continued staying still, confused as to what had just happened. "As long as you have the right mentality- you can take a pounding."

Registering where he was going with this, you scoff and quickly allow your feet to hit the ground. Following after you, Pedro jumps at your unpleased sight and watches as you cooly open your back door to let your dog jump out before marching towards the door to your house.

"Wait? Are you mad at me for that, too?" He calls out, tilting his head in question and proceeds to get his answer by the slamming of the door behind you. "Never mind."

Angrily storming through your hallway, you accidentally run into the wooden desk placed against the wall. "Ugh!" you scream, turning around and giving it one hard kick before making your way towards your destination- the kitchen.

"What did the desk ever do to you?" Pedro mumbled to himself, stopping right by it once you were out of sight and fixing it back up against the wall, making sure the books settled on top were nested properly before going after you.

"So that's why one of the legs is chipped? I noticed that-"

"Shut up, Andrew."

"Sorry, go on."

Finding you near the blacked marbled kitchen bar, Pedro ceased his movements. To be honest, he was nervous to confront you. Not only did you find out he slept at his ex girlfriend's house, but he made you believe he was dead.

This was not going to end well.

"How could you do this to me?" He hears you ask, you back being in his peripheral view as you leaned your body over the counter, hands gripping the ends roughly.

"Do what?" he idiotically responds back, mentally slapping himself for having the audacity to question something he surely knows.

Slowly turning around, capturing his soft yet worried eyes, he catches onto your tear ones and breaks down on the inside. "Tell me the truth." you gulp, averting your eyes to your feet as you sense him bobble his head. "Did you sleep with her?"

Choking on air, he frantically shakes his head in dismay, not believing you would actually think that despite the past half an hour of him comprehending that you might so. Maybe he just couldn't believe it would ever come out of your mouth- but this whole situation made him nauseous.

Steadily finding his balance, he inched towards your frail body as you kept your contact with the floor strong, not daring to move it even when the sight of his shoes play in your mind. "Honey," he lowly calls out, lifting his fingers to your chin and hastily bringing your vision to his own. "No- I did not sleep or engage in any sexual nor romantic activity with her."

"Then why did you go to her house and not tell me?!" you cried, nudging his hand off your face, him immediately aiming towards your waist to still have you near. "Why would you do this to me? Why would you sleep over when you know how I would feel?"

"I can't tell you," he confesses, whispering softly. Feeling your face fall, you erupt into tears again as you lift up your palms to hide behind them.

Hiccuping, your hands twitch as they support your weight and force you to fall on top of the counter and continue watering your tears there. Everything was unfair and he couldn't seem to realize how bad your fights have progressed throughout the months.

"If you really care about me," you whimper, still behind your hands as he rubs circles on your waist. "You would consider my feelings and understand why I should know what you did with her."

Sighing, he releases you waist and rubs his forehead in frustration. Pedro wasn't the type to hide things in relationships. In fact, he was amazing when it came to expressing feelings and being honest while you were the same- but you typically took longer to reveal your troubles than he did.

But no matter how loyal he was to you, it wasn't his place to share someone else's business no matter who the association may be.

"I know, baby. I know- believe me," he whispers, pulling you in for a hug and lifting you off the counter as your sobs were felt among his chest. It broke his heart. "But I can't betray her, she needed me and trusted me to see her. I can't just deceive her."

"But you can do that to me?" you reply, catching him off guard as he shuts his eyes tightly by how accurate you were being. "It's okay, I understand."

"No," he shakes his head, groaning before staring you down. "You don't understand, hell- I don't understand this either. But what I need you to know is I did not kiss, flirt, wink, tease, or touch her in any sexual way. We did not have sex - there was no removing of any clothing-"

"Then why did you sleepover?!"

"She needed me," he simply replies, causing you to laugh ridiculy.

"I needed you and you left me," you spit out harshly, not believing how he could defend himself and think you would ever fine with it.

Grunting, he runs his hand over his hair before pouring all of his stress onto you. "What do you want me to do? I told you what happened- she needed me, I helped her, it took longer than expected so I fell asleep on the couch- do you want to touch my knotted back for proof? Because you can!"

"Why am I the one being yelled at?" you respond, watching his face fall in disappointment.

Staying in your position for a minute or two, you continued examining him as he did the same, not knowing where this was headed. That was until he motioned with his hand for you to move closer.

"Come here."

Furrowing your brows, you pause at his words. Did he think hugging was going to solve all of your problems- because it wasn't. "No-"

Feeling his arms glide up along your upper body and finally wrapping around your shoulders, he pressed you up against his chest into the warmest bear hug you might have engaged in.

It was...peaceful.

Sighing, he felt your body soften by the touch. Relaxing, you closed your eyes as he made it his mission to not ease up on his grip. "I didn't do anything with her," he whispers, laying his face comfortably on your shoulder. "I promise, I love you."

Sadly, his confession made you break down more as tears flooded your face and your body fell upon his grip. Easily wrapping his palms on the back of your head, he cradled you tightly and never left your sight once the rest of that day and week.

And that's how that fight ended- with you trusting his sweet nothings and letting him take over your body with his hugs and kisses because he somehow made you believe him.

Every single time.

You wish you could have moved on from that topic that night as you allowed him to show you how much he loved you, but unfortunately that wasn't an option.

Especially when paparazzi exploited more pictures with him and his ex the following weeks later.

"And what about your last fight? You know- the one that ended things," Andrew started, making you halt. "What happened then?"

Quickly standing up, you brushed your sweatpants down before sending him a tight smile. Now that you talked about sad memories you hadn't really thought of in months, you knew the mention of your last fight would only break you.

You weren't ready to undergoing the same pain you felt that night.

"I didn't know these talks about my past would take a toll on me, but they have. I don't want to talk about it, but I appreciate the two of you checking up on me- I really do, but I think its time for me to take a shower and maybe nap- it's been a tiring day."

Feeling your discomfort, Florence and Andrew exchanged a weary glance before looking back up to you, hesitantly nodding. Probably an intense memory, they were determined not to mention it again unless you came forward.

"Alright- but give us a call if you ever need a shoulder to cry on or just plain old company!" Florence smiled, wrapping her arms around you for a quick hug before pulling back. "We can even have a sleepover."

"Count me out on that one," Andrew joked, bending down to give you the same hug. "But for real, you can cry on my shoulder any time."

"Thanks," you giggle, soon following them towards your front door as they say goodbye to your dog before departing in their own cars.

What an emotional day it has been.

-

"Do I really have to go? It's no use- I already seen the film. I don't want to rewatch it," you whine as your manager hushes you.

Walking down the side of the theatre, you clutch onto the oversized, black leather jacket you were wearing as your manager and assistant walked on either side of you, directing to to the entrance of a random theatre in the city.

Since the Oscars, nothing has really changed. It's been about three weeks now and there wasn't chaos anymore- it seemed like news about that night had already faded.

Regularly, you did chat with Florence, Shailene, and Andrew on the phone- individually at times throughout your past weeks- but nothing too crazy.

You all had your busy schedules and your manager was still being as hardworking as ever trying to exploit more of you to the press and on the screen. Safe to say, every time she had news it would always be something impressive.

Except for today, when she proudly announced after barging into your house during breakfast that there was a new film premiere you had to attend.

It's not like you opposed the idea- but you watched the film when the production team invited you to their private screening. It would be useless watching it again.

But as persistent as ever, your manager claimed there would be great press and directors attending the public's premiere, following with "an Oscar-nominated actress like you must make themself remembered."

As dramatic as always- but at least she was highly active in your career.

She did everything to make you get noticed, especially when you were at your lowest point mentally after your breakup.

Now onto past relationships, you hadn't heard any news regarding Pedro since you last saw him. Not that you wanted to, but for some reason he was still on your mind. Due to the fact you did sit with your friends ranting about your shared troubles, that's likely the reason.

But all jokes aside, you seriously can't stop thinking about him.

However, you were too scared to admit this to anyone. You tried telling Florence, but every time you mentioned his name she would immediately disregard him, pissed by how he treated you.

Which you loved that she had your back, but you needed someone else to have his own- oddly.

Maybe it was your head deep in thoughts that revealed how you were feeling, but your assistant seemed to notice that you weren't okay- mentally.

After checking in and finding a small crowd, you accepted that maybe most of the audience were in their seats already despite the film starting in almost an hour. Nudging you once your manager left to find one of the producers, you glanced at her as she motioned you to move towards the wall.

"What's up?"

She made a face, practically laughing at your question before continuing on. "Why don't you tell me 'what's up?' The whole ride here you've been silent and I know it's not because you were tired- you slept all afternoon, what's really up?"

Chuckling, you roll her eyes at how nosy she was being- but you knew she only wanted to help you. After working together for years, it was a ritual both of you performed: don't let the other be sad.

Surprisingly, it worked every time. She would hide you from people who upset you while you let her have more vacation days whenever she felt the same.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're thinking about him, huh."

Eyes widening, you shake your head quickly as she laughs at your poor attempt of denying her idea. But she knew right from the moment you got lost in your head that he was the one to blame.

"Don't worry, I won't tell," she whispered loudly, causing you to shove her as she laughed louder.

"Shut up, someone might hear you," you hiss, watching as she tried holding her breath to stop herself from cackling again. She just looked like a fish in need of water.

"Don't think about him then," she teased. "If it's making you lost in your thoughts! Wait- why is he in your head? I thought you hated him?"

Coughing, you shake your head. "I don't hate him- I could never."

"Never?" she raises a brow in shock. "I think we're seeing some progress here. You're falling back in loveeeee with him."

"No way," you scoffed as she grinned heavily. "I'm just thinking about the Oscars since that was the last work-related event I've been to since today and you know- he was there so he ended up in my mind...for a little."

She slowly nods, teasing a smug as makes it pretty clear she did not believe one word you said. Your assistant has seen everything, so she is quite familiar with your thoughts regarding Pedro.

She knows when your happily, sadly, angrily, and crazily daydreaming about him. In this case, she's stuck between happily and crazily- not seeming to find any hints of fury and sorrow through your expressions.

But definitely warmth and frustration- all due to him not being able to leave your head.

"When are you just going to admit you still love him?" She blurts out, causing you to snap your heard towards her. "Everybody sees it, you obviously have a soft spot for him if you let him be near you."

"Near me? He's never near me," you laugh. "And I never show signs I want him back, I don't. I made it clear for months now after perfectly avoiding him at all costs."

"Yeah, but he's still on your mind- that must mean something," she declares, causing your small grin to fall into a tight line.

That must mean something.

Did it?

Shaking that thought away, you reject her idea. "It means he traumatized me."

"It means you're in denial and scared to be with him again," she replied, placing her hands on her hips. "Look, I just know you two are meant to be. Next time you see him, talk to him. Tell him how much you care for him- even if you don't want to admit it in a lovey-dovey way. It can be friendly!"

Giving her a strange look, she lowers her energy quickly before looking around the room, making sure no one saw how enthuastic she became.

"You get the point!" she rolls her eyes. "Just be nice, maybe the both of you can form a friendship or just drift apart knowing there's no hard feelings."

"But there is hard feelings," you declared, pointing out the obvious.

There is a reason why you two broke up, like there is also a reason why you despise him. It all comes down to history and actions, which you've both experienced- which is why, again, you broke up.

"Just..." she started, thinking about it for a second before sending you a sincere glance. "-give it a shot. If you don't hate him, like you said, it wouldn't be terrible to be civil."

Slowly nodding, you understand where she's coming from. This tension between Pedro and you was getting old, and the fact it was only you adding fuel to the non-existent fire since you've broken up is sad.

Especially when all he's been around you was sweet and considerate of your feelings, leaving you alone when he felt your energy- except for that one night, but you have to admit that was your fault for riling him up.

The roughness of heels came marching your way, forcing the both of you to instantly lift your head- finding your manager striking a fake breaming grin with two men beside her. She was trying too hard.

"Girls! This is Greg and Shawn- the writers of the film!" she exclaimed, fluttering her lashes rapidly as both men awkwardly raised a hand, waving it.

Releasing a tiny chuckle, you do the same as your assistant walks closer, sticking out her hand to fully gain their attention and introduce herself.

What can you say- she was a charmer.

Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, your manager slightly pulls you closer to the strangers and strangely bobbles her head- preparing whatever gibberish was about to spit out of her talkative mouth.

"Y/n- the boys thought it would be a great idea to sit in the vip selection among other A-listers- isn't that just lovely? We are very grateful for your offer-"

Boys? Oh god- now she was bonding for her hopeful chances of getting a call for an audition.

Compelling a sweet smile, you feel the only possible response you could give them was a meaningless 'thank you so much' after she literally put you on blast to communicate more. The funniest part about this situation was- you already watched the film!

Clearly you never met these writers- but instead the director himself! Your manager should be satisfied enough with that.

"Would you look at the time,-" Greg- you believe, softly gasps while raising his arm to examine the tiny apple watch planted. "Guests are probably filling up in their seats by now, terribly sorry- but we should probably go."

"I hadn't realized how close we were to showtime- we certainly must continue off our conversation after the film is over!" Shawn proclaims, making your manager nod far too quickly. "I look forward to meeting again."

With that, the two men inclined their motions of farewells before taking off down a dimmed hall, likely finding the exact destination set to premiere their comedic film.

Sighing, you send daggers to your managers who barely blinks before coughing out a swift, "What?"

"You really couldn't wait till after the film was over to sweet talk them?"

Dramatically rolling her eyes at your annoyance, she waves you off by your sudden introversion. It was her job to throw her best compliments about you too them, and she knew you were still too young to understand that everything she did was for a cost.

You.

"C'mon grumpy, let's locate the theatre before you start whining that your feet hurt, too."

Feeling your mouth slightly drop from her remark, you hear your assistant cackle right beside you, using her right palm to hold in her giggles while you mentally prepared for what comeback to throw her way.

You got nothing.

Huffing, your legs followed hers as she guided the two of you towards the same hall the men approached minutes before. The closer you've walked, the larger the capacity gathered around.

For such a low-budget film, it sure did gain quite the crowd.

As the rolling of the ending credits flooded the screen once you sat the last two and a half hours trying to act as if you didn't know what was coming next, you wish you had it in you to say the second time made up for the first- but it didn't.

There we have it, tonight was just not your night and endlessly enough- you couldn't blame it on some silly excuse of watching the same film over again.

Not even your assistant's sneaky offerings of her red licorice lifted your blues- and that speaks enough volume to say the least.

"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" the whole-heartedly voice of your manager's voice filled your ears as the three of you sat in the same lobby as before, still not finding a way to escape a cold room.

Oh how you abominated the sharp hits of the air conditioning- it frankly made coming to the theaters a horror unless layers of clothing and a blanket was tagged along.

"Why can't we leave? The film is done and people are walking out."

"We still have to talk to Shawn and Greg!" your manager declared, presenting a look of pure determination to get her way with their levels of skill.

Groaning, you throw your head in absolute exhaustion. Fairly, if your manager hadn't had made such an early visit during the morning hours you're sure you would've been in a better mood.

It was like the more you interacted, the less energy you had to give.

In order to survive the next few hours, you needed your phone or who knows how your fake laughters will sound.

And you call yourself an actress.

Sliding your hand to the back of your pockets, you wait for the feel of your large iphone to surface- but that moment never comes. Swiftly, you check your leather jacket ones just in case you slipped it there without realizing.

You didn't.

Anxiously glancing towards your assistant, your trembling hands find her arm. "Have you seen my phone? It's not on me."

Examining your hands before meeting your eyes, she shrugs it off. "Relax, no need to have a nervous breakdown- I'm sure you left it in the car with your bag-"

"No, I had it on me during the previews."

"We did go to the bathroom, too- why not just go check those two places?" she suggests. Concerned filled you, hoping nobody was capable of actually stealing your phone- it would be such a hassle getting another one. "I'll check the bathroom, you check our seats."

Agreeing, the two of you sneakily escape your manager when her back was turned, unpleasantly speed walking down the familiar hall before parting ways to your needed locations.

Opening the thick, black doors and striding up the long runway, your eyes are met with the same darkened seating area you were in less than twenty minutes ago.

Then and there, you use this desertion in power- running towards the middle rows consider 'vip' and begin your inspection. Fuck, you wish your had some form of light to help- you couldn't see shit.

Sliding your fingers among the seat, you lift up the cushions in hopes it mysteriously pops up, but all you find is pieces of popcorn and gum glued down.

Gross.

Feeling your eyes begin to water, you were sure you were seconds away from crying like a little kid over the loss of your beloved possession before you heard a deep voice call out for your attention.

"Is this yours? I heard it ringing when I came back in and- uh," the person froze, not having the ability to finish off their sentence as you gradually lifted your body off the floor into their view.

Hopelessly praying the stranger was regarding your phone, your eyes search for their hands first and there it was- your phone!

The corners of your mouth lift up, as well as the creases around your eyes as you internally cheer for your discovery. However, it faltered once you noticed a familiar tattoo laying on one of their palms. Moving your eyes up, you're sure your smile completely disappears once you recognize those brown eyes.

How did you not catch onto his voice from down there?

"Uh- yeah- that's mine," you nervously reply, choking on your words that probably made you sound like you were about to lose consciousness by how strung you were, and hesitantly reach out for the device.

Pedro quietly lets you grab it, not saying one word as your hands collide for a split second before the object was back in your own. You didn't miss the name that appeared on the lit up screen when touched- your assistant must have tried calling you to see if the phone would ring in the bathroom.

Smart.

Avoiding awkward farewells, Pedro swiftly turns around and makes his way down the theatre stairs, not daring to continue on with the barely existing conversation you shared. He's leaving, that fast?

Thinking about all your past interactions, he would always try to chat with you- even when you did give him the coldest shoulder of all time- because that's who he was: kind.

But now he's...walking away?

"Hey- uhm," you begin, following clumsily after him, almost tripping on one of the steps as he reaches his final steps and doubtfully turns your way. Once you stood another step ahead of him, you feel that swirling feeling in your stomach again.

You were nervous- you've never felt this way around him during your breakup- never.

Adjusting your arms inside your jacket, a small smile is extracted out of you as you watch his stay flat. He did not look interested one bit and it frightened you to death. "Thanks for finding my phone- I-I was really scared there for a minute."

Not reacting to your little laugh at the end, he replied- dull. "I didn't know it was yours, I would have given it to guest services if so."

Ouch, you're sure you're hurt expression was recognizable on the outside as much as it pained you on the inside. He really did not want to talk to you, even when you're showing your appreciation.

He really was over you.

"I know," you squeak out, not missing the way his eyes tiredly scanned your own as his body stood there stiff as ever. "I just wanted to thank you, that's all- you saved me a lot of trouble."

Coldly laughing from that, he nods. "I'm sure I have."

Your body tingled with rage as he carelessly ignored your warmth and threw jabs in return. "What's with the attitude? I'm doing nothing wrong here- I'm trying to be friendly."

Inching up, his face presents a sullen one and you immediately feel intimated by the height he owned and used as his advantage. Just the first few seconds before he spoke alone made you feel his displeasure. "And what about all those times I was friendly? I received shit so forgive me for allowing you to experience the same treatment you give others."

Loss for words, you were speechless and didn't know what to say back. For one, you were alarmed by his hard demeanor he gifted to you. Second, humiliation soared throughout as he called out your imperfections.

In other words, he wanted you to know you were a bitch.

"And I take that back but-"

Pedro was about to burst out laughing in front of your face, but he held himself together in sake of your feelings. Can you believe that, despite the misery he still cared for your state of mind. "Taking back isn't apologizing."

Sneering, you cross your arms as his eyebrows furrowed in irritation. "Apologize for what? You were the one who fucked my life over."

Scoffing, he shakes his head in vexation by your lack of empathy- as always. "Countless of times we would contemplate our faults and how we could move on and now you're discounting your wrongdoings- typical."

Pedro did not want to have another unpleasant argument with you, especially in a public setting again, and decided it was best to just walk away. If he kept his mouth shut, he wouldn't make this altercation worse.

Meeting his broad back, you lightly gasp as he ignores you altogether and makes his leave far too early for your liking. Charging towards him, you feel his back solidify once your fingers yank him to a halt.

You were not done with this conversation, but you did know once you got home you were definitely going to regret how toxic you were radiating in the room.

"Typical? What do you mean by that?"

"Knock it off and let me walk away, y/n," Pedro warns, still facing his back towards you after blocking your attempts of moving him. "We both know how badly this will end."

You know, but for some reason you don't want him to leave. Was that so bad?

"No, I wanna hear exactly what you have to say about me- maybe it'll make me recognize the ignorant ego I have."

"You're talking out in anger, you're trying to cause a fire that I won't let you ignite," he simply replies, his eyes still not found by his hidden appearance.

Very poetic.

Scowling profoundly, you don't realize what you're doing until you're finally met with his provoked display after. Stalking around his body, you stand in front of him and jab a finger towards his chest. "You're preventing me from bettering myself, isn't that what you always wanted?"

Leaning down until his face with inches away from yours, you make out his hard features clearly now. His face expressed discomfort as his eyes creased while lifting- even his lips stayed hard as a rock. "I'm going to tell you one more time, let me go."

Ignoring his cold shoulder, he inhaled a sharp breath before taking matters into his own hands. You don't want to listen? Fine. But he wasn't going to let you drag him into this any further.

Right as you push another finger up against him, your wrist was taken and roughly pushed down by your side as Pedro's body practically belted against yours. "Get off me!"

"Not until you stop fucking around," he grunted, immediately widening his eyes in realization. He knows you don't like when he casually curses directly to you- even when he doesn't harm. "Sorry- I-I meant when you stop playing around."

Praying that a smile doesn't escape you, it made you feel some type of way capturing his manners and how even though you two were on rocky terms- he still had some respect for you.

"Why are we even fighting right now?" you sigh, slowly softening your muscles in forfeit.

"You tell me- it sounds like you want my attention," he casually replied, releasing your hands and stepping back an inch. "Considering you won't let me leave."

"I'm just trying to have a normal, polite conversation! Is that so wrong?"

Softly laughing, he shakes his head in disappointment. "You don't get it."

Scrunching your face, you become lost by his words. "Get what?"

Scanning the wall before meeting your eyes again, Pedro motions his hands between the two of you. "What do you think will come out of us having a conversation? Acquaintances? Maybe a friendship?"

Thinking about it for a second, you feel your head eventually nod as he squeezes his eyes shut in return. Was that not what he's been trying to do- end in good terms? "It's what's healthy for us."

"Us?!" Pedro groans, sending you a tired gaze that had you weak to the knees. "There is no 'us' anymore. You made that perfectly clear after causing a scene last month in front of your friends."

"I didn't plan on that happening a-"

"I'm even letting go the bigger scene you caused inside the after party- isn't that enough to understand why I feel this way?" he adds on, frustrated that you would think otherwise.

You were the one who caused the attention and brought a bad look on his name. He should be shouting at you like you would have done to him if the roles were reversed.

"I'm not saying we should get back together, all I want-"

"-is a friendship? Some sort of relation that won't make us strangers?" he interjects, causing you to stay silent. That was all he needed to understand what you really wanted: not to let him go. "Look, we had our history, but I don't think it's good we keep in contact anymore."

You swear you felt all air leave your body as your face felt cold. Was he breaking up with you- in life itself?

"I-uhm don't- I don't understand," you cough, scared to make a bigger fool out of yourself. You're sure you probably look like a ghost by how much color you've lost since his recent reveal and again- you were grateful this room was dim. "Why can't we at least be friends? Not even that- why can't we at least know we have each other in our lives? Why end up as strangers?"

"What do you mean? We hadn't talked to each other in almost a year till last month! We basically are strangers," he exclaimed, causing you to look down at your feet as your heart ached.

He wasn't wrong- you just hadn't realized he's been right. And to blame was you, not him. You pushed him away in the first place, he was only kind enough to oblige.

And it was surely pathetic how now you wanted him back in your life, even if it meant not even talking just to assure yourself he still had your back.

He didn't.

"Y/n..." he sadly muttered, trying his best not to hurt your feelings as you were still continued to stay downwards- not wanting to disclose more hurt. "You didn't even say happy birthday to me, how can you be considered a friend? Friends don't do that, not to me at least."

This caused you to glance back up to him, disagreeing immediately as to what he was trying to get at. Of course you knew it was his birthday, you celebrated two with him in the past! "I didn't want to make things weird-"

"You never do but still avoid me like the plague and breakdown whenever I'm too close to your liking. I'm sorry for trying to do what's best and leave us in the past,-" he explains, closing his eyes in discomfort, "-but I can't keep letting this go on. I'm too old to be going back and forth as if this is some high school relationship- it's not."

High school relationship- you never knew simple three words could have you shrinking in guilt.

"And I know things will be easier for you when the time comes- I won't be around to nag you," Pedro tries to lighten up the mood but you can't break the line upon your lips. You were emotionless and it made Pedro upset.

Why would he be upset? You finally deserved learning your lesson after treating him as if he was nothing to you. But despite all your flaws, he still cared for you.

He cares so much that he's willing to let you go so you can do better things in life- without him.

Trying to find the right words to say, you give up. There isn't much to discuss now that he wants nothing to do with you.

You fucked up- for real this time.

In fact, you shouldn't even be hurt- you wanted this. Or at least that's what you thought before last month when he wasn't on your mind 24/7.

Maybe it was the way he begged for your forgiveness after not seeing each other for so long that made you realize how badly you adored him nearby.

Maybe it was the attention he was giving you after you continuously rejected his pleads, furthering the argument until he stormed off in the end.

And maybe you should've took his concluding estrangement announcement seriously before he left you last month.

But just like they say, you never know what you have until it's gone.

"I see," you quietly respond, slowly nodding as a faint grin forms among Pedro's lips, appreciating your cooperation over this mess. "Maybe it is best if we stray away from each other- you can even delete my number."

"I already have," he accidentally blurts out, not realizing how bad that sounds until he hears it himself and cringes. Your sufferable reaction didn't make things better.

"You know what," you fake a laugh, trying to calm your voice as you feel it about to crack any second. The tears were heading your way- you just knew it. "Fuck you."

Pedro's face falls, taken back by your inappropriate language. "Excuse me?"

Noticing your rushed attitude, he wanted to stop you and tell you everything was alright. That everything was going to be easy and how the two of you would get passed this.

But he knew he'd be lying.

"You heard me, fuck you," you casually slip out, scoffing as his eyes darken. "For someone who's so kind to others, I would have thought you would know what words were right to say."

"You're one to talk, sweetheart," he chuckled, staring at you in repulse. "Every time you talk you always have to neglect someone else, I'm fucking glad I don't have to witness that ever again."

"Me too, my family was right- you are a joke who wasted my time."

With that, you make your leave to have the chance of having the last word. Maybe if you left this room faster he would forget about your comment. You knew it was harsh but you didn't know what else to say.

You wanted him to hurt- but to what extent?

Your arm was instantly tugged as Pedro pulled you back, not letting his grip go as his face was still filled with resentment. "And your team was right, you are a bitch."

Freezing, you stare at him in shock as his face doesn't fall once. What the hell is he talking about? "Get away from me or else-"

"Or else what? Weren't you the one physically blocking me from leaving minutes ago? What has changed?" he tries to smirk, manipulating you into believing how ruthless he could be when really he was dying to tell you the act he was pulling. "Cat got your tongue?"

Your face felt hot with rage as you yanked your arm off his hand, catching him by surprise as you glared at him. "I'm so glad I never took you back, you're fucking pathetic."

"And I'm insanely glad you didn’t, saved thousands returning that fucking ring."

Those twelve words made you halt and even made Pedro speechless. By the staggered look planted on his face, you could tell he didn't mean to say that.

Ring? As in, an engagement ring?

Weakly failing to stand straight, you felt your voice crack. "You were going to propose?"

Shaking his head, he swiftly backed away. "I need to go." Before you could stop him, he was already out of the theatre and probably near larger gatherings of people that would only prevent you from talking about this more.

Holding your face with your hands, you couldn't even cry. You didn't know what to do, you were utterly lost for words.

If he was really going to propose like he hinted at, what meaning did your last fight have? Nothing made sense and you don't know how you could move on from this now that he wanted you out of his life completely.

Hearing doors open, you instantly averted your gaze in hopes he had come back in and planned to properly finish what he started.

Instead, you manager came barging in while gripping onto your assistant's wrist harshly.

"Where the hell have you been?! I've been looking for you everywhere and to find out your stupid assistant-"

"Don't you dare disrespect her," you sternly cut her off, watching as her face falters by your sudden tone. "If you're here to pester us some more, feel free to walk home."

Laughing in shock, your manager tilts her head at your rudeness. "Excuse me? It wasn't my fault your assistant wondered off. After everything I have done to protect you and your career you feel the need to throw me out-"

"Did she hurt you?" you cut her off, focusing on your assistant who has gone quiet. You notice the redness on her small wrists before she slowly nods, looking down in fear your manager would try something else.

"You're fired," you simply state, pushing past your frantic ex- manager as you lightly guide your assistant out the door.

You ignore the rage your ex- manager unveils as you make it back to the lobby. Ignoring the waves random people sent your way in hopes of finding your destined car sooner so you could help your assistant with her injuries and be home already.

And in bed to think about what the fuck just happened tonight.

+

tagslist: @d4rno @ddeonmixx @sloanexx @soilaluna @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @floralsightings @prettiestmark @queereddie @beltzboys2015-blog @valopz @thhriller @lovebynorth @tomorrowseverything @cheesemittens @jasminedragoon @prettyinpunk85 @marysucks-blog @iwillbiteabitch @daddy-din @blacklist07 @amberpanda99 @sciencebros1128 @jklkverr @nini123 @miss-goldenweek @pedropascalfan221 @sagggy @aphrcdites @spacelatinos4life @esstark @tongibatongi @maviee @gimalo135 @spicymochi15 @kittenlittle24

[lynn-tged-posting]

tged webtoon ep 156 spoilers and thoughts below the cut yeah yeah yeah

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I DONT KNOW WHY BUT I THINK THE WAY HE SITS BACK HERE IS REALLY SILLY HEEHEE

also if the panels are slightly blurry uuuuuh no they're not dont worry abt it

ok back to the top bc holy shit this chapter made me crazy again

OF ALL THE CHARACTERS I COULD HAVE EXPECTED A RETURN OF. IT WAS NOT LUPELLAN

HOLY FUCKING SHIT I REALLY THOUGHT WE WERE DONE WITH THAT GUY CAUSE YKNOW. DEAD. BUT HERE WE ARE AHHHH ITS ALL COMING TOGETHER

and ohhh god the restoration of fate kicking in alongside all of this is insane ,, , god it might even happen sooner depending on how quickly they kick their plans into gear ,,, also this guy (forgot his name LMFAO) looks downright terrifying

i wonder how they'll go about it actually,,, especially since alicia has already had a dose of that like, dark magic paranoia poison back when she raided targa's castle. will she be able to combat what their planning,,, do they know she had been poisoned before? probably not, right? ooohhh im so curious to know,,,,,,,

ANYWAY AHH LLOYD AND JAVIER AHHHHHH AAAHHHH

LLOYD GETTING. EMOTIONAL OVER FINALLY BEING CLOSE TO GETTING THE ANSWERS HE NEEDS BUT THEN IMMEDIATELY PUSHING PAST IT GGGHHHRRRRR GGGG IM BITING MY HAND IM BITING MY HAND

he's finally so close . he's so close to being able to permanently protect this place that he loves so dearly . ooohhhghhh hhhhh . he's gotta pursue and continue to the end god im shaking him

AND THEN JAVIER BEING FOND OF HIM

im so sorry i dont have a lot of brilliant things to say im just. KICKING MY FEET ROLLING ON THE FLOOR IM. AAAHHHH my singular Analysis braincell hasn't kicked in yet sorry

sorry okay if i just post panels and scream i wont actually get anywhere but i REALLY liked the oneliners/jokes in this episode specifically got me giggling my ass off

AND LLOYD BEING A FUCKING SCHEMER TOO YOU ASSHOLE /AFF

TOP TIER ACTOR WHAT THE HELLL HAHAHAHA HIS SMUG ASS FACE

i remember seeing a post on twt about the episode preview and it was this left frame of lloyd crying and i was like "WTF FULLY EMOTIONAL MOMENT WITH LLOYD??" BUT NO ITS JUST HIM BEING CONNIVING AS USUAL LMAO

and javier's reaction HAHAHAHAHAHAA

OH ANDNDD AND AND MY FAV PART OF THIS EP

shaking crying at the way they look at each other oh my god . javier fully understanding lloyd . that the outcome lloyd wants isnt just one that benefits himself or the estate, but one that satisfies everyone,,, theyre on the same page they want the same thing a good ending for everyone they love im gonna lose my fucking MARBLES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE PROTAGONISTS EVERRRRRRRRRRRRRR

AND AND ANDD THE CALLUSES ON LLOYDS HANDS. IM. SHAKING CRYING AND JAVIER'S EXPRESSION AT HIS HANDS AAHHH AAA

lloyd saying this n that about being pragmatic and yet there's this blatant fucking evidence that he's been working so hard and so long for the most idealistic, best results for the people he cares about and the people he comes across no matter what . "pragmatic" and he's going about things in a long, constructive and taxing process all so that he can fight fate while also saving people instead of realistically accepting the permanence of it . this is so poorly worded but i hope u understand HOW INSANE THIS MAKES MEEE and javier catches this for sure the fucker im shaking him

AND THEIR GOD DAMN HIGH FIVE. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

"business relationship" I THINK NOT! Y'ALL HIGH FIVE'D!!! AAHHAFDLKJSDFHAHHAHAHAHAHA IM GONNA THROW UP /POS

THIS MADE ME SO FUCKING EMOTIONAL FOR SOME REASON I. GHGHGHHGHGHGHGHH the first high five they share im gonna fall apart into ten billion pieces

i said this on twt but like. if anyone suggests a high five irl i think i'm actually gonna just bawl in front of them i'm so serious llovier is a fucking plague

and their second one about the hellgate was really cute/funny LMFAOOO

this ep had me giggling and wiggling around like a fucking millipede i loved this so much HEHEHEHE

i think this is just abt the beginning of the end of the truth jewel arcs,,, god i wonder what the jewel will say!!! PRAYING that it says fate can be fought bc if it says "lol nah u cant" the devastation and anguish that would follow would be INSANE i wouldnt be able to take it. id stop reading right then and there /j

AND LUPELLAN AND THAT OTHER GUY WHAT ARE THEY GONNA DO TO ALICIA OH GODDDD

anyway that's all for now ,,,, i will see u next week, ,,,, or whenever i make my next shitpost,,,,!!!! end post!!!!!!!!!!

[sor-vette]

malady, oh, ma lady {drabble}

The ghost of you patiently waiting by their bedsides and not hovering like it usually did

• type: ot7 x reader • genre: mafia au!, (sort of) soft yandere au, angst

• c/w: grief, reader is dead (as far as they know ;) ) blood, mention of torture and violence, alcohol abuse, mention of drug use

• tagging: @introlxv; @pinkcherrybombs; @gukieater; @ilsan-seoul; @mayla548

• a/n: so this was supposed to be an intro to a multi-chaptered fic but the idea died down, still I was rifling through my drafts and liked this little piece so here it is :]

It’s a little game Jungkook liked to play - to count every sixty-sixth residential building and upon that lucky or unlucky number, he’d stop the car, slam his foot on the brakes or order the driver to do it and go seeking for you. Be it a two-floor building or a skyscraper he would knock and knock until someone came out. The game had to do with this little reoccurring dream he had. The very best dream his mind could conjure up. He would find the right building, and he would find the right apartment, and you would open the doors to him, and he’d see you once more, safe, happy, protected. And then he’d hug you so tight you couldn’t breathe, and he’d drag you back home, after all these years. But you wouldn’t be screaming this time, you wouldn’t be saying that you hate them, no, you would feel that same joy of reunion he felt.

What a nice dream that was.

What utter nonsense it all was.

He’d done it year after year, as often as he could. It was lesser than a needle in a haystack, he wasn’t even sure it was hay he was looking through but what else could he lose when all was already gone?

The others... They didn’t blame him anymore when he arrived late or lectured him about the dangers of the east coast’s most notorious criminal roaming loose around random buildings knocking every single one of its residents awake at truly ungodly hours of the night. They all coped with it differently. Jungkook knew only what Jimin did - he went to different cafés every 11th or 22nd day of the month and ordered every single thing that you had once wanted to eat. He’d sit alone during the meal, order a second one that was symbolically meant for you, pay his bill, walk through the nearest park, come back home and cry himself to sleep. What the rest did, remained a closely guarded, individual secret, but if he were to guess it was probably Jin that went to your grave. None else dared to even speak about it. Though they knew it was empty, merely a formality to give closure (which it didn’t), they couldn’t bear the pain of looking at your headstone. Seeing your name engraved upon a lifeless marble, unmoving and unchanging would be too factual for his wonderfully disillusioned fantasy.

Jin said that beneath your name there stood a simple - Darling, Dearest, Dead - the line of the book you grew up and took with you well into adulthood. You had grown up with stories written by a grieving man pouring his heartbreak into throwaway lines about a love that will never return, and now you had made them the authors of your tragic tale. They were, of course, not actual authors. There were many names for what they were - the Devils of the East Coast, demons, sadistic sons of whores. You had called them a plague, an infection. Jungkook couldn’t even be mad at you for calling them such a cruel name. Glancing back at the table of their hotel, illuminated by the soft glow of an overpriced lightning fixture, they did look like cancer spreading out its vast, malicious hands to poison otherwise healthy bodies.

The many papers of plans and scraps and photos and guns and hotel food. He smiled to himself wryly. Nothing really changed, did it? They could sleep on softer beds, could eat proper meals but at their core, they were as they had been before. He downed the drink he’d been nursing for nearly forty minutes, wincing at the hard taste of barely diluted vodka. At the very corner of the room, Jimin was staring blankly at his own glass, thoroughly out of it but remaining conscious. Yoongi didn’t even look fazed. A quality Jungkook was highly envious of. Alcohol didn’t provide him release, and neither did drugs that he tried with Hobi and Tae. Not that he ever would after Namjoon’s thoroughly spectacular wrath. He shuddered at the memory. At the time he truly thought he would kill the three. Nothing provided him release. He slaughtered, it did nothing, he tortured - it did nothing, he beat his own hands until bone peeked through the knuckles - nothing. Try as he might. The seconds in which he wasn’t actively knocked out, he thought of you.

“Jungkook, Jungkook! Are you listening?”

He turned away from the window, meeting Namjoon’s uneasy eyes. Behind him, Jin too was frowning.

Today was a good day for the rest of them. They could focus. The ghost of you patiently waiting by their bedsides and not hovering like it usually did. For them. Today had been an awful day for Jungkook, but he wasn’t going to ruin the rare moment of peace because of his own discomfort.

"Yeah, I'm listening," he replied lightly, to not upset them further. "I'll be on the roof while Yoongi infiltrates the party."

They let him go after that, but as Jungkook's mouth moved to answer his eyes imagined you still sitting among them.

It truly was such a nice thing to dream.

© sor-vette, 2022

[earlgreydream]

tame.

| zemo x reader | smut |

anon requested. bratamer!Zemo or something with Zemo and spanking

cw: spanking, whipping, degradation, gagging

“Turn it down, draga!” Zemo snapped, throwing his office door open to reprimand you.

You were stretched out on the couch, starburst candy in your mouth as you kicked your feet to the beat of loud bubblegum pop music.

You’d already been told twice to turn it down, and Zemo was at his wits end with your obnoxious behavior. He was in meetings, the underlying bass of the songs interrupting his important business.

“I did turn it down.” You rolled your eyes, practically sneering at Zemo.

“You keep up this attitude, and you’re on your way to my wrath,” he warned.

“Whatever,” you turned onto your back, draping your head off of the side of the couch.

He stared at you, trying to let his fury simmer down. He finally pulled the plug on your stereo, plunging the room into silence.

Zemo ignored your glare, unable to put up with your bratty behavior any longer. He returned to his office, apologizing to his client. They finished the meeting, and Zemo had his secretary cancel the rest of his schedule.

.

Meanwhile, you were tanning on the deck, completely bare. His clients got an eyeful as they passed your nude body on their way out, making Zemo seethe.

Before you could say something coy, Zemo’s hand wrapped around your bicep, dragging you inside.

“Helmut-”

“I don’t want to hear it. You’ve disrespected me, and yourself, and I’ve had enough!” Zemo snapped.

You dug your heels in, putting up a fight against his manhandling. You were in a mood, and you wanted to rile the stoic sokovian. Household staff avoided looking at your body as they passed, each person who got a glimpse of you— of what was his— only angered Zemo further.

“You think you’re earning yourself a good fuck, yes? That’s what you want?” Zemo snapped, practically throwing your body up against the wall, getting in your face.

You glared at him, caught in the truth. That was exactly what you wanted— Zemo to fuck you thoroughly. He made a noise of disdain, as if your very existence disgusted him.

“You selfish little brat.”

The blood in your veins turned to ice, and you started to panic, realizing you hadn’t earned the reaction you’d hoped for. His dark gaze frightened you, and you dreaded everything that was beginning to unfold.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you tried to backtrack, tears welling in your eyes.

“You will be sorry,” Zemo hissed, his chest heaving with labored breaths.

He offered no sympathy at the sight of your tears, knowing it was a ploy to get him to lighten your punishment. He wasn’t falling for it, not after how you’d repeatedly pushed his buttons and been disobedient.

“Don’t cry. I haven’t even hurt you yet,” he held your jaw in his hand.

A pathetic whimper escaped your lips, and he dragged you down a side hall in his extensive mansion, to a room you detested. Both of your wrists stayed trapped in one of his hands, while the other pulled a key from the top of the doorframe.

“No, I don’t want to go in the playroom,” you shook your head, struggling against his grip on your wrists.

He said your name in an eerily calm tone, dark eyes boring into you.

“Stop struggling.”

A strained whine caught in your throat, and he pushed you into the room ahead of him. The lock clicked behind you on the door, and your arms went around your naked body. The black marble floor was cold under your feet, contradicting the shame and dread that burned through your skin. Your eyes danced along dark walls, covered in instruments and toys hanging from hooks, to a large bed in the corner.

His hand pressed against your lower back, leading you to the middle of the room, under a honeycomb structure attached to the ceiling. He threaded red cords through it, barely looking at you as he did so.

“Give me your hand.”

You miserably placed your hand in his. Red cord was bound around both of your wrists, tied to the ceiling with just enough pressure to leave your muscles straining, and your feet unsteady.

“Zemo-”

“I don’t want to hear a word out of your slutty mouth unless it’s red.”

You pulled your lower lip between your teeth, falling silent. He walked over to a chest of drawers, pulling out tiny clamps from one of them. You squirmed even before he approached you, the chords rattling against the grate.

You couldn’t escape him, you could barely move even a few centimeters. Your lips were parted, shallow, anxious breaths being exhaled softly. Zemo carefully monitored your reactions, listening to the pained squeak that came as he closed the clamps around your nipples, the sharp pinch biting into your hypersensitive skin. A chain hung between them, and he tugged lightly on it, just to see your toes curl in pain.

You gave Zemo a wounded look, struggling to stay quiet. You knew the rules, making noise and protesting would only land you in deeper trouble. Zemo was angry, and it was not the time to test him. He traced his fingers up your side, smoothing over the curve of your body.

He broke away from you, walking over the wall where different paddles were hanging from hooks. You squirmed in dread as he took a woden one off of the wall, tiny holes in it because he knew it was the one you found the most painful. He reserved it for when you were particularly bratty, or just downright disobedient.

“Stand still,” Zemo broke you out of your spiral of pity.

You exhaled, letting your feet settle on the ground. You didn’t need to be told to count, a quiet “one” falling from your lips as he struck your ass with the wood. Your numbers got progressively more strained until you were sobbing them out, trying not to lose count as your ass burned completely raw. 

Your arms ached, held above your head as you struggled not to teeter, your feet unsteady on the cold floor. Zemo had ceased spanking you, letting you hang there. A cracked whine slipped out when he roughly pulled the nipple clamps off of you, sending a split second of blinding pain through your chest. 

“You don’t have to count these,” Zemo’s voice broke the silence, making you open your eyes. 

You shook your head, another round of tears slipping down your cheeks as he pulled a brown leather whip down. He waited for your safeword, but you didn’t speak, crying silently and turning your face into your arm. 

The leather cord cracked against your already painful skin, welts raising and making you scream into the gag Zemo had placed in your mouth. You bit down on the fabric, sobbing as he whipped you for what felt like hours, though in reality it was likely only a few minutes.

He said your name, calling out to you, but you hardly heard him over your heart pounding in your ears. Zemo pried the gag out of your mouth, tilting your head up with both hands. You blinked slowly, gasping as he released your wrists from the restraints. You collapsed, but he caught you easily, ready for it.

You were shaking in his arms as he carried you to your bedroom, gently laying you down on the bed, easing you to rest on your stomach. He kissed down your spine, laying his hand on your side. You turned your face into the pillow, ashamed of your behavior, and him seeing you so vulnerable. 

“Draga, it’s alright,” his voice soothed your insecurities, and you relaxed as he tenderly massaged cream into your burning skin. 

You sniffed softly, wincing as he gently pulled some silk shorts up over your bum. He buttoned the matching top around you, earning your thanks. You twisted to look at him, pulling him to lay down in front of you, still fully dressed in his suit.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, and he pulled you into his chest, letting you snuggle against him.

“I know, my love. It’s perfectly okay. All is forgiven,” he promised, kissing your head. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly for as long as he let you. He kissed the protests off of your lips when he stood up, promising he was just changing and then coming back. 

You laid in the white sheets, waiting for your lover to return. He slid into bed next to you, watching the way your eyes lit up at his arrival. He pressed a kiss against your mouth, smiling as you curled up to rest under his arm. 

“My darling.”

.

“Zemo?” you called, walking with a slight limp into the kitchen. 

“I’m here. You didn’t need to be up so early,” he said, looking out the window before kissing your cheek. 

“I wanted to see you,” you answered, happy you’d caught him before a day of meetings.

“See me? Why wouldn’t you?”

“Work...” you answered, looking up at him as if he’d forgotten. 

“I’m off today. What would you like to do?” he asked, turning around and placing a plate of pancakes in your hands. 

You gazed up at him, his smile reaching his dark eyes. He’d felt guilty with how much time he’d spent working. He knew that was the real reason for you acting out, and all he wanted was to make up for it and spend some extra time with you. 

“Would it be wasteful to watch films? And eat these?” You asked.

“That would be perfect,” he helped you onto the couch, making sure you were able to sit comfortably. 

You giggled as he forked a piece of pancake into your mouth, kissing the syrup off of your lips. You ate and watched the movie, gasping at the scary parts and laughing as Zemo covered your eyes. 

“I love you, you know?”

[trueshellz]

I wanna be your slave: Hanma

Warnings: murder witnessed, manhandling, forced stripping, spanking, restraints used, pet names (princess), mild dirty talk, mafia!Hanma, bondage, threats made, reader gets injured, reader crying, handcuffs used, dead body described female reader, lap sitting, aftercare (ish), knife used to cut clothes

Summary: An evening in your part time job goes horribly wrong...

Part of @httptamaki Shuffle Collab

"Please! Just for tonight, I swear."

"Bitch, no."

"Pleeeeease. Its triple pay and you get a fancy uniform since it's private party."

Tempting but-

"No. It's my first night off in 10 days, I'm exhausted."

"I'll cover your shift tomorrow."

Very tempting.

"And I'll give you the tips from it too."

Puppy eyes in full force, your best friend and roommate begged and whined at you like a lost puppy. A last minute date had meant she couldn't work and she wasn't about to cancel on the guy she'd been crushing on for almost three weeks. She had been pleading with you for the best part of an hour, following you around the apartment and dropping not-so-subtle hints in every sentence.

"Fine!" You winced when she squealed so loud you were sure dolphins in the ocean heard her. "But! You better keep up your end of the bargain."

"I will! I will, I promise. Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

A kiss on the lips and she was gone in a flurry of perfume and clothes as she stripped, screaming all the way to her room to get changed while you dragged yourself into work.

This extra shift better be worth it.

The casino was busier than usual, hustle and bustle of Friday evening as well as the private party meant that the number of bodies in the building almost doubled. Smiling as you weaved in and out, waving at your work colleagues as you made your way to the main office to get dressed only to be stopped and grabbed by the arm into a quiet corner by your manager.

"You covering the private party, right? Here's the uniform. Be on time. Put some make up on and lose the nametag. It's a classy event."

You barely had the time to respond before the dress was thrust into your hand and you were spun around towards the changing room, door closing behind you with a click. Opening the bag, you pulled out the garment and hung it on the back of the door to inspect. The dress was knee length with a slit up to mid thigh and the back so low you would have to forego the bra, the fabric so soft and shimmery it would mould and flutter with each movement you made. A loud sigh escaping your mouth as you stripped, tugging on the dress and lining your eyes and lips as per request. Hair styled and pinned on one side, mascara coating your lashes and perfume spritzed all over you as you made your way upstairs.

The room was quiet when you entered, men sat on each side smoking and chatting away, the fumes making your eyes water until you got used to it. The room was definitely fancy, gold and black decor with marble flooring and leather seats, modern but masculine artwork around the room. You grabbed the trays and the drinks menu, walking around to collect the orders and make them up, eyes scanning the room in case you were waved down again. Suddenly the aura in the room changed, it was like time slowed down as a guy walked in, sharply dressed in a three piece suit and matching tie, silver cufflinks and expensive watch shining in the dim light as he shrugged his jacket off to reveal a lean but taut build. Two toned hair combed back in a slick quiff, styled perfectly... almost as perfect as his face, dark eyes that could stare into you soul, sharp brows and a small grin on his mouth as he sat down, tattooed hand beckoning you over. It wasn't until you heard him speak in that low, baritone voice that it finally clicked.

Shuji Hanma.

Owner.

Big boss.

Mafia.

A hand on your lower back made you jump, eyes flickering left as one of the men smiled up at you in a slimy, unnerving way. Mr Hanma must have picked up on your expression, his hand moving to remove the offending limb from yours and tugging you towards him until your thigh was pressed against his arm. He was warm, almost too warm as he wrapped a hand around your hips and spoke quietly asking about your name, then your day and how you were doing, you were so caught up you missed his drinks order.

"S-sir?"

"Whiskey on the rocks please, princess. Actually, make it a double."

A small nod, polite smile before walking away only to be stopped by his hand this time tugging you back. A crisp hundred pressed into the strap of your dress, his fingers long and warm as he let it snap back into small, another grin at you this time as he nodded to the bar. You don't even remember what happened next, a flurry of limbs and shouting, something gleaming in the light and a loud bang followed by a thud. Your body wrenched sideways, an arm around your throat constricting your airflow and pulling you up so your legs were dangling. You couldn't help but claw at the assailant, nails and teeth digging into his arm until he howled in pain. The simple but loud click in your ear, cool metal pressed to your temple making you freeze in place, body still as you surrendered to the life seeping out of you slowly. Eyes closed, small whimpers as you tried to will this situation away, tears down your face and nose running as you started to cry loudly now, the words around you fading away. Shouting and screaming, banging and loud movements as you were jerked left and right by him, your body feeling less and less grounded until...

Bang.

Warm, wet and sticky hit you before your legs gave out, the arm around your neck suddenly gone allowing you to move and scamper forward. Opening your eyes to see the man who grabbed you lying on the floor, a perfect hole in his forehead as blood seeped out onto the floor, the same blood staining your arms and dress. His eyes vacant and glossed over as he lay there dead, you peered up from the ground to see Mr Hanma holding a gun, the end pointed at your bloodridden body making you cower again.

This was it.

You were gonna die and become fish food.

No one who witnessed a murder survived to tell the tale.

Willing your legs to move, you scampered across the floor towards the door, fingers reaching for the handle almost blindly. You could taste something metallic and tangy, shaking your head to will the thoughts away as you stood and reached for the handle only to have the door held in place and the your neck grabbed lightly from the back. Plan completely disrupted, your eyes closing automatically again, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks as you started babbling.

"Please don't kill me. I don't- I don't... I didnt see anything. I swear. Just let me go. I'm no one anyway. It isn't even my day to work, I'm just covering for my roommate."

"Sorry, princess. Looks like you're coming with me."

To say that Hanma was pissed would be the understatement of century, he was livid. Absolutely livid. First, he had been called in for a private poker game when he had business elsewhere, then his staff were getting groped which pissed him off something fierce. The guy was lucky he didn't have broken fingers to nurse, well the hole in the brain might be a good alternative. And then somehow, despite the shitload of security and safety he pays for, the bastard managed to sneak a gun through his casino and threatened him. To top it all off, the same staff member got assaulted was currently crouched on the floor, mumbling something and Hanma was pretty sure she was suffering from a mental breakdown of some sort. She was cowering at the door, her pretty skin covered in blood and brains from the gunshot, her eyes wides in terror as she looked back at him, lips trembling almost as bad as her hand as she tries to reach for the handle a second time.

He didn't like that look on women, he decided.

It made him feel uneasy.

"Look, we're just gonna talk ok? How about we-"

"No! You're gonna... gonna feed me to the fishes. And... and I'll never see daylight again."

Hanma couldn't help the small chuckle, head shaking in amusement as he reached for the ties in his pocket. He really didn't want to do this, but you really gave him no choice in the matter. Moving quickly, reflexes honed after years of training, he tugged your forward and zipped your wrists together in an x-formation, enough space for blood to flow but not enough that you could move. Pushing your hands over his shoulders and picking you up so repeat the process on your ankles, he wasn't quite prepared for the flurry of arms raining down on his back. While it didn't hurt, it was still annoying as fuck and made his job securing your legs so much more difficult.

"Either quieten down or I'm throwing you off the roof."

He could almost hear your teeth clamp together in shock, a loud sigh escaping him as he fastened the last tie and moved towards the elevator. Again, another empty threat... he didn't throw women off the roof, it wasn't his style but it made you shut up and that's what he needed right now. His head was throbbing from the stress, arm sore from being hauled and put into an arm lock and to top it off, he was carrying you around on his injured shoulder.

"If I put you down, will you behave?"

"Yes sir."

Elevator doors opening, Hanma placed you down before pressing for the private bedrooms above the casino, tapping in the pin code for authorisation and leaning back as it started moving. Side eyeing you, your body leaning against the railing with your head down, hands in front of you and feet barely keeping you upright due to the way he restrained you, he could see the small wobble of your lips every few seconds, then a deep breath as if you were steering yourself and gathering your strength. You jumped when the bell pinged, doors opening with a whoosh as he picked you up bridal style and carried you to one of the rooms, he could care less about the blood going on his suit. Long legs moving through the corridors, guards opening the door for him as he strode in and sat you on the sofa, kneeling to cut the ties on your feet before sitting back.

"Strip."

"What?!"

Oh god.

This was worse than you imagined.

You were going to be assaulted and then murdered?

"I said strip. I don't have all day, princess."

"No! I'm not letting you do that. No!"

"Letting me do- look. I need to check you for a wire ok? That's all."

Indignation rose up, you wriggled around until you were sat up on the sofa. The dress has ridden up exposing your legs, the slit torn almost to your hips and the back barely holding up from the rough handling. Mr Hanma had taken your shoes off when he walked through through corridors, so you were sat here in a dress and some underwear.

"Where am I hiding anything? Have you seen what I'm wearing?"

You couldn't help but jump when he stood up again, his stature more obvious now that you were paying attention. Long legs eating up the space as he squatted down in front of you, hand wrapped around your ankle immobilising it as he tugged you closer to him. You saw a flash of silver, eyes widening and breath caught in your chest as a switchblade opened and ran up your leg to the thin straps barely protecting your modesty.

"Don't move now, wouldn't want any blood spilling."

"If you're going to kill me, just get it over with."

Eyes snapping to yours, his mouth turned up in a grin as he chuckled and cut the first strap while maintaining eye contact with you. Your left breast and nipple exposed, puckering in the cold room before his hand trailed in the valley between them both. You were just done, sick of the worrying and anxiousness you were feeling, sick of the what ifs and buts swimming through your head. A huff leaving your mouth when he ran his hand on the underside, something must have given your thoughts away because he tapped your cheek to get your attention.

"If I wanted you dead, I would have done it upstairs and kept the mess localised in one place."

Another cut and your dress fell to your lap, his hands moving quickly but meticulously as he ran them over your skin, not in a perverted or slimy way at all. The movements controlled and calm like his expression, not remarks or rude comments about you being naked and not touching you more than what was needed. His hands standing you up letting the dress fall to your feet bedore turning you around and running up and down your legs. When you felt his hands on your underwear, you pressed your legs together to protect yourself with a small whine, suddenly more embarassed than before.

"No."

"You don't get to tell me 'no' here, princess. Spread your legs."

"Make me."

"You sure about that?"

"Fuck you."

A louder sigh this time, his hand stopped moving and you almost sighed in relief until heat bloomed on your left butt cheek where his hand landed with a thwack. A hiss leaving your mouth as you tried to hop away, the hands in front covering your breasts as best you could but being immobilised when another sharp slap landed on the other side. Hair whipping into your face when you turned to glare at him the best you could, his expression simply bored as he used the knife again to cut the fabric at your thighs and letting them join your dress in a shredded puddle on the floor. Your gaze avoided his as he circled you, hands flicking the knife open and close before he walked to the closet and grabbed a sheet, opening it up and wrapping it around you like a makeshift dress.

"You're clean."

"I could have told you that, idiot."

"Tsk, such a filthy mouth for an innocent princess."

You jumped a little when his long fingers tucked the end of the sheet between your breasts, moving the fabric before he hefted you up and over his shoulders again. You saw the ground move, changing into carpet before you felt yourself fall onto the bed, terror lacing your veins as you tried to scramble back the best you could. A pained hiss leaving your mouth when the ties rubbed into your skin, quickly morphing into a sound of surprise when his eyes dropped to them. You watched as Mr Hanma removed his tie, wrapping the fabric between your skin and the zip ties before laying you down under the duvet.

"Don't pull that face, I prefer my women wet and willing."

You opened your mouth to say something, words halted when a finger on your lips stopped you. Sharp eyes meeting yours as he invaded your space, woodsy and sultry scent surrounding your body as he leaned in.

"Those hands better not be injured when I come back."

"But-"

"You can shower when I return."

A wink and he was gone.

You must have fallen asleep because when you woke the moon was high in the sky, room dimly lit as the pillows next to you were ruffled and placed down. You could just about make Mr Hanma out in the darkness, his hair now flat and unstyled, casual just like his clothes. He was wearing some joggers and a vest, muscled arms on show and you could see the ink on his hands as he combed his fingers through his hair. The same hands thay reached for the zip ties, cutting them away before examining the skin there and meeting your eyes.

"I didnt-"

"Don't lie to me."

You shrugged, it'd be useless to argue with him since you knew very well what you had done. Waiting until the main room door clicked before you tried undoing the zip ties, pushing it on the bed and trying to loosen them on the frame. Then trying to cut them on the window ledge, something sharp to work through them, waddling to the kitchen in your makeshift toga before realising that he had removed all the knives and forks. Your last hope had been tightening them to snap them against your legs, but you couldn't get the right traction with his necktie and the silk sheet reducing the friction. In the end, your arms were tired and wrists were sore, skin around it red and cut up where the fabric tie had moved exposing your flesh.

"Go shower, you got 5 minutes."

"5 minutes? But-"

"Clock's already started, princess. Tick tock, tick tock."

Hands now free, you held the sheet up before shuffling to the shower and closing the door behind you. Cursing when you realised that the door had no lock, instead wedging the sheet under it so it would slow him down a little. You waited a few seconds before climbing in, watching as the water ran a coppery colour down the drain, the smell of iron filling your nostrils before the soap and shampoo covered it up. Memories of the sound, the hand around your neck and the smell of gunpowder flashing through your mind, his deep voice with a time reminded shaking you from your senses and forcing you to get moving. Wrapping a towel around yourself before venturing back to the room, you were shocked to see trays of food and drinks all around.

"I-"

"Clothes are on the chair. Food's hot so hurry up, I'm starving."

It took you three tries to get dressed, having Mr Hanma sit on the bed while you dried yourself and pulled on one of his shirts sans underwear felt way too intimate, like you were dating or something. You felt his hand tug you down onto his lap, your own hands reaching for the side of the chair to lift yourself off but you couldn't do anything to support yourself when he kicked your legs making you land with an oomph.

"Let me go."

"Say aah."

"I don't-"

"Either open your mouth for food or I can shove something else in there."

Opening your mouth wide, the implication if you refused again more than clear, you let him feed you. Fruit first, berries and peaches making his hands and your chin sticky and wet, you watched as he simply licked his fingers clean before wiping your mouth down with a napkin. Main meal next, loaded with protein and vegetables, Mr Hanma cut it into pieces and fed you again, a booming laugh when he realised the first bite was too big for your small mouth, 'my bad' was his response before cutting them even smaller. Alternating between you and him for each bite, no conversation between you, not that you knew what to talk about anyway. Dessert last, small bites of cheesecakes and tarts until you shook your head, stomach full and eyes drooping from the food coma he had put you into. You yelped again when he stood, legs dangling over his arms like a bride as he walked to the bed and lay you under the sheets, tucking them under you before climbing on it himself.

Hanma couldn't help the tut again when he saw your hands, grabbing the salve in his pocket before attempting to put it on your skin. He rolled his eyes when you tried to pull away, shoving the box into your lap before tugging your hands gently and applying it to where you had rubbed your skin raw. He was glad Pops wasn't in the country, he really didn't need to explain how he managed to not only almost kill one of his staff but scare them so much she hurt herself.

"I'll protect you, ya know. From everyone."

"What about you?" The words were whispered, so quiet he would struggle to hear them if you weren't sat so close.

"I'll protect you... even from myself."

[ignisaeri]

~

At that time, all Alatus could hear was the howling of the wind, and the screams of the Yakshas as they waged war against their karmic debts.

A blaze of crimson flame splits the night sky as the Pyro Yaksha shrieks, clawing desperately at scarlet locks of hair with bloodied fingernails, trying to rid herself of demons only she can see. Her eyes flash with the light of a thousand stars as she throws her head back, pleading with the darkness in ragged gasps to leave her, to go somewhere where they could not haunt her. She’s still begging as she dies.

~

The Geo Yaksha rests his foot against the Hydro Yaksha’s abdomen, using her still body as leverage to draw his sharpened blade out from between her ribs. His eyes stare into the distance, unseeing, pupils clouded over with an inky black, fingers twitching as they hold the weapon that had killed one of his oldest friends. The Hydro Yaksha only lays quietly, death caressing her form with its bony fingers, the pool of water beneath them tinged pink from blood.

~

The Electro Yaksha falls to his knees, gaze finding Alatus’ one last time, seemingly apologizing for leaving the Anemo Yaksha alone for eternity. His slender hands float over the blade embedded in his chest, then collapses onto his side as his last breaths leave him, currents of violet electricity flickering out into nothing. He dies silhouetted against the blackness of The Chasm, as silent as the sun creeping over the horizon, even as the battle rages endlessly around them.

~

Rex Lapis gazes at Alatus with such pity, such sadness, before smiling hesitantly, gold eyes meeting the Yaksha’s.

‘Sit, Ever Vigilant Yaksha. The archon war is over. Let us share a cup of osmanthus wine.”

“Alatus, I free you from your duty as a Yaksha. In the fables of another world, the name Xiao is that of a spirit who encountered great suffering and hardship. He endured much suffering, as you have. Use this name from now on.”

“Yes, Morax.”

~

The God of Freedom seeks him out one evening, when he’s resting quietly near the edge of a cliff, feet dangling restlessly off the side, imagining the faces of the lost Yakshas floating through the clouds. Barabatos’ braids glow a gentle forest green, and he inclines his head slightly towards Xiao as he nears.

“Alatus, correct?”

“Xiao,” the adeptus corrects him.

“Xiao,” Barbatos says, “Rex Lapis told me of you.”

~

“It was you with the flute, was it not?” Xiao tells Barbatos as they watch the workers construct a massive statue in Liyue’s center, honoring the late Tianquan. Ningguang’s placid face smiles down at them as the workers dust the marble, freeing it from dust and grime.

Venti bobs his head, gaze never straying from where Rex Lapis (now Zhongli) stands with arms folded, gaze dark. With Ningguang gone, the last of the Liyue Qixing has perished.

“Yes,” Venti says. “I saved you that day.”

~

Tonight, they drink, in honor of the dead. Zhongli gingerly holds a glass of osmanthus wine, a glaze lily tucked into his hair. “To Guizhong,” he says. “Havria, Ningguang, and Tartaglia.”

Venti hiccups, face the color of an overripe tomato, the glass of dandelion wine tipping dangerously in his grip. “To the children of Mond,” he choruses. “To the Ragvindr brothers, to Jean, to Lisa, to Noelle. To Klee!”

Baal is here tonight too, and she leans forward restlessly. “To Kujou Sara,” she adds. “To Kitsune, Chiyo, and to Sasayuri.”

Tonight should be solemn, Xiao thinks, as they list the names of their dead companions. Yet, nearly five hundred years after the last of them passed, he feels nothing but contentment.

Xiao raises his own glass. “To the traveler and his sister,” he says. “And to the Yakshas”.

~

Xiao watches as Venti’s fingers dance, weaving an enticing melody through the hollow sounds of his flute. He’s sitting against a rock, the cool water of the stream lapping at his ankles, washing against the outcropping where Venti stands, a face full of bliss as he plays.

The song is one that Xiao wished to hear, one that he had first heard from the cart of a passing merchant shortly after the end of the Archon War.

The notes seem to float away into the air as he listens, chasing away the darkness in his soul, and he closes his eyes, reveling in this small moment of peace.

~

Sometimes, when Xiao sleeps, he dreams. He dreams of a woman wreathed in fire, eyes burning tears down her cheeks. He dreams of a not-truly-there man, standing with his blade buried in the chest of a woman floating limp in blood-tinged water. He dreams of purple lightning dying as a man takes his last breaths deep within The Chasm.

~

He knows, of course, that he cannot run forever. One day, he will become engulfed by his karmic debt, like the Pyro Yaksha, or go mad and disappear, like the Geo Yaksha.

That day comes sooner than he thinks.

~

Liyue is burning. The city is just as Xiao remembers, a perfect place of beauty. If he concentrates, he can still barely remember the night of the Lantern Rite, thousands of years ago. He closes his eyes and wishes to see the light of a hundred lanterns, instead of the light of fire the buildings shudder and succumb to the roaring flame.

Zhongli stands in front of him, something akin to pain in his gaze, one arm thrown to the side to keep Venti from rushing forwards. The Anemo Archon’s eyes are wide and wild, hat askew and bow grasped in shaking hands. Baal stands straight, weapon drawn, sorrow dotting her gaze.

Fontaine’s archon, the God of Justice, flits around the backdrop of burning flame, hurriedly trying to save as much of Liyue as she can. Her hands wave, spilling waves of water over the temples and buildings, undoing the damage that Xiao caused. The Dendro and Pyro Archons are busy, pulling screaming mortals from the wreckage and destruction.

Three torches and three exploding barrels, compiled with Xiao’s anemo attacks, had set all of Liyue aflame.

There is distant screaming in Xiao’s ears, sounds he knows only he can hear. Deliriously, he recalls the Pyro Yaksha howling at non-existent demons millennia ago and wonders absently if the same will afflict him.

The karmic debt has finally taken over, and it seems to favor the path the Geo Yaksha had taken. Xiao almost laughs as he realizes this, feeling trapped within his skin as he wields his polearm, pointed unwaveringly at the archons.

“I am sorry,” he rasps. There is darkness at the edge of his sight, and the screams only intensify. He can hear individual voices now, hissing and howling and wailing, crying for mercy and death and blood.

“Do not apologize,” Zhongli says. “It is not your fault.”

“What is this?” Venti gasps, the sound echoing in Xiao’s ears. “Xiao, what is happening?”

Baal answers for him. “It is the fate of a Yaksha.” Electricity begins to crackle around her shoulders, eyes darkening to violet as she calls the power of the storm.

Xiao wants to weep at how much she reminds him of the Electro Yaksha.

Maybe, he muses, he will see his fellow Yakshas again. Maybe he’ll meet Aether and Lumine too, in the place that lies after death. He may finally meet those who used to belong to Mond, the ones that Venti talks of so adoringly.

Zhongli finally draws his polearm, an earthen pillar appearing before him, casting protective gold around the archons. Xiao knows why.

He can feel the wind gusting around him, responding to calls he does not remember sending out. Leaves swirl in the gale, and trees rip their way out of the ground. The pain in his head intensifies as the number of screaming voices triple.

Xiao meets Zhongli’s gaze. Sometime, somehow, over the years, the archons had become his closest confidants. Yet, Zhongli was always his oldest companion, so now, Xiao asks Zhongli to do the impossible.

“Morax,” he croaks, using a name that hasn’t been spoken for ages. “You must.”

Zhongli’s gaze is pained, yet resolute, and that is how Xiao knows that Morax will kill him to save the world. Baal seems to sense this too, and lightning strikes the ground not too far away, anxiously awaiting her command.

It is only Venti who has not yet seemed to grasp the situation. He frowns at both archons. “What must you do, Zhongli?”

Zhongli only shakes his head, and Xiao knows it pains him to be the one who will have to kill the last Yaksha. So he answers Venti, limbs shaking as he desperately tries to contain the whirlwind threatening to tear from his chest.

“He must kill me. If he does not, I fear I will destroy Teyvat. I have lost control over my body, Venti.”

Barbatos’ eyes flash green, and Xiao is yet again reminded of the power of the archons. “No,” he says simply. “You cannot die. To live for thousands of years, to drink with us, all this time? You cannot die like this.”

Xiao loses concentration, just a tiny sliver, yet the gust of wind that tears from him shears the top off of a nearby mountain. He groans, harnessing the gale yet again, even as the action forces him to his knees.

“Morax,” he says again. “Please.”

Zhongli looks at him, and the archon’s eyes are glistening in the light of the dancing flames, as wind whips his hair into his face.

“Alatus,” he says, and his voice is full of hurt and resignation. “It has been an honor.”

Yes, Xiao wants to answer back, but he cannot force his mouth to move. He just nods, shaking his head as if he can jar the wailing into silence.

Venti starts towards Zhongli, power thrumming at the edges of his fingers, seemingly ready to resort to battle in order to prevent Xiao’s death, and that is when Baal moves. She slams into Venti, pushing him into the ground, even as wind starts to whirl around them - Venti’s magic, not Xiao’s. Her element locking curse comes a second later, binding itself around Venti, even as he hisses at her in protest.

“Xiao,” Venti cries, twisting as if he can escape the curse. His hat is lost, blown away in the wind, and his hair has come loose from its braids, flying around his face.

“Barbatos,” Xiao whispers. “I never thanked you, for saving me that day.”

Venti pauses, for a second, stunned into silence.

“Thank you,” Xiao says, over the voices in his head. “Thank you.”

Baal only looks at him solemnly, and Xiao stares back at her. They exchange no words, but Baal just nods, once, the simple gesture conveying everything he needs to know.

Xiao holds her gaze for a few more seconds, turning back to find the point of Zhongli’s spear resting above his heart.

Zhongli's face is twisted in grief, yet his blade still hits true, sliding into the hollow space between Xiao's third and fourth ribs.

Xiao chokes, the whirl of wind around him finally dying out. His legs buckle and he falls ungraciously, feeling gentle hands grasping at his clothes as he does.

Somewhere, Venti is screaming his name.

The wailing inside his skull is dissipating, and near the edges of his sight, Xiao can make out swirls of color. At first, he thinks they are the archons, and his failing body cannot see the details of their faces. Then, he recognizes a blue that does not belong to those in the present.

“Rest,” Zhongli whispers, as Xiao fades. “Rest, Alatus.”

And Xiao does, letting himself fall into the embrace of the Yaksha's, who are only becoming clearer, even as Xiao dies.

~

637 years later, a scholar strolls through the bookshelves of Sumeru's most famous academy, searching for a piece of information that could support her thesis.

She turns into a lane labelled Mondstadt: The City of Freedom, and begins to scan the titles, careful to replace everything exactly where she finds it.

There are two other travelers within the small space between the bookshelves, and they're talking to each other, quite loudly.

The scholar frowns. No matter how foreign these travelers are, the rule of silence in a library should be universal.

The first traveler, a tall man with golden eyes and umber hair that falls to his lower back flips another page in his book, completely ignoring his companion. A jade spear is strapped across his back, and the scholar thinks idly that the weapon looks more like a piece of art, with great wings of green jade shattering outwards from the main spike.

The tall man's companion is quite short, with yellow cat like eyes and evergreen tufts of hair, a pink pearl necklace slung loosely around his throat. His boyish grin seems quite misplaced.

It only takes the scholar a few moments to figure out why.

A few months ago, the scholar had studied ancient folklore of Liyue. Among them was a tale of several Yakshas, the last of whom had supposedly been buried beneath a statue of himself, on the highest peak in Liyue.

The man standing before her looks exactly the same as the grainy photo in the text. However, in the scroll of lore, the last Yaksha had worn a fierce scowl across his features, nothing like the one that stands before her now.

"Come, Zhongli," the should-be-dead Yaksha says, tugging on his friend's sleeve. "Baal is waiting for us."

"Baal can wait a while longer," the taller man says, turning the page of his book a while longer, which the scholar now sees is a copy of The Ruling System of Mondstadt: Grandmasters and Cavalry Captains.

"You said you wanted me to learn more about Mond, didn't you?" the taller man continues. "Besides, I am quite intrigued as to exactly who this 'Kaeya' is, the one you keep referencing."

The yaksha frowns. "Kaeya," he says. "Diluc's brother."

At his companion's blank stare, the yaksha says. "I'll remind you later," he chides. "We really must be going, Zhongli."

The scholar startles, embarrassed that she eavesdropped for so long. However, she still hears what the tall man says back.

"Fine. Let us go, Venti."

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Idiot | Tony Stark

Hey lovelies— I wrote some flangst even though I have a billion other things that needed to be written. I really woke up and said “comfort character? I think you mean: Tony Stark” and then wrote a fic with no plot. It’s just sappy and sad and cuddly and kinda’ elusive as to the relationship. Might expand on this or might let it sit in the void like I am :) Enjoy

Description: Literally like zero plot, this was literally written today this morning because I am a heartbroken mess and I fucking hate real life men right now and I hate the military and I hate guys who tell you that you’re special when they don’t fucking mean it and I really need a Best Friend/Maybe More!Tony Stark cuddle

Pairing: Best Friend / Maybe More!Tony Stark x Female!Reader

Warnings: Like nothing, kinda angsty

Word count: 2.7k

Tags: Fluff, Angst, breakups LOL

She wakes up screaming again. This is the ninth night in a row and she’s starting to think that the others are going to request to soundproof her room. She wouldn’t blame them. She would almost prefer they do that because at least then she won’t have to stop screaming when she wakes up. She can just keep going and finally run out of voice and then maybe— maybe— she won’t be able to say his name anymore.

She flips over, her hair plastered to the back of her neck, her stomach tossing like she’s on a roller coaster. She can’t tell if she wants to cry or throw up— she wants to scream at both choices. She wants to rip her hair out too but then she would be sad and bald and she can only do one of those things right now. She’s not deep enough in the spiral to chop it off yet— that’s a day twelve activity.

She settles on crying— like she even has a choice— and soon her room is filled with the sound of her heaving against a pillow that still smells too much like him. She tosses it— she whips it across the damn room and doesn’t flinch when she hears something shatter. It was nothing important, she knows that for a fact. She hopes it’s the picture of them.

She pulls her knees up, tucking them under her torso, praying the pressure will alleviate the bubbling in her stomach. It won’t— she’s only fooling herself. He’s not a cramp— it’s not food poisoning; it’s rage. It’s brain melting sadness. It’s every ‘Good morning beautiful’ and ‘I miss you’ and ‘I love—

No. Nope— not that one. She can’t think about that one. If she does then she might never stop— she might take a match to everything in this room, every piece of clothing in her closet, every mug in the kitchen that he ever touched. Where would she be then— stuff-less, clothes-less, and with every Avenger looking for a coffee mug pissed at her?

Yeah no— better to just not think about it. Better to just scream.

She squeezes her eyes closed— not like it matters, the room is pitch black anyway— and slams her fist against the mattress, letting the sting that rips up her arm ring louder than his name in her head. It only works for a moment before it’s back— louder and angrier than ever. Louder and angrier than her. His name in her head is a separate entity, haunting her skull like it’s a dilapidated mansion, trying to evict her from the endless halls of her own mind.

She bunches the blanket up, shoving it against her mouth and praying that it muffles the crazed roar that sheds from her lungs— like an animal being ripped apart, she can’t tell if she’s screaming for help or for something so much worse.

There’s a knock on the door and she freezes, her blood running ice cold. A few seconds tick by, her limbs and jaw glued into a tight position, tongue heavy and aching in her mouth. Her heart pounds hard in her chest— the entity knocking back to whoever’s at the door— there’s just no way.

“Would you open the door if I told you there are macaroons in my hand?” A collected, slightly sarcastic, familiar voice breaks through the wood barrier of her door.

Her shoulders drop, her throat closing slightly— it’s just Tony.

“I— erm—” she jumps off her bed quickly, stumbling in the dark until she finds the lamp on her desk, turning it on the the sight of her blasphemous pillow and the shattered remains of a purple mug— damn she overshot the pillow by an inch— “gimme’ a minute, ‘k?”

“You get five seconds — these walls are thick but Friday alerted me to the— and I quote— distressed wailing.”

Oh god of course she did— how could she forget about the damn AI? She presses her palms against her eyes, wicking away as much moisture as possible. She’s so tired— her bones feel like cement, her neck barely keeping her head screwed on let alone straight. She’s a mess and all she can do is chuck her pillow back on her bed and ignore the purple shards peeking out from behind her dresser. One thing at a time.

She pushes her lead bones to the door, trying not to wince as the light pours into her dim room. She blinks a few times, her eyelashes sticky and cheeks stiff, taking in the man in grey sweatpants and a worn MIT hoodie in front of her. She glances down and sure enough he has a mug of pistachio macaroons. A mug. How ironic.

She flicks her gaze to his face, blinking back another wave of tears when she sees the concern mingling with his coffee eyes. “Hey doll.”

She swallows, trying to clear her stinging throat. It doesn’t work, her voice still sounds like she’s been chain smoking since the ripe age of five years old. “Hey Tony.”

He raises a dark brow, eyes drawing down her front, and she shifts on her feet, wishing the hallway light would flicker out. She just knows her eyes are puffy and her hair a mess. Her t-shirt is definitely crumpled, hiding what she can only hope is shorts and not just a pair of panties, and she only has one sock on— she can feel it now, the hardwood like ice against her toes. Her face flushes with heat, fingers clasping awkwardly in front of her— she may as well have a sign flashing above her head. Heartbroken idiot.

For a moment they just stand there, eyes locked, daring the other to move or speak or do anything at all first. Finally Tony sighs, holding his arms out, shaking his head. “Are you waiting for an invitation? Get your butt over her— now.”

That’s all it takes for her to practically jump into his arms, throwing her weight against the man like a drowning woman would a life preserver. That’s kind of what he is. Her best friend— her life line. Any other time she would have been the one knocking on his door— kicking his door down is more like it— but he told her— he told her that he was no good and she didn’t listen. She wraps her arms around his neck, biting her lip hard enough to keep the tears from dripping down her face again. She missed him— she’s been missing him for months.

“He’s an idiot, doll.” Tony mumbles against her hair, arms circling her back and pressing her to him so tight that it feels like he’s trying to fuse their bodies together.

He smells like motor oil and coffee and her chest shakes from the contrast of the fire in her veins and the cool relief of finally going home. It feels like longer than months— it feels like years. She’s been walking on eggshells around him since she introduced her— now ex— boyfriend. They don’t fight— at least, they didn’t before. They’ve never had a reason to.

Not until him.

Warmth seeps from him, curling around her limbs. She presses her face into his shoulder, breathing in the scent ingrained in his hoodie. He’s been wearing it for a few days, she can tell. If things were normal she would be tugging at the pocket, slipping her hands in and tangling them with his, tracing his knuckles with her thumbs. She’ll settle for this though— she’ll take anything.

“I’m the idiot.” She mutters dejectedly, fingers tugging on his hood, trying desperately to distract herself from how much she wants to scream again. “I thought, Tony— I— god I’m so stupid.”

Tony stiffens, chest like marble and pressing against hers so hard she can feel his heart beating against her practically bare skin— deadly calm but beginning to pick up.

“Don’t you dare.” His voice is gravelly, grinding his words against her ear.

His hold on her loosens and she panics, her own heartbeat spiking rapidly in her chest— what is he doing? Is he leaving? No, no, no he can’t leave! She locks her arms around his shoulders as he bends down, shaking her head, the tears finally spilling over her cheeks, hot and angry and desperate. “No please— don’t go I’m sorry— I’m— please don’t leave me.”

She’s incoherent, not even sure that the words coming out of her mouth make any sense at all but she has to at least try. He can’t leave— not now. She can take a broken heart, she can take one stupid man, she can take having a sockless foot and a head that feels like its caving in— she can’t take her best friend walking away and leaving her in this obscenely bright hallway to fend the light off by herself. If she loses her home she’s done for. “Tony no you can’t— you can’t go.”

She’s sobbing, chest heaving, and she just barely registers the soft clink of the mug settling against the floor before one of his arms is slipping under her thighs, hauling her toes off the floor. His other arm remains anchored around her back, fingers digging into her side to keep her from falling. The sudden motion makes her gasp— a watery, broken noise— her legs pushing around his hips and clinging for dear life.

“Hey—” his jaw rubs against her temple, her cheek pressed against his shoulder, stubble scratchy enough to regain her attention— “I’m here, doll. Right here— you honestly might be an idiot if you think I’m leaving you.”

She chokes out a laugh. It sounds more like a whimper— like she’s scrounging for the last drops of happiness in her for his sake. Probably because she is. She tightens her legs around his waist, socked ankle crossing over bare ankle, sucking in a deep breath as his thumb rubs circles on her ribcage.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.” She sighs and his hand stills. “You were right.”

“Trust me— I wish I wasn’t.” His fingers crawl up her back, curling around the back of her neck, pushing the hair from her clammy skin.

The warmth of his skin on hers is like heaven and she tries to ignore the fact that he’s touching her while she’s a complete wreck. “You should hate me.”

His hand clamps harder around her skin, the sharp inhale he takes making his chest rise and push against hers. His fingers slip into her hair and he tugs gently, coaxing her to lift her head from shoulder. When she does she meets his determined, narrowed stare and his minute frown. Her heart clenches when she takes in the rest of his face, her gaze landing on the off purple bruises under his eyes, the tell tale sign that her best friend hasn’t been sleeping. It’s her fault— she knows it is.

He shakes his head, his brown hair ruffling slightly. “God, baby, you really are an idiot, aren’t you?”

Her lip trembles, her stomach squeezing— baby. “Tony—”

His forehead drops, his damp skin meeting her own, nose bumping against hers, drawing up the bridge and then back down— she can’t breathe. “You’re an idiot if you think for a second that I could hate you. For anything let alone something so damn ridiculous.”

He laughs a breathy, frenzied sound, nose drawing along her cheekbone. She must be dreaming. That's the only explanation as to the sudden lack of oxygen in the hallway— the only explanation to the way her veins are thrumming like guitar strings being plucked. This can’t be real. She feels like she’s going to wake up any minute now, throat raw and chest aching twice as much.

She opens mouth— she has to say something— but he keeps going. “An idiot if you think I wouldn’t follow you to the other end of the earth. Of the galaxy. Here you are thinking I hate you because you dated a moron? Because, what, I told you not to? Big deal— you tell me not to do things all the time. That’s what we do, baby. We tell eachother not to do stupid things and then we don’t listen.”

He pulls back enough to take in her face, eyes drawing over the curve of her nose and the slope of her cheeks before landing back on hers. His stare is intense— demanding, like him— she wouldn’t be able to look away if she wanted to. That’s impossible though; she could stare at this man all day and not get bored. She thinks back to all those days in his workshop, watching him fiddle with his suits. What she wouldn’t give to be there now, legs curled under her and his MIT hoodie— the same one on him now— pulled over her, singing along to their playlist and passing him screwdrivers. Her chest squeezes at the thought— she can’t remember the last time she did that.

His hand in her hair tugs again and she forces herself to stay in the moment, watching his lips form the words first and then letting her ears catch up. “He was a tool and you’re too good for that, alright? That has nothing to do with us. Point blank, whatever, he has no effect on us. Okay?”

She nods, her nose bumping against his again, and for the first time all night— all week— it feels like she can breathe. “Okay.”

His chest sags under her, the tension in his shoulders releasing under her fingers. “Good. Don’t say stupid things. That’s my job.”

“You’re right.” She cracks a smile, one that feels too foreign but entirely familiar. “You can have it back.”

Tony’s brows push together, head pulling back, his own smile beginning to carve over his lips. “Have what back?”

“The title of world’s biggest idiot.”

Just like that she’s giggling, throwing her head back and letting the laughter pour out of her. It’s cathartic— it’s natural. Like a dam breaking, it’s fast and dangerous and exhilarating. Before she knows it he’s laughing too, his forehead pressing against her shoulder, chest shaking, and she’s digging her fingers into his hoodie to keep herself steady. They’re definitely waking up everyone else in the compound but she doesn’t care. She only throws herself closer to him, hugging him so tight that she’s practically falling over his back, legs locked high around his stomach.

He turns his face against her neck, mumbling his words into her skin. “Missed you, doll.”

Her fingers slip into his hair, toying with the soft strands and sighing. “Missed you more.”

Groaning, he straightens, re-securing his arm around her. He passes her another smile, this one softer, more in control. She pulls at his hair in return, earning a half-hearted eye roll and the reward of him sinking his head against her hands. She scratches at his scalp lightly, scrunching her nose and trying not to giggle again. Now that she’s started she can’t stop— that’s his real super power; leaving her in stitches.

“You think you’re ready to sleep again?”

She sobers at his question, shrugging. She already knows she’s not. The thought of going back to her room and having to sleep without a pillow again, alone, makes her blanche. She would rather not sleep at all then do that. She may as well go make a pot of coffee if that’s her option. The answer bubbles in her mouth— no.

No she is not ready— but she has to be. She has to be a big girl. Even if it means sleeping with the window open so that she can’t smell her sheets, even if it means freezing because the windows are open and she can’t use her blankets, even if she would rather be tucked under the covers of Tony’s bed like the old days when things were normal and she was happy.

But she can’t say that— can she?

“I guess— you gotta’ put me down though,” is what she finally settles on, trying to keep the disappointment from her words. It definitely doesn’t work but for the sake of her sanity she pretends it does.

He frowns— fully this time— blinking at her like she’s grown another head. “Uh no I don’t.”

He says it sarcastically— like she’s crazy for even suggesting such a thing— his face incredulous. It makes her heart spike, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She’s missing something.

“Tony, what are you talking—“

And then he turns, starting down the hall, starting towards his room, and she shuts her mouth. She’s not going to protest— she’s not risking her chance.

She’s not an idiot.

[seiyasabi]

Ugly Bastard

(This is a Yandere Milluki Zoldyck x Rabbit Female Darling :))

I’m really sorry if this wasn’t what you wanted, but this is my interpretation of his character, and my interpretation is that he’s considered the ugly bastard and a neckbeard :/ I hope you enjoy this. 

TW: Aged up!!, Forced heat!, !technically noncon!, !dubcon!, He’s rlly gross!, daddy kink!, objectification!!, breeding kink!, typical neckbeard behaviour, mate literally doesn’t wash himself (I’m so sorry) or clean his room!, he fucks you while you hold a comfort object, etc.. 

I don’t normally say this, but please, please proceed with caution! This got really dark and disgusting :/) 

-

Giggling to himself, the short haired man holds a glass vial up to the light, the amber liquid inside sloshing violently. A grotesque smile paints his chubby face, thick fingers holding it so tightly that his knuckles are turning white, “Thank you, Illu-nii! She surely can’t resist me now!” 

The oldest Zoldyck looks down at his younger brother with disgust, wondering how exactly he became this way, “Of course… But, if she was giving you so much trouble, why not take her-?” 

Milluki shakes his head, holding the vial close to his breast, “No! I can’t do that, are you crazy?” Illumi raises a perfectly shaped brow, unimpressed by his grease ball of a brother, “I’m not the ugly bastard in this story! I’m her handsome prince-” 

Illumi tunes him out, rolling his eyes. Of course his brother doesn’t have morals, he just wants you to bow to his every whim. 

Although the eldest brother couldn’t critique the younger too much, he still couldn’t shake the overwhelming repugnance he feels towards him. 

He’s seen the room you’re trapped in, seen the harsh way Milluki tugs on your ears and tail, seen the- he shivers at the memory of the short haired man forcing you to feed him. The excessive way he chews with his mouth open, trying to get a reaction out of you, makes the tall man’s blood boil. He has no idea how you’re able to keep calm, but he can applaud you for it. 

“-So this is my last resort! Thanks to you, Illu-nii, we can now continue to Zoldyck like!” Illumi can’t help but shiver in disgust at the idea of Milluki reproducing. 

“Yes, yes, of course. You go do that,” With quick feet, the slim man hurries away, hoping to escape this conversation as quickly as possible. 

Glancing at the vial in his hand, Milluki squeals in delight, a gross smile on his greasy face. 

Tonight is going to be a night to remember. 

-

Hearing the door open, you immediately look up from your clean spot on the bed. In your arms you hold your stuffed rabbit, cradling it to your black bodysuit clad breast. 

Seeing your captor waddling into the room, you jump to your feet to greet him. Putting on a fake happy smile, lifting your ears, and shaking your tail, you start to gush over him, “Daddy, welcome back! I’m so happy to see you!” You hop over empty Mountain Dew Liters filled with piss, wrappers of empty food containers, broken games that disappointed Milluki, and his dirty clothes. You try to clean up, you really do, but Milluki is one of the sloppiest people to ever live.

His ugly face grins at your beautiful form, your pretty face, and cute voice, “What a good bunny, coming to greet her Daddy!” He opens his arms for a hug, making you breathe through your mouth. Landing on his large stomach, you lay your head against his breast, trying your best to block out his grease, musk, and food stains. 

This bastard fills you with so much disgust and anger. He tells you that you need to lose weight, dress up pretty, put on a lot of makeup, keep clean, and be well shaven. Yet, here he is, looking like a goddamn catastrophe. 

“I missed you so much! Me and Hoppy,” You raise their stuffed animal, “Were waiting for you all day!” 

He rubs a sweaty hand over your exposed shoulders, “You’re so cute, Bun. Daddy has a special present for you today,” He uses the hand that once rubbed your shoulders to reach into his pocket, withdrawing a certain amber filled vial, “Be a good girl, and drink this all. You’ll do that for me, right?” 

You pull away from him to look at what he’s offering, feeling dread weigh down on your heart, “What is it, Daddy?” 

He tuts condescendingly at your question, releasing you from the awkward side hug you were in. His thumb and forefinger grip your chin, a suddenly serious look on his face. Fuck, you forgot that rule, “Bun, you know how Daddy feels when you question him! Good girls don’t question their Daddies, we always know what’s best for them.” 

You want to scream ‘no’ at him, but unfortunately, you’d rather not receive a brutal punishment tonight. Nodding your head, you smile up at him, “Okay! I’m sorry for questioning you, Daddy.” 

He squeezes your tail, before grabbing your hand, and forcefully placing the vial into it, “Good, Bun Bun! Now, drink this!” 

Rolling the warm glass in your hand, you scrunch your nose slightly at the weird smell of the contents inside. But, feeling his warning glare on your figure, you quickly uncap it, and throw it back like a shot. 

It tastes horrible! 

You can’t help but gag at its vomit esque taste. Covering your mouth with a hand, you stare down at the vial in both shock and disgust. Luckily, you’re able to choke it down, but you’re only barely able to. 

“Good Bunny, I’m proud of you,” He runs a moist hand through your hair, making your stomach lurch. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” Milluki drags you to his bed, disregarding the trash you have to step on with your bare feet. Once at the bed, he tries to push you onto his side. You don’t allow yourself to fall forward, instead opting for your designated sliver of the bed. No matter what you try, no matter how many times you change your sheets, Milluki’s side always ends up absolutely filthy! His grease, food stains and…… unspecified stains discolour any colour of sheets, even black ones! So, you only stay on your side, trying not to get a skin infection. 

He makes a noise of disapproval behind you, but quickly flops down on his side, his arms squeezing your middle tightly. His right hand lays over your tummy, squeezing slightly. Thinking that he was going to critique your looks, you whimper slightly, “I’m sorry, Daddy, am I gaining weight? I can go on another diet-“ 

“No! No! You’re doing great, Bun! If anything, I think you’ll need to be a little bigger…” He trails off, increasing your nerves. Is that why you’re sweating? It’s suddenly very hot in here. 

“Daddy, is the heater on?” You lay your free hand on your forehead, the other gripping Hoppy in an ironclad grip. Are you getting sick? That could be a problem. Your diet since getting here has changed drastically, along with your sleeping pattern, cleanliness or your environment, and your stress level. Hopefully he’ll cast you into a separate room, leaving you to your own devices. 

“No, why?” He removed your hand from your forehead, and replaced it with his own. Is this supposed to happen? He isn’t too sure how heats are supposed to happen. 

“I-I think I’m getting sick, Daddy. Should I go take a cold bath?” 

“No! I mean, uhm, no, that won’t be necessary. Just stay right here,” He tightens his hold even more, you can feel your ribs creak underneath his fingertips. 

You say nothing, starting to curl into yourself at the feeling of cramps in your abdomen. Could you be starting your period? 

“I think I started my period,” You don’t see him look at you in disgust, but you can feel it. 

“Then get up, I don’t want you dirtying the sheets,” You had to stop yourself from laughing. You? Dirtying the sheets? Says the man who has turned them rancid! You set your bunny stuffie on your clean pillow, trying to keep it away from any dirt. 

Hurrying to your feet, you move quickly towards the bathroom. Once inside, you flick on the light, showing its pristine condition. He almost never comes in here, leaving it clean. 

Unzipping your outfit, you pull your tail out of its hold, and shuck it down your legs. Once bare to the room, you open the toilet seat lid, and sit. 

Once done with your business, you wipe, expecting something to be different, but not what you see. The piece of toilet paper is absolutely drenched, and not in what you think. 

You slick is practically drenching your entire hand, scaring the shit out of you. What on Earth is happening to you?! And why did the feeling of your wiping feel so good?!

Grabbing baby wipes, you wipe down your pussy and ass, cleaning yourself up as much as possible. You stand up on shaky legs, closing the lid, flushing the toilet, washing your hands, but the pain becomes too much.  Tears bead your eyes as your fear and pain take over, causing you to curl into a ball on the marble floor.

A burning feeling of arousal pools in your belly, making the urge to touch yourself grow exponentially. What the hell did Milluki give you? And aphrodisiac? You’ve never had a heat in your life! 

Milluki knocks on the door after a long period of silence, the only thing he hears is your crying, “What’s wrong, Bunny? Is everything alright in there?” 

You whimper in response, prompting him to open the door. The sight of your naked body made him do a double take. And, upon seeing a growing puddle of arousal around your hips, he can’t help but salivate. 

“Is my little one in heat? How precious! Cute little bunnies need their Daddy, and if you ask nicely, I’ll be happy to assist you!” Milluki bends down to grab you, but finds difficulty when his large stomach stops him halfway. Grunting slightly, he crouched down, finally able to grab one of your arms and heft you into his own. Once secure, he stands to his feet, stumbling to your bed. 

He tosses you in the middle, much to your disgust, and flips you onto your back. He gazes down at your perfect body, practically salivating at the sight of you. 

Your pussy is drooling onto the dirty sheets, cleaning away his dirt in its midst. Perfect teats are pebbled, chest heaving in deep breaths. Your ears hang high above your head, curling slightly, looking adorable. Your little tail above your cute butt looks so nice to pull. A thin sheen of sweat is present on your skin, and as much as he wants to be disgusted, he can’t. You’re just too perfect like this. 

“Do you need Daddy’s help? Come on, you need to beg for him,” Your body locks up in revulsion. You don’t want his nasty cock anywhere near you! For all you know, he’ll give you a bacterial infection! 

“Nu-no, Daddy. I just-I just need to sleep, I think!” Looking over your shoulder, you see a dark present on his face. 

“Are you disgusted by me?” His voice comes out deeper than normal, anger slowly starting to become apparent. 

“No! No! Nothing like that, Daddy!” You force your aching body up, crawling towards him. You’re on your knees before him, holding onto his dress shirt pathetically within your pretty hands, “I just-you know I want to wait until we’re married,” You look down in an attempt to be bashful. Telling him that lie at the beginning really saved your ass, but right now, it seems that he’s tired of waiting, “I promise that that’s all! Because what if I get pregnant? I want to ensure my baby is taken care of-“ 

He grabs your hands, yanking you towards him, your naked chest smashing into his fat. He cups your face with gross hands, gaging your reaction. When all he sees is anxiety, he sighs overdramatically, “There’s no need to worry about all of that. Mama said I can marry you, so we can make a baby now!” His words make you gush with unwanted arousal, the last thing you want is him to fuck you, “See?” He releases your face with one hand, using the other to scoop up some of your arousal, “Why are you stopping yourself? Daddy’s cock is more than sufficient to fill you up.”

Try as you might, the smell of his arousal and your heat clouded mind are starting to drive you wild. He’s the closest fertile male, making your instincts go into overdrive to mate. 

A pathetic whine leaves your throat, making him giggle horribly, “Even all teary eyed, you still look so cute. Good thing all of your makeup is water-proof, because if they weren’t, you’d look so ugly right now.”

You’re so aroused, that his words don’t make you furious like you usually would be. 

“Now, take out my cock, Bunny. Suck me well, and I’ll breed your pretty pussy well,” In your mind, you don’t want to. You don’t even want to touch him with a ten foot pole. But, instinctually, you’re ready to jump his bones. 

With shaking hands, you grab his belt, unlooping it with ease. Sliding it off, you move to his button and fly. Unbuttoning his pants is a bit difficult, due to it barely containing his large body, but you manage. Once done, you move on to his drawers, gross, white stains cover the front of them in a crusty topcoat. 

Shivering in disgust, you pull them down, revealing his decent sized cock. Milluki smiles down at you, and grabs your ears in a makeshift ponytail, egging you on. 

Deciding not to look to close at his repulsively unwashed cock, you close your eyes, and suck on his precum coated tip. It tastes awful. If you thought that heat inducing elixir was awful, this is 100 times worse. 

Withholding your gags, you take him further down your throat, praying you don’t get strep throat. Using your tongue, you rub the vein on the bottom of his shaft. Hollowing out your cheeks, you suck him hard, bobbing your head quickly in the hopes of him finishing. 

Gripping your ears even harder, he groans and pants as he bucks into your mouth. Milluki can’t believe it! His waifu is sucking his cock willingly! 

That thought has him busting a fat, chunky load down your throat, causing you to almost throw up for real this time. He quickly pulls you off by your ears, looking down at you in awe. 

The puddle around your cunt only grew bigger, and your fucked out expression is so endearing! 

“Good girl for making Daddy cum! Do you want him to cum in that cunny? To make the hurt go away?” You nod eagerly, making a piggish smirk cross his features, “Beg for me, Bun Bun, beg for me nicely, and I’ll do it.”

 You grasp his cloth covered hips in a tight grip, resting your chin on his large stomach, “Please, Daddy! Please make it stop! Please fill me!” 

“Hmm, I’m not sure if I’m convinced,” Whining at his words, you turn around in his hold, pressing your slick cunt against his already hardening cock. Rubbing lightly, you keen at the pressure. 

“Please, Daddy, I’m begging you! Please fuck me!” Milluki can’t hold back anymore, immediately forcing his cock inside your soaked pussy. Screaming in pleasure, you push yourself harder against him, tail tickling the underside of his tummy. 

“Shit, you feel amazing,” He bucks his hips into yours hard and fast, not caring about your pleasure, “Don’t you see? This is your purpose; a little Bun like you is meant to be my cock sleeve, my little baby maker.”

You can’t bring yourself to respond, only pathetically fucking yourelf into his thrusts. He groans at your tight and wet walls, loving the way your cute, bunny body clings to him. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” He lifts one of your ears to whisper into it, “You want my babies? You want me to cum inside?”

You nod your head rapidly, disregarding the slight pain of his tugging, “Uh-huh, please fill me up, Daddy! Make me your house wife! Make me have your baby!” 

Your words send him over the edge. Slamming himself deep inside you, he releases his disgusting cum inside your womb, bloating your tummy slightly. 

The large man leans on your smaller form, smushing your face into the dirty sheets. Within moments, the burning feeling and pain is gone, leaving you disturbed and revolted. 

“Wha-what do good girls say to their Daddies?” You wanted to throw yourself out of a thirty floor window. 

“Thank you, Daddy. Thank you for giving me a baby,” He pets your head with a moist hand, rolling out and off of you, in favour of lying behind you. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close to his soft body. 

Milluki falls asleep quickly, allowing you to cry quietly to yourself. 

Outside the door, Illumi stands motionless. He can hear your crying, and for the first time in his life, he truly pities someone. 

He can only hope his father will reject you as Milluki’s spouse. 

Otherwise, you’ll be stuck with the ugly bastard for life. 

Requester: @milluki-simp--i-guess 

[just2bubbly]

Cursed Souls

Masterlist

TLC Ship Week 2021!

*written for tlcshipweek2021- kaider for the prompt 'Cursed'

@kaiderforever

Summary:

"Thorne, Do you think I'm cursed?"

"What?"

"Uh- like do you think I'm cursed? that Cinder- s-she is-"

"Is suffering because of you?"

"You really love Cinder."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

...

Grief can make your mind think distressed thoughts, Kai with a haywire mind turns to Thorne for help- feeling overwhelmed just moments after the rebellion as he waits to hear news of Cinder.

A snippet of Kai alone with his thoughts as he waits outside the OT following the brutal injury of Cinder in Winter.

Ship: Kaider

Words: 2.5k

Genre: Angst, Hurt-Comfort

Prompt: 'Cursed'

__

*Sort-of canon-divergence.

Kai's Perspective:

Saying that he was anxious would be an understatement of his (let's assume long) lifetime. Everything around him was intense. After making sure that the Earthens were in a secure place, Kai followed by Torin had hastily returned to the Throne room. He could not focus on anything after Iko had told him that Cinder had gone to face Levana- alone.

Kai was praying to anyone who would listen- he prayed for Cinder's safety. Everything around him had been so rushed in the last few days- he had been high on adrenaline since the time he had helped Cress stick to the plan, coming back for crowning Levana as the Empress, to the sudden outburst of Lunars, the rebellion, him being captured and later escaping.

Kai was not sure how he remained on his own two feet walking through the pale halls of Artemisia Palace.

"Kaito, she shall be fine", Torin assured.

Kai was not going to buy it- how could Cinder be fine with a tyrant like Levana, who was likely trying to kill her?

He yelled at his own mind for letting Cinder go alone to confront Levana.

All of a sudden the sound of gunshots was heard, followed by a cry of pain making Kai look in horror at his advisor. He hoped it was anyone but Cinder. His heart was pumping loudly- at some inhuman speed and the rush of adrenaline forced him to walk faster than humanly possible. As the elegant and large doors of the throne room became visible, memories- horrors of incidents that would likely haunt him for the rest of his days flooded in Kai's mind.

Now was not the time to be sentimental- it was the time to be brave and help Cinder... if she was in a position to be helped.

The sight that was before his eyes stopped him in his tracks. Kai was dumbstruck at the sight of so much blood pooling in the throne room- the red a stark contrast to the pale marble floor and the real condition of the usually-disguised face of Levana- the face behind the glamour was enough to make him go stiff and be rooted to the spot.

However, Torin shook him out of his reverie to point out things- people. No, not just any people, his newly made friends.

He exhaled sharply when he saw Thorne, Scarlet and Wolf alive. He could not say the same when his eyes fell on Cress and Cinder. A sob escaped his shaking lips as Kai ordered Torin to call for doctors.

As he ran towards her with a thumping heart, he hoped he would not collapse at the sight of Cinder's misery.

A pool of dark red blood had surrounded her, her bosom had a knife- it did not take much to conclude that Levana had stabbed Cinder. His cheeks were damp with moisture as he huddled next to her- not sure what to do. Cinder coughed blood, her face gone pale because of the loss of so much blood. She could not cry but the worried lines along her forehead full with beads of sweat as she nibbled on her lower lip to think of anything but the wound- to avoid screaming with agony were enough to speak about her misery.

"Cinder," he cried through trembling lips.

"Kai, help Cress first. I won't-" she said through irregular words. Even in death, Cinder thought about saving others above herself.

"Shh, she is going to be fine. You're going to be fine." He said with questionable certainty. He had never known any person who had been stabbed to know how fine the after-effects were. Yet he refused to lose hope.

"Kai," she said smiling a bit sarcastically. As if both of them knew that they were lying to each other- to console, to convince.

"Don't speak I'm here- help is coming. Try to breathe. You're going to be fine." He said trying to assure him more than her.

"No- listen, Kai, look at me I might not have enough-" she hacked blood mid-sentence. Her stuttering words were cut short due to her current state. However, Kai very well knew what she was to say.

"All my ears to you, Cinder." He smiled at her, the same cheeky smile he had shown her at the garage, where they had met for the first time.

"Don't mourn for me Kai," she said. "-And I know I will not make it. My time as the revolutionary is over. I was not meant to be Queen or Princess. I trust you to do what you can for everyone," she muttered through ragged breaths, stopping from time to time to inhale sharply.

Kai would mourn for her death even if she prohibited it, even if it was forbidden. His throat ached as he tried to form sentences, probably not the last one she would hear.

"Cinder you are going to live through it. You will live long enough to rule yourself and do what you can for Luna." He said as his voice threatened to quiver, to cry out loud. He knew she was slipping away from him, as her glazed eyes rolled at the back of her head, eyes that would spontaneously shake looking at the ceiling. He would not lose her- hadn't he suffered enough grief to last a lifetime?

She closed her eyes and as calm resided over her features, Kai thought he had lost her. He could not hold it anymore, he cried not giving a damn- the Emperor of EC was crying for his beloved who was in his lap. Dying.

"No, Kai. I am a lowly mechanic. The Emperor should not cry for someone like me- Be h-happy Kai," she said with her eyes closed. It felt like she could bear to gaze into his eyes.

Kai begged for a miracle. How he wished that he would wake up and all this would just be a bad dream. He hoped that Cinder would live to see that she was never just a lowly mechanic. How she was always more than someone to him!

She cleared her mouth to say something instead a sharp breath was inhaled. Her lips now red with her own blood.

"You were the happy ending to my tragic life, Kai. I hope you remember that," She murmured.

He did not know if it was her or fragments of his own imagination speaking to him. He watched over as the others raised her and lay her across a stretcher. She was taken out to someplace where Kai followed blindly. They argued over something with Torin in the corner as he kept losing his mind- little by little.

He wanted to tell her, wanted to say them till she believed it.

"His ending without her would no longer be happy."

Still, he could not mutter any words as he choked on his own sobs. he was not brave enough to think that Cinder was dying inside. His haywire mind failing to register the happenings around him.

Torin appeared beside him and held him tight, unknowingly muttering soothing words- not knowing how to comfort the grieving Emperor. He stood outside white doors while Cinder lay inside, he cried his heart out on Torin's shoulder having had no clue if she was alive or not. He refused to listen to anything, he refused to talk- to ask about her state.

His mind played back the whole scenario over and over trying to make sense of his messed-up present.

Selene had been a mystery to him, she was a lost princess born out of his imagination, Torin used to describe it as a lost cause once. When he gave up on her, Cinder walked into his life. When the matter was revealed, he had hope. Selene and Cinder- just different names had been his hope for a long time, his ray of hope was struggling indoors. She was far away from him, from the world. He clutched on tightly to Torin trying to make sense of his falling apart life.

"T-Torin, is she a-a- okay?" he inquired.

"She will be."

"You think so?"

"Yes, Kai. She is a strong woman."

He remained silent for a long time- staring at the doors that would not allow him to enter. Trying to avoid thinking about the 'what-ifs'.

He did not move from his position for the entire day, keeping himself rooted to the seat before the door, with Torin beside him.

"You killed her, Kai. You are responsible for her fate... if not for you she would have never been drawn into this mess-"

"-She would not be dying right now"

"How selfish of you to use her for your own gain!?"

"She was just a poor girl aching to be loved- and look what you did!"

"You cursed her"

"'She is dead because of YOU"

He opened his eyes- panting for breath. All the voices sounded like Levana... she was dead right? He had never bothered to check if she was alive or dead, as he was in the haste due to Cinder's state- could she have survived?

Realizing he was just hyperventilating, it was a nightmare- nothing about it should trouble Kai into thinking that the tyrannical Queen was alive. He might have dozed off, sitting in the medical chamber of the palace, he thought trying to make his mind stray away from the loud thoughts of his mind.

'Was he cursed?'

Kai did not have many people in his life that he would have claimed to love, but the ones he did were either dead or dying.

'He had loved his parents, hadn't he? And where were they now?', He thought bitterly.

They hadn't even be buried like royals ought to, their goods burnt down to prevent the spreading of the disease to Kai or others. Their bodies were cremated in an incinerator as a precaution. Kai could not even be near them, being asked to see the whole ordeal from far away for his own safety. He had lost both of them to Leutomosis.

He loved Cinder and there she was a few metres away from him, perhaps already gone on another journey beyond life.

Maybe he was a cursed person, otherwise, why would all his loved ones die? Was he not capable of love? Could he not love anyone without having to lose them? And the ones he loved would all wither and die, while he watched them from far away?

Or was she the cursed one?

The girl who could not be loved, the one who would have a near-death experience, every time someone tried loving her. Cinder and Kai- were they two cursed souls?

Didn't she say, 'You were the happy ending to my tragic life.' and hadn't he thought, 'His ending without her would no longer be happy'?

Did she think he was responsible for her tragic life- her death? Hadn't she been an outcast for a major part of her life thanks to Kai, who failed to realize the sorrow of the cyborgs living in his own nation?

Were they just going to be each other's broken, sorrowful endings?

Not able to cope with his overwhelming thoughts, he looked around for Torin, only to find him nowhere.

He gawked at Thorne, who sat adjoining him and asked, "Thorne, Do you think I'm cursed?"

Thorne was confused, to say the least, maybe he was being too vague so he briefed, "Uh- like do you think I'm cursed? that Cinder- s-she is-"

"Is suffering because of you?" he provided, as Kai failed to continue. He nodded slightly, confirming that he was thinking the same thing.

Much to his surprise, Thorne smiled, not the flirty smile that usually did but a genuine smiled that reached his eyes and said, "You really love Cinder."

Taken aback by his remark he asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You are so alike, I can only imagine if the roles were reversed she would be here thinking the same thing."

"You think so?"

"I know so"

"What makes you so confident?"

"You had no idea how tensed Cinder was when you decided to marry Levana to prevent the wolf-hybrid soldiers from doing more damage. She never said it but she thought that she was responsible for all the mess created in your life."

"Okay," he replied, not knowing what else to say.

"Kai, what makes you think you are cursed anyways?"

"It's just- you know, all the people that I have cared about are dead and I do care about Cinder and she is inside fighting to stay alive- I just think I'm cursed, not capable of loving people," he explained.

Kai, would not admit it but saying it aloud made it seem foolish. Thorne would likely laugh at him for feeling he was 'cursed'- like was he even thinking through before popping the question to Thorne.

"Really Kai, sometimes I wonder the future of your country if you happen to be sentimental- how did we get two so feeble-minded monarchs to look after us?!" He asked, dramatically- can always rely on Thorne to disguise his sorrow with charm.

Kai rolled his eyes thinking to himself, 'why did he bother in the first place?' and looked away.

A sigh escaped him and he stated, "You are not cursed, Kai."

Now Thorne did have his attention, it might have been the first sincere thing he said after Cress was taken in OT. Kai realized how he was not the only one waiting for some news outside the medical chamber, not the only one who was afraid.

"You care about your advisor, umm what's his name?"

"Torin," Kai provided.

"Yeah Torin- you care about him, probably look up to him as well and he is neither dead nor trying hard to stay alive. You care about your people and I don't think all of them are dead right now, now are they?"

"No, they are not," he said even though it was a rhetorical question.

"I'm just afraid," he admitted after a long time to which Thorne honestly replied, "Me as well."

He looked at Thorne, trying to understand his grief- if Cress did not make it, Thorne would not be able to live with the guilt- knowing very well that he was responsible for her loss, that if not for him stabbing her in the stomach she would be alive.

"They would make it, right?" he asked, terrified of what Thorne would say.

He did not reply just pressed his lips in a thin line and looked before him. None of them was capable enough to answer it. So, Kai looked ahead as well and prayed because that's what all he could do. Pray.

"Kai stop thinking about bullshit things like being cursed."

Kai nodded, pointing out that he was listening and likely not going to think about how he might be cursed.

He thought before saying it aloud, rolling the words over and over before finally saying them.

"You are really a nice guy, Thorne. No wonder Cress really likes you."

__

A/N: I had promised I had come up with angst, and see here I am- keeping my promise to you guys.

I know I have knocked a lot of medical facts, I know she should be unconscious within seconds but I just choose to overlook it for my plot. I wanted some deep farewell/ goodbye shit before Cinder becomes unconscious (builds up the angst you know).

I wanted to this idea for a long time now, Cinder's almost-death through Kai's POV. This fic was likely going to have a different ending than one the it has now- I was just going to live the ending in grey area but I had to change it to keep up with the prompt 'Cursed' for ship week. Don't blame me writing angst, I am just writing ship week prompts- and apparently all of them happen to be angst!

Tell me what's on your mind after reading it!

Votes and comments are always appreciated.

Thanks for reading!

Taglist: @cinderswrench @gingerale2017 @linhcinder686 @shellyseashell @ladyvesuvia @shelbylmkaider @levanariddlebackup @cindersassasin @kaider-is-my-otp (Tell me if you wanna be added/removed)

[pleasereadmeok]

Can you help me please? I'm sure you had an English translation of Matthew's interview with Style Italia (2017?) on your blog however I can't find it. Can you help? Thank you. A Goode fan x

Hi Anon - yes of course. This one right? ⬇️

It's such a great interview with some lovely personal details from Matthew. @di-elle kindly did a translation for the matthew-goode.net press archive a few years ago so that follows ⬇️. Enjoy. : -

Matthew Goode is one of the most recognizable British actors of his generation. 38 years old, tall, slender, handsome, with a face composed of classic proportions and precise features that lends itself to both modern settings and period dramas.A look that’s allowed him to dive immediately into the world of Match Point, Brideshead Revisited, The Imitation Game, and A Single Man. In the last season of Downton Abbey, he was one of the most beloved characters as Lady Mary’s husband, a role that brought him popularity with the television audience. Now he appears with Brad Pitt and Marion Cotillard in Allied.Skill,talent, determination and a bit of luck (essential in this business) have made Goode a sought-after and versatile actor, without affecting his overwhelming pleasantness and playfulness onset and off that serve as useful talents as well.In the penthouse of the London hotel where he is being photographed, he strokes the oval marble bathtub sitting in the middle of the room (‘So cool!’), gets enthusiastic by touching the clothes, the collars of the shirts, and the wool of the jackets.

Do you like design?I love it, even if it is my wife who has the eye for it.In front of the mirror, in the barber’s and makeup artist’s hands, he is a bundle of energy.  He is worried about Brexit (‘What’s happened? Where are we going?’) but happy to be able to buy a house. He is a little anxious, too, about the last phone call from his bank: ‘Being an actor means  living day by day. Banks don’t like it.’

Psychologically what does it entail?During dry spells you can lose confidence and believe that you will never work again. It’s not easy.

However you are not lacking jobs. How  was working  on Allied?Movies are strange beasts. You come, you spend two days on the set, you shoot your own scenes and you go. Despite this it was electrifying as it can be a film of these proportions. There was an atmosphere of great professionalism and harmony. Brad Pitt is a great person. He welcomed me fondly, as did Marion Cotillard. I had already met them both, but they are always like that, even with those they don’t know.

Is variety important to you?It’s the essence of life, isn’t it? At the end  the face and the voice are always those and if you specialize in a genre, it’s not easy to come out of it. It’s hard for me to resist period movies, it’s a great temptation. Costumes and interiors have a very strong charm.

Your name was made for the Bond role…I’ve sabotaged myself. Barbara Broccoli  (the film producer) called me and I didn’t realize it was an audition. I thought it was just a chat. She asked me what I thought of Bond. I was honest , I told her that the way it is today doesn’t work. They need to scale down the budget, and make the character more complicated, go back to the origin from the books: a dark, difficult, incomprehensible man. At the end she said goodbye and I didn’t hear from her again. Maybe sometimes it’s better to keep your mouth shut.

Do you like going to movies?There’s a little bit of jealousy to overcome but generally yes. I’d like to see Tom Ford’s new movie, Nocturnal Animals. He is a genius, he has an eye like no other. A Single Man should have won more awards. Ford was born as a stylist but he is a real artist.

Are you not tempted to move to the USA?I have three children and I want them to grow up here. I don’t like to go too far away. I told my agent I don’t want to work in the US for a year.

Is Matthew Goode a good father?It depends on the days. The noise stresses me. If there are two children crying, or screaming, I panic. In those cases, my wife takes care of it.

What do you do at home?I cook. It’s less tiring than playing with a one-year-old child… I can do a little of everything: my father taught me the first recipes when I was about to start university. Over the years I have made a leap in quality, from scrambled eggs to stews.

Your best recipe?Beef and Guinness stew. Two or three parsnips, a couple of carrots, two onions, some mushrooms. Two pounds of meat, a little flour. Mix it up, then slap it in the pot. Salt, pepper, some herbs and some beer. I love it. You put it on, you go get the kids from school, and when you come back, the house smells of dinner.

The role you’ve always wanted.Sherlock Holmes. Damn it, Benedict Cumberbatch has stolen it from me! Joking aside, it’s Jeffrey Bernard in the comedy Jeffrey Bernard is Unwell, by Keith Waterhouse. Many years ago I saw Peter O’Toole in it and I’ve never forgotten. But you need to be 50 or 60 years old for it, so I’ll have to wait a little longer.

Did you want to be an actor as a child?My mother would say yes. Actually I discovered my path later in life. For a while I wanted to be an archaeologist, because my father was a geologist. One day one of my university mates went to audition for an acting school and I said: Why not, I should try it too. Finding an agent was a stroke of luck. Then the fight for survival began. It’s a slow and complicated road.

From the outside you look like someone who made it.(It may look that way) now, but like with everything when you start you are at the first step, you look up and say: I’ll never get there.

What’s your secret to overcome difficult moments?I have stopped watching the films I make. This has helped me a lot. You can’t control how they cut and edit your character. You can only control the experience, what you give and what gives to you. The result is almost insignificant. After a few years it can be fun watching yourself because you seem very young.

Do you practice sport a lot?I go to the gym in the morning, to start the day well. Twice a week I go out for lunch with my wife: and since I like to eat, and occasionally even drink, the gym is imperative. I also play golf but it takes time, it’s not an activity that fits well with a big family.

Your ideal holiday?I have fond memories of my childhood, camping with my father, the fishing rod, the green. I’d like to take my children. My wife resists for now.

What do you read?I hate to admit it, but I read very little. By the time I go to bed, I’m too tired.

A luxury?We’re planning how to sort out the house. If I could afford it I’d buy one of those enormous american washing machines with a tumble dryer.  It’s not what you’d expect from a star, is it?

[wooyunhwa]

𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔭𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔰 | 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔣𝔬𝔲𝔯

check out my pinned masterlist for links to the rest of the parts!

Genre: angst, smut (with plot, but this chapter is mostly plot)

Pairing: mafia au!seonghwa x fem!reader

Word Count: 8.9k

Warnings: blood, violence, torture, lots of angst, poor medical practices 

Synopsis: When everything looks hopeless, you embark on a life or death mission to save the man you love.

A/N: I’m simping for my side characters. This is (probably) the last part of this series so I hope you enjoy!! Comments are super appreciated as always! Thank you to everyone who stuck around for the full thing! I hope you enjoyed the ride~

You cracked your eyes open. His face was intimidating, with sharp eyes and an x-shape shaved into one eyebrow, complete with a diamond in the center. His deep blue hair was pushed back impeccably, and he wore a huge leopard fur coat. He looked like another scary mafia guy, and you’d had quite enough of those. Despite his looks, he seemed kind, his expression gentle and eyebrows pinched with concern he surveyed you for injury. 

“I’m Hongjoong, Seonghwa’s best friend.”

“Wha- H-how’d you find me?” you croaked, your voice rough and thin from screaming for what must have been hours. “How-how’d you know where-” “Check your pocket,” he said, shooting a knowing glance down at your legs. You fumbled in both pockets, your right hand catching on something small and distinctly metal. You pulled it out hesitantly. “It’s a GPS tracker.”

“But when did he-” You paused, answering your own question in your head. Now that you thought about it, he had plenty of opportunities to slip something in your pocket during the drive.

A small smirk painted his lips. “He told me you were leaving together, and gave me access to the trackers’ locations. He planted one on you, and he has the other somewhere on him. He said I was the only one he trusted in case things went awry.”

A shockwave ricocheted through your brain, and you keeled forward a bit, bringing your hand up to your head, doing whatever you could to dull the pain. You rubbed your temple, acutely aware of the ringing in your ears and the headache you had, presumably from all the crying—or maybe the gunshots that nearly deafened you earlier. Your legs still felt distinctly wobbly, causing you to stumble forward a bit into Hongjoong, who still had an arm poised on your arm to stable you. “Whoa there. C’mon, let’s get you in the car.” He said, concern furrowing between his eyebrows. He gestured towards his black Hellcat. Couldn’t any of these mafia guys just have a Honda or something? “I can’t have you passing out on me. Seonghwa entrusted me with keeping you safe.”

“Wait. That GPS tracker… does it tell you if he’s alive?” you asked, desperation a little too apparent in your voice. Your legs still felt weak and unstable beneath you, and you felt yourself swaying slightly on your heels.

“It doesn’t.”

You winced as another shock of pain shot through your skull. You felt like your legs were a moment away from giving out under you if you didn’t sit down right then. Hongjoong must have noticed the pained expression on your face, because he pulled your arm around his shoulder to stabilize you just as you stumbled into him again. 

Even with the pain coursing through your skull and your body giving out underneath you, you could only think of Seonghwa—that he must be clinging to life somewhere out there. For the sake of your sanity, you had to believe he was waiting for you. You couldn’t afford to lose any more hope than you already had—just minutes ago you had been ready to face your execution. 

Hongjoong guided you to the car, practically dragging you across the pavement as your legs betrayed you. A second figure came into your line of sight, emerging from a shadow behind the car, and you flinched in alarm.

Your first thought was to panic, but Hongjoong’s calm demeanor told you this guy wasn’t an enemy. He opened the back door for Hongjoong to let you in, standing stoically off to the side. He looked more like a marble statue than an actual person. Aside from his blank, serious expression, his features were sculpted perfectly, like he was a Donatello stolen from a museum. Why did all of Seonghwa’s friends look like models?

“This is Yeosang, a good friend of mine. He’s, uh… how should I put it. I don’t wanna say he’s a hitman, but…”

“I prefer ‘freelancer’ personally,” Yeosang said dryly, almost like it was supposed to be a joke, but his face remained expressionless. 

“He’s a champ with a rifle. I’m thinking he’ll be our ace card for saving Seonghwa. If there’s anyone you want on your team, it’s him, so don’t worry, yeah?” 

He stepped aside to let you in, and Hongjoong carefully helped you into the seat, giving you a reassuring smile. Yeosang climbed into the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition to bring the car to life. You could see the wreckage of the other car in the mirror as you pulled away, tire marks and blood on the dark asphalt. 

As you embarked on the road, you felt anxiety tighten in your chest. You had to believe that Seonghwa was still alive, but the idea that he might not be couldn’t help but flood in from the darkest part of your mind. You shook the thoughts away, opting instead to make small talk with your rescuers.

“So... you’re part of Seonghwa’s family?” “No, no, definitely not,” Hongjoong chuckled lightly with a shake of his head. “Our families are, well, you could say ‘allied’. I’ve known him since we were little. We don’t talk often anymore, but when he needs something, he comes to me first.”

“Yeah, I can see why. No one in his so-called ‘family’ seems to be trustworthy in the slightest,” you grumbled through your teeth. 

You rolled your eyes at the sudden thought of Wooyoung, who Seonghwa had called a brother. The anger rose in your chest again, and you shoved it down the best that you could. You balled your fists, digging your fingernails into your palms, barely even noticing the sting. You wanted to smash Wooyoung’s head in for what he’d done to Seonghwa, but that probably wasn’t the best game plan, as he definitely had no qualms about killing you instantly.

You talked for a bit longer as Yeosang drove, and it wasn’t long before you reached Seonghwa’s GPS destination. The car skidded though a halt outside a row of fences, making up the perimeter around what looked like an old warehouse. You noticed Wooyoung’s car outside the entrance, along with the other mafia car beside it.

“We’re gonna have to walk from here. If we’re gonna have the element of surprise, we need to stay on the down low.”

Hongjoong shot you a glance from the passenger seat. “Y/N, you’ll stay he-”

“No. I’m coming,” you interrupted. It wasn’t up for argument. 

“Look, I promised Seonghwa I’d protect you…”

“I’m coming,” you repeated. You were not backing down, even for a second. You’d been through hell at that point, so you were dead set on it.

Yeosang sighed. “Just let her come. We don’t have time to argue. If Seonghwa’s still alive... it might not be for long.”

“Thank you.”

You exited the car carefully, not even closing the car door behind you in case you could be heard. The silence of the night was deafening, with only the wind blowing faintly to provide you any sort of sound cover. 

As Yeosang gathered his gear from the trunk, Hongjoong debriefed you on the plan. It was simple enough—you and him would take the front entrance, taking out the guards as quietly as possible, while Yeosang would take the back. If Seonghwa was still alive, you just needed to distract Wooyoung for long enough for Yeosang to disarm him. That was the plan, at least. You had no idea what to expect when you went inside. 

You crept along the fence, following Hongjoong’s hand gestures as you stayed low, using the cloak of the night to stay hidden. You stepped lightly after him, and your heart sped up the moment you laid eyes on a guard standing watch, the hefty gun in his hands sending a clear message he wasn’t playing around. Hongjoong motioned for you to wait, so you froze, watching as he snuck around stacks of rotting wooden pallets for cover. 

He disappeared out of your line of sight for a few moments, then reappeared behind the guard with a knife against his throat, and you squeezed your eyes shut, waiting to hear the sound of a body dropping to the floor before opening them again.

You cracked your eyes open, and Hongjoong waved you through, trying not to look as you avoided the bloody corpse on the ground.

“Shit,” Hongjoong whispered, scanning around with a stern, focused gaze. You swallowed nervously, following his eyes with yours. “There must be two on the other side then. We’ll just have to trust Yeosang to take them both out.” 

You ducked under the half-open shutter door, following close as Hongjoong led you through the darkness. You could hear your own heartbeat like a drum in your skull, flooding your ears with the sound of your own anxiety. Your hands felt clammy and your stomach twisted as you prayed for the best but feared the worst. 

You heard him before you saw him. An agonized scream ripped from his chest, and you felt it all the way down to your bones. Seonghwa. As you ran deeper into the warehouse, you saw him there, arms twisted behind a metal chair and bound with rope, dripping blood onto the dirty floor beneath his feet. 

Wooyoung stood over him, gun in hand, turning to greet you as you flew in. He aimed the gun at Seonghwa’s head, giving you a cold smile, a cigarette dangling between his lips. 

“Hey, princess. Come to watch the show?” 

Wooyoung lashed out, striking Seonghwa across the face with the back of his gun. Seonghwa grunted weakly, spitting blood onto the floor, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. 

“Wooyoung, please stop! Please!” you begged, and you felt Hongjoong’s arm in front of you, holding you back. You fell to your knees as he struck again, the sound of steel hitting bone echoing against the empty walls of the warehouse. 

“Hongjoong? Is that you?” Wooyoung waved at him cheerfully. “Man, it’s been too long!” 

“Put the gun down, Wooyoung. You don’t wanna turn this into a fight.” 

“Speak for yourself. Why don’t you toss your gun over here? I’d hate for my finger to slip.” Wooyoung disengaged the safety of the gun with a threatening click. 

“Fine.” 

Hongjoong slowly placed his gun on the ground, keeping his hands raised as he kicked it over to Wooyoung. It skidded across the concrete, spinning in circles uselessly as Wooyoung trapped it beneath his foot. 

“Perfect,” he said, lightly kicking it to the side. He took a long drag of his cigarette, the tip glowing a brilliant orange in the dim light as he inhaled. He blew a thick gray cloud right into Seonghwa’s face, twirling a switchblade between his fingers with his other hand. 

The blade stopped spinning, and he dragged it across Seonghwa’s cheek, spilling fresh ribbons over his skin. It dripped down his chin, down his jaw, his neck, bleeding into the collar of his shirt. His shirt had been ripped open, his lacerated chest on display like a gruesome tic-tac-toe board, its white cotton soaked with shades of red.

“Now that I have an audience, I can really put on a show.” 

“N-no, please!” you whimpered helplessly as the blade slid across his cheek, drawing a scream from Seonghwa’s lips. “Please, please stop! I’m begging you!”

“Aw, hear that? How cute,” Wooyoung said as he finished the cut, bringing the knife up to his lips to taste Seonghwa’s blood. You felt angry and sick all at once, your stomach churning as you watched the scene unfold. “I wish I didn’t have to kill her. I’d love to have a go with her myself, you know? Hey princess, wanna have some fun? It’s your last night alive, right? I’ll be real good to you, promise.”

“Fuck you!” you spat. You weren’t sure if he was serious or just trying to fuck with you, but you were disgusted regardless. “I’d rather die.”

“Well, that can be easily arranged. Just thought I’d ask, no need to be so feisty.” 

Wooyoung turned back to Seonghwa. He held his knife in a way that left two fingers free to pull the cigarette from his lips. He flicked the ash, then smashed the butt of it into Seonghwa’s chest just below his collarbone. Seonghwa let out a pained groan through his teeth, his voice hoarse from screaming. Wooyoung twisted it a few times until it was out, then tossed it aside, leaving an angry red mark against Seonghwa’s skin. 

“You know, my father was in a gang. He was a real good guy, though. I still remember him clear as day, even though I was so young. He taught me how to play darts.” He gently trailed the knife along Seonghwa’s skin, caressing with the blade as he spoke. “That’s my strongest memory of him. He got me a dart board for my fifth birthday. I still have that old thing, to this day.” 

Wooyoung walked in a slow circle around him, his gun loosely aimed at Seonghwa’s head. You could see the rise and fall of Seonghwa’s chest with every labored breath, like he was on a thin precipice of consciousness. 

“We played darts every day. I’d wait all day for him to come home, staring at the door until it finally opened, then he’d pick me up and swing me around. Then we’d play darts. There was one time I swear I almost had him beat, but he was good. He really knew what he was doing.” 

Wooyoung gave a sudden slice to Seonghwa’s chest, splattering blood across the floor in a messy line. Seonghwa screamed, throwing his head back in agony. His neck was drenched in sweat, dripping down his skin and mixing with the streams of blood that oozed from his face. You cried out, weeping and sobbing as Wooyoung continued to speak. 

“One day, I thought I heard my father coming home, but something wasn’t quite right. I heard people yelling outside, so I got scared and hid in the coat closet. A bunch of people came into the house, and I saw my dad sitting on the couch, his hands and feet all tied up. You know what they did to him?” 

Wooyoung stopped, halting in front of Seonghwa, his teeth clenched in a pained smile. “They cut him—“ slice. “Burned him—“ slice. “Carved him all up, like a piece of meat.” Slice, slice, slice. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, screaming in horror as the knife found its mark over and over, Seonghwa’s screams of pain mingling with yours in a brutal, sickening harmony. 

“They didn’t even stop, not after he begged and pleaded, told them he had a little boy. He was worried about me, even while being carved up like that. He still wanted to make sure I was ok.” Slice, slice. 

“Then, someone else walked up. He told them to stop, and I thought it would be over. I thought they were gonna let him go. But instead…” Slice. “He held up a gun, stuck it right against his head, and pulled the trigger. You know who it was?” 

Wooyoung paused, like he was waiting for an answer, but Seonghwa didn’t give one. “That’s right. Your fucking daddy.” A deeper, harsher slice. The scream that tore out of Seonghwa’s throat made your whole body go cold, numb, but still you felt every cut on his skin. 

“And, you know?” Wooyoung laughed, painfully, like it hurt to remember. “Right before your dad pulled the trigger, my dad turned, and looked right at me. He saw me in the closet, just watching. Sometimes I think I imagined it. I could have, I’m not really sure. It was so long ago.” Slice, slice. Another scream. 

“Then… Bang.” Slice. “His head exploded. Just like that. I remember thinking it looked like a cherry slushy. I guess at the time I didn’t have much else to compare it to.” Wooyoung shrugged, then paused, like he was waiting for his audience to laugh. 

“Your daddy still doesn’t know I saw him. He thinks my first memory of him is riding home in the car, eating McDonald’s while I cried. He was so nice, too. Sometimes I think, if I hadn’t seen it, I’d think of him as my real dad, you know? God, I wish I could.” 

Slice, scream, slice. The floor was covered in blood. 

“The only thing that keeps me sane is knowing that, after all this is done, he’ll get to feel that same pain, you know? He’ll wake up, brush his teeth, and his son will be dead. He’ll go to bed at night, lie awake, staring at the ceiling, and his son will be dead. Just like that.” 

Slice. Hongjoong held you tightly, his warm body around yours, but you felt nothing. Like a nightmare you couldn’t escape, or a movie playing endlessly on repeat in front of your eyes. 

“That’s the only way I’ll ever really be at peace. Killing him wouldn’t be enough. It wouldn’t even scratch the surface. Not even a little—tiny—bit.” Slice, slice, slice. 

Wooyoung raised the gun up to Seonghwa’s head, gently moving his hair out of his eyes with its tip. “It’s really nothing personal, Hwa. I really think we could have been brothers. You were just born in the wrong family.” 

He placed the gun against Seonghwa’s temple, smiling gently, sadly as his finger came around to rest on the trigger. 

“No! No, please, god! Please, please, please!” you sobbed violently, thrashing against Hongjoong’s hold. “Please! I’ll do anything, anything! Wooyoung, please—stop!” 

“You too, princess. It’s nothing personal. You just happened to date the wrong man. You don’t need to worry, though. I have nothing against you. I don’t want to make you suffer.” He looked over at you, giving you a sympathetic glance. 

Seonghwa raised his head, just enough to meet your eyes. He blinked a few times to focus, his lashes fluttering as they opened. You could barely see through your tears, but you could see his warm gaze, like he was telling you not to worry, not to fear, and goodbye all at once.

“No, no! No, please—“

“Bye-bye, Hwa.” 

Wooyoung’s finger squeezed against the trigger, and the screams that ripped from your throat didn’t even sound like your own. As if you were a ghost, watching from afar, like your body didn’t belong to you. You were helpless, useless, like a piece of dust against a violent wind. 

You couldn’t watch. You couldn’t have this be your last memory of him. You squeezed your eyes shut, the image of Seonghwa’s smile painting the back of your eyelids, his kind eyes, his gentle touch against your skin. His laugh when he was happy, like a naive child experiencing life for the first time. 

A scream of agony ripped from Wooyoung’s throat, and your eyes shot open. He clutched his hand, doubled over as he cried out in pain. Blood spilled down his arm like a waterfall, and his gun scraped across the floor, wrenched from his grasp. Hongjoong lunged forward, grabbing it with a hefty sigh of relief. 

“That dick. What took him so long?” 

“What—what the fuck did you do?” Wooyoung spat through his teeth staggering toward Hongjoong with a look of pure rage. Blood poured from the wound in his hand, soaking the floor in red. 

Then came another gunshot, and Wooyoung sank to his knees, fresh screams of agony echoing against the walls of the warehouse. Hongjoong approached him with his arm outstretched, forcing him to look down the barrel of his own gun. 

Wooyoung cursed, spitting profanities as he tried to pull himself up, smearing blood across the concrete as it poured from his wounds. He panted, torn between clutching his hand or his leg as both bled profusely. He glared up at Hongjoong, who silently held him at gunpoint. 

Hongjoong looked back to you, making a gesture with his head toward Seonghwa. You immediately scrambled to your feet, running to him on trembling legs, feet carrying you as fast as they possibly could. You crouched in front of him, taking his face between your hands, cupping gently as you tried to coax him into opening his eyes. 

“Seonghwa! Seonghwa, hey! Look at me!”

He met your eyes weakly, his head barely able to support its own weight. His eyes were heavily lidded, almost unable to keep them open as he struggled to stay afloat. “Hey, hey, Seonghwa, it’s okay,” you comforted, voice soft and low. You wiped his jet black hair away from his eyes, plastered to his forehead with sweat. “Keep your eyes open for me, okay? We’re gonna get you out of here.” 

You had tried to keep together yourself for him, but tears spilled over with no indication of ceasing. You had to be strong to keep his focus on you. You were no doctor, but you knew enough from movies that someone who’d lost so much blood was not supposed to close their eyes. 

You reached around him to disentangle his restraints, much less skillfully than you had watched him do for you before, keeping eye contact with him the best you could. “You’re gonna be okay,” you reassured, though you weren’t entirely certain of it yourself. “Talk to me, please Hwa.”

“I—I really thought you were dead,” he croaked, his voice thin and husky. “Because of me— I thought you were going to die because of me, I’m so sorry, I—”

His hands fell free as you managed to finally break through the knots. You brought him in for an embrace, squeezing tightly at first before remembering that you needed to be gentle. You couldn’t help yourself, it was like he’d been brought back to life before your eyes. You thought he was dead—you thought you were dead—but here you were, holding him in your arms, feeling his very much alive heartbeat against your chest. 

“Seonghwa, stop. Don’t be sorry, please…” You pulled back to make eye contact with him one more, bringing your hand up to his cheek, rubbing away what you could of the sweat and blood from his skin. “I love you. And I’m just glad you’re alive.”

He was probably too out of it to grasp your love confession fully, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care if it was too early for you to admit it either. With all the uncertainty you’d been through up to now, there was really only one thing you knew for certain: you loved him. 

“You guys are sweet and all, but we should really get going,” Yeosang’s voice rang from across the warehouse, and you heard the distinct sound of him clambering down the ladder from his perched position near the rafters. “We don’t know how many more of his men might come when they realize he hasn’t checked in.”

Yeosang’s voice had snapped you back to reality. You suddenly became aware of Wooyoung’s pained cries as he held onto his bleeding leg. Hongjoong still had the gun poised against his skull, though he was incapacitated enough at this point that you weren’t worried about him trying to fight back. You had zero sympathy for him after what he’d done to Seonghwa. Hongjoong could have shot him right there and you wouldn’t have felt a damn thing but relief. 

“Yeosang, jesus, next time maybe don’t cut it so close,” Hongjoong scolded through his teeth. 

“Look, it’s not my fault I ended up having to take out two armed guards instead of one,” he snapped back, slinging his rifle over his shoulder.

Yeosang hurried to your side, helping you hoist Seonghwa up from the cold metal chair. He stumbled into your arms, and you both used all your weight to keep him upright. 

You managed a few clumsy steps with him slung over your shoulders before Hongjoong’s voice sounded in your ears. “Hey, guys, uh… what am I supposed to do with him?” he asked from across the warehouse, the barrel of his gun still poised at Wooyoung offensively. 

Seonghwa planted his heels suddenly, causing you and Yeosang to stop in your tracks. His body trembled weakly under him as he turned his head to shoot a final glance over his shoulder at Wooyoung, who was still clutching his leg on the floor. “Leave him,” he spat, the spite dripping from his tongue as he struggled to choke out the words. “I’m not like him. I wouldn’t kill my own brother.”

Hongjoong delivered a swift kick to Wooyoung’s stomach, and he groaned in agony, keeling over into the fetal position. “I wouldn’t have been so generous. If you’re lucky your goons will find you before you bleed to death,” he hissed through his teeth, holstering his gun in the waist of his pants, then jogged over to join you by the main entrance.

As you helped Seonghwa into the car, the sky washed over with the faint glow of the moonlight, you couldn’t help but notice the glimmer of tears reflecting in his eyes.

You drove for a while, doing everything you could to keep Seonghwa conscious and talking. He was mostly incoherent, but you kept him speaking about anything you could, arm wrapped tightly around him. Every so often the car would jostle him a bit and he would grit his teeth, hissing at the sting of his wounds. You wanted so badly to take his pain away, but the best you could do was try to comfort him, however little that might have been.

Your attention was pulled away from him as the car finally pulled into a run down parking lot, dimly lit by a neon “Speedy’s Pizza” sign flickering overhead.

“What, are we getting pizza first?” you joked. 

“This is the place,” Hongjoong said, completely straight-faced, but there was no way he could be serious, right? 

“Your doctor works in a pizza shop?”

“It’s a rough economy,” Yeosang responded, and you also couldn’t tell if he was joking.

“I really don’t like this,” you grumbled under your breath, still supporting your arm around Seonghwas waist. He was a bit more conscious now, able to sit upright in the car on his own, but you felt incredibly protective of him, like if you let go even for a second he might not make it.  

“Trust me. He’s one of the best doctors I know,” Hongjoong reassured, shooting a glance over his shoulder from the passenger seat. He gave Seonghwa a glance up and down. “He’s gonna need it.” 

You exited the car cautiously, feeling a bit uneasy about dragging a bloodied man through the lot of an otherwise normal pizza parlor. You and Yeosang supported Seonghwa’s weight from either side, his arms draped around your shoulders for stability, as you helped him shuffle his way across the gravelly lot. 

Hongjoong directed you towards a back entrance, which opened into a staircase leading down to the basement. It was dark and dusty and sketchy as hell, not the kind of place you’d expect to take someone barely clinging to consciousness and actively oozing blood. There were spiders above your head, and you didn’t even want to risk touching the rail for fear of contracting hepatitis or something. Was that even possible? You clumsily led Seonghwa down the stairs, watching your step in the dim light as you descended. 

You reached the landing at the bottom, a single fluorescent bulb flickering in a nauseating strobe above you. A decrepit metal door was your only option, complete with a bullet hole off to one side and paint missing from almost every inch of it. Wonderful. Was this guy some kind of mad scientist from a straight to video horror flick? 

The door creaked open ominously as Hongjoong pressed against the handle, and you followed him through. There was a short hallway with doors on either side, and one open door at the very end. Hongjoong called down the hallway as they approached, knocking his fist loudly against the wall to announce their entrance. 

“San! Sannie! Yo, you home?” 

“What? Who is it?” A voice called back, sounding annoyed. “It’s four in the goddamn morning!” 

“It’s Hongjoong, you ass!” 

“Hongjoong!” 

The voice turned cheerful, and a man came running out of the room with a beer in his hand and fuzzy slippers on his feet. He looked younger than you, with soft, happy features and a bright smile. He was the doctor? 

“What the hell are you—oh shit! Hwa, you good?” His smile turned into a look of surprise the moment he laid eyes on Seonghwa. 

“What the fuck do you think?” Seonghwa grumbled. 

“What happened, man?” San took a swig of his beer. “You look like hell.”

“Can you just shut up and help him?” Yeosang deadpanned. 

“Here,” San handed you his beer, which you took without question. “Finish that for me.” 

“Uh, thanks…”

San took over your position underneath Seonghwa, carrying him into the room at the end of the hall. You followed after them, looking around in awe at the room filled with gadgets and tubes and trays of sharp things. 

Shelves were littered with all different colors of vials and liquids, and things that did not look like they should go together. Bags of fluid that hung from IV stands, empty syringes all over the place, pills loosely scattered around the floor, a giant smear all over one wall. Was that… blood? 

There was an old recliner right in the middle of the room, a TV playing cartoons, an end table full of empty beer bottles, movie posters on the walls, mini fridge, and a dart board, which you shuddered at. In the very back corner was a hospital bed, which they carefully laid Seonghwa on. You were no nurse, but this place didn’t exactly scream up to code. You were afraid to touch anything.

“Yeesh, you’re bleeding everywhere!” 

“My bad,” Seonghwa gritted through his teeth sarcastically. 

“So what happened?”

“Wooyoung.” 

“What? How so?”

“He tried to kill me.”

“Well, I can see that…” 

“It’s a long story. Can we save it for when I’m, you know, whole again?” Seonghwa winced in pain, delivering a sharp hiss through his teeth.

“Right, right. Hey uh, you. What’s your name?” He glanced over at you.

“Me? I’m Y/N.” 

“Hey, nice to meet ya. I’m San. Can you push that tray over here?”

He gestured to a tray full of sharp things. You hoped to god they were sanitized. You rolled it over to him, hearing a crinkle as it ran over a discarded candy wrapper. He put gloves on, which you were thankful for.

“Ok, Yeosang, hand me that bottle of iodine by your head. No, not that one. On the shelf. The shelf!”

Yeosang practically threw the bottle at him once he found the right one, huffing angrily. San caught it, setting it to the side for later as he rustled through his tray of instruments. 

“Ok, now…. Hongjoong.” 

“Yeah?”

“Go upstairs and get me a pizza. Large, thin crust, extra olives. No mushrooms.”

“What?”

“What? I’m hungry. It’s 4am. There’s cash in that box of granola bars over there.”

“Um, I don’t see any.”

“Under the granola bars. Underneath.”

“What? I—nevermind, found it.”

Hongjoong pulled a couple twenties out from the box, then looked over at you with a nod. 

“You want anything, Y/N?”

Pizza? Seriously? Well, come to think of it, you had skipped your dinner plans in favor of flying out the door with Seonghwa in a panic. Then you were kidnapped, rescued, then you saved Seonghwa from being murdered, so you were a little hungry, actually. Not that you truly felt comfortable eating in this sketchy excuse for an operating room, but your options were pretty slim. 

“Sure, yeah. Pizza sounds good.” 

Hongjoong dragged a begrudging Yeosang out the door with him, and you were left with just Seonghwa and San. San gestured to a rolling stool off in the corner. 

“Wanna be my assistant for a while?” he asked, and you nodded and pushed the stool over to the side of the bed. He was filling a syringe from an unlabeled vial, which made you a little nervous. 

“What’s that?” you asked skeptically. 

“Morphine. Closest thing I have to anesthesia.”

“Wonderful,” Seonghwa groaned. 

You took his hand, giving it a squeeze as he rolled his eyes. He broke into a small smile when your eyes met, crinkling into crescent shapes that shined even underneath all the blood caked to his face. You gently stroked the back of his hand with your thumb as San finished threading his IV. 

“Any last words?”

“You make it sound like you’re gonna kill me.” 

“Hah, maybe.” He saw the concerned look on your face and quickly backtracked. “What? I was kidding. I’m gonna give him this to knock him out before I start the sutures.” 

“Nah, just go for it.” Seonghwa said, letting his head fall back against the pillow. 

“Alright, sleep tight.” San said as he pushed the morphine through the IV, the liquid running up through the tube into Seonghwa’s arm. 

His eyes drifted shut a few moments later, the dose large enough to fully sedate him. You were glad he could rest for a while, able to escape the pain at least temporarily. San pulled back Seonghwa’s open shirt a little more to see what he was working with. 

“Yikes.” He quickly glanced at his watch. “Looks like I’m not getting much sleep tonight.”

He sighed as he picked up a squeeze bottle of liquid, dousing it over Seonghwa’s many wounds. The sheets on the bed were toast, quickly becoming drenched with red as the liquid ran off the sides of his torso, rinsing the excess blood to give the doctor a clearer field of view. He hummed cheerily as he picked out which cut to tend to first, dabbing at one with a ball of cotton before picking up a curved needle and a pair of forceps. 

You watched in gruesome fascination as he got to work, stitching the edges of the wound together with a careful, precise touch. He definitely seemed to be about your age, if not a little younger, which was awfully young for an MD. He hummed and smiled as he sewed, like he was working on an arts and crafts project rather than a human being. Despite his wacky personality, he was pretty cute. Seriously cute, actually. You thought hot young doctors only existed in the realm of Grey’s Anatomy. Well… if this guy really counted as a doctor, anyway. 

“So…” you started awkwardly, wanting to find some way to fill the silence. “You, uh, you’ve known these guys for quite a while, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve only met Seonghwa a handful of times, but me and Hongjoong go way back. He helped me pay for med school in exchange for patching up his buddies.”

Med school. Oh, thank god. 

“Ah, that’s nice of him. Are you still in school, or…?” You didn’t want to offend him or anything, but there’s no way he could have graduated already. He was like, maybe twenty five, max. 

“Nah, not anymore. No point, really. Doing it under the table pays way more. Well, that, and I have a few things on my record, so I wouldn’t really be able to get my license anyway. I have a warrant out for my arrest, technically, so this job is perfect! Way more fun, too. More gunshot wounds. Stabs, burns, you know. Fun stuff.” 

You didn’t really know what he meant by having a record, but you really didn’t want to know. Especially while he was in the middle of stitching your boyfriend up with a sharp object. While wearing fuzzy slippers. Under a pizza shop. Could this night get any wilder?

He gave you a bright, dimpled smile. “What? You don’t trust me? I’ll have you know I got straight A’s before I dropped out.” 

Was that supposed to make you feel better? “That’s… that’s great.” 

Hongjoong and Yeosang came back a while later, the smell of pizza permeating the basement with its delicious, cheesy aroma. San had you feed him bites of pizza while he worked, as that was your task as his assistant, apparently. You did your very best not to drip grease into Seonghwa’s open wounds. 

It took San so long to stitch up the mess of lacerations that you eventually just rested your head on the side of the bed, nodding off to the sound of humming and the occasional metallic rustling of the instrument tray. You weren’t sure how long you slept for, as you couldn’t really gauge the time from the windowless basement. You felt movement eventually, which jostled you enough to rouse you awake, cracking your eyes open to the sight of a loopy, drug dazed Seonghwa. 

“Hey, Frankenstein,” you teased sleepily. San was gone, replaced by a pile of bloody cotton where he’d been sitting. You weren’t sure where the others had gone off to, but you appreciated a little alone time. 

Seonghwa smiled a bit and looked up at you with the same sad, sparkly eyes you had missed, except this time they weren’t necessarily drunken, just a bit doped up from San’s sketchy shot of morphine. He took your hand in his, making intense and serious eye contact. "I realized I never said thank you… for saving me."

You chuckled dismissively. You were never particularly great at accepting sincerity. "That was mostly Hongjoong and Yeosang. I forced them to drag me along. Really, Hwa, you shouldn't be thanking me."

"I didn’t mean for saving me in the warehouse."

You cocked your head to the side, furrowing your brows. "Then for what?"

"For saving me. The night we met.”

“I think you still have a bit of morphine left in your system,” you laughed, brushing his hair from his eyes. “That was you, Hwa. You’re the one who did the saving. You punched my boyfriend out that night, remember? Then you took pity on me and let me stay at your penthouse… and uh, some other stuff.”

“I mean, that’s true. I did take pity on you. You were just too cute to resist that night, even through your tears,” he mused drowsily, his eyes trained on your face, glimmering as the memories seemed to flash in his eyes. “You know, I was watching you that night. Even before that piece of shit made a scene. I noticed you, as soon as you walked in. I don’t admit this very often, but I had a little bit of a crush on you.”

You giggled at his cheesy admission, like a schoolboy confessing his love. “A crush on me?” 

Heat rose to his cheeks, staining them an incriminating bright red. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s my job to watch the bar, but that night… I only found myself watching you.”

“That sounds a little creepy, Hwa,” you teased with a smile, giving his hand a squeeze. “But while we’re confessing things… I thought you were the most handsome guy I’d ever seen. Like some sort of walking statue.”

“I hope you still think that,” he quipped, flashing one of his intoxicating,  albeit drowsy, smiles.

“Even more so now. If that’s possible.”  

His eyes were lidded heavily, still a bit out of it from his earlier dose of morphine, but he looked at you with complete and utter sincerity. “That night, you saved me. I didn’t realize at the time, but meeting you—it helped me see the bigger picture in my life. It made me realize I didn’t want any part of the mafia anymore. You helped me feel like a human again.” He squeezed your hand tightly, his long fingers pressed tightly against your knuckles. “Those months we were apart, I couldn’t get you out of my mind. I drank and I tried to forget you, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t. The amount of times I fought myself from showing up at your doorstep… well, there were too many to count.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but you were interrupted by the chaotic clambering of San bursting through the door. He accidentally kicked one of his instrument trays on the way in, cursing loudly as he stubbed his toe, scalpels and things flying onto the floor in a hazardous rain. 

“Goddammit, I swear to—Hey! You made it!” He beamed up at Seonghwa from the floor where he was picking up all of his scattered tools, which hopefully he planned on sanitizing. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Seonghwa grumbled, echoing your own thoughts. 

“Things were lookin’ pretty dicey for a while there. And the dose I gave you was pretty big, so I’m glad you woke u—I mean, I’m just glad to see you’re feeling better, that’s all.” 

This San guy was a real piece of work. Regardless, you were thankful to him. 

“Thanks, Dr. San. For everything,” you said warmly.

He stood up from the floor, shoving his instruments back onto the tray with a giggle. “Ooh, she called me doctor. I feel so professional.” 

“Where is everyone?”

“They went out to get some air and make a few calls. Service down here is ass. Shit, speak of the devil.” 

Right on cue, the old door outside creaked open, Hongjoong and Yeosang entering a few moments later. Yeosang rolled his head, his neck cracking audibly as he gave an exhausted sigh. 

“Can I sleep yet? I need at least nine hours a day for maximum accuracy.”

“Is that what it says in the sniper’s handbook?” Hongjoong asked sarcastically, looking just as worn down. 

“It is, actually—Oh, he’s awake!” 

“Buddy! You alive?” Hongjoong suddenly brightened up, pushing the mound of bloody cotton off the stool by the bed so he could sit on it. 

“Pretty sure.” Seonghwa looked at his best friend, giving him a dopey smile. Hongjoong’s relief was palpable. Given how much blood Seonghwa had lost, things could have gone much worse. 

"So, Hwa, you have a plan for how you're gonna get out of here? The country, I mean. I wanna let you rest and all, but we’re kinda low on time. If Wooyoung is still alive, then there’s a chance he could find you here. There aren’t very many back-alley doctors to choose from, you know."

"I did have a plan. But after everything, I don't think I can trust any of my old contacts anymore." 

Hongjoong paused, bringing a hand up to his chin in contemplation. "I suppose I can set you up with my documents guy for passports, Yunho. He's backed up on requests right now, but I'll see if I can't get something pushed through for you," he said with a cheeky wink. "Anything for my best friend."

Seonghwa smiled. "Thanks. That'd be great."

"In the meantime, I know a guy who can cover your tracks. His name is Mingi, he'll make sure you can keep hidden until Yunho gets you your new identities. You can trust them, I promise. Cross my heart, yeah?" 

“Please?”

“No!”

“But I’m horny.”

“You’re injured.”

“Yeah, and horny.”

You gave an exasperated sigh. You’d had a rough week of hopping from hotel to hotel every night, covering your tracks while your fake documents were in the works. You couldn’t leave the country quite yet, and there were eyes everywhere, so you had to be extremely discreet and down low with your every move. 

Seonghwa laid on the bed, giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes he could muster. You glared back, but the puppy eyes were brutal, and you could feel your willpower chipping away by the second. He was shirtless from just having showered, and his chest was an art project of lines and sutures like a voodoo doll. A really handsome voodoo doll. 

“We can’t exactly go to a hospital if your stitches rip.”

“You can be on top. I’ll just lay here. You’re not gonna rip them, they’re closed already, I promise.”

“Oh, now I have to do all the work?” you teased.

“I was tortured. You should feel bad for me.”

“Oh, you poor, poor thing,” you said, giving a devilish smirk as you straddled him on the bed. 

You leaned forward, careful not to lay on him as you pressed your lips to his. You kissed him sweetly, like he was a fragile, delicate ice sculpture, but he wasn’t having any of it. He licked into your mouth, threading his hands through your hair and pulling you as close as he could without disturbing his wounds. He was obviously pent up from not having sex all week, and he raised his hips up to grind against your leg. 

You pulled back, shimmying down his body until you were hovering over his crotch. You ran your hand over the fabric of his underwear, feeling the bulge underneath, and he bit his lip in anticipation. You realize how much you’d missed this side of him, the one that wanted you so badly like this. You couldn’t wait until things were back to normal, when he’d be able to fuck you without abandon and have you clawing at the sheets like before. Well, as close to normal as things could ever be again. 

He lifted his hips up, allowing you to slide his underwear off. His dick sprang free, and you wrapped your hand around it, pumping the shaft in your fist. Seonghwa groaned, letting his head fall back against the pillow. You missed seeing that face on him, the one where he bites his lip and closes his eyes and does a little frown. He’d been through a lot lately, and you wanted to show him a good time. Gently, of course. 

You leaned down, wrapping your lips around the tip, swirling with your tongue as you sucked gently. He sighed as you took him deeper into your mouth, letting your tongue press along the underside of the shaft, squeezing the base in your fist. You weren’t in the mood to tease him, not after it had been so long since you’d last gotten to do this. 

You took him in as far as you could, letting his cock hit the back of your throat, eating up his moans as they spilled from his lips. You pulled off, then sank back down, finding a slow rhythm as you bobbed your head. You began jerking his cock as you sucked, hollowing your cheeks as you gently twisted your hand in the way you knew he loved. You hadn’t known him all that long in the grand scheme of things, but you certainly knew how to please him. 

His breathy sighs turned into audible moans as you sucked faster, harder, saliva dripping from your lips, allowing your hand to slide over the shaft with ease. He stroked your hair as you worked, not pulling or shoving, just petting. You looked up at him, and beneath the lust in his eyes was something else, something softer, like you were something important beyond words. 

You pulled back, smiling as you clumsily wiped a string of saliva from your lips. You were only in a shirt and panties, but you discarded them quickly as you climbed over him. You knew he didn’t want you treating him like glass, but you were gentle as you straddled his hips, lowering yourself onto his cock. He groaned openly as you sank down onto him, his cock sliding into you like a puzzle piece. 

You rolled your hips forward, rocking over him in slow waves, keeping your eyes locked on his. Seonghwa’s hands slid up to your waist, holding you as you rode him, encouraging you with his touch. He stroked circles into your skin with his thumbs, and you shuddered, a sensual tingle running down your spine.

 It was a different kind of gentleness, not just because he was injured, but it was almost as though you were the one made of glass. Something irreplaceable, something he’d hold on tight to and never let go. Like he didn’t want to let go of you for a single moment for fear of losing you again. And honestly, you felt the same. Like you never wanted to let him go. 

Seonghwa’s lips parted as his breaths turned to pants, a sheen of sweat barely gleaming along the surface of his neck. His hands gripped you tighter, and you rocked your hips forward with more intensity. You started grinding in slow circles, gradually becoming faster as his moans grew more desperate. 

You rode him to his climax, your eyes glued to each other’s as he tipped over the edge, moaning your name like it was something sacred. You leaned down to kiss him carefully, feeling the heat of his skin and the rise of his chest beneath your own. You laid like that for a while, not wanting to move, but you had to eventually. You slid off and laid next to him, and you snuggled as close to his chest as you could without pressing against his wounds. 

He turned and kissed your cheek, and you gave a soft laugh, feeling like time had stopped for a while. Even though your lives had been flipped upside down and you were living on the run like fugitives, you felt strangely content, and you could have laid like that forever, just listening to the sound of his breath and his heartbeat in his chest. 

“I like you on top. It reminds me of the first time we met,” he smiled drowsily at your side, turning his head to meet your eyes, still breathing heavily. He still couldn’t turn on his side completely thanks to the lacerations painting his chest and arms. 

“I could never forget,” you mused. You remembered how good it felt that night to please him. How completely entranced you were with him—in fact, you still were. Even though you’d been plastered at the time, it lived in your memory like it had happened just yesterday. 

He brushed your hair from your face, wincing slightly as his cuts dragged across the hotel sheets. He tried so hard to stay strong, even through the pain. You loved that about him, but you wished he’d just let you take care of him for a while. “It won’t be much longer until we’re out of the country.” He glanced down at his chest and arms. “I should be able to take these stitches out in another week, and Hongjoong got his contact Yunho to push our documents through to the front of his list.” 

“You know, I don’t really mind hotel-hopping as long as it’s with you,” you hummed softly, punctuating your words with a gentle kiss. He pressed his lips against yours in return, lingering there a bit longer than usual, almost like a thank you.  

“Have you thought any more about where you want to go?” Seonghwa asked.

“Hmm… maybe Italy? France? I’ve always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower.”

“We can go wherever you want. Just say the word.”

You laid there for a while with him, lacing your fingers in his, the image of his sweet smile lulling you to the realm of sleep. 

It was certainly something you could get used to. 

He stood next to you, handing the security agent his passport. Park Seonghwa. Except you could no longer use that name—from today on, it would be forever wiped from existence, as would yours. 

“Thank you, Mr. Choi.”

You handed her yours confidently, flashing her a smile. She smiled back at you, nodding as she motioned you forward onto the plane. “Thank you, Mrs. Choi.”

[epilogue]

It was summer. The sun filtered through the big windows of your Athens apartment, bathing your skin in warmth as you laid next to him in bed. 

You’d been settled into your new lives for so long you could barely remember the old ones, but even so, some scars still remained. You traced your fingers along your husband’s chest, feeling every small, subtle rise of the scars painted across it, like a painful map of distant memories you couldn’t erase. Even so, the scars were the only reminder you had of your past lives. 

“You know, I’ve always wanted to go to Greece, since I was little,” you said, stroking his head softly. 

He brushed your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. His eyes sparkled like the stars as he took your image in. He was always sparkling now. “A fitting destination for my goddess,” he praised sweetly. 

You nuzzled your nose on his cheek, scrunching it against his skin. “I always thought you looked more like a god than a man anyways, you know that? Ever since I met you.”

You gazed out the window from your comfortable position on the bed, watching the ocean as it sparkled in the distance, lulling you nearly to sleep in his arms. 

“Hey,” he said from beside you, snapping your attention back to him instantly. His voice, smooth as ever, rang in your ears like a song.  

“Hm?” 

“I love you.”

[dreamescapeswriting]

Special Cargo ~ JJK [Request]

↬↬↬Word Count: 2.1k

↬↬↬Genre: Fluffy, angst, Mafia AU

↬↬↬Pairing: Mafia!Jungkook x reader

↬↬↬A/N: This is a continuation of my Mafia pregnancy reaction for Jungkook, I reworked the beginning into this so there’s no need to read the first part @xworldwidecutieguyx Hope this is okay!!

Your hands were shaking as you looked down at the pregnancy test which had the clear word 'Pregnant' written across it. You took it over to the drawer filled with others, all them a mixture of plus signs, positive, pregnant or that stupid condescending smile that was staring back at you. As if you could even be happy that you were with child right now, you'd always dreamt of having kids but not yet. Not when Jungkook had made it abundantly clear that he didn't want kids yet either, your mind went back to the conversation you'd had with him months ago. He was the leader of a mafia gang for christ sake, of course, he didn't want to have kids yet. It was far too dangerous for you to be pregnant or to bring a child into his life and yet here you were pregnant with his first child.

"Oh fuck," You mumbled when you heard the front door open and slam shut. You locked the drawer full of tests and headed down the staircase to go and greet him at the door. He was drenched in blood - not his. It was never his but it meant he'd had a really bad day and work and probably wasn't going to speak to you for a couple of hours. It happened occasionally so you stayed silent and went to make him a drink. Jungkook and you had met when you were working for him in one of his local bars and he took a liking to you. You'd been together for four years in December and you knew him like you knew yourself. A bad day meant leaving him alone to do his own thing, staying out of his way and making sure to stay as silent as possible so it was not to annoy him.

Your hands shook as you poured the scotch into a glass with ice cubes before handing it to him, normally you'd have a drink with him but you couldn't now that you were pregnant. The door slammed against the wall and you jumped - you'd think you'd be used to people storming in and out of your place like they owned it but you never did. Namjoon was stood there staring at Jungkook, he was also covered in blood.

"Drink?" He nodded at you and you went to make him the same drink as Jungkook. Your hands grazed as he took the cup from your hand and you avoided his eyes walking away from him. Namjoon was like a psychic when it came to things like this in peoples lives. You rushed up the stairs to go and run Jungkook a bath if he was covered in blood and stressed he was going to want to have a relaxing night instead of one filled with rushing around for himself. You turned on the taps and poured in some bubbles and salts turning around to see Jungkook in the doorway watching your every move.

"I made you a bath, careful it might be-" The door slammed in your face as he walked into the bathroom as you left it,

"Hot." You whispered going into the bedroom and trying to think of when the best time to bring up the fact that you were pregnant with him. You couldn't hide it too long because he was sure to find out about it sooner or later, you'd start showing in a few months so you had to tell him soon.

After a week of uncomfortable and painful silence, he finally spoke to you one night,

"You're the best, you know that?" He came up behind you and began rubbing his hands on your arms. You were standing over the kitchen sink doing the dishes when he came in from work. He must have had one of the best days ever since he was smiling so much. You bent your head back to kiss him and he smiled at you, kissing your lips and pulling away.

"You are," You whispered drying your hands on a towel before turning to get a real hug from him. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and held you as close to his body as he could with you. That's when he pulled back and put his hand on your forehead, a panicked look came across his face and he sat you down on one of the kitchen chairs.

"What's wrong?" You giggled as he began looking around the room for something, he headed into the medicine cabinet you kept stocked up since he was always coming home with some kind of new injury.

"Here," He took the thermometer out and pressed it against your forehead,

"I heard you throwing up this morning and you were sick yesterday too. Maybe we should get you to a doctor." The machine beeped and he read it out, you had a normal temperature but to Jungkook you were hot to touch. You knew where this was going,

"I already know what's wrong, I don't need a doctor." You told him and he put the machine away before turning to you. You were eating one of the apples from the centre of the table and he chuckled at the sight,

"I erm...I ate something bad but I feel fine now." You lied swallowing the lump of apple and trying to think of something else to say. He'd had a good day and you finally got the loving Jungkook back you didn't want to lose him so quickly.

"Do we have any popcorn?" You asked getting up and hunting around in the cabinets for something, you'd had a craving for them all week which meant you were further along in your pregnancy than you originally thought you were and you were going to run out of time to confess to him.

"It's probably not a good idea to eat popcorn baby, if you said you ate something bad plus you are putting on a little weight." You slammed the cupboard door shut and span around to face him, you were getting angrier with each second he stared at you,

"How dare you?! I work my ass off around the house and you call me fat?" You questioned him staring at him, you placed your hands on your hips to challenge him and he smirked at how cocky you were acting right now. You'd never spoken back to him before.

"Carry on talking to me like that, I dare you." You smirked back at him wanting to see what he was going to do.

"What are you going to do? Tie me up and torture me like you do everyone else?!" Your voice cracked and your hormones made you cry at the thought of Jungkook hurting you. You were an emotional mess and you couldn't stand it,

"I'm right then, looks like Namjoon owes me money." You blinked at him wondering what he meant.

"Well you are pregnant aren't you? Or are you going to deny all of the pregnancy tests, the morning sickness, mood swings and the weight gain?" Your hands went onto your stomach even though there wasn't much to feel you still wanted to touch it. Jungkook sounded pissed off at you in his tone and he shook his head,

"I told you to take the pill. If you just do what you're told we wouldn't be n this mess right now." You agreed with him but he wasn't right,

"I was taking it Jungkook, but it's only 98% effective." You were trying to reason with him when you knew for a fact that he wasn't even listening to you. He was starting to rant on about how he was too young for children, how this world wasn't right to bring someone new into and his work environment wasn't great.

"Jungkook, he or she will be fine. We can look after them-" He grumbled something and walked out of the kitchen,

"Where are you going!? Don't walk away from me!" You yelled at him but the front door was slammed shut, all that could be heard in the huge mansion you lived in was the automatic lock of the door and his car engine starting up outside. He was going to leave you...He was going to leave and you were going to have to raise the child alone.

The next morning you woke up to Namjoon sitting on your sofa watching something on the TV.

"What are you doing?" You asked as you walked over to him, you sat down beside him and he pointed at the TV.

"A birthing video, it looks painful." You stared at the side of his face as you heard screaming coming from the TV, you turned to look and your mouth fell open.

"Fuck," You sprinted in the direction of the kitchen, throwing up into the sink and holding your own hair back out of your face.

"Here," Namjoon took over holding your hair so you could grip onto the marble sink and hold yourself better, he started rubbing your back and you hummed a thank you in his direction. This was supposed to Jungkook's job but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Any idea where my husband is?" You asked as you cleaned the sink out and turned to look at Namjoon who was looking for something to make you for breakfast.

"Just told me to watch over you." You nodded and walked out of the kitchen to brush your teeth.

It continued like that for a week, Jungkook would come home late at night and not sleep next to you only to leave early again the next time and you were getting sick of it. You wanted your husband to at least tell you what he wanted you to do, even if it was you leaving. You would do that for him. The front door opened and Jungkook expected you to be asleep as you always were when he came in but he was surprised to see you standing at the door with a suitcase.

"Planning on going somewhere?" He asked looking at the bag next to your feet,  

"I'm leaving you. It's clear you don't want me or the baby so I'm going to save you the hassle of breaking up with me." You picked up the side bag and his eyes filled with tears trying to convince you to stay but you were already pushing your way through the door,

"I don't want you to leave-"

"What do you want Jungkook?! Huh?! Because I've been throwing up every day for a week and instead of my husband being there to comfort me I have his guard!"  He flinched a little as you shouted at him, he was exhausted from the late nights and lack of sleep he'd been getting and he was too tired to yell or fight with you so he took your hand in his and began leading you towards his office upstairs. The office that was always locked and off-limits to you because of all the shady business that went down in there.

"I was trying to clear my head, and then I went out every night so I could do this while you slept." You stared at the back of his head and watched as he unlocked the door and let you inside. The usual office furniture was gone, the deep red walls were painted over in yellow, a crib was in the centre of the room along with boxes of other furniture for children.

"Jungkook this is-"

"This will be the nursery, it's the main room of the house which is impossible to get into, I painted the walls and I was putting the furniture together while you slept...Namjoon was helping me pick out some clothes as well and the wardrobes are full. We even have a lifetime supply of diapers." He began rambling on about what else he had done on the week you thought he was planning to leave you and you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by everything. You kissed him roughly on the lips and he steadied you as you rocked a little in place.

"Careful, special cargo." He whispered putting his hands on the bump under your shirt.

"I'm going to be here every step of the way, I promise." He whispered to you and the bump,

"When is the first scan? I'll plan everything around it I promise." Your eyes welled up and you nodded at him letting the tears flow as you realised how happy he actually was to have a son or daughter. Although the timing wasn't perfect a baby was a miracle and a blessing no matter what.

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo @jooniesdarlingdimples @fan-ati--c @lyoongx @mitzwinchester​ @callingmyangel​ @rjsmochii​ @btsiguess-kpop​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​

[untaemedqueen]

The Second

Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Request:  Hi there!So I'm making a request which involves domestic kook!Like koo and the reader are becoming parents for the second time however they're both scared because their first child was a preemie!I want the scenario to be fluff and angsty both like can you please add a scene where the two of them argue..? It could be when the reader tells koo about her pregnancy and he's taken aback because he's scared for our safety.So it's the first time he yells and the moment reader starts crying he regrets it

Warnings: Angsty and Fluffy

“Jeon Jisung!" Jeongguk yells as his son climbs on top of a chair in the practice room as the guys grab water as they take a break. Jisung turns around to hos daddy with a big smile making Jeongguk sigh shakily before smiling. 

"You're going to hurt yourself, big boy!" Jeongguk says wiping his forehead with a towel before scooping his 2 year old son up into his arms. 

"Daddy." Jisung whines clutching onto Jeongguk's neck making his heart melt. He didn't know how special fatherhood would be and how difficult, besides. Jisung was a surprise to Jeongguk and his wife Y/N but he was a welcome surprise even though the pregnancy wasn't without it's hardships.

"Can you believe that our Kook is a dad already? Before all of us?" Taehyung asks as he rubs his wife’s pregnant belly. Jeongguk smiles over at them before feeling a bit of jealousy burn at the back of his mind. He wishes your pregnancy was that easy, that you didn't have so many sleepless nights of crying and pain before having to give birth to Jisung early. Too early, Jisung was born at just 5 months in the womb, weighing just three pounds. Jeongguk looks away from Taehyung before petting the top of his sons head as Jisung wriggles to get comfy. 

"Are you tired?" Jeongguk asks quietly angling his head to try and see his son's face. Jisung nods before letting out a loud whine. 

"Okay, okay." Jeongguk says as Hoseok and Yoongi look up from the floor with a smile as Jisung clutches on to his dad. 

"Are we done for the day? I should probably take Jisung home for bedtime. It's already 9 o'clock." Namjoon looks over at Sejin before nodding. 

"Sure, Jisung needs his sleep to get big and strong." Jeongguk smiles before kissing his son's temple. 

"Let's go see mommy." Jisung squeals happily before writhing around wanting to get down. Jeongguk puts him down before putting his hands on his sides as Jisung runs over to every member and hugging them. Jeongguk gathers his stuff along with Jisung's little school bag and his small Gucci sweater Taehyung bought him for his second birthday. Jisung begins to run to the door before Jeongguk whistles loudly. 

"Yah. Jeon Jisung. Get over here and put your sweater on!" He chides his son, Jisung turns around slowly before pouting and shuffling his tiny feet over to his father. 

"You don't want to get sick, do you baby?" Jeongguk asks crouching down with a groan. Jisung shakes his head making Jeongguk wrinkle his nose. 

"See you tomorrow!" Jeongguk says with a wave as his son takes off running out the practice door making Jeongguk chuckle. 

"Bye hyungs!" He yells before chasing his son.

Jeongguk enters the house with a sleeping Jisung in his arms. The house was quiet apart from you in the bathroom freaking out as you hold the fourth pregnancy test of today in your hands. You were pregnant and you knew Jeongguk would NOT be happy. After your pregnancy with Jisung, Jeongguk had decided that one child was enough. He almost lost both of you during your first pregnancy and he would not let that happen again. He felt blessed that you were safe and sound and so was his son. So as you hear the door of the large apartment slam your legs begin to quiver in nervousness. 

Of course, it was difficult for you in your pregnancy but just knowing that Jisung would be safe made you calmer. Even if you didn't make it, you loved Jisung so much that if he was alive and well you would be fine with dying. You shove the fourth stick into the garbage before covering it with toilet paper. You hear Jeongguk's feet pad past your bedroom door as you sneak out of the bathroom and lay down in the bed. Your heart thumping loudly as adrenaline fills your veins. You wanted to cry and at the same time you wanted to laugh. You both were so careful during sex, how could this possibly happen? Now, birth control was not 100% effective but only in movies or books that you've read has it ever failed. You've never known it to fail any person you know, well, now besides you. You bite your nails as you throw the covers over yourself. Jeongguk closes Jisung's tiger striped decorated door quietly before walking over to your bedroom. He peaks in before giving you a large smile. 

"My baby." He whispers happily, his voice velvet and cream as he walks towards the bed with his bunny-like smile. You give him a small smile making Jeongguk stop short. He tilts his head before sucking air in through his teeth. 

"Did you have a bad day, babe?" He asks with a pout before stripping off his t-shirt and black tight sweats. You shake your head and he frowns deeply. 

"Y/N." Jeongguk says cautiously before you fake a smile. 

"I'm okay! Just tired! I cleaned the whole house today!" Jeongguk looks around before smirking. 

"You are surely the best wife anyone could ever have." He jumps on the bed before hooking his hand under your hip and pulling you to him. You don't know how far along you are or what Jeongguk will say but now that you knew you were pregnant again, your womb felt full and that made you nervous. Did you look pregnant yet? Would Jeongguk feel a small bump? You pick at the skin on your bottom lip with your teeth as Jeongguk runs his fingers over your side. 

"Jisung had a lot of fun with his uncles today and he got to come to dance practice, too." You smile at the thought of your son pretending to dance with the seven boys. 

"I'm going to go wash up before bed. I have schedule tomorrow so I have to be up early." Jeongguk says before leaning in and kissing you gently. You kiss back before letting out a breath of relief as he stands up, his fingers tracing over your flat tummy without any tip off of anything different. Jeongguk is going to FREAK out, you should have the courage to tell him. 

"Baby?" You ask as he starts to walk away. He stops short, his thigh muscles flexing as he turns back around. 

"Hmm?" He hums confused, "When you're done washing up can we have a little chat?" You ask trying to hide your nervousness. Jeongguk smiles showing his dimple before entering the bathroom. 

"Is something going on?" He calls out to you concerned as he grabs his face wash from the gold caddy on the wall next to the marble sink. You swallow before staring up at the ceiling. 

"No... Well, kinda. Maybe?" You say confused. Jeongguk wrinkles his eyebrows as he stares at himself in the mirror. He turns the water on as he runs his fingers over his smooth skin. 

"You know you can tell me anything, right babe?" He calls out to you. You put your hand on your flat stomach before closing your eyes. Your heart was beating quickly, the sound of it starting to fill your ears as your skin gets hotter. Jeongguk turns the water on before bending down to splash his face. His elbow hitting the face wash bottle sending it flying over the edge of the marble counter top and into the wastebasket on the side of the toilet. 

“Aish.” He mumbles silently before bending down to retrieve it. “Why’s there so much toilet paper in the garbage?” He asks himself as he picks up the bottle and throwing the toilet paper into the toilet. He stares down in the garbage before backing up. 

“No. No.” He mutters to himself as he kneels down on the heated floor. There were four pregnancy tests sitting in the garbage almost artistically stacked on top of each other. 

“Babe?” You call to him nervously, you hear the ruffling of the garbage bag and you bolt out of bed. 

Jeongguk picks the tests up with shaky hands before looking for the telltale lines. All four said pregnant. Jeongguk curses loudly before standing up, he would not almost lose you again. He couldn’t bear the weight of the world on his shoulders like that again. You were too precious to him and your son. You run into the bathroom as he clutches the tests in his hand. 

“This what you want to talk about?” He asks quietly, you look at his scared cheek in the mirror as he swallows thickly. You want to cry, and run and scream but you have to be strong. You already love this baby and it wasn’t going anywhere even if you potentially could lose your life. Jeongguk throws the sticks into the trash violently before kicking the bucket over. 

“Where’s your birth control? Hmm?” Jeongguk asks before rifling through your medicine cabinet. You swallow as he lets his rage out. You’ve seen Jeongguk destroy plenty of things when he’s angry, you just have to let it pass naturally. He grabs the thin piece of aluminum that holds your pills in place. His eyes narrow as he runs through all the days. 

“You haven’t missed a day.” He says before throwing the birth control pills into the toilet. You bite your bottom lip as he walks past you into the master bedroom. You lean shakily on the door post as he paces across the room. 

“How?” He asks putting is hands to his forehead. You open your mouth to talk but all that comes out is a squeak. 

“Y/N, HOW?! HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN!?” He screams at the top of his lungs, the veins in his arms bulging out as he grips at his hair. You were the love of his life and you would not be going anywhere. Your eyes widen as he yells, your bite your bottom lip harder almost to the point of drawing blood. 

“I didn’t mean for it to happen, sometimes birth control doesn’t work one hundred percent of the time.” You murmur weakly making Jeongguk narrow his eyes at you. 

“You didn’t mean for it? What will happen to our Jisung? Hmm? You’re going to keep it? What if you FUCKING DIE?! LIKE YOU ALMOST DIED WHEN YOU HAD OUR SON? I HAD TO WATCH YOU FUCKING ALMOST BLEED OUT ON THE DELIVERY TABLE AS HE CRIED AND CRIED.” This time your teeth sink into your lip as you taste iron in your mouth. You sniffle once before biting back a sob. You knew he would be against it but not like this. You could never have predicted this. You walk over to the bed and sit down as Jeongguk stares at you. 

“Nothing? You have nothing to say?” He asks bitterly, you won’t open your mouth for fear of outwardly crying.

“Then I’ll talk. You’re my wife. I love you more than anything in this entire universe. I love my son more than anything but by no means am I willing to have an unborn life almost take your life, again. You think if you died would I have been able to love Jisung?” Your eyes snap up to Jeongguk’s as tears spill down the corners. 

“Don’t you dare! Ever! Say you wouldn’t love him!” You screech standing up crying. Jeongguk looks taken aback before recovering himself. 

“How could I love him if he murdered his mother? What if this baby kills you? How could I love them. WHY WOULD YOU GIVE BIRTH TO A MURDERER?!” 

“STOP IT!” You scream loudly before running over to him and shoving him roughly. 

“Yah!” He yells grabbing your wrists. 

“Get rid of it. I don’t want it in our house! GET IT OUT!” He says pointing at your stomach.

“Get rid of that killer inside you.” You blanch at his harsh words before struggling to pull away from him. 

“No.” You say simply before crossing your arms as his stance towers over you. 

“No? So you would just die and leave me and Jisung by ourselves? You would be like that to your husband and son?” Jeongguk bends down to your height before taking in a breath. 

“I love this baby just like I love you and our son!” You cry loudly putting your hands over your face as you trudge back towards the shared bed. Jeongguk swallows before watching you shuffle away. His heart breaking as his two year old son opens the bedroom door rubbing his eyes. 

“Mommy?” Jisung whines rubbing his face. You wipe your face quickly as you sit on the bed and looking up at the bright light of the room to make yourself stop crying. 

“I’m here, baby.” You say gently, your voice cracking slightly. Jeongguk’s legs get shaky as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. Jisung runs over to you with open arms and you embrace him quickly burying your face into his hair. Jeongguk sits down on the floor before replaying what he said. How the fuck could he say those things to you? How could he say he would never love his son? He begins to feel a balloon swell in his throat as his eyes burn. You were pregnant by no fault of your own and how harsh he has been towards you. He swallows as tears threaten to spill over. His knees come to his forehead as he hears you walk out of the room with your son in tow. 

Jisung has finally gone back to sleep and you fear what’s to come when you step back into the bedroom. You close Jisung’s door quietly before tiptoeing down the hallway towards your room. Jeongguk’s sobs are the first thing you hear before his outward monologue of shame. 

“How could you? How could you say those things to her? You stupid idiot.” He chides himself. You understand his heart, the fear he must be feeling. You would never want to be gone from this life if you could watch your Jisung grow up but while you were pregnant with him you made your peace with it. You walk back into the room before sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Baby.” You call quietly to your husband. Jeongguk shakes his head childishly as he digs his head deeper into his lap. 

“I’m sorry.” He cries quietly, you could almost her his bottom lip quivering as he talks. 

“I’m not getting rid of this baby.” You say to him as you put your hand over your flat stomach. Jeongguk looks up before crying louder. His eyes wandering to your stomach, you had his child within you once more. He stands up before taking a deep breath and wiping his tear stained cheeks. He puts his hand on your thigh as he kneels in front of you. 

“I love you. I’m just scared. I don’t think my heart could take it if something horrible happens to you again. I love you and our son. I shouldn’t have said such awful words to you.” You nod before running your fingers through his hair. 

“I love you too. And, I love Jisung and this new baby.” Jeongguk swallows before putting his hand on your stomach. He clears his throat before putting his cheek to your thigh. 

“You won’t lose me, it might be difficult but it was some of the happiest times I could remember. Being pregnant is a blessing, and especially since it wasn’t planned it makes it even more special. You shouldn’t have such horrible things to say about your own baby.” Jeongguk mentally smacks himself as he relives his temper tantrum. 

“I’ll spend everyday thinking about how I can make up for the words I’ve said.” His long tattooed fingers caress your stomach before looking up at you. You look down at him incredulously. 

“You’ve never said anything so mean to me. I hope you don’t really think those horrible things.” You say to him. Jeongguk sighs loudly before closing his eyes.

“Of course I don’t think those things. I was being horrible and nasty. I’m sorry.” 

“No matter what hardships come and go, this is still your child and you have to love them like the moon loves the sun.” Jeongguk looks up at you before sniffling and wiping his face. 

“I’m sorry. You’re absolutely right. I’m so sorry.” Jeongguk stands up before laying on the bed and opening his arms. You press your lips together licking at the cut inside your mouth as you inch up the bed. 

“I’m such a terrible person.” Jeongguk whispers as he wraps his arms around you. He buries his face into the crook of your neck before his fingers drift over your tummy. 

“We’ll just take better care of you this time around, okay? I know you won’t give the baby up and I should never have said anything so evil.” You nod with relief as he squeezes you closely to him. 

“I’ve never seen you so angry.” You whisper to him, Jeongguk takes in a sharp breath as his fingers rub comforting circles into your stomach. 

“It was the first time in a long time, I thought you would leave me and this life we have. I love you so much that I can’t lose you. Thinking of you in pain and being hurt makes me angry.” He mumbles quietly. 

“I’m not going anywhere. We are a perfect little family, we have no reason to worry yet. For all we know Jisung was a special case and this pregnancy can go swimmingly.” Jeongguk nods into your neck making you smirk. 

“I love you and Jisung and Agi.” The word baby makes you smile. 

“I know you do. Me too.” Jeongguk picks his head up before smiling at you. 

“I’ll be the best husband and dad forever. Forgive me, please?” You know he’s sincere, you know he didn’t really mean the things he said while he was scared. You nod before feeling Jeongguk’s soft lips on yours. You smile into the kiss before Jeongguk moves down on the bed and lifts your pajama top kissing your flat stomach. 

“Daddy won’t be mean to you ever again, I’m sorry Agi.” Jeongguk presses his cheek on your stomach before pulling out his phone. His phone begins to ring throughout the room as he flicks your belly button ring. You raise an eyebrow as Jeongguk hums gently in the large room. 

“What’re you doing?” You whisper to your husband as he kisses your stomach. 

“Hello?” You hear Jimin call through the phone. 

“JIMIN-SSI!” Jeongguk yells loudly and you smack him on the shoulder before pointing towards Jisung’s room. 

“Sorry.” He whispers to you. 

“Jeongguk-ssi!” Jimin screams back. 

“Put the camera on.” Jeongguk says before pushing the phone away from him. Jeongguk shows the phone to you and you smile and wave at Jimin. He waves back with a large smile. 

“What’re you guys doing?” Jimin asks cutely as he stretches out on his bed. 

“Laying in bed, thought I’d call you and tell you something.” Jeongguk says nonchalantly as he picks his head up off you. Jimin tilts his head confused. Jeongguk points the camera at your stomach. 

“What’s wrong? Y/N feels sick? Or something?” You smirk at Jimin’s cluelessness. 

“No.” Jeongguk says simply, Jimin rolls his eyes, “If you called me to play a guessing game, just hang up and go to bed.” 

“But, it’s really exciting news.” Jeongguk says with a pout. 

“So then just tell me, idiot.” Jimin whines. “Just look, okay?” Jeongguk asks with a laugh, Jimin gives a nod as Jeongguk bends down and kisses your stomach. Jimin opens his mouth before shaking his head and widening his eyes. 

“What? One more time.” Jeongguk smirks before kissing it again. 

“No fucking way.” Jimin mutters to himself. Jeongguk lays next to you putting his head on your shoulder. 

“So what do you think? Uncle?” Jeongguk asks with a smile. Jimin stutters before throwing his body back. 

“Again? Not one? But two?” He asks happily, you nod to him and he covers his face as he starts to cry. Jeongguk sighs happily, before rubbing your stomach. 

“Are you that happy?” You ask Jeongguk’s best friend. Jimin wipes at his eyes with his sleeve. 

“Yes!” He cries loudly, Jeongguk lowers the volume with a chuckle trying to be courteous to his son who he already has woken up tonight. You sigh happily, as you lay back comfortably. 

“Y/N needs to sleep, she’s going to come with me tomorrow.” You look at Jeongguk surprised. 

He winks at you, “Congratulations. I love you guys. I’m going to give you the biggest hug tomorrow Y/N. You have no idea.” You laugh before nodding. 

“I will receive it with open arms.” Jimin laughs putting his head back before clapping happily. 

“Love you guys. Goodnight.” Jimin says as you say your goodbyes. Jeongguk throws his phone on the side table before taking your face between his hands and kissing you hard. 

“I’m going to work with you tomorrow?” You ask as Jeongguk pulls the covers up over your bodies before shutting off the light by the bed. 

“Yeah, you’re coming to work and we’re going to surprise everyone with the good news.” Jeongguk pulls you closer to him in the darkness as he closes his eyes. 

“I’m going to be a daddy again. And, I’ll work harder at being the best dad I can be. Thank you for making me a dad again, I’ll treasure this forever.” He kisses the top of your head as you close your eyes. No matter what would happen in this pregnancy, Jeongguk would be by your side one hundred percent of the way. You knew this and it warms your heart to know that no matter how Jeongguk expressed his fears he would always love his family more than anything.

[bloody-bee-tea]

Not dead, just forgotten

This is somewhat of a sequel to Worthy of a god. Please do not ask me about the plot/backstory here, cause I’m just the author. I don’t know.

Edit: It turns out I do in fact know, because you can find what happens before this in my BeeTober Day 3 fic.

Jiang Cheng wakes up with a hole in his chest. He feels empty—like something that is vital to him has been carved out—and he definitely didn’t feel that way when he went to bed.

But it’s still the middle of the night, and Jiang Cheng is not completely awake, so he puts it off as the remnant of a dream. 

It’s still harder than it should be to fall back asleep again.

~*~*~

A few nights later Jiang Cheng wakes up with tears streaming down his face. 

He doesn’t quite remember what he was dreaming of, only that there was a man, bathed in light, but whenever he tries to remember more, his memory fails him.

This time, he’s almost eager to go back to sleep, if simply so he can find out what this is all about.

~*~*~

It doesn’t get better.

The hole in his chest threatens to consume him whole some days and Jiang Cheng doesn’t even know what’s happening.

He just knows he’s missing something—someone—but he can’t put his finger on it.

“You look like shit,” Wei Wuxian tells him when he comes home one day and Jiang Cheng glares at him.

“You have nightmares like this every night and we’ll see how you look,” Jiang Cheng gives back, but he cringes at the word nightmare.

It’s not right. It’s not what this is.

“Nightmares? What do you dream about?” Wei Wuxian wants to know but Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“I already have to dream about it, do you really think I want to talk about it, too?” Jiang Cheng tells him, but that isn’t true either.

It just—it doesn’t feel right, to tell Wei Wuxian about his dreams. 

They are his. They are not to share.

Wei Wuxian thankfully doesn’t mention the frown on Jiang Cheng’s face at his own strange thoughts.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know why he suddenly knows this, but the person he’s dreaming about—he’s a god.

It doesn’t make sense, not at all, but he is, Jiang Cheng is sure about that.

He doesn’t know which god or why he’s dreaming about him, but Jiang Cheng is more than certain that he’s also the reason for this hollow feeling in his chest.

“What do you know about gods?” Jiang Cheng asks Wei Wuxian one evening when they are both more paying attention to their phones than what’s running on the TV and Wei Wuxian looks at him as if he lost his mind.

“You mean the old ones?” Wei Wuxian asks and then shrugs. “They are dead.”

“The old ones,” Jiang Cheng repeats slowly and then frowns. “Why are there no new ones?” he wants to know. “Did you ever wonder about that?” 

“What is there to wonder about? The old ones died and no one took their place. We don’t need any gods.”

It’s what Jiang Cheng learned in school too, it’s what they all learn in school; the old gods are dead, long live the freedom to believe what you want.

It doesn’t sit right with Jiang Cheng, not anymore.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng still wakes up crying more nights than not. The dream doesn’t get any clearer; he can barely see the man in front of him. He’s still bathed in light, more radiant than anything Jiang Cheng has ever seen, but by now Jiang Cheng also knows that he’s lonely, so lonely.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know if he’s crying after these dreams because the man is so sad, or because Jiang Cheng wants to soothe him him so bad it physically hurts him that he can’t.

He’s not sure he wants to find out.

~*~*~

By the time another month rolls around, Jiang Cheng dreams about the man every night. It’s exhausting and Jiang Cheng is sick of feeling sad. 

He wants to scream at the man to leave him alone, but he finds he can’t muster the necessary anger for that. In the end, all he really wants to do is hug him and tell him it will be alright.

It doesn’t make any sense.

So in order to have it make some sense, Jiang Cheng starts to research. There is not much to find about religion and gods in the local library, nor in the university's library, but Jiang Cheng takes every book home with him that talks about the gods, even if it’s just in passing.

He piles his room with them, and it isn’t long before they migrate to the living-room as well. 

Jiang Cheng is almost reading non-stop now. He needs answers.

But that also means that Wei Wuxian takes notice of his little project.

“What are you doing?” he asks, as he suspiciously eyes the nearest book. “Is this for a report?”

Jiang Cheng is tempted to lie to him—again—but in the end, he can’t bring himself to do it. He can’t lie about his god.

“No,” he admits. “I’m looking for someone.”

“Someone,” Wei Wuxian slowly repeats, his eyes still on the books. “And you’re reading these books because—?”

“I think that someone is a god,” Jiang Cheng says out loud, for the first time since the dreams started, and he’s surprised to find how right it feels.

“Do you have a fever?” Wei Wuxian asks and comes closer to put his hands to Jiang Cheng’s forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Stop that,” Jiang Cheng grumbles and smacks his hand away. “I am. Do you remember the nightmares I told you about?”

“Are you still having them? Jiang Cheng, it’s been months since then.”

“And they are not nightmares,” Jiang Cheng says. “They are not even dreams, I think. But I need to find the man I’m dreaming about.”

“You’re dreaming about a man,” Wei Wuxian repeats and just by the tone of his voice Jiang Cheng can tell that he’s not going to like what’s coming next. “Did it ever occur to you that you might have a crush you’re dreaming about?”

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng hisses but Wei Wuxian only laughs.

“I know it’s unlikely but it would certainly be more believable than you dreaming about a god. There are no gods, Jiang Cheng. They all died in the war.”

“But that’s just it,” Jiang Cheng starts and points at the books. “All these books, they talk about ‘the war’. None of them specify. None tell us what happened, who fought or why. A war leaves traces, bodies, ruins. And yet there is nothing.”

“It’s a war of the gods. Of course there would be no traces one earth.”

“And especially because of that there should be traces on earth. If the gods are as powerful as the world makes us believe then there should be traces all around. And even if not; who survived the war? There must have been a winner. Why did no one move to the heavens afterwards?”

“They probably got destroyed. Jiang Cheng, you’re talking non-sense. I don’t know what has gotten into you.”

Jiang Cheng opens his mouth to tell him exactly what has gotten into him, but he can’t find the words.

He doesn’t know how to describe the feeling he gets every time he dreams about the god. About the hole in his chest, about the feeling of missing someone so badly it leaves Jiang Cheng breathless and yearning and in pain from the simple absence of that someone.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know how to make Wei Wuxian understand, so he doesn’t say anything.

“You should go back to concentrating on your studies,” Wei Wuxian advises him and Jiang Cheng simply nods.

If he agrees, Wei Wuxian will leave him alone and Jiang Cheng will have more time to further research the topic.

~*~*~

The books are no help. They are vague and generic in their descriptions, almost repetitive as if someone had copy/pasted the same paragraph into every book: there used to be gods. There was a war. The old gods are dead.

Jiang Cheng is losing his mind, the hole in his chest getting bigger almost every day, and he knows—he knows—it’s because he’s missing his god just as much as his god is missing him.

He needs more resources, that much is clear. Just as clear as it is that he won’t find them here.

Jiang Cheng already did some research, he knows there are other libraries out there he could consult, but none of them are willing to send their books halfway across the world, so his only option is to go to them.

And he will.

Jiang Cheng is just packing his back when Wei Wuxian comes into his room.

“What are you doing?” he asks, stuck in the doorway by his surprise and Jiang Cheng doesn’t even spare a glance for him.

“Packing,” he gives back, even though it should be more than obvious what he’s doing. 

“Where are you going?” Wei Wuxian asks next and Jiang Cheng knows he won’t understand, he didn’t understand the last times and he certainly won’t now, but he still tries to explain.

“I have to find other sources, other books. These,” he says and points at the disappointing stack on his desk, “are not enough. They don’t have the answers I need.”

There’s a beat of silence where Wei Wuxian simply stares at him as if he lost his marbles but then he finds his voice again.

“There are no answers, Jiang Cheng! The old gods are dead!” Wei Wuxian almost yells at him as if that will make him understand, and Jiang Cheng has had enough.

“They are forgotten!” he yells back, because of that he is sure by now. 

They cannot be dead, because if they are dead then Jiang Cheng is stuck with this feeling for forever and he’s not sure he can survive it. He can barely breathe with the simple thought of him being dead. It cannot be. It’s not true.

He needs to find his god.

“They are not dead, they can’t be,” Jiang Cheng repeats, much quieter this time, almost breathless with the pain in his chest. “I know it, right here,” he says and puts his hand over his heart.

“Jiang Cheng, this is insane,” Wei Wuxian tries again. “What are you going to do? You can’t just leave.”

“But I am,” Jiang Cheng gives back, because he is. 

Nothing else matters.

“What?” Wei Wuxian asks, clearly surprised by Jiang Cheng’s answer, but Jiang Cheng barely pays him attention, until Wei Wuxian wraps his hand around his wrist.

“Jiang Cheng, be serious. You can’t just sacrifice everything you worked for. The university is going to kick you out. What are your parents going to say?”

“I don’t care,” Jiang Cheng tells him, looking straight at him to let him know he means it. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t like business anyway, you know that,” he tries to make light of the situation, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t even react to that.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Jiang Cheng tries next and then the words just tumble out of his mouth. “I miss him, I miss him so much, and I don’t even know him. He’s my god, he is, I know it, but I’m also his and I have to find him.”

“Jiang Cheng, he’s not real,” Wei Wuxian whispers, but Jiang Cheng furiously shakes his head, tears pricking at his eyes.

“He is. He is just forgotten. And I will remember him. I will,” he decidedly says, because someone has to.

“Jiang Cheng, you can’t do this,” Wei Wuxian says again, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t listen to him anymore.

The need to find his god is burning him, is urging him to move, and so Jiang Cheng does.

It isn’t until Jiang Cheng turns around, his bag on his back, that he sees Jiang Yanli in the door.

He throws a glare at Wei Wuxian, because of course he called her, but Wei Wuxian simply holds his gaze.

“Shijie, he’s going to leave. He’s going to sacrifice everything for something that isn’t even real.”

Jiang Cheng works his jaw, because his god is real, he knows it, and Jiang Yanli smiles at him.

“A-Cheng, what are you doing?” she asks, voice as reasonable as ever, and Jiang Cheng has to fight the urge to cry.

“I have to find him, A-jie. I’m his. I’m his and I need to get back to him, I need to remember him, I can’t live with this—this hollow feeling inside of me. It’s going to eat me alive.”

“Shijie,” Wei Wuxian starts again, but Jiang Yanli puts a hand on his arm.

“A-Xian, be quiet,” she orders him and then steps closer to Jiang Cheng. “A-Cheng, the old gods are dead,” she tells him and Jiang Cheng fears his desperation will drown him.

“They are forgotten,” he says past the lump in his throat and he furiously wipes away the tears that stream down his face but he lacks the energy to repeat everything he said to Wei Wuxian earlier.

“Please, A-jie,” Jiang Cheng begs instead and he feels like he can’t breathe until Jiang Yanli nods.

“Alright,” she says, just as Wei Wuxian makes a startled noise.

“Shijie, you can’t let him ruin his life like this!”

“A-Xian, we’re going to let him go. He needs to do this,” Jiang Yanli tells him and Jiang Cheng is so thankful for her, he wants to cry again.

“Thank you,” he whispers and Jiang Yanli turns back around to him.

“How long will you be gone?” she asks him and Jiang Cheng straightens up.

“As long as I need to find him,” he gives back, because he will not stop. 

Not before he knows his god.

“I pulled my money from my bank account, so I can survive for a while,” he says and they all know he means a very long while.

“Stay in contact with us. If you need anything else, you let us know,” Jiang Yanli decides and then pulls him into a hug.

“I hope you find him,” she mumbles and Jiang Cheng knows she doesn’t understand—how could she, without feeling like he does—so this is the best he can hope for.

He squeezes her tight, before he turns to Wei Wuxian.

“I still think you’re being stupid,” Wei Wuxian declares, but he pulls him into a hug too. “Be safe,” he asks of him and Jiang Cheng nods.

“I will be,” he gives back and then he leaves his old life behind.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng travels the world. He starts with the bigger libraries, with those that already told him they have books on the matter, but he barely finds any new information. All of the book repeat what he already knows, so after a few weeks Jiang Cheng starts looks for obscure libraries and bookstores.

He runs out of money very soon, because especially the bookstores are expensive, but his siblings keep sending him money so he manages somehow.

He follows every lead he gets, every little hint he finds, and it brings him to the most remote places, but even after a year, there is nothing.

He learned nothing new. He still doesn’t have a name for his god; he still doesn’t have a clue what happened to him or where he could find him.

And yet Jiang Cheng dreams about his god every night and every night the hole in his chest gets bigger and bigger. 

His god is lonely and Jiang Cheng needs to find him. 

So he goes on and on, always alone, always plagued by the knowledge that he is failing his god, but he persists. 

Jiang Cheng’s newest lead brings him to another remote village—and by now they all look the same to him—but something about this feels differently.

There is a small library in this village, almost dusted over, and it takes Jiang Cheng the better part of a week to sift through everything. 

There are more books that mention the old gods than in any other library he has found so far, but they are still vague.

Vague enough to make Jiang Cheng almost tear them apart.

“Kid, what are you even looking for?” the librarian asks him on his fourth day and Jiang Cheng closes his eyes.

He can’t explain this again. Every time it does the urgency in him grows and it hurts—it hurts—to talk about his elusive god but then he straightens up.

“I’m looking for the old gods,” he finally tells the librarian.

“They are—”

“Dead, yes, I fucking know,” Jiang Cheng spits out, and the words turn to ash on his tongue, threaten to choke him.

They cannot be dead.

“You know, kid, there’s a temple somewhere on his mountain,” a frail voice suddenly says from the doorway and when Jiang Cheng whirls around he finds the oldest human being he has ever laid eyes on.

“Grandma, don’t feed those ridiculous tales to an impressionable young man,” the librarian chides her, but Jiang Cheng isn’t listening to him anymore.

“A temple?” he asks and he follows the grandma without hesitation when she leaves the library.

“No one has found it yet, and no one knows what the people in there would be doing.”

“But,” Jiang Cheng prompts her, because he senses that there is more.

“But every month this donkey comes out of its shed to be burdened with enough supplies to last for a month before it walks up the mountain by itself. And every month it comes back a day later, without the supplies.”

Jiang Cheng eyes the donkey in surprise.

“This donkey? It doesn’t look like much,” he mutters and the grandma gives him a toothless smile.

“It never comes out during any other time in the month. And yet here it is,” she says and Jiang Cheng freezes.

The donkey looks at him and Jiang Cheng suddenly knows that it’s here for him.

“Kid, don’t listen to her. She’s senile,” the librarian tries again, but Jiang Cheng is already bowing to the grandma.

“Thank you so much,” he chokes out, because he knows this is it.

He can feel it.

He’s going to find his god.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” the grandma tells him with a kind smile and then hobbles away.

“Don’t do this, kid. People die on this mountain all the time.”

“But not me,” Jiang Cheng says with conviction. “Someone is waiting for me, I can’t die,” he decides and then steps closer to the donkey.

The donkey looks at him for a long moment, but finally it starts to walk, and Jiang Cheng follows it without hesitation.

He’s so close already.

~*~*~

The donkey is a little bastard, Jiang Cheng decides as he bandages his still bleeding hand, but it also lead him right to the entrance of the temple, so really, Jiang Cheng can’t complain.

His feet are glued to the ground for the longest moment, because this is the best lead Jiang Cheng has gotten in the past year and something in his gut tells him that if this doesn’t pan out, he can go back home.

If this doesn’t pan out then there is nothing more for him to do.

Jiang Cheng takes one last deep breath before he enters the temple. 

There are people milling around, some just standing like they forgot how to move, and Jiang Cheng quickly moves past them, never looking too long at them, only making sure they are not who he is looking for.

It’s only when he turns around the second corner that he notices that all of them are pointing in the same direction.

Jiang Cheng blinks a few times, but then his feet start to carry him along faster and faster, until he is running through the temple, always following the pointed fingers down streets and alleyways, deeper and deeper into it.

He comes to a sudden stop in front of a corner but he knows—he feels—that this is it.

Jiang Cheng just has to round that last corner and he will find what he was looking for all this time.

A very small part of him calls him stupid for believing that, but he’s burning with certainty, he knows it deep in his bones, and it’s that what finally allows him to move again.

He turns around the corner and stops dead in his tracks when he sees a man—his god—walking down the street.

He’s wearing his familiar white mourning robes, adorned with blue, and his forehead ribbon is pristine as usual.

Jiang Cheng distantly wonders how he suddenly knows that, but then his god turns around and sees him, the flute he’s carrying dropping to the ground, and every thought flees Jiang Cheng’s mind.

“Jiang Cheng,” his god says and Jiang Cheng feels alive for the first time since the dreams started. “Jiang Cheng,” his god repeats and Jiang Cheng walks up to him, for once in his life calm and at ease.

His god doesn’t take his eyes off him, tracks every step he takes, and soon enough Jiang Cheng is stranding right in front of him.

“Jiang Cheng,” his god says again and Jiang Cheng is surprised to see that the hand he’s raising is trembling.

His god cups his cheek in his hand and Jiang Cheng leans into the contact like a starving man. He allows his god to guide their foreheads together and he feels it more than he hears it when his god mumbles “You’re here.”

And suddenly it all comes back to Jiang Cheng; how Lan Xichen chose him, how they spend years, decades, centuries together and Jiang Cheng loves him so much it takes his breath away.

“Lan Xichen,” he whispers when he finds his voice again. “I found you.”

And the old gods are no longer forgotten.

Last part

{Buy me a kofi}

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

HOLD ME

Alexander “Tig” Trager x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: about suicide and drugs. Angst.

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​@sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Your phone rings in the middle of the night, palming the nightstand sleepy to hook off the call.

“He—Hey, my sunshine…”

Pulling it somewhat away, you check the hour.

“Good god, Alexander… It's four”.

“Yeah, I'm so—sorry. I just wanna hear yo—your voice”.

“Are you drunk?” Rolling over the bed you used to share with him, you rub your eyes with two fingers leaving a heavy snort on air.

“More or less”. Chuckles by the other side of the speaker.

“I'm gonna han—”

“No! Listen, lis—listen… Listen, how was your day?”

“Alexander, I'm tired. And I was sleeping”.

“I kno—I know. I'm sorry, baby”.

Everytime he calls you by that pet-name gives you chills. You still in love with him, after almost seven years with that man and all its ups and downs. It's been six months since he fucked up what you had together and it's the first time he calls you, even if you have seen him before at Teller-Morrow, sometimes, when Jax had needed you.

“I'm sorry f—for everything I've done to you”.

Your heart is racing so fast that you're starting to think it's going to jump off of your chest.

“I hurt you and you didn' des—deserve it. You're the love of my life. I'll alw—always love you and I want yo—you to remember it, okay?”

That sounds bad. That sounds pretty bad. Sitting up on the bed and turning the light on to take away the sheets, you place your feet on the floor walking close to the chair where your clothes are.

“Hey, Tiggy, listen. You've revealed me, uh?” You're trying to keep calm, because you have never heard him talk like that. “Where are you? I've actually had a ba—”.

“Shh… It's ok—okay, baby. Don't worry”. Hearing some coughs while you're wearing a pair of jeans, supporting the phone between your ear and your shoulder, you try to find the keys of your car. “I just ho—hope that you can find som—someone who loves you as I do… But never hurt y—you as I did”.

“Tiggy, come home”.

“Go back to sl—sleep, everything is go—gonna be okay”.

Before you can say anything else, he hangs up the call. You try to call him again but the phone is off. Running to your car, you type Jax's number by heart impatiently, turning on the engine.

“What's up, (Y/N)?”

“Is Tig there?”

“No”. He just say.

“Did you fight?”

Silence. Nothing. No words.

“He called me. Drunk. Telling me… things that sounded really bad, Jax. We need to find him”.

You can hear a snort.

“I beg you, Jax. Help me to find Tig”.

“Check the cabin, Chibs and me are on our way to his house. Call me back”.

Throwing the phone above the copilot seat, your press the gas as hard as you can. You're praying all you know to reach on time, before he can do something stupid. And the road looks like it's longer than never, even if you're driving over the speed limit. Lucky there's no police to stop you. A bunch of possible ideas dance in your head, which worse than the last, knowing well that Jackson should told him something about all the bad things he did. Starting by your relationship. And you were conscious that he wasn't well after leaving him. Tig just collapsed after understanding what he had done.

Car headlights illuminate the wooden facade and the black motorbike parked next to the porch. Stepping out of the car faster as you can, your legs burn running towards the door. You hit it with your palms, screaming out his name, for some long minutes. But there's no answer. The windows are covered by the curtains, disabling the view inside. Going downstairs out of the porch, you run again to the backyard, checking the other windows in case they're unlocked. Nothing. Wrapping your fist in the hoodie you're wearing, you hit the glass of the back door, hard enough to break it and slide your hand inside to open it.

“Alexander! Alexander! Tig!” You shout desperate turning all the lights on.

He's not there, but you find empty bottles of whisky lying on the carpet and some white dust scattered on the table, close to a small picture of both. Together. He's breaking your heart more painfully than six months ago.

“ALEXANDER!” You scream again running all over the cabin, going upstairs and stumbling an instant along the way.

All the doors are opened, peeking into each room till you finally find him. Your heart stops. Swallowing saliva you take a step with a hand raised to him. Tig is lying on the bed with the gun barrel pointed at his left temple.

“Tiggy… pull it down”. You whisper, trying to calm him in some way.

“No… No… Leave, baby…” He sobs loudly, shaking his head as the tears are running down his cheeks. “Leave, please…”

“I'm not leaving. Pull the gun down”. You take another step closer to him. Just two more and you can reach his feet.

“I do—don't want you to se—see me like that”. The man cries out somewhat loud. “Leave!”

“I'm not leaving, Alexander! Put the damn gun down!” You shout at him losing your mind. “Do you think this is the best way to fix it?!”

“I don' wan—wanna hurt you anymore”. Shaking his head again, he puts his gaze away from you.

“You're doin'et now”. You assure trying to breathe calm, leaning above the bed in slow motion by your knees, sitting on your heels. “I can't… live without you”.

Slow, so slow, you raise a hand straight to him.

“Give me the gun, my tiger”. You beg looking for those blue eyes you can die for.

He hesitates, finding yours in the middle of the dark, nodding somewhat gently. Looks like an eternity, an agonic one, watching him moving his hand close to yours till the cold steel touches your palm. You hold the heavy gun, locking it and throwing it to somewhere over the floor. His crying becomes louder and more bitter, as you crawl the mattress next to the Son'. By a side, you hold his neck wrapping it with your arms and forcing his head to rest on your chest. The mental breakdown that it's hitting his whole tensed body opress your breath, feeling him trembling under your grip.

“I'm so sorry, baby… I'm so sorry”. Tig bewails licking his chapped lips holding on the arm it's surrounding his throat.

You know he needs to treat himself about his alcohol addiction. That's the shit that always gets him in trouble. The same shit that fucked up what you built together through the years. Kissing dearly his head, you pull him closer, with the same pain that it's squeezing his heart like yours.

“Lemme take you to the shower”. Using a soft tone of voice, you get up from the bed with extreme care tangling your fingers with the longest.

He nods again, trying to put on his feet and supporting half of his weight on you. Placing an arm on your shoulders, you walk step by step, slow, to the bathroom some meters away from the main room. Turning on the light and sitting him down on the toilet, you begin to undress him starting by the sweaty shirt smelling like whisky. Continuing by his boots as Tig rests his back on the marble wall, you pull them by a side to unzip his jeans. So, when he's already naked, you help him to sit inside the bathtub using the cold water to wet his body. The man curls his knees against the chest, surrounding it with both arms and resting his head on it. He's not crying anymore, being somewhat shocked in complete silence.

When you think it's enough, you turn off the tap leaving some soft caresses on his back and kissing his kiss again. Getting up of your knees to grab a big towel hanging on the door, putting it in your shoulder so you can help your, yet, husband to lift his heavy body up. Wrapping him into the fabric, he gets out of the bathtub sitting back on the toilet.

“Stay here, okay?” You ask him caressing his cheek, as he nods with the head down. “I'll be back in a minute”.

Walking downstairs you call Jax, enough seconds to tell him you found Tig. Not how. Not where. Not how long ago. Only that you found him. Hanging up the call, you come back to the bathroom. The man still in the same position you left him. Making him kneel in front of the toilet, you open it.

“Open your mouth”. You just say, tucking two fingers in it until you press his throat.

Sometimes you ask yourself who else could do something like that. You love him too much to let him die. It's not his time. And of course, it's not the way. After several retching, he vomits.

“Throw it all, Tiggy”. You mutter pressing a hand on his abdomen and the other, after cleaning it on your own shirt, supporting his forehead.

He coughs some times, and smells pretty bad, but you should do it. Not as if it were an obligation, but a promise you made to him, even if he didn't fulfill his. Leaving him some seconds, you put the plug locking the sink to let the cold water run and fall on it like a cascade.

“Come're”. You whisper this time, getting him up and closing the tap.

He sinks his face inside it, breathing the water enough to clean his nostrils and his throat, until he drowns a little. Drying him with another towel, looking at you sad and distraught. Turning him by his shoulders and guiding his steps back to the room, as if he was a statue, Tig having a sit on the edge of the bed lets you dress him with a clean pair of boxers.

“Lie down”. You ask him putting a hand on his chest, to make him do it. And when you're about to come back to the bathroom, he holds your wrist.

“Don' leave, please”. He begs you with a broken tone and a painful gesture because the effort.

“No more drugs, nor alcohol”. You sigh, closing your eyes for a second feeling his fingers touring your skin till he tangled them with yours.

“I'll do wha—whatever you ask me to”. Cleaning his throat as he coughs again, pushes you closer. “I don' wan—wanna lose you again”.

You sit on the bed, turning above him to rest your free palm on the other side. Leaning forward over his chest, you leave a soft kiss on the man's forehead, pulling back some black wetted curls.

“You are the on—only thing I have loved in li—life. Nobody else. Noth—Nothing else. Only you”.

“I know”. You just say, pulling yourself away to lose yourself on his ocean eyes.

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━

Sitting at the table and having a spoon full of Fruity Loops, you have the box in the other hand reading the clues for the crossword. It's a sunny day of a June morning and you're enjoying your free weekend in complete silence. Till the main door gets opened, followed by heavy steps crossing it. Tig appears in the kitchen with a hug smile draw on the corner of his lips. But there are no words, turning around the table and placing himself by your back. With a hand supported on the wood, the man puts somewhat like pocker red chip between the bowl and you. Looking at him a little confused and a raised eyebrow, you pull down your gaze again, taking it with two fingers.

“One year”. He just say with somekind of happiness in his voice.

He infects you that big smile on his face, sitting by your side and resting an arm on the top of your chair.

“'Am clean”. He adds then, poking the chip softly.

You can't believe a whole year passed by after that tragic night, when he almost ended up with his life. Jax told you to leave him at the clubhouse, but you knew it was the worst idea ever. So you brought him to the house you shared for seven years, hoping that it would help him to heal and redeem himself for all the wrong he did. He stayed at the closest room towards yours, being by his side. You fight with him the need he had of getting high, of getting drunk; forcing him to empty the bottles and throw the drugs inside the toilet before moving with you, to your house. And you also forced him to assist to every party SOA had. No whisky, no beer, no cocaine, no weed and no sex. Nothing for a year.

“I wanna make the right thing with you”. Tig says freeing your hands to hold them with his. “Give me a chance. A last one. No compromise. Just… think 'bout it and tell me whenever you want”.

Leaving a sigh and pulling away your eyes on nowhere, you end up nodding.

“Okay, but…”

“I'll not”. He interrupts you before you can finish the warning.