#creating temporary tables

[thedbahub]

Inserting Stored Procedure Results into Temporary Tables in SQL Server

To insert the results of a stored procedure into a temporary table in SQL Server, you can follow these steps. The specific method you use might depend on the structure of the data returned by the stored procedure and whether you are using SQL Server to create the temporary table or it already exists. If the Temporary Table Does Not Exist You can use the INSERT INTO ... EXEC command to insert…

[deepspacenova]

figured you out

1900 words. pining. possessive behaviour. sexual tension. obsession. light stalking.

{Dedicated to @mythblossoms and @spiderlilypetals aka the enablers of my mental instability}

Note: this entire thing is me basically calling out @rose-tinted-kalopsia, @unluckywisher, and @starmocha for setting off a Caleb-sized inferno in my brain and keeping the fire going for weeks now. All of you on my feed combined with the lyrics of this song are entirely to blame so here’s me getting Caleb out of my system (liar) xoxo

The barrier between focus and obsession was glass-thin and shaped like a trigger. One decision, one small flick of a finger away from shattering. 

Obsession was an itch, fleeting, temporary. But focus? Focus was ambition, determination, winning.

That’s why Caleb had always been a creature of restraint, the very picture of self-control. As a boy, when he set his sights on something, he never burned with want. Wanting was purposeless.

Instead he would set his focus on whatever it was — sweets, trinkets, secrets, toys — until he found a way to make it his. Until he carefully maneuvered the object of his desires right into his little grasp. 

Caleb didn’t wish, he didn’t desire.

He conquered. 

Only this time, his focus wasn’t on a conquest. It wasn’t on a mission, or a lab data report, or a secret he could use to his advantage. It wasn’t power or strategy or survival. 

It was you. 

From the very beginning, you’d been the object of his focus. Your affection, your thoughts, your wit, your emotions. Everything that made you tick, he’d picked up and studied like the rarest gem.

And now? Now your fingerprints were sewn permanently into his heart, holding together the thing that beat in his chest. Now, he was light years apart from the boy he’d been, and yet you still gripped it tightly, your hand too small to keep that shriveled and charred, bloody mess together.

But the taste of your laughter, the sound of your skin, the feeling of your scent? Every moment of disorientation you created within him only served to reinforce his lifelong focus on you.

Military training, tests, experimentation chambers, nothing upended the center of his gravity like you.

From the dim hallway, Caleb watched you. His gaze — deep purple with motes of gold, an iris bloom washed in sunset — mapped the coordinates of your smile, measured the radar of your thumping pulse, calculated the precise trajectory of your movements as you fluttered around the small group of Hunters you were meeting with at the Association for a late night UNICORNS debrief.

You’d never understood entirely how you affected him. No one did, he’d made sure of it. Not your mutual friends growing up, not the woman who’d raised you, not the laughing fool you were talking to right now. Not even your Hunter partner across the table from you.

Caleb knew you better. Treated you better. He always had.

It’s because none of them actually took the time to see you, not really. Not like he did. And no matter how far apart you two got, that would never change. 

You were an enigma to them, a cluster of ridges and buttons in a cockpit, unfulfilled in an amateur's grasp. Dormant without expert handling and care. 

But Caleb had long ago solved you — your wants, your vulnerabilities, your secrets, your fears, your weaknesses. He'd seen you bared before him and had figured you out. Down to the very core in your heart.

Even within the darkest depths of the universe, with no sense or feeling, he would know exactly where to trail each of his fingers. How much pressure to apply to every delicate divot. The precise combination and rhythm to elicit a response.

The way he could guide you, command you, the way he could make you take flight for him? It would be… explosive.

The melody of your sudden laughter extinguished the heat that had started to lick its way down his body as he watched you give them the version of yourself they expected. Amiable, innocent, polished. 

As your meeting came to an end and you and your colleagues stood to leave, the shadows shifted around Caleb as he pushed off from the wall he’d been leaning against. Pulling the DAA clearance card that had kept the door behind him open, he took a step into the corridor that would lead to his quiet exit. 

Only he knew where your smile dented into your cheek. Only he knew the cadence of your breaths when you spoke. Only he knew what you looked like when your guard was truly down. When you sighed, cried, hurt, and slept. Only he was worthy of seeing it.

Only Caleb had forged himself into a man worthy of loving you.

The night was thick with fog when he watched you step out of the Hunter’s Association, your shadow dancing across the concrete under the warm glow of the street lamps.

As you parted ways with your colleagues, Caleb studied the elegant line of your throat, the way it expanded and contracted around the hum of your voice.

He knew the exact shape of it by memory, — all those times you'd looked up at him to smile at him, to talk to him, to argue with him — the softness of the delicate skin there, the way it would feel under his palm, under his mouth. Fluttering, warm, alive.

He wasn’t supposed to be here, not away from Skyhaven, not in a darkened alleyway by your workplace where the lamp light barely even reached.

But as the sound of your footsteps ticked over the hum of the city, as each of your movements brought you closer to the corner of the building, to him, the oxygen funneling into his brain seemed to thin, and the rational part of his mind, his focus, took a backseat. 

The sight of you walking toward him was so right, so inevitable that Caleb barely even realized how far out of the shadows he was leaning, how quickly he’d snapped himself back into your orbit. 

He, the metal, you, the magnet.

The fist of his right arm clenched as he forced himself to stay in place, to stop leaning toward you on the off chance the sweetness of your skin would enter his nose. The connection between you was so physical, pulled so taut, that he almost couldn’t believe you'd never sought to close the distance, that you’d ever accepted his death so easily.

That had always been your biggest mistake, though. Thinking that he’d ever allow something as trivial as mortality to sever what bound you to him. 

He shouldn’t reach for you. He knew that. And yet, as you closed the distance, he stepped closer. Just enough to feel your presence pull against him.

His evol stirred, faint but insistent, brushing against the edges of your space like a ribbon. The pull of you was so familiar, so tangible, he could feel every cell, all the matter that made up your beautiful existence. 

Suddenly, without his permission, his hand shot out, gently enveloping your wrist as you passed.

You spun around, your instincts awakened, and in one fluid motion the barrel of your gun was aimed at his chest. He almost chuckled at the sight, but the intensity on your face kept him quiet.

Your eyes widened, shock and incredulity clicking into place when they finally registered Caleb’s presence. “You…” the sentence withers in your throat.

“Hello, pip,” he said softly, raising a brow at the gun. “Still using that move?”

Your eyes flicked across the contours of his face like a laser, his hair, his cheeks, his eyes, his jaw, no detail escaping your notice before you stuttered, “C-Caleb? Bu— You’re supposed to be…”

He felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as the letters of his name curled around your tongue for the first time in what felt like an eternity. “I still might if you don’t put that away,” he said mildly. 

Your grip on the weapon tightened reflexively, but it didn’t lower. Interesting. 

Moving with military-like precision, too quickly for you to counteract it, Caleb’s hand shot out, hitting the gun and dislodging it from your grasp. 

You froze, hooking your gaze into his as he tested the weight of it in his hand, the barrel pointing at your chest for one second, two seconds, three... before he aimed it at the ground.

“Tsk, tsk. So careless.” The soft click of the safety flicking on pierced the air between them. “Someone could’ve gotten hurt, pipsqueak.”

“How did you… how are you…?” there’s a faint tremor in your tone and your eyes turn glassy. 

“Shh,” Caleb stepped closer, close enough to feel your shaky exhale against his throat like a wave of summer air, close enough to reach around you to place your gun back in the holster on your hip. Close enough that his forehead brushed yours. “I missed you too.”

For half a second, he saw your guard slip, your face caught between disbelief and longing. 

And then, like feeling an engine ignite, he knew exactly which of your buttons he’d just flicked. Before the anger even had a chance to crackle across your irises. Before your palms came up to his chest and shoved at it. “I went to your funeral.”

“My funeral, hm?” His body had barely swayed, but his amused, love-drunk smile never wavered when he decided to press another button. “Did you cry for me, then?” 

Caleb’s evol flared, and he had your hands lowered — eyelashes fluttering in surprise, back and palms pinned to the building behind you — before you’d even finished the thought of shoving him again. 

With your hands out of the way, as you struggled against the bindings of his evol, Caleb finally took the chance to cup your face in his hands, cradling it like it was the very nucleus of his life force. 

“Hey. Hey,” he soothed, re-familiarizing himself with the contour of your jaw beneath his fingers. “I’d never leave you in a world without me, pip, you know me better than that.”

“I thought I did,” you gritted out, the confusion and betrayal in your voice slowing your movements. "Now, I'm not so sure."

He took advantage of your hesitation, brushing the bow of his upper lip against the bump of your lower one.

“You do, though,” he reassured.  “Just like I know you. Better than anyone ever could.” Caleb reached out, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “Your anger, your love” His hand went to the steel-chain tag that hung around his neck. “Wants. Needs.” His nose traced the bridge of yours and he reveled in another one of your shaky breaths. “Outside…” His voice roughened, “Inside.”

Just as you quit struggling, just as your confusion fissured and your body turned languid against his, just as you gave in, Caleb released you, taking a step back to enjoy the sight of you trying to find your footing.

“Now you’ll never doubt that I’ll always find you.” His mouth curved into the charismatic smile he was known to flash at his general when he gestured toward the street. “It’s late, pipsqueak. Get yourself home.”

Your chest heaved with what were no doubt a dozen of your favorite insults, but you didn’t voice any of them. Instead, you clenched your jaw, straightened your shoulders, and bit out, “I’m going to— I can’t believe— No, I can’t do this right now. This isn’t over, Caleb.”

You turned sharply on your heel, your footsteps echoing in the silence as you walked away, steps stiff and uneven. And Caleb watched as the shadows swallowed your figure and you disappeared from view. 

He’d wait, he decided. he could play the long game. He already spent all these months away from you, what were a few more if it helped you realize the raw, unfiltered truth — that he belonged to you. 

And that was the moment the glass barrier shattered, a pulled trigger that splintered his focus into shards of obsession. 

[salem-s]

10 ── PLAYING THE PART UNDER THE SICILIAN SUN ── RAFE CAMERON

── SYNOPSIS when your image-obsessed mother catches you and Rafe Cameron ─ your friends with benefits ─ in a compromising situation, you must lie and say you're dating. It spirals out of control when your mother invites him to your cousin's upcoming wedding in Italy, and spirals even further when he says yes. ── WARNINGS language, annnnnnnnnnnnnngst (im so sorry reader???), mentions of blood (brief), descriptions of parental abuse. 18+ mdni. ── WORD COUNT 7.3k. no chill. ── NOTES edited from third person perspective to second, so let me know if there are any mistakes. ── SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT PART ── SONG OF THE CHAPTER back to me by the marías

Rafe’s panicking. 

Once the feeling in his legs comes back, he abruptly leaves the dance floor, seeking refuge in the hallway in a feasible attempt to calm himself down. 

A part of him is pissed.

Pissed at how easily you brushed him off, pushed him aside, dumped him as if the past few days meant nothing to you. Rafe finally builds up the courage to tell you how he feels, and you do that?

You tell him to forget it, call him a liar, and run away? And you have the audacity to lie to his face, saying it’s meant nothing to you? None of the words, touches, moments spent curled up in confidentiality? His temporary humiliation haunts him, creating an ugly feeling that sits in his chest, the feeling of being rejected without so much as a glance.

Another part of him is worried. 

Rafe replays the moment in his head over and over again, not quite able to get the image of your disbelief out of his mind.

You looked offended, almost, as if the whole debacle was one giant trick. You kept trying to convince him that it’s not true, coming up with numerous excuses for him to back out, but he believes you were the one trying to convince yourself of it.

Why were you so adamant that it was a joke? Did it come across that way? Is it that hard to believe? 

He’ll never forget the shimmer of desperation that glossed over your eyes at his confession, as if the mere thought of him wanting you seems like a horror story, a fantasy. The approach he took has him kicking himself. Did he come on too strong? Was he holding you too tight? Did he hurt you again?

Rafe’s nail beds are irritated as his thoughts plague him. You pulled away from him so fast that he had whiplash, as if his skin was on fire and you were getting burned at his very touch. You put as much distance as you could between them multiple times. 

The realization dawns on him. 

You're scared. 

Rafe quickly gets over his pity party and nearly runs back into the ballroom, eyes desperately scanning the crowd to try and find you. 

Because, fuck, he’s scared too.

Not scared- terrified.

Running a hand through his hair, he huffs as his search goes nowhere. He just needs to talk to you, to clarify a few things, and to let you know that he can’t have this confession separate you. Even if you never touch each other again, Rafe decides that that’s better than losing you all together. Even if he has to love you from afar, to only be able to look at you or be around him is infinitely better than a brick wall built high between you. 

The thought of never being around you again makes his chest pull achingly, desperately. He needs to fix this. Now. 

Shit, he’d rather wait eons for you than be with anyone else. 

And that scares the shit out of him. 

But Rafe’s always been someone who knows what they want, when they want it. As a spoiled kid, he’s used to getting what he asks for, and he refuses his fuck-up to come between him and the only person he’s ever been tethered to. The string is fraying, and he’s getting desperate to make sure it doesn’t get snipped. 

With a thumping heartbeat, he retreats back to the table and notices all of your stuff is still there, sitting neatly on your chair, untouched. Without a second thought, he grabs your clutch and scans the room again. The search is unsuccessful, only seeing Lorenza talking to extended family, but no you, no glimpse of that godforsaken pinot noir colored dress that’s been making his head spin all night. 

“Looking for angel?”

Rafe spins around to see Yara, peering up at him eagerly. 

He nods quickly. “Yes. Have you seen her?”

Yara sultry nods her head, spinning on her heel without a word and leading him out towards the hallway with the bathroom and exit. 

Like an idiot, Rafe follows. 

And his head truly begins to spin when they enter the empty space with no you in sight. Rafe’s ducking his head in every corner, brows pinched in confusion as he looks around the corridor desperately, only to be met with desolate hallways and only his reflection seen in the pristine marble walls. 

His frustration only blooms.

“Uh, Yara, she’s not–”

The thumping in his ribcage augments when Yara harshly grabs his arm, pulling him into a see-through storage closet and shoving him up against a shelf that digs painfully into his back, caging him into the small space with a smile that's nothing nice.

“Finally,” she purrs at him. “I’ve been thinking about you all night.”

The words make Rafe feel drunk. Or drugged. Or both. Because he gapes his mouth open and closed like a fish, brain short circuiting with the combination of whatever the hell is stabbing his back and whatever is happening in front of him. What the fuck?

Blinking stupidly and offering no words, Yara simply giggles low and places a manicured hand on his chest, fingers playing with his tie and splaying across his toned chest through the dress shirt.

“C’mon, Rafe. Don’t act dumb.”

What? The words don’t come out of his mouth, paralyzed. 

“I've seen the way she treats you,” Yara muses low, her talon nails tracing idle shapes through the hills and ridges of his abdomen. “I can take care of you.”

Her touch is burning hot, uncomfortable, unfamiliar, unwanted. 

Rafe’s chest bubbles in panic, senses heightened from his anxiety of not being able to find the one person he needs right now and the uneasiness that this proximity is thrusting on him. 

Anything feels wrong when it’s not you. 

His chest is heaving. God, it feels like he’s about to throw up, and he can’t help the flash of anger that roars in his mind, because why does this girl think she’s on the same playing field as you? His sweet girl? The audacity to even utter your name is downright disrespectful, undeserving. 

Rafe roughly grabs Yara’s wrist, shoving her arm away from him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He spats. 

Yara’s eyes widen innocently with confusion. “Wh-What?” The girl takes an uneven step back as if the revelation is inconceivable. “You don’t want me?”

Want Yara?

“You better be fucking kidding.”

Rafe balls his hand into a fist, nails most definitely embedding crescents into his palm as he barrels out of the closet, frustration and anger simmering up to his ears as he feels he’s on the verge of crashing out, tugging on his hair for the upteenth time. Ignoring the faint desperate pleas behind him, Rafe storms back into the ballroom, letting out a shaky breath as he scans the room again.

This time he doesn’t hesitate to get up in people’s faces.

Rafe approaches people he’s never met before, asking if they’ve seen you, describing the details of your hair and your dress and even mentioning the color of your eyes, once. He must go up to dozens of people, the result all being the same – nothing.

They have no idea where you are. Some people don’t even know who you are, nor can spare an ounce of regard for his dilemma. Most are confused at his desperation, wordlessly shaking their heads in befuddlement and shrugging him off as if he’s crazy. 

Not even Lorenza understands, who looks concerned at Rafe’s worried expression but nonetheless is unable to decipher his ragged breath and fast words. 

The spot that Yara touched on his chest aches, as if he’s been branded. It feels ugly, it feels wrong. He feels like he needs to change and take a shower, to wash off any trances of people that aren’t you.

How could he ever learn to love the touch of another when you're the only presence he can endure?

Rafe feels like he’s been searching forever, even poking his head into the women’s bathroom to see if you've taken refuge in there without a warning or apology to the elderly woman who clutched her pearls at his intrusion.

When that goes nowhere, he feels like he’s suffocating, like you're slipping through his fingers despite feeling like he just had you. As he stands in the hallway with the sounds of echoed laughter and muffled music, he realizes his ears are ringing and his hands are shaking. 

He needs air.

And that’s the smartest thing he’s done all night, because when he seeks solace in the brisk ocean air, he spots something off to the side, practically buried in the sand. 

Heels. 

Rafe’s heart lurches. 

His legs are moving before he can process it, gripping your clutch so tight he feels like he might’ve broken something inside. The thought passes quickly, reassuring in the back of his mind that whatever he broke he’ll just pay for, as he scoops up the discarded heels and scans his surroundings, eyes narrowing at the pathway leading into the dark, to the quiet lull of the ocean, and his gut lurches him forward, heart thumping as he finds himself descending into the inky void of the night coated with nothing but suffocation. 

Each step feels like a lost cause, frustration bubbling as he curses at the wild goose chase he’s thrust himself into.

Here he is: the big, bad Rafe Cameron stumbling through the night, looking high and low for a woman he’s practically sold his soul to, gripping your belongings between calloused fingers and bleeding nail beds.

Rafe curses again, but his footsteps falter when he sees a silhouette in the distance, crouched low to the ground. The sight makes his ears, finally, stop ringing, but he almost wishes they hadn’t because then he wouldn’t hear it.

Quiet sobbing. 

The noise Rafe breaks his fucking heart. 

A moonlit figure sits on the sand, hunched forward with shaking shoulders that match the sound of hushed weeping. God, he prays it isn’t you, hoping that horrific sound isn’t coming from you, selfishly pleading that it’s someone else having a bad night.

But the closer he gets the more his suspicions are confirmed, chest tugging at the sight of your backless dress and wine colored gown cascading over the ridges of the sand. 

His voice wavers when he says your name.

You don't even turn around, waving him off dismissively. “Not now, please.”

Yeah, no. 

There’s no way Rafe’s leaving. He physically can’t. In fact, he hurries over to you, setting your clutch and heels down in the sand a few feet behind you as he comes up to place a hand on your shoulder.

You shake off his touch immediately and he panics. Did he make you feel like this? Did he hurt you, again? 

You turn away from him, sniffling. “Seriously. Leave me alone.”

“No.” Rafe lowers cautiously next to you. He hates that you don't look at him. “Look at me.”

“I want you to go.”

Even if I wanted to, I can’t, he thinks.

“I can’t leave you like this,” he whispers, frustrated you won’t look up, desperate to get you to stop crying. “Please, we can talk about this. I really didn’t mean to freak you out, I–”

Then a bitter laugh escapes your lips, and Rafe frowns at the sound, something that sounds so disingenuous, so unlike you, that it makes his stomach drop. 

“What?”

“This isn’t about you,” you whisper, voice wavering despite all of your best efforts. 

“Then what is it?” Rafe pleads. When you don't answer, exasperation bubbles as he says your name again. “Talk to me, I swear we can–”

“We can’t. Just go.”

 Rafe wants to scream. “No. God, will you look at me?”

You do.

And it gives him fucking whiplash. 

Glossy and tear striken eyes meet his, but it’s not the running mascara or puffy eyes that concern him. No, it’s the bloodied towel you hold up to your lip. 

The air is pulled from Rafe’s lungs, heart dropping instantly. 

All the frustration that has been built up in his temper immediately dissipates, now flooding solely in concern, in worry, in anxiety.

You're hurt. You're bleeding. He can’t even form a single thought except how uneasy he is seeing this, knowing he did nothing to stop it, whatever it was. 

Then he’s seeing red. 

Balling his fists so tight, he’s sure he might draw blood himself, because someone did this to you, deliberately hurt you, laid a hand on his sweet girl.

Rafe’s mind immediately wanders to Patrick, that stupid prick would do something like this and probably laugh it off after. There’s a slight chance it could’ve been Grant, merely based on your history alone, but the fact that he’s barely spoken to, let alone looked at, you the entire trip doesn’t make him believe he’s the culprit.

No, you must’ve gotten in a fight with someone. A random person. Maybe a catfight. Because none of this makes any fucking sense. 

With a trembling hand, Rafe slowly moves the cloth away to inspect the wound. It’s a cut on your lip, swollen and plump but no longer bleeding. 

When his hand comes to cradle your jaw instinctively, you pull your face away from his touch, avoiding his eyes and looking out onto the water. You try your hardest to remain stoic, but a few tears continue to fall as you attempt to stop hiccuping.

“Who did this?”

His voice is as still as he can possibly make it, but there’s a wave of anger, of fury, at the thought of someone doing this to you, someone hurting you. Rafe tries to mask it, but his tone drips in irateness.

But you don't relent. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” he nearly screams. “Tell me.”

“Please go back inside, Rafe.”

Frustration floods his chest as he raises his voice. “Don’t you understand?”

You lightly flinch at his volume, and a part of him knows he needs to reel it in but he needs you to feel his desperation.

“I can’t! I can’t just go back inside. I can’t leave you.”

You shake your head, still refusing to look at him as you squeeze your eyes shut. “I don’t need you. Stop.” 

He shakes his head in disbelief, running a hand through his already ruined hair out of irritation.

Resisting the urge to cradle you close, he instead settles on a long deep breath to steady himself, readjusting himself so he’s kneeling right in front of you, forcing you to face him. The uncertainty in your voice allows him to keep going, allowing him to understand that you're saying this to protect yourself. 

You're here right in front of him, looking anywhere but at him, but Rafe couldn’t feel further away. 

“I know you don’t mean that," he says softly, delicate enough to make up for his outburst earlier but firm enough to get you to understand. "Stop pushing me away.” 

The dam breaks. 

A hiccup. “I don’t know how,” you sob before you can stop yourself, covering your eyes with your hands. “I don’t know how to stop.”

Rafe’s heart fucking shatters. 

The feeling kills him. He doesn’t care if he’s crossing a line or overstepping when he’s hugging you, pulling you tighter when you try to evade his grip as you cry and push and writhe.

He doesn’t budge, tears brimming his eyes at your struggle, at your inability to let someone in, at how someone could even fathom hurting you. 

“Let go–” You struggle, weak hands meekly attempting to push him away.

But he doesn’t. He can’t. “Stop– Stop. I’m here. Stop.”

A jagged sob escapes your lips. He holds you tighter. 

His sweet girl. 

The thought makes him sick to his stomach. 

Eventually your efforts gradually stop, fully collapsing into his embrace as you cover your face with your hands, letting his arms cage you in entirely. Rafe does the best that he can, cradling the back of your head and running his other hand up and down your back soothingly, whispering sweet nothings to talk you through your cries. 

And all you can think about is how embarrassed you are.

You're embarrassed of it all: the playing pretend, the overtly snobby family, the emotions that can’t seem to stop and continuously overflow under the faucet of nonstop misfortunes, the thought of him with someone else, the cut on your lip, the helplessness.

It makes you feel weak, curled up in his arms like this in a blubbering mess, probably bleeding onto his nice dress shirt with smudges of mascara. You aren't used to being coddled, it’s suffocating, pathetic. 

It takes a long time for you to find your voice. And when you do, it comes out through choked ragged breaths. 

“I’m sorry.”

Rafe sighs deeply above you. “No, baby. None of that.”

Your lip wavers.

How badly you want to apologize for how ridiculous you feel, how strange these pet-names are making you feel, how stupid this whole night has been. But you can’t find the words, not without sobbing, so you bite your lip, hard, and then wince as a sharp sting jolts you. 

Idiot, you think. 

“No apologies,” he whispers. “I’m here. Whatever you need.”

God, he’s being so fucking sweet that you nearly forget about what you saw earlier.

There’s no doubt you're laying on the same spot Yara touched, brushing over the same fabric that met the smooth, lotioned callouses of her hand. You have half a mind to pull away, to keep protecting your heart, but no matter how hard you want to try, you can’t. Besides, Rafe’s grip is too secure. It’s clear he’s not letting go anytime soon. 

You want to yell and scream and shriek to get him off, to tell him to go fuck off and be with his new girl, his new plaything, because apparently he’s already moved on.

But that flies out the window when you hear Rafe sniffle. 

Your confusion is through the roof. Your heart is pulling in a million different directions, teetering between the anger of betrayal to the sympathies of hurt. The whole anterage you've gone through with Rafe is the last thing you want to think about right now, wanting to push your feelings to the back of your mind for the time being. The thought of talking about what happened earlier sits heavy on your heart, the feeling of dread weighing you down. 

You can’t talk to him. Not right now. As much as you seek comfort in the warmth of his arms, it feels wrong, disingenuous, fake. 

Frankly, you know what you need, and choke on your breath to find the courage to say it. 

“I want… I...”

Your words are so quiet, incomplete and fragmented, barely a whisper as your lip quivers. 

Rafe hears it. He understands.

It takes him a moment to find the courage to release you, reluctant to let you go, you can tell, because his touch lingers a little longer than it should as he sucks in a deep breath, as if he’s been punched in the gut. Rafe hugs you a fraction tighter, a wordless promise, before he slowly pulls away.

You feel your hair brushed out of your face, his fingers delicately ghosting the hot skin of your cheeks. Half of you wants to lean into the touch, the other half wants to pull away, knowing deep down it’s dishonest. 

“Don’t move,” Rafe commands softly, taking one more moment to gloss his eyes over you, over your cut, before he’s gone. 

You hate how cold it feels without him, and you hate how you miss his warmth. The desperation makes you feel sick. Rafe’s made it clear his confession earlier was said out of hysteria, out of confusion. God, everything is so confusing.

The waterworks spring up again when Lorenza is suddenly at your side, cradling your face and wiping your tears away. 

And you let it all out. 

Through blubbering tears, you spill everything to your nonna: the purposeful dress alteration, how your dinners have been cut in half, the condescending comments on the yacht and at the table, the constant comparison to Yara, how Paulette gave the dress to someone who deserves it, the speech, and, finally the slap. 

Lorenza simply listens, occasionally wiping your tears away. 

When your nonna asks about what led up to the slap, you sigh, shutting your eyes momentarily and giving in. You're sick of lying. Of playing pretend. Of putting up a facade. 

You tell Lorenza the truth about Rafe, that you never were together, and the threat to leak that information to the family is what warranted the slap.

You explain the arrangement, how you were only sleeping together and how Paulette caught you two, how Rafe is simply doing you a favor because he didn’t want to go home to see his family, and you figured having the boyfriend card would get everyone off your back for once. You even lament further that you don’t even like each other, not in the way you were supposed to.

The shock is evident on your nonna’s face, appalled and confused. 

Not at being deceived, but at how you're calling it pretend. 

Lorenza doesn’t believe it.

Not when she’s seen you both unguarded together. 

Not when she’s seen you huddled together in the morning, fast asleep in each other’s arms in an uncomfortable twin bed. Not when Rafe woke up early on your birthday to enlist her help to make the day special, basically begging for information despite not understanding a word of her native language. Not when you worriedly checked out the window every ten minutes to see when he was coming back from his run. Not when she’s seen you sneaking unintentional glances when the other wasn’t looking, or lingering touches when you passed by each other. 

As you explain the fake arrangement, your nonna lets her eyes shift over to Rafe, who’s been pacing back and forth about twenty feet away the entire time, close enough to keep an eye on you but far enough to where he’s not intruding, and doesn’t believe for one second that you feel nothing for each other. 

But that’s not what you need to hear right now. Definitely later. But not right now, as the sting from your mother’s wedding ring burns fresh against your lip, scarring more than something physical. 

Lorenza reassures you that everything that’s happened is not your fault, that your mother is cruel and vile and wrong for everything she’s put you through. The actions of the mother are not done because of the child, but rather done to mask the insecurities that haunt her. The world will forgive you if you choose to let your mother go, saying there’s no consequence in cutting the parasite off. The weight on your shoulders will lift at the loss. 

It takes a long time for you to calm down, to fully calm down, head pounding at the intensity of your meltdown as sand embeds itself in your fingernails. The cool breeze combined with how frail you feel has you caving into yourself, aching all over your body. 

Once you have the strength to stand, Rafe’s at an arms length away, extending a cautious hand that ghosts over your body to ensure you don't fall. Lorenza can tell he’s torn on his involvement, unsure of whether to support your bodyweight or keep his hands to himself, afraid of overstepping. 

Your nonna generously offers the two of you to come back to the cottage for your last night, knowing that being in the general vicinity of Paulette might stir up more trouble. And, without question, you accept the offer, because the thought of being around your mother for one more second makes you feel sick, and you decide your nonna is right: you will feel much lighter if you never see your mother again, starting tonight. 

The room is packed hastily. You don't bother neatly folding your clothes as usual and instead shove them in your suitcase, solely desperate on leaving the resort, leaving it all behind. Whatever doesn’t fit in the bag from the lack of organization, Rafe is wordlessly putting in his suitcase. You don't even change out of your dress, simply leaving it on with your heels.

When you slip on Rafe’s suit jacket to cover up, he doesn’t complain or poke fun. 

As you and Rafe pack the taxi, Lorenza is approaching the front desk, turning in your keycards and checking you out of the room prematurely. Once she returns, she squeezes in next to you and pats your knee. You look past Rafe’s profile to watch the resort get smaller and smaller, soon its bright lights fading into a low dim. 

You feel his eyes on you, and when you gather the courage to look, you notice he’s looking at the cut – no – staring at the cut, a pained expression glossing over his eyes.

It makes you frown. When Rafe meets your eye, he lets his pretty blues linger for a second before turning to the window, almost ashamed. He wants nothing more than to hold you but knows he shouldn’t. He can’t.

The familiar cottage broaches into sight and you let out a deep breath, feeling as if you can finally relax. The giant fog of uncertainty and anxiety that consumed you seems to dissipate into thin air. The worst is over. 

Ticino and Po greet you three, and Lorenza helps you with the bags and escorts you back into the same little room, neatly made twin beds adorning opposite sides of the wall.

You and Rafe float to your respective sides hesitantly, unsure if approaching one another is safe territory. Lorenza’s voice feels far away, the only noise filling the silence, and you can only absentmindedly nod to your nonna’s words as you sit at the edge of the bed, smoothing over the sheets with a calloused hand.

The only time you shake your head is when Lorenza asks if you want her to clean the cut. 

A gentle kiss is left on your forehead, your nonna whispering a sweet nothing before leaving the room, not before momentarily coming back with a dry wash cloth in case you want to do it yourself. With a soft goodnight and an appreciative nod towards Rafe, who stands awkwardly at the end of his bed, your nonna leaves the room, quietly shutting the door behind you and filling the room with silence. 

The tension is thick, suffocating. 

All you can do is sit, staring into space and absentmindedly reaching for the cloth and attempting to stand. 

Suddenly Rafe is kneeling in front of you, a hand covering yours to cease your movements. 

You find his eyes, snapping out of your trance and pinching your brows at him, confused. But the softness in his pretty blues eases the worry line away, especially when he places your hands back into your lap and grabs the cloth. 

“I got it,” Rafe whispers, saying your name gently. “C’mon.”

A warm hand splays on the bare skin of your back, easing you up off the bed and towards the bathroom. Him saying your name feels wrong.

The bright light makes you squint, but nonetheless you move towards the counter at his guide. As you sit on the closed toilet lid, Rafe turns on the water, wiggling a finger under the faucet to make sure the temperature is what you need. Once it’s to his liking, he dabs the washcloth under the stream to get it wet, then pumps out the smallest portion of antibacterial soap that sits on the counter. 

Rafe turns to you, kneeling on the cool bathroom tile to get nice and close. It can’t be comfortable on his knee, and you almost tell him that he doesn't need to do anything, but his expression is so indifferent that you can’t discern if it’s concern or anger. 

You can smell his cologne masked with his scent, your head pounding from all the crying but also spinning at his close proximity, at how he’s continuously coming back to you despite your constant pushing.

One of his hands rests on your lower thigh just above your knee to ground himself, and neither of you flinch from the familiar touch, a second nature. The moment of solace comes and goes, because he gently caresses your jaw with the cloth, you leaning into his touch subconsciously. 

But when he gingerly presses the cloth against your cut, you wince at the contact, and Rafe frowns, pulling away a fraction. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice is saccharine. “I need to put it back on, okay?”

You lightly frown, but nod anyway. You grimace again when the warm cloth touches the cut, but don't pull away this time and let him keep his hand there to cradle your jaw. A moment is spent like that, still and unwavering.

Then he pulls back to dab the areas around the cut, wiping away any makeup or dirt that might’ve gotten around it. 

Your words are slightly muffled from the contact.

“Don’t you need hydrogen peroxide?” You ask quietly, surprising him. 

But Rafe’s shock comes and goes. “Not for the lip. Actually, it could make it worse, make it take longer to heal. So just water and soap.” His voice is soft, reserved. 

Just for you. 

“Really?”

Your genuine tone of curiosity makes his heart fucking melt. His sweet girl. Not trusting his words, he settles on a nod and small smile. 

“How’d you know that?”

Rafe continues to clean the cut with a feather light touch, pinching his brows in focus with parted lips, so in tune with his actions that he almost doesn’t hear you. 

“Used to get in a lot of fights,” he all but whispers. Noticing your frown, Rafe’s heart skips a beat, instead smirking to try and reverse your expression. “I practically have a medical degree at this point.”

But his joke doesn’t land, and your frown only deepens. 

Rafe’s eyes soften. “Hey. I’m retired. It was a long time ago. Okay?”

You reluctantly nod. “Okay.”

Your fingers gently play with his that are splayed on your thigh. Once you realize what you're doing, you freeze, and move your hands away.

Rafe hates it, speaking before he can shut himself up. “It’s okay. You can keep doing it.”

I want you to keep doing it, he wants to say. I never want you to stop.

Hesitantly, your hands move back to cover his, trying to ignore how your cheeks feel hot under his gaze especially after getting caught. But this time is different, there’s no poking fun or mockery or charming smirk. Just the green light. It’s funny how serious he sounds, the tone feeling foreign to you, especially when he’s being nice and serious. 

You should push him away. You should be mad at him after his little rendezvous, his impractical prank of pushing and pulling you like the tide. You should group him in with all the other men you've been with who jump ship at the first sight of hardships and sail onto the next girl.

But you can’t. Not when he’s looking at you like this, taking such good care of you without you having to ask, doting on you without anyone as a witness. 

Despite it all, he deserves to know what happened. 

“It was my mom.”

That makes Rafe still, eyes flickering from the cut up to your gaze and glossing with confusion, bewilderment. 

This time, you don't look away. “I told her the truth about us. How we aren’t…together.” You ignore how he stiffens. “I was upset because…” 

The words die in your throat. You were upset because you saw him cuddled up with the one girl who is everything you can’t be. 

But you can't say that. Instead you suck in a breath. “It doesn’t matter. But I was threatening to tell everyone just to piss her off and she…yeah.”

Rafe’s chest pulls achingly. This is because of him?

“Apparently the thought of a whore of a daugher is worse than one with a busted lip.”

Rafe flinches at the word you call yourself, moving to defend you but you speak before he can.

“I told nonna, too,” you confess, quieter. “Although her reaction was handled much better, I’d say.”

The attempt to joke falls on deaf ears. Slowly, he pulls the cloth away, putting the pieces together in his head with puffy parted lips and a pinched brow. You hate that you have the urge to lean forward and kiss his heartbroken expression away. 

“Don’t… Don’t call yourself that,” is all he can meekly come up with. 

You shrug. “It’s the word I said to Paulette. Just trying to tell the story straight.”

It still makes him sick, squeezing his eyes shut in disbelief. “She hit you because of that?”

You nod. 

His whole body feels uneasy as he albeit whispers your name. “I’m so sorry.”

The use of your name makes a shiver go down your spine. Not trusting your words, all you can do is shrug again, finally averting your gaze and looking down at your hands still brushing along his knuckles. 

His next question makes you still. “Has she done this before?”

Part of you wants to tell him everything. How this isn’t the first time you've had to cradle your cheek and cover it up with makeup. How the burden of trying to please her has been aching your shoulders for years. How you finally want to let go, finally want to stop and pull away for good. But the words don’t come. You don't think they ever will, not for anyone. 

Your silence is the answer. 

Rafe hates how you don't say anything. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s not really a bedtime story,” is all you can whisper. 

That makes him frown.

None of this is a bedtime story. This whole thing has seemed like one giant nightmare for you, and he wishes he could say he’s doing his part to help it turn into a dream but can’t say for certain if his intrusion has been good or bad. 

But he’s had his fair share of nightmares, of scary accidents that he’ll never be able to forget. There’s a strong pull that he feels towards this moment right here, because despite all of the tennis-match bickering and pushing away that you've both been doing in self sabotage, you're connected by fragments of similar memories. Like it or not, you understand each other on a level deeper than intimacy. 

“Last summer my dad choked me out for fucking up a business deal,” he finds himself saying, which makes you pick your head up. “Had bruises on my neck for ages. Could barely talk. My sister had to teach me how to use concealer.”

He hates how his voice wavers despite bitterly trying to laugh, and when he notices you go to say something, he quickly interrupts you to clarify the reasoning for the antidote. 

“This isn’t… I’m not telling you to get something in return. I just want you to know that I understand.” Then, softer, “More than you think.”

One of your hands reaches up to brush some of the hair out of his eyes, hair that he’s been helplessly tugging all night from the emotional turmoil. 

“I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Rafe nearly sighs at the contact, wanting nothing more than to pull you close. Instead, his thumb ghosts over your cut, blue eyes scanning over the wound. “And this to you.”

You're talking before she can process what you're saying.

“I’m sorry about earlier… I wasn’t very nice to you.” You continue at his confused tilt of his head. “When we were dancing…”

The realization makes him suck in a small breath. 

Your mouth opens and closes, shocked that you brought it up. “I just… I can’t–”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not–”

Rafe interrupts firmly by saying your name, yet with an edge of softness that silences you, “We don’t have to do anything about it. I’ll be alright.”

It’s funny how desperate he was earlier to get answers, as if not knowing was going to make him immediately drop dead the longer it kept getting prolonged. But the sequences of events of tonight force him to put it on the back burner, because it truly can wait. He’ll wait forever if it means the possibility of being with you. 

You want to say more, he can tell, but he doesn’t allow it. “C’mon. Let me get that makeup off.”

So he does. Rafe finds the stash of makeup wipes and takes one between his fingers, gingerly rubbing circles all around your face to get rid of the stains of today, of course avoiding the area of the cut. You eventually close your eyes, relishing in the feeling of removing the reminders of the night. And he does it so gingerly, too, that at some points, you aren't even sure he’s touching you. 

You wordlessly get ready for bed, brushing your teeth and retreating back into the bedroom where you change into pajamas. This time, he doesn’t help you, and part of you is glad to have gained back a semblance of independence, even if it only lasts a fraction of a moment. 

Because you don't get into your twin bed. 

You can’t.

Rafe’s already laying in his, not wanting to push any boundaries more than he already has tonight, opting on not inviting himself to invade your space once more.

He watches you, hovering by the bed frame as if you're contemplating getting in or not, and he sees right through your struggle, wanting desperately to gesture you to his side like he always does. But not this time. He needs to let you come to him, if you even want that. 

And you do. But not in the way he likes. 

“Last night?” You ask sheepishly, almost dejected. 

Rafe nods without hesitation as you pad over to his side, his arms immediately greeting you to help you lay down. You take solace in your rightful spot, slipping underneath the covers and pressing your body taut against his as if it's made to be there.

His fingers fumble with the lamp switch as he leans up to turn the light off, grateful for the darkness to mask his confusion, his panic. 

Last?

That solidifies it, he thinks. After tonight, it’s done. 

Part of him wants to believe you're still dazed from the whirlwind of a night you've been through, distracted and unwilling to give his preposition any thought. There’s no way this can be the last time he holds you close, and his heart lurches at the image of future-him all alone. Pitiful. You'll come to your senses in the morning and your mind will be more clear. 

But that’s the other part that haunts his thoughts.

Your mind is clear. Well, at least clearing by the minute. You're preparing to let him down easy, already apologizing for how abruptly you handled the situation in concocting a plan to soften the blow that, no, you don't want to be more with him. You've had plenty of chances to tell him if you reciprocate, and haven't. 

It kills him. 

It kills him even more that you were upset about something before the slap, that there was more of something that he has no idea about. Whatever it was, it lead you to tell your mother the truth of the arrangement. It kills him further that you couldn’t seem to tell him why, but all fingers seemingly point to him.

Rafe must’ve done something, and if it wasn’t his fault, he’d be pretty surprised. It must’ve been bad enough for you to spill the secret willingly.

He can’t ask you questions right now, even though he desperately needs answers. Rafe is losing his damn mind in this twin bed as your heartbeats press against one another, his arms wrapped securely around you as if you're going to disappear if he lets go.

He figures that’s true, and finds himself pulling you a fraction tighter to relish in your final night together, limbs entangled and skin pressed against skin, not that you notice because by the feel of your steady breaths, you're asleep. 

Now all that surrounds him are his suffocating thoughts. And those don’t let him sleep. 

You're forced to wake up earlier than expected to account for the longer cab ride to the airport. 

Rafe anticipates the alarm, pretending to shut his eyes moments before to assimilate into the role of being awoken so severely.

But the truth is, he didn't sleep a wink.

He’s sure the bags under his eyes will give him away momentarily, and he’s already come up with a number of excuses to brush off the truth to dissipate your worry. That is, if you even worry about him. 

You jolt from your sleep to the sound of the blaring alarm, immediately groaning and curling further into the sheets and, coincidentally, nuzzling further into Rafe’s embrace. It’s warm and it smells like him, the thought of leaving this makes your head pound in an emotional hangover. 

But you said last. As in final. One more. Done-zo.

Had you meant it? Not in the slightest. But you need to mean it to protect yourself. 

It doesn’t help when his hands rub up and down your back soothingly to coax you awake. It also doesn’t help that his morning voice is so deep, so unintentionally sultry, that it sends a shiver down your spine, lulling you to rouse from your slumber. But, truthfully, it only makes you more tired as the effects of last night catch up to you. 

The last thing you want is to replay all of the events, however the harsh sting on your lip is a painful reminder, a long lasting reminder, of what happened in that closest.

So you push it down. 

You lean away from his touch. 

And he leans away from yours.

You say goodbye to your nonna quickly but meaningfully, because if you let yourself linger, you'll never get on the flight. 

The cab ride is silent. Distant. Cold.

Rafe doesn’t say a word to you, and the clench in his jaw prevents you from saying anything either, not wanting to further ruin his damp mood. He eventually puts his headphones in, completely shutting you out. You don't even want to go on your phone, as the hundreds of missed texts and calls from your family are the only things waiting for you.

You notice him anxiously pick at his nail beds as he stares out the window, expression hard and collected, and this time you don't reach over to stop his anxious tick and instead turn a blind eye. 

You've pissed him off enough in the past few days, pushing and pulling him in like the tide. With a heavy heart, you decide to have your final move be the push so you can move on from him once and for all.

That way he can go about life as he wants to: uncommitted, free, not tied down as he has previously talked against. After a few days away from you, Rafe will come to his senses and will realize his confession was simply the spur of the moment. He said it himself, you don’t need to do anything about it. 

Because there’s no way he wants you after he’s seen all of your ugly.

The thought is incorrigible. 

The flight is long and you can barely pay attention to the movies you put on the small screen. You figure Rafe’s getting his beauty sleep in his first class seat, noticing how dark the eye bags under his eyes were this morning but deciding not to comment on it. It’s funny, you would’ve made fun of him for it a week ago. Now you can barely look at him without feeling a dull ache plague your heart. 

And he doesn’t look at you. 

Not when the plane lands.

Not when you catch an Uber back to campus together.

Not when you part in front of your respective dorm room doors. 

Standing silently, almost aware of the space, you glance at him staring down at his keys, jiggling them in his palm to delay the inevitable. Still, he doesn't look at you.

You're just gathering up the courage to say something, to thank him for everything that he's done for you in the past week, to tell him how grateful you are to have had him by your side during the shit show that was the entire week.

But he takes a long deep breath, finding the right key for his room and gripping it tight.

“I’ll see you around,” is all Rafe says before he unlocks his door and disappears inside. 

You stand in the hallway for another minute, paralyzed in place from the animosity in his voice, feeling like you're back to square one: barely friends. 

Even though you know it’s your fault.

You push, and push, and push, incapable of pulling, incapable of accepting things you don't think you deserve. All these horrible thoughts in your head prevent you from truly enjoying things, from pushing past the hurt and deep insecurities rooted in your mind. It's hard to allow yourself to be happy, to think you deserve it, in fear of getting it ripped away from you.

Despite the pit in your stomach, you pull yourself together, knowing it’s for the best in the long run, as you unlock your own room and greet the solemn walls like an old friend. 

© salem-s please do not copy or replicate work without permission. mdni.

notes legit myyyyy bad yall

[illbegottenfaith]

stuck with u

you get stuck in the Room of Requirement with a not-so-distant acquaintance and realise there's no where else you'd rather be (theo nott x reader)

all this loving you, hating you, wanting you...

a/n - ahh my first entry for hogmarch! I can't believe I'm finally writing a trope I used to devourrr as a (younger) teen and although 'stuck' tropes aren't my absolute favourites I like that I went for a little unconventional take on it :D I decided to blend the week 1 & 2 themes since im wayyy past the week 1 timeframe oops (midterms...) anyways this was so so fun to write cuz even 5 years on I love love loveee stuck with u ARGHH its so good so enjoy :)))

tropes/warnings - mutual pining, friends-ish to lovers, fluff, happy ending <3

word count - 2.5k

taglist - @allie-sturns @hzdhrtss @friedfreyfries @bushnellswife @rose-of-the-grave @thaliashifts @pariahsparadise @babene-e @fratbrochrisgf

You’d never been one to stick around - not when it came to people.

You had friends. Plenty of them, in fact. You’re easy to get along with, know how to fill the silences with laughter. But close friendships - the kind where you let them actually know you, the kind where you let them in, let them see something real - those have been few and far between.

It wasn’t that you were afraid of people. You just didn’t trust easily.

Most friendships, to you, felt temporary. People drift in and out of each other’s lives all the time, and you’d never seen much use in pretending otherwise. You kept things surface-level, just enough to be friendly. But the moment someone gets too close, asking questions you don’t want to answer, you pull away. Create distance before they can even get the chance to disappoint you.

But then there’s Theo. And, for some reason, he’s the only person you’ve never managed to push away.

Not that you haven’t tried.

In your first year, when you tripped down the last few steps of the dungeon staircase and sent your books flying, it was Theo who had crouched beside you, silently gathering them up, not a single snide remark on his lips as 11-year-old boys were prone to hand out. No, all you got was a faint smirk as he handed them back to you without a word, all while you gaped gormlessly at him.

In your third year, when you missed a week of classes after a particularly vicious stomach bug, it was Theo who had slid his notes across the table in Potions, muttering “don’t ask me to explain any of it” out the corner of his mouth. All the same, with every mildly incoherent word in his slanted, cursive handwriting, he was surprisingly cooperative in deciphering it for you.

In your fourth year, when you got hexed in the middle of the corridor and spent the entire afternoon with bright green hair, it was Theo who had walked you to the Prefects’ Bathroom, rolling his eyes as he mumbled something about how he “might as well supervise” before you inevitably made it worse.

And this year - your last year - he’s always there.

You don’t understand it. You don’t have the kind of friendship where you confide in each other, where you talk about things that matter. But somehow, Theo always seems to be around when it matters - watching with those observant, calculating eyes of his, offering help without making a big deal out of it, like he knows you wouldn’t take it if he did.

It’s a running joke now - one you always throw at him with a grin. You just can’t get rid of me, huh?

And every time, he huffs a quiet laugh. Apparently not.

The next time you get stuck with him is over spring break. Naturally, all your friends wanted to do was laze around the Common Room, half-dozing. Eventually, someone proposed the brilliant idea of fetching a game for a little intellectual stimulation, like Uno. Unfortunately, no one wanted to actually get up to get it other than you and Theo.

“This isn’t going to work,” you said. You and Theo were standing in an empty corridor on one of the higher floors, one where the Room of Requirement was rumoured to appear. He shushed you impatiently, his eyes still screwed shut as he thought long and hard about a deck of uno cards.

You sighed, waiting for him to get this over with. This close, you could see every individual eyelash of his, all of which were unfairly long. Really, it was a waste of a beautiful feature on a perfectly mediocre boy.

He finally opened his eyes, which almost immediately found yours. You hadn’t realised you were standing so close to each other. For a brief moment, you were struck by how pretty his eyes were - marbled, watercolour eyes that lent a softness to his otherwise strong, harsh features. Momentarily speechless, you looked away, following his line of sight over your shoulder.

Well, I’ll be damned, you thought. A door. An actual door.

Sure enough, it opened to a narrow, cavernous room filled to the brim with every board game you could dream up. The two of you wandered in, weaving in and out of stacks upon stacks of games. Once you picked out a suitable deck of Uno cards, you both meandered back to the entrance. Or what was the entrance.

You turned the corner of a stack, back to where the entrance was, only to see Theo standing with his back to you, his face hidden, fingertips ghosting a blank stretch of stone.

“Theo,” you started, stating the complete obvious, “why is there wall where the door is supposed to be?”

"I don't believe it," you heard him mumble disbelievingly under his breath. "It was here just a moment ago."

"You lost the door?" you cried out. He was starting to look a little green around the gills, his eyes darting to the other walls. He gave a weak, unconvincing laugh.

"Don't be ridiculous."

“Do something, Theodore!”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder!”

Theo winced. “Quit yelling, would you?”

You sat down, slumped against the opposite wall, dragging a hand across your face. “Great. This is just perfect. We’re going to grow old and die and shrivel up in here and it’s all your fault.”

“My fault? If you had just waited by the door like I asked - ”

"You didn't tell me the door was going to disappear!"

"Yeah - well - it's never happened before." Theo dragged his hand out of his hair, now wildly sticking up in all directions, fingers trailing up the wall as if trying to feel for a hidden door. You scoffed.

"I told you we should have gone down to Hogsmeade to buy a deck, but no, you didn’t want to walk all that way.”

“Unlike you, I actually know how to work the Room.”

Theo turned just in time to dodge the Monopoly figurine you had hurled at his head.

"Then work it. Get us out of here."

--------

"Stop chucking things at me."

Grudgingly, you paused your assault. Half an hour ago, you had been ready to climb the walls and tear them down to get out of this place. Now, the craze had passed, so you settled for pelting Theo with all the tiny games figurines you could get your hands on while he paced wearily, trying to think of a solution.

“I’ll stop when we have an exit.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Theo turned back to the blank stone wall, muttering something under his breath as he pressed his palm against it. When nothing happened, he shoved both hands through his already-ruffled hair and swore under his breath.

Your eyes tracked his movements critically. “You have no idea how to get us out of here, do you?”

“Of course I do,” Theo shot back, a little too quickly.

"Right."

Five minutes later, he finally admitted defeat. He joined you where you were slumped in a corner, unsuccessfully trying to juggle the chess pieces. To your credit, you didn't say it, but your whole body language hummed with an undercurrent of I told you so.

"The Room's going to let us out when it wants to let us out," he said finally. "All we can do is wait till it feels like it."

He sounded so defeated you were starting to feel a little bad for being so hard on him. You sighed.

"I just can't believe we're stuck in here when everybody else is...you know, out there."

“Yes,” he said drily, “because there’s so many better places to we need to be. Merlin forbid we fall behind on our couch-rotting hours.”

You grinned as he picked up the deck of cards on your lap, starting to shuffle them.

"Might as well make the most of it while we're stuck here."

You raised your eyebrows as he started expertly manipulating the deck.

"Shuffling's the newest panty-dropper, eh?"

The corner of his mouth ticked upwards as his eyes remained fixed on the deck. "You'd be surprised."

You can practically see him puffing out his chest on the showier tricks he does with laser-focused concentration. It makes you want to laugh, his almost childish need to be impressive. To impress others. To impress you.

But, for reasons that eluded you, you were impressed. Not once had Theo ever let you down. It was as though he was incapable of it. You didn't exactly rely on him, but when he was around, his deep, self-assured voice was guaranteed to soothe your frazzled nerves. Even now, when all you wanted to do was bitch and moan about how you were never going to see the light of day again, he somehow managed to distract you, amuse you. Theo always knew how to turn a bad situation around and, well, to someone as catastrophic as you, what could sound more appealing?

Game after game, time began to blur. The cards whispered as they slid over each other in his hands, a hypnotic rhythm filling the silence between you. You let your head tilt back against the wall, exhaling slowly, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little.

Your head lolled against your shoulder as you lazily watched Theo shuffle the cards for the umpteenth time.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you noted, tilting your head toward him.

He didn't look up from the cards. "A novel concept, I know."

You nudged him in the ribs and he gave an exaggerated wince.

"Watch it. There's no exit and I'm more than capable of beating your ass."

Theo laughed at that, openly and unabashed.

"You're going to beat my ass?"

"Just said I would, didn't I?"

Theo snorted, mumbling something somewhat affectionate under his breath. You turned away, hiding your grin. Your cheeks were pink and your eyes glittered with the thrill of being Theo's company - the only person who could keep up with you.

He continued shuffling the cards, a little slower now.

“I’m thinking.”

You looked back at him, once again interested. “Dangerous.”

He flicked a card at you without looking, and you batted it away with a grin. “Thinking about what?”

His shuffling slowed to a stop. “Nothing.”

“Oh, it’s something.” You leaned even closer to him now, your knees brushing against his thigh. “Something broody and dramatic, I bet. Come on, spill.”

Theo exhaled through his nose. “Drop it.”

“Not a chance,” you chirped. "Just tell me what it is. Unless you’re scared.”

That got him. His jaw ticked, fingers tapping on the deck.

“Didn’t peg you for a coward, Nott,” you goaded, bumping your knee against his. “You can tell me.”

Theo let out a slow breath, his shoulders tensing. He shuffled the deck once more, but this time, his movements weren’t just for show. They were measured, thoughtful, almost like he was buying himself time.

You covered his hands with yours, stopping him. He glanced down to where the two of you were practically holding hands.

“If I tell you something, you have to promise not to laugh.”

You nodded. "Did you kill a man."

He huffed and rolled his eyes. "No."

"Is it about the shuffling? Were you secretly roped into an underground gambling ring over the summer? Is that where you learnt all those tricks?"

You could tell he desperately wanted to smile but was stopping himself. "No," Theo said, his grip on your hand tightening.

"You started an underground gambling ring? Without me?"

"Do you ever shut up?"

You dropped your eyes to his crotch for a fraction of a second.

"Ach - not like t - that's not what I meant."

"I'm just messing with you." You ran a hand through his hair despite his desperate, one-handed attempts to bat you away. "Tell me already."

Theo hesitated. You became suddenly aware of how quiet the Room was. You felt an awful, sinking feeling in your stomach that maybe Theo was right. You weren't going to like what he had to say.

“I don’t mind being stuck here.”

You blinked, caught off guard.

He shifted beside you, tapping the deck of cards against his knee.

“I mean, yeah, it’s a bit ridiculous how we ended up here, but…” He trailed off, searching for the right words.

“It’s not the worst thing in the world. Being here. Being stuck here. With you.”

You stared at him. His eyes shone with that stupidly optimistic sincerity of his that you only saw glimpses of from time to time. He meant every single word.

His grip slackened. Wordlessly, you retracted your hand. How were you to bear this?

"You're right," you said in a voice thick with unshed tears. "That is absolutely ridiculous. It's downright - " your voice quivered. You brushed a hand across your eyes. "Downright laughable."

A sobering silence followed. You wondered if Theo was kicking himself for having opened his mouth in the first place. You wondered if you should say something.

"You really don't mind this?" you started hoarsely. You tilted your head to face him. "You don't mind me? I mean, I pelted you with Monopoly pieces while yelling abuse at you. I messed up your hair."

His mouth curved into that faint, breezy smile of his.

"'Course I don't mind it."

"Why not?" You should.

"'Cause it's you." It's you. It's always been you.

Your eyes fluttered shut. You felt the exhaustion of being trapped in here catching up to you. You rested your head on his clavicle. Hesitantly, he turned his head to press his lips to your temple.

"I have to be honest, Y/N," he muttered against your hair. "I don't know if we're getting out of here."

"S'alright." You pressed a tiny kiss to his shoulder. "There's nothing I'd rather than do, either."

It's what all this loving him, hating him, wanting him boiled down to. Interlacing his long, careful fingers with your own, you decided that yes, there was no one else you'd rather be stuck with.

[miffysrkv]

“For You, I Surrender”

Jayce Talis x Fem!Reader

warnings: 🔞!!!!!, established relationship, bath time, neck kissing, fingering, Jayce being absolutely whipped for you, pet names

synopsis: after coming home from an especially long day at the Academy, Jayce knows exactly how to help you unwind.

Being a professor for the Academy was no easy task. Being as midterms were wrapping up, you had a bunch of your students asking for assistance with the material, some asking for extra credit assignments or even some of them pressing you that they deserved a better grade then what they had currently. Not only that, during the only break you had, Professor Heimerdinger found you and had talked your ear off about the latest experiment he was conducting. There was not much you caught from the, one-sided, conversation other than that Jayce and Viktor were assisting him. Ah, Jayce. You just wanted to head home to your shared apartment and forget the day ever happened, maybe get a good cuddle session in with your beloved. Unfortunately, you still had a lot of assignments to grade and students to help as your office hours were far from being closed

By the time the last student left your office, it was already 5 o'clock. The sun was slowing starting to set and the orange yellowish hues created a warm glow that leaked through your office windows. Letting out a sigh of relief, stretching out your arms and effortlessly cracking your aching back, it was finally time to head out. As much as that big stretch provided you with temporary relief, the walk back to your apartment was slightly putting you off as you packed your things. Locking up your office you began walking. Being a professor did have its perks. Your apartment was only a short 15 minute walk from the Academy and you couldn’t wait to see Jayce.

⎯

Exiting from the elevator, walking down the hall, fumbling with your keys for a bit, you successfully made it to the front door of your home. Entering the apartment, you had noticed it was dimly lit, the only big light source coming from the kitchen. The smell of food wafted its way through your nose and you couldn't help but smile, following the scent of delicious food. Despite being the Golden Boy of progress, Jayce sure could cook…with some practice of course. In the beginning of the relationship, he had attempted to cook breakfast in bed but burnt the eggs and somehow overcooked the slices of bacon. It was a romantic gesture, and you always appreciated how much Jayce put into trying to impress you.

Walking towards the entrance of the kitchen, Jayces’ back faced you as he hummed a tune. You scanned the dinning room and saw that the table was neatly set while a fresh vase of your favorite flowers were settled in the middle of the table. Your heart fluttered. Did you happen to forget a special date today? Or was this Jayce just being Jayce. Your footsteps quietly padded against the wood floor and you reached out for your lover, wrapping your arms around his waist, head buried into his back.

Jayce jumped slightly, but instantly relaxed when he looked over his shoulder to see that it was only you. “Hey sweetheart, how was work?” he asked, holding onto your wrist with one of his free hands as he continued to cook. You hummed in response, not in the mood to verbally respond. The taller man waited for you to talk about your day but when you didn’t speak, and buried your head deeper into his back, he frowned. Usually you had a lot to say, but you were being oddly quiet. The only reason he could think of as to why you were not talking was because today was harder than normal. He set aside the spatula he was using, turned the stove off and took the handle of the pan to place it on a metal trivet so that he could tend to you. He gripped your arms, prying you off his back so that he could look at you properly.

As he looked you over, he could see how tired your eyes looked and how your hair that you spent all morning doing was coming undone. He gave you a knowing look and you couldn’t help but embrace him, burying your face in his chest as his natural scent filled your nose. He smelled of clean laundry and a hint of cinnamon, you could honestly fall sleep in his arms. He returned your hug, wrapping one arm around your neck and your waist, slightly rocking you. “I was going to save the bath for after dinner, but I think you need one. What do you say?”. You couldn’t help but breath in deeply and letting that same breath out, the idea of a warm bath sounding good right about now. “That sounds divine. But as long as you’re joining of course” you suggested. How could Jayce resist?

⎯

You sighed as you settled in the warm water, the temperature doing wonders on your aching muscles. Jayce was even nice enough to add in your favorite bath soaps and dried rose petals. The warm water made the aroma of the soaps in the water smell sweet and you watched as the petals reabsorbed the water. You looked to your left to catch Jayce removing the remaining pieces of his clothing and noticed that he was half hard. You raised a brow at this and gave him a teasing look. Jayce grinned sheepishly. “What? Seeing the love of my life strip before me, how am I not supposed to get hard?” he asked. Shaking your head in disbelief, you made room for the both of you and you felt the water move as he settled in behind you. Seeing as you were making no attempt to move backwards, he grabbed your waist and brought you in between his legs, resting his head on your shoulder.

Oh god

You could feel his erection pressing against your back and the heat that was creeping down to your lower region was bruning hotter and hotter by the second. You tried hiding your embarrassment by turning away from where his face was resting. “There’s no need to be shy, my love” his lips ghosted over your pulse, moving to press soft kisses to your neck. You couldn’t help but let out a quiet moan and Jayce continued his onslaught of affection, opting to suck a hickey or two while he was at it. Realizing what he was doing, you let out a gasp before turning around to slap at his chest, the water sloshing around at your sudden movements. “Jayce! No hickies! If my students were to see them-” Jayce took the opportunity to capture your lips when you had turned to scold him, his grip on your waist adjusting so that he could turn you around to fully face him.

There was no point in resisting, as Jayce always had a way to break you in and you let yourself go. You couldn’t help but whimper as his tongue licked your lips, as if asking permission to enter your mouth. You opened your lips slightly and Jayce took his moment to dominate your mouth. Although being in the water made both your bodies wet, you could feel yourself growing aroused the more his mouth was on you. You hadn’t noticed his hands roaming over the plush of your thighs before dipping down to your soaked pussy. As he slipped a finger inside, he couldn’t help but groan at how he was met with little resistance. “God, you feel so good around my fingers”, he whispered against your neck, his free hand grabbing at your ass, squeezing and subtly rocking you back and forth. The angle that he had you in made his fingers move deeper inside you, pressing into the most intimate parts of you.

His fingers were thick and you couldn’t help but clench around them as they brushed against the soft spot inside of you. You held onto his shoulder, your breasts pushing up against his face. Jayce looked up at you, your cheeks were flushed, from the heat or from what he was doing, he didn’t know. Your brows were furrowed, eyes shut from the immense pleasure and your lips slightly plump from your shared kiss. To him, you looked like a Goddess. “Please, (Y/N), cum on my fingers. Be my perfect girl that I know you are”. His words, god, his words sent you spiraling. It was as if an invisible cord snapped and you felt yourself cumming on Jayces’ fingers. As if you weren’t already tight enough, Jayce let out another groan at how he could feel you cleaning around him, your release coating his finger and joining the bath water surrounding the two of you.

As you attempted to catch your breath, Jayce had brought his clean hand up to your head and stroked your hair, whispering nothing but sweet words as you came down from your intense orgasm. He took notice at how the rose petals clung to your skin and he picked them off, waiting for you to give the okay. Finally coming down from your high, you grabbed Jayce by his face, squishing his cheeks together. He smiled and you rolled your eyes, giving his lips a quick peck, moving back to get a better look at his face. “Sooo, should we… take this to the bedroom?” Jayce never moved so fast in his life.

A/N: part two is up

[sailingintothenight]

“A safe heaven.” Bob Reynolds Imagine.

Summary: Little Bob was led to believe heaven didn't exist, but now, with you, he knows it's real.

A/N: Hii. This is my first imagine about Bob. My page used to be about Tom Holland and Peter Parker but I haven't written about them in a while for personal reasons. I wasn't sure whether to keep using this account or create a new one, but I'll wait to see how my failed attempt to write about this little ray of light called Bob goes. I've been following Lewis' work for a while, but I saw him in the Marvel universe and his character is so adorable–almost everyone fell in love with him, I'm sure hehe–so I hope you like this. Thank you so much!

Warnings: just fluff.

“Can we… uh… sleep together again tonight, (Y/N)? Please?”

When the night swallowed the sun and New York City shone with artificial lights, as fictitious as his courage (still small, like a baby plant) to face those hours alone in the darkness of his room, Bob would appear in the tower's living room or kitchen, ready to sleep but waiting for you two to be alone or just with Yelena present, almost buried in clothes that were a size or two too big for him (considering he was quite large), on his gray sweatpants, and his nervous hands tucked into the sleeves of his blue sweatshirt with the letters I ♡ Los Angeles printed on it.

His timid request would be lost in the noise of life that followed its course outside the place, his voice loud enough only for you to hear it. That nocturnal dynamic between you two started innocently and stayed that way after one night when your mind expanded in your sleep and sank beyond the walls, capturing his nightmares as yours, feeling the violent beat of his heart inside your own, visualizing his expression behind your closed eyelids, and the pain and confusion when he woke up not knowing where he was.

And somehow, you found a way for him to see your fear of a lonely room, speaking to him in your warm voice, and Bob, who always tried to do good despite doubting his own goodness all the time, suggested timidly that maybe sleeping with someone else would be a temporary solution until you two find a permanent one. It was supposed to be a matter of one or two nights together, a week maybe, (so Bob would find peace in sleeping, without feeling the terror of his past materializing in his dreams if he woke up, realizing he wasn't alone anymore) but then he started asking you that question, day after day.

You always said yes, and Bob would smile to himself before walking away first.

"You adopted a puppy and didn't tell me." Yelena chuckles that night, sitting in one of the high chairs around the granite table as she finishes her dinner, speaking softly so as not to disturb the peace that was beginning to build in the place, between different people who sometimes coexisted amidst so much chaos. "Bob is in love with you, you know? that's why he follows you around like he's a stray dog ​​and you his home."

You laugh softly.

"I can be your home too, my love."

Yelena grimaces in disgust, as if an unpleasant smell has reached her nose.

"Don't make me throw up my dinner."

"Hey, I made that dinner."

“And that’s why I love you.” She smiles, pretending to be cute as she wrinkles her nose, a failed plan because she is cute, with her beautiful face and her daily attempt to put the past behind her. “I mean, you are perfect, baby, with your amazing cooking skills, your cute little face, and the way you threaten to blow Walker’s head off when he starts acting like a jerk. It’s so funny he still hasn’t figured out why he gets migraines. So I understand why Bob likes you so much.”

Perfect, because that’s how they intended you to be, giving you powers that you didn't ask for. They made a weapon out of you, discovered in the middle of nowhere and without instructions, one that destroyed an entire complex.

When you close the door to your room, the warmth expands and stays there like a golden light, always present whenever you are present. Or at least that's how Bob sees you, with his blue eyes that once again had the brilliance of a star and always tried to hold your gaze, with you comparing it to a new kind of ocean, safe and peaceful.

Like a force of nature, but created in a laboratory, you arrived to destroy the little peace Bob had managed to find in his solitude, shaking his world with your magnetic presence. But Bob also loved the way your powerful, deep gaze could rest when life became routine, that white dot that shone in the corner of your pupil disappearing, turning you almost into an angel when he saw the tenderness in your soft smile and your dreamy eyes when things looked a little better.

Now, sitting against the headboard of your bed, one leg tucked under the other, Bob shows you the book in his hand, a nervous smile on his lips.

Pride & prejudice.

"I finished it."

“At an alarming rate.” You chuckle as you sit on your side of the bed: and Bob, who liked to stop and look at the flowers in the park near the tower, pet the cats in the front yards of the houses and read poetry, smiles with the compliment. “How long did it take you?”

“About 9 hours.”

“I’m impressed, Bob.” You smile proudly, and Bob will be able to see that sweet image of you clearly in his mind for the rest of his life, even when his head becomes foggy.

Then, a thought that was meant to stay inside, finds its way out from between the cracks of his own shyness.

“You smile pretty.” With him near to your lamp on the nightstand, the amber light makes his hair and messy locks shine, especially when his sweet smile disappears from his lips and Bob lowers his head for a moment, revealing the profile of his defined face and a glimpse of his flushed cheek. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Only one of your fingers makes contact with his chin, pushing it upward as soft as a feather, but with enough determination for him to meet your smile and hold it, though his gaze falters, nervous, but always warm and sincere. “We can watch the movie tomorrow if you want.”

“Is there a movie too?”

His eyes widen slightly, eyebrows rising.

“There are several, actually.”

His surprise doesn’t seem to fit in his expression, and it’s adorable and amusing until you both lie down under the thick blanket.

It doesn't take long for Bob to fall asleep (too tired from always overthinking all day about everything) lying on his left side, burying half his face in the pillow that smells like you, like a memory from his childhood that he knows never happened, but one he does want to remember and not erase from his fragmented mind.

However, there's a moment that breaks the peacefulness of his night with the noise from the other side of the big glass window, in a world rebuilding itself after the horrors experienced by his darkest side.

You're lying on another pillow, half sitting, back against the headboard of the bed with the same book in your hands, now looking at him. There, with no intention of overstepping his boundaries, your own fingers, the ones you once raised so that an entire building would crack and collapse, slide across his forehead, softly pushing back that brown lock of hair that frames one side of his lovely face—but you can see, you can feel, that this dream is less terrifying, less painful.

"Bob…"

Like a whisper that finds every dark corner of his mind, disappearing every shadow of that future nightmare in his head, your soft voice makes Bob wake up with a slight, barely audible gasp. He opens his eyes, but he instantly recognizes where he is, the lavender scent of the place caressing his heart until it calms his confusion.

His gaze searches yours, head still on the pillow.

“I’m sorry. I dreamed 'bout that chicken costume again.”

You chuckle, a warm sound like that ray of sunshine on his skin during his time in Los Angeles. Bob looks like a tiny caterpillar in the safety of his little house—or that’s what your mom used to say about you—when he pulls the blanket closer to him, his body making a slight movement to scoot closer to you.

“Don’t worry, Bob, we can do this until you feel better.”

“Thanks, (Y/N). You are so nice.” But when reason stumbles for a moment, Bob finds the strength to speak, softly so as not to clash with the peaceful surroundings, closing his eyes because there with you, the darkness behind his closed eyelids isn’t an endless pit trying to swallow him up. “Can we do this forever?”

Your hand strokes one side of his hair, and a soft smile appears on his lips.

You can almost see the iron blows from his father's fists that sank into his body, that played cruel tricks on his mind until that little brown–haired, blue–eyed angel had his tiny wings ripped off and was convinced that heaven never existed.

But now, for Bob, it is real. At least with you, it is.

“Sounds perfect to me.”

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Comfort for the Soul

Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolts*!Reader [REUPLOAD]

This is the reupload as I made the mistake of publishing it the first time round and it not being even finished, lol! Attempt no.2!

Part 2 out now!

A/N: Look babe, new comfort character just dropped! I've been loving these fics for Bob and wanted to add something myself! Not much to add apart from reader has no descriptions of what they look like but is afab.

I will be uploading a second part to this, so be sure to be on the look out! It'll also go uploaded onto my A03!

Summary: When you realise your supply of blood bags has run dry, Bob is more than willing to become your temporary blood bag.

Tags: blood, swearing, blood drinking, reader is part vampire (think Blade - daywalker), Bob is very touch starved, fluff.

Wordcount: 4,2k

E/C = eye colour

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

You stare down at the message your phone had lit up with, a simple message from your boss, Valentina.

If there was one thing you asked for from Valentina, it was to have the necessities: a roof over your head and some decent safety. It's not just that, it's that she's able to bring months on end supplies of blood bags, it's her buying a fridge just for the blood, buying the best quality cuts of steaks for you to eat rare or blue. She even got you herbal teas to help nurture your hunger temporarily.

In return, you provide your skills, your skills as a fighter, an assassin.

Looking over the message, your blood felt as if it was beginning to boil, nearly crushing your phone from the lack of explanation:

Y/N. The board is questioning the lack of blood bags. I can guarantee more to come in three day's time once we've figured things out. - V

"Just my fucking luck." You grunt, looking at your calendar on your phone; three days is simply too long to go without blood.

You're mad at yourself for overindulging in your supply. You had always been careful, counting what you needed daily, but you had decided to splurge out the night before, consuming two extra bags because your stomach wasn't satisfied.

A few days, she promised, though you doubted she was in any rush to fulfil that.

You check the clock, realising it's getting late, your accomplices/dorm-mates are up and you can hear that they're all in the kitchen grabbing breakfast.

Groaning, you grab a hoodie and a pair of sunglasses to shield your eyes from the sunlight. You can only thank those who experimented on you for giving you the gift of walking in the sun rather than burning.

You walk out, and immediately your senses are overwhelmed by the strong smells you could normally ignore. You can sense many heartbeats, and their scents differ from one another. Your ears seem to ring when you hear laughter, and your vision is hazy despite the shades to help.

Crossing the threshold from your dorms to the kitchen, you find out you’re the last person to be up.

"Ah, look who finally decided to rise from the dead." Walker is the first to 'greet' you, the triumphant look present on his face, revelling in taking you down a bit.

The smell of grease hits your nostrils before you can answer back, the strength of the coffee pot mixes to create a wavering nauseous stench, but you try to ignore both smell and words jabbed your way.

Walker doesn't seem to relent in his words, looking around the group to see if anyone else is laughing with him. Alexei is flipping bacon with his sous chef Bucky. Yelena is blitzing fruit up into some green concoction with the help of Bob chopping, and Ava is sipping her coffee, watching silently with a glint of amusement in her eyes.

"I mean," he continues, "has anyone actually looked in her room to see if she sleeps in a coffin?"

No one answers, but you can hear their snickering; there are eyes on you, waiting to see how you'd quip back.

"Maybe you'd like to sleep in one, Walker, it would really help with your attitude." you jab back, not as fierce as you'd wish, slowly moving round the table sluggishly, sitting yourself on the kitchen island table, opposite Yelena and Bob.

Yelena waves at you with the lid of the blender, "You look like shit, my friend."

"Yeah, I feel like shit." You mutter, looking over your surroundings, debating if you should grab a cup of coffee to help your nausea.

Bob is the only one who is silent, taking in both sides, listening intently, but his soft eyes do not leave you. There is visible concern in the way he looks at you.

"Hi," he awkwardly waves with the knife still in hand, putting it down. He looks as if he wants to say something about how you're doing, stopping from opening his mouth as he changes the subject, "Want a coffee?"

"That would be lovely, Bob. Thank you." You find yourself smiling easily when you're with or near Bob, eyeing him as he stands to go over to grab your favourite mug.

Yelena doesn't say anything, but she watches, a thoughtful raise in the brow, her eyes moving through between you and Bob. She knows something, she's thinking, but she's quiet and that is the scariest thing of all; not knowing what Yelena Belova was thinking.

The smell of black coffee brings your attention back, looking up at Bob as he hands you over your mug, a secret Santa mug you found out was from Ava saying 'Will this fucking day ever end?'

"Just freshly brewed." He smiles sweetly, your hands grazing over his accidentally as the mug is passed over, earning a collected mocking "Awww" to fill the room.

"It's so gross, I'm gonna puke." Ava fakes retches. Walker mimics kissing faces at you, but not in front of Bob. You're glad the large shades are hiding most of your face, or else the remaining warmth had made its way there.

It is only Alexei who seems to be 'supportive' of this. "Ah, young love! How it warms my heart."

"Yeah, if you had a heart to begin with," jabs Walker.

Bucky, who has been quiet in the room this entire time, looks over to John with a single look, but it doesn't stop the ex-Captain America.

"Is there anything else you'd like to say, John?" You chime in, lowering your glasses to stare directly at him. It's obvious that they have changed from their usual E/C to become a glowing red hue.

"Just surprised you haven't taken a straw to any of our necks whilst we're sleeping yet," he adds nonchalantly.

"Trust me, John. I wouldn't go anywhere near your blood- it reeks of 'I peaked in high school.'"

The snorts of laughter make you feel better, even Bob is laughing quietly to himself.

"Enough." Bucky starts before a fight can start in the kitchen area. The last one didn't go down so well. "I'm meeting with Valentina shortly. I can assume you can all get along without killing one another?"

"Yeah, sure, dad." Ava chimes in, and you nearly snort your coffee all over the place.

"Ha ha." Bucky rolls his eyes, strolling out as the remainder of you continue to eat breakfast, chatting about recent missions or new ones on the horizon. There's even talk of Bob going to his first one, but he is still reluctant in bringing forth the Sentry.

"If the day ever comes, Bob, you can always ask for me to be there." You say to him. This seems to brighten something within him, a hopeful look that burns brighter than any sun. "Really?" His face is one of relief and you can only wish you could bottle that look up forever.

Breakfast ends, and you ask to wash up, since you didn't need to eat, but no one made any argument against it.

Washing the dishes and putting them to dry, you're in your own little world, when you sense a fluttering heartbeat, a presence behind you-

"Sorry!" You don't know who jumps first, the loudness in Bob's presence or for you to nearly drop the plate in your hands.

"It's all good," you wave it off, turning to face him properly. "What's up?"

"The sunglasses-are you okay?"

"Oh, these?" You flip them off, revealing your more than normal eyes to him. "No, but I can assure you I'm not hungover." You laugh at your own joke pathetically, but Bob still wears a small smile, one that is still concerned for you.

"Yelena told me- you sometimes run out of... blood." He doesn't know where he's going with his words, and something shudders deep down in your chest. How Yelena knew and told Bob you don't know.

"Oh, I'm fine. Just a bit of crankiness-which doesn't help if I get pissed off by Walker."

"I mean," he continues nervously, "you... ran out? She told me about one time when it happened."

"Oh." You recall it, the hunger was a gnawing pit, constantly never satiated, even when it was filled, but that time... that had been pure torture.

You had personally confined yourself to isolation until that next blood supply arrived, nearly consuming half of the supply in one go.

You sense the spike in Bob's heartbeat, he's nervous about something, you can see a single trail of sweat on his forehead, focusing in on the vein in his neck that moves when he's tense.

You're hypervigilant on the small parts of his nervous system that you almost don't hear his next words: "Maybe... I can be of help? With-with the blood I mean-"

"No." You answer curtly, and the word stops him that he looks at you like a kicked puppy. "Oh," he answers back sheepishly, his fingers going to the hem of his frayed sweatshirt, "did I do... something wrong?"

Your stance softened, realising what you've done, how harsh you said. Way to go, Y/N. Scaring him off. You hesitantly step forward to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. You feel him visibly tense, not from your touch, but in worry you'll both be brought back to a old memory of yours. It does not happen thankfully.

"I'm sorry, I don't want you to hurt yourself, Bob. This stuff can be really dangerous- what if I were to lose control? Hurt you?" You whisper the last part, your heart clenched in fear. "I would never forgive myself, Bob."

"I trust you." he answers earnestly. It's the same way all these times you've spoken to him when he doubted himself. How you helped bring some clarity and reason to him, to make him feel safe, that he was a trusted member of the team.

No wonder you developed such a crush for him so quickly.

"Bob-"

"I trust you- you've done so much for me... why can't I help you for once?" You're thankful you're the only two in the kitchen now, for the gladdening look he has, the rosy tint to his cheeks... the glint in his pretty blue eyes, it's all too much.

You sigh, maybe in defeat, maybe from nerves, but your stomach is doing somersaults at the thought of having a meal. "Fine. Tonight, meet me here when everyone else goes to sleep. Drink lots of fluids."

"Of course," he's grinning and he’s so proud of himself and it's taking a lot in you not to kiss him all over his pretty face. "I'll be very prepared."

You however, don't.

It's gone midnight when people slowly begin to filter back to their rooms, another 30 minutes before Bob finally emerges from his room.

As quiet as possible, he contemplates knocking on your door, deciding against it to not rouse noise or suspicion.

Tiptoeing carefully barefoot across the cold floors, the darkness warps shadows across his vision, and he fears for a moment if the Void is one of them, waiting to grab him and swallow him whole.

He ignores that worry, placing it in the back of his head, as he continues towards the kitchens, listening out to any noises as he keeps the lights off for now.

It's only when he hears it: the soft rustling of pots and pans, a fridge being opened. He rounds the corner slowly, thinking it to be Alexei or Walker grabbing a drink when he's greeted with them.

Glowing eyes, watching.

'Tapetum lucidum': You had described the term to him when he accidentally caught you in the middle of the night, nursing a herbal tea to quell your stomach.

The lights were off completely like they were now, leaving poor Bob to almost drop his cup when golden-white luminated eyes jolted up to stare right back at him.

He was surprised he didn't wake the entirety of New York with his scream.

Now, they didn't as much scare him but fascinate him. There were many things that fascinated him, and sometimes he found himself staring for a bit too long at your eyes, the elongated teeth that glinted when you spoke, the way he thought you stared him down like he was prey-

"Hey," the figure whispered, and a small light from the kitchen illuminated you. Gone were the golden-white eyes, replaced by the lovely E/C ones Bob was so used to. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Me too." Bob smiled, looking around to see some items already gathered; some tissue paper, band-aids of all sizes. Bob picks up a certain item, its content jiggling it its small carton.

"Apple juice?"

"Helps to not make you faint, helps with blood sugar." You counter, gesturing for him to sit as you move around him. There is a nervousness to you that he rarely sees in you. It's frantic, not as controlled as it usually is when you're not starved out your mind.

"You sure you want to do this?" You ask as you stand next to him. Even sitting on a stool, Bob comes pretty much eye level to you, and maybe even smaller due to him slouching.

"I want to help." He says again with a certain smile, and that smile is enough to ground you, to let you know you're trusted.

"Stop me at any point when it gets all too much, and I mean it." You sigh, looking him up at down as if you're sizing him up. "Now, take your shirt off."

Bob is certain his face has erupted into a million shades of red, but thanks to the dimness of the room, it's not as noticeable. He averts his eyes from you shyly at your frankness.

"I can't believe you just said that so casually." He says, but obliges, lifting his shirt slowly.

It takes all in you not to ogle: the man is ripped in a way you cannot describe. You force yourself to look away, but your mouth goes dry when you see the sudden happy trail going down towards his trousers that he hides when his shirt is off.

Now, shirtless and carved like a Greek statue, Bob awaits.

You shuffle closer to him until his scent hits you, nerves but mixed with his everyday smell, a hint of mint in his shampoo, the laundry detergent from his clothing.

Your mouth waters, eyes brighten in the darkness of the room, fangs grow as you eye the side of his neck. "Promise me you'll tell me to stop?"

"I promise." He answers, but he's so enraptured by the sight of you, your fangs, the way your eyes glow hauntingly. He's scared he will be too occupied in looking at you to even notice.

You enter his space even more, situating yourself between his parted legs, your fingers grace over his skin carefully. Like a sculptor, Bob is carved like a God only a creator would be proud or, but you are also a lover of art.

Bob visibly shivers, his body tenses and untenses, but his blue eyes do not leave you. "So... how are you going to do it?"

"I'm going to bite you." You say matter-of-factly. Bob snorts lightly, his brown locks hide his eyes as he shyly looks back at you. "As simple as that." He takes a small breath in, tilting his neck more to the side, giving his permission.

You lean over him, and that is when his heartbeat is the loudest, the strongest. It rings like a bell in your ears, overcoming you from the sound of it. It is all you can hear, not the humming of the lights, nor the sound of the city outside, just him and only him.

Your hands find him gently, your face leaning over him, closer and closer to him, sniffing him lightly and unintentionally- his scent drives you wild.

Bob is as stiff as a statue himself, waiting for the long-awaited pain, and when your mouth finally comes into contact with his skin, he thinks it's not so bad, the curvature of your lips is so soft on him.

That's when your fangs sink in.

"Oh-holy shit." He grips the counter with an urgency from the sharpness of the pain, followed by the sound of heavy slurping. Bob is now suddenly aware that this is all that he wanted, but the suddenness of it, the sounds that are coming from him, are all very intense.

And you... The noises that come from you the moment you sink your fangs into his shoulder are like music to Bob's ears. You groan from the delight; blood fills your mouth as you greedily try to swallow as much of it as possible.

You don't feel close enough, and Bob almost yelps when he feels one hand move to hold him closer, the other moving to run through his hair.

He shudders at the light tug in his hair, turning his head further the other way, a moan of delight makes him shudder against you.

He's never felt this open with anyone before, and having you so close against him, his head swims with further hurried thoughts.

His hands don't know what to do, hanging awkwardly and playing with the string of his sweatpants, twitching to touch something-anything-to occupy his thoughts as he grows closer and closer to losing his mind. It's when he realises, he needs you- you're not close enough, he needs to feel you practically against him to feel whole.

How will he tell that to you: to ask so sweetly that he's begging. He feels himself growing warmer, beads of sweat trace down his back. His eyes are blinking back the bright lights of the kitchen.

Despite your mouth being attached to his neck, you notice his fidgety hands, drawing back lightly to murmur against the wet flesh of him, "You can touch me."

He doesn't need to be told twice, his arms wrap round your waist, pulling you closer than you thought could be possible, a shudder escaping his trembling lips. A wave of relief washes over him, how has he never before had you this close?

His eyes are squeezed so tightly, clinging to any part of you for that will give him comfort. It's not even the pain of your fangs in his flesh that hurts him anymore-rather, it's become a dull ache, but the need to have you as flush to you as possible.

"Ah-shit, Y/N." It's the first sign that he's getting overwhelmed, and astonishingly, you detach yourself from him. As quick as you're gone, Bob already misses the feel of your mouth on his skin.

You don't take much from him for his first, pulling back to look over him. His skin is flushed, his brown hair is clinging to the back of his neck as if he has a fever. It doesn't help that his body has slumped lightly, holding you as close to him until his head is pressed to your chest.

Despite this closeness, he sways lightly with you in his arms, and in a panic, you're quick with the apple juice carton, pressing the paper straw to sit on his bottom lip.

"Here, drink up. Don't want you passing out on me." You say sheepishly.

Groggily, his eyes open, staring up at you, adjusting to the dimness of the kitchen. Your eyes glow lightly when the shadows dance across them, otherwise, they are E/C; bright and bold and beautiful as anything.

It's not just your eyes that render him speechless, but the blood - his blood- smeared messily over the bottom part of your face. Your lips gleam with the redness as if you're wearing lipstick, with some having already beginning to dry over your cheeks and collecting at the tip of your chin.

You feel nervous with his eyes on you, wiping the blood away in a terrible attempt with the back of your hand.

To him, you're are a sight to behold.

Gingerly, he searches for the straw with his mouth, gulping deeply until his tongue is coated with the sickly-sweet substance of apple juice. Too sweet that it tasted artificial, he pulls back, his fingers dancing lightly over your hips, a light hum drawn from him.

"Are you okay, Bob?" He hears you ask him softly, sweetly, does he think you're some angel, and he's truly experiencing heaven. He feels everywhere and nowhere, sitting in a space that is so silent and peaceful.

He nods groggily, his eyes drift as if he's sleepy and it's caught up with him, his head leans forward until his forehead is pressed the night shirt.

"Mhm," it's the only thing he can say in this very moment; his skin is dull with where your fangs have pierced him, but he feels the most alive from it. "Do I- uh-how do I taste?"

It comes out clunky on his tongue, he internally curses himself for not wording that a bit better, but you smile at him to help with his nerves, teeth white against the red and he's gulping nervously.

"Call it corny," you haven't pulled back from him, he's noticed, in fact, you feel warmer now, a normal body temperature, "but you taste sweet."

"Sweet?"

"Yeah, very nice." He blinks and he misses it, that you've already cleaning him and yourself up. There's band-aids already on him before his brain catches up with him.

His shoulder feels stiff, but there is an element of thrill that he feels seeping into his veins. He thinks its endorphins, the happy kind that have brought him to feel so content with you being so close to him.

Bob stares at you dazed, as if he's witnessing some phenomena. There seems to be some rejuvenation that has flooded back into you, energy that you have when you drink from your blood bags. He feels a sense of pride that he managed to make you look healthy once more, rather than that sickly-feverish state.

He's starting to stare directly at the dribble of blood down your chin you've missed, and without thought, swipes it gently with a shaking hand.

It catches you off-guard for a second, and you observe him look at the smear on his finger. You can see the cogs turning in his brain, debating whether to take a lick, but he stops himself when he remembers who he's with, wiping it off onto his pant leg.

"That was... pretty nice." He breathes into your space, trying to take as much of you into him. He realised quickly he still has you wrapped in his arms, but you're not making an move away from him.

"Are you going to be able to make it back to your bed?" You ask kindly, tentatively stroking a piece of hair out of his eye. Bob thinks he's happy like this if he fell asleep like this, but he dejectedly nods. "I'll be okay."

It takes a bit to pry himself off you, to allow you to move around him and tidy, glancing back to him occasionally to make sure he hasn't fallen asleep at the kitchen counter. Bob has a giddiness to him now, this unspoken feeling that only you two have shared, and he wishes desperately for more.

He groans when he feels you soft fingers touching him back to consciousness. He's unsure when he fell into it and when he came back round, but as he stands himself up, the words come tumbling out from his dry mouth.

"So-Same thing again?"

"Oh, I don't know if that's right," you say, watching the light that is present in his eyes dies a little. He seems to be a bit down that he's been turned down; it's often that the two of you share time together, reading and sharing book recommendations, but this... this was a far more intimate albeit brief moment he doesn't think he'll ever have again with you.

It's you who brings him back, reaching out first, touching him, a care you have in your eyes that he feels so much that he thinks you're some otherworldly beauty.

"If we did do this again... we'd have to be discreet..." The thought of being caught is both a thrilling yet nightmarish concept; imagining anyone seeing you feeding off your crush. What ideas would they have in their head?

"I can be discreet." He's nodding, and the image of an energetic puppy fills your mind. You smile at that, and you nod yourself. "Okay, I just-don't want to overwhelm you. It's quite a lot, I get it."

Bob wants to interject, to tell you that it's the most exhilarated he's felt in some time, ever since he got the serum, but he stops himself, reassures you by hugging you tightly. He's gotten a taste of you being close, skin on skin, and now, he's addicted to it, yearns for more.

"I'll do anything to make you happy." He whispers, and your heart clenches at his words. He's too good and pure and lovely for you to need to tell yourself that he would never like you in the same way you do for him.

"Thank you, Bob." You whisper back, a temporary promise to be sealed.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Florist's Least Favorite Holiday

Steddie || wc: 1.7k || rating: T || tags: fluff, this is a real thing that happened to me so I wrote about it

Valentine’s day is fucking awful. It’s the worst day of the year, and this year’s no different than the last five Valentine’s days Eddie’s worked in the floral shop.

Eddie’s stripped the thorns from over a thousand roses in the past two weeks, sorting them into buckets by color. The best part about his job is usually bringing a design to life, picking the perfect flowers to create an arrangement like a work of art. Yet somehow, Valentine’s day manages to suck the life out of that too, with little to no creativity between each one-dozen red roses arranged in a fake crystal vase.

Prepping over a month in advance, Eddie has taken almost four hundred orders for pick-up and delivery for the tiny, backwater town of Hawkins. They’re a small shop, with only himself, Chrissy, and Vickie as permanent workers. Thankfully, this year they were able to hire some temporary helpers to blow up balloons, make candy baskets, and take deliveries. Even with the help, that still leaves everything else to the three of them.

Regardless, he’s busting his ass. The newbies have left for both rounds of morning deliveries and the first round of afternoons. Chrissy’s working the counter while Vickie fields complaints. This leaves Eddie to wander the floor, helping confused husbands and boyfriends find the right pick for their spouses.

Working with customers to find something they’re happy with isn’t so bad. He likes guiding them towards answers to questions they didn’t think to ask. Like what their spouse wears, how their home is decorated, what their favorite color is. Every detail helps, and Eddie is, quite genuinely, always happy to help someone who asks– nicely.

He’s on his way back to the counter with an empty bucket in his arms when he spots a guy holding a few roses. Eddie watches, momentarily transfixed, as the man sticks his tongue out in concentration, swiping it over his lower lip. His brow’s furrowed, glancing back and forth between the single-stem lavender and pink roses in the display case in front of him. 

Eddie can’t blame the guy, honestly. There’s over twenty different colored roses to choose from this year. Chrissy really went above and beyond to haggle with their suppliers. They’ve got the best of the best, truly something to brag about. 

He sets the bucket down underneath a display table so it’s out of the way as he heads over to help. Eddie must catch his attention.

Bright lights from the display case reflect the light hazel tone to his russet colored eyes and shines golden against his softly styled brown hair. A fine dusting of moles across his face and neck perfectly complement his tanned skin.

The prettiest thing in a shop full of pretty things. A goddamn angel.

Except he’s wearing high-top Nike sneakers like the jocks used to wear, along with tight acid-washed jeans, and a grey Members Only jacket. The guy screams straight, ex-jock, fuck boy, even more evident by the two separate roses in his hand as he eyes up a third. 

Still, he’s a customer in need. And Eddie is nothing if not a humble servant.

“Can I help you find something?” Eddie asks, only slightly more casual and flirty than his typical customer service voice. 

The man’s lips part into a soft ‘oh’ as he stands and stares at him. Eddie quickly glances down at himself, scanning for stray stems or petals hanging from his apron. There’s nothing there, at least nothing worth gawking at. Maybe he’s got something in his teeth? Shit, he should’ve checked first.

“Uhh–,” the man says, intelligently, interrupting Eddie’s own internal spiral– “I was just looking at, you know.” He gestures to the buckets of roses without taking his eyes off Eddie. “I need one more, and can’t decide on a color.”

“Three roses, huh?” Eddie says, the joke rolling off the tip of his tongue before his mortified brain can prune it, “One for each girlfriend, that’s sweet of you.”

Fucking Christ. He wishes he’d kept the bucket of water to drown himself in, like this day can get any worse.

This beautiful, angel of a man scoffs at the unbecoming joke and yeah, Eddie can’t blame him. For someone who not only prides himself on his customer service skills, but also his charm, this is a royally large fuck up.

The man grabs the lavender rose, holding it out to Eddie along with the two other pink and white ones already in his hand. “This is for my best friend. This one–” he holds out the pink– “is for my adopted sister.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, before the guy cuts him off.

“And this one–” he shows off the white rose– “is for my Gran. I’m stopping by the cemetery on my way home and thought she’d like it.”

Forget drowning in a bucket of leaf water, Eddie deserves to be crushed under the weight of a million roses, thorns tearing him into tiny little pieces. 

“Right,” Eddie huffs, annoyed with himself. He scrubs his hands roughly over his face, like he can erase the embarrassed flush burning up his neck to the tips of his ears. “I’m so sorry, man. I have no idea why I said that. It’s just–” Eddie waves his hand around the store– “it’s been a long day, and sometimes I think I’m funny when I’m really, really not. I’m not normally this awkward, and I’m typically much better at my job.”

At this, the guy smirks, like watching Eddie squirm is entertaining. It’s the least he can do, if his misery makes the man feel better. He eyes Eddie up and down, so slowly that Eddie feels like his skin's on fire. Probably the display lights... they can really heat up some days.

“Can you ring me up?”

Eddie nods, thankful how quickly he seems to let the entire confrontation go. They make their way to the counter, Chrissy eyeing him as he asks her to switch for a second. She eyes the customer and nudges Eddie, where he notices a playful smirk on her face. Jesus, she’s nosey. He only rolls his eyes as she walks off.

Doing his best to avoid eye contact, Eddie focuses solely on wrapping up the flowers in the pretty, heart-printed paper they bought specifically for the day, and ties a matching colored bow to each package.

He feels the unrelenting urge to fix this, unsure why it matters so much to him. This guy most likely won’t even be back until next year, just like the rest of the customers he’s helped today. Eddie shouldn’t treat this one customer any different because he’s cute.

And yet.

“I actually think you’re really sweet!” Eddie blurts, thrusting the packaged roses into the guy’s waiting arms. “Shit, I meant it’s sweet you’re buying them gifts. I didn’t mean you’re sweet. Not that you’re not sweet, I mean– goddamnit.” 

He’s smiling at Eddie, like this is all an adorable spectacle and not the worst experience of every Valentine’s day Eddie’s ever had. God, that fucking smile makes Eddie’s insides melt.

“Really?” His voice is playful, if yet a little shy. Eddie buys into it, of course he does, desperate to make up for his flailing. 

“Yeah, definitely sweet– adorable, even. Positively charming.” Eddie’s on better footing now, watching a rosy blush bloom underneath tanned freckles. There’s a line of customers grumbling about the wait, but Eddie doesn’t care, not so long as he gets to keep staring at the ray of sunshine smiling back at him.

His smile turns coy as he locks eyes with Eddie and says “I’m single, you know."

Eddie can’t think to respond over the roaring static in his ears, brain going into full shut-down mode. Did he just–

“What?” And Eddie’s back to being a total buffoon.

It must be cute though, because the guy laughs as he leans forward to grab one of the shop’s business cards next to the register. He writes something on it, then hands it back to Eddie who flips it around in his hands to read it.

Call me, and thanks for your help.

♥️ Steve

There’s a phone number listed below the man’s– Steve’s– name. An actual, honest to god phone number. From a man who looks like he could work in Hollywood for a living. 

Eddie can feel his own face splitting in two with how hard he’s smiling. He reads the simple note once, twice, three times before he remembers where he is and who’s still standing in front of him.

Steve looks hopeful, eyes flitting between Eddie and the note as he fiddles with the bow on one of the packaged roses. 

“Yes,” Eddie practically shouts, glee saturating his tone. “I’ll definitely call you tonight. Well–” Eddie glances around the shop, spotting the scattered empty buckets, piles of dead leaves on the ground, and the stack of unprocessed delivery tickets– “maybe I’ll call you tomorrow.”

And Steve nods, like it’s that easy, and shyly answers, “Can’t wait,” before heading out the door, sending a dorky little wave over his shoulder as he goes.

Somehow, Eddie manages to recover enough of his higher brain power to work the rest of the day. He falls back into routine: boxing vases, filing orders, dumping rotten plant water, scrubbing buckets, and organizing the back cooler. It’s almost midnight by the time he gets home, slightly earlier than he expected.

His feet ache like they always do, and he’s so emotionally drained that Eddie thinks he could go the rest of his life without talking to another customer ever again. Except he thinks, fiddling with Steve’s note, maybe there’s one customer he'd talk to again.

Tomorrow, though. Definitely tomorrow.

divider kudos <3

[blueblossomrose]

Hey I just send this parents series,I could ask for one with the idea parents interacting with Orpheus

- Anon 🍎

Of course! Here we go 🕊

This post is part of the Twisted Parents Series.

Content: Shrouds being extremely caring and protective grandparents, post-canon, fem!afab!MC, fluffy, broken humor.

Art not mine.

Comments and reblogs are very welcome! ♡

To start, it is necessary to understand that Orpheus is they only grandson.

Due to the sad and traumatic events with Ortho, Idia's closed-off personality and the family curse, Mr. and Mrs. Shroud did not have much hope of having grandchildren, even though they wanted them.

So when Idia showed up dating MC, they were to the point of setting off fireworks.

They almost did, but Mr. Shroud convinced Mrs. Shroud to save the fireworks for when they gain a grandchild.

As stated in resume hcs, they absolutely loved MC and couldn't accept even the thought of Idia breaking up with her. No way.

When the wedding came, they were happy, ecstatic, very joyful.

And then, the most anticipated news of the millennium for the Shroud family: MC was pregnant!

Mrs. Shroud immediately shouted: "ORTHO! BRING ON THE FIREWORKS!"

Meanwhile, Idia: ☠️

He already knew what this would probably entail from now on.

Mr. and Mrs. Shroud are very loving and protective grandparents. Especially on Mrs. Shroud's part, as she is more outspoken about it.

But Mr. Shroud isn't far behind either. He doesn't use many words, but his actions say how much he loves his grandson. Orpheus has absolutely everything he wants, whenever he wants it. His grandparents buy him anything, and create things for him.

Again, Orpheus is they only grandson. Everything that happened to Ortho and Idia in the past still affects them, even if they've gotten better at dealing with it over the years. But they make it clear that having Orpheus in the family is no way to replace Ortho or anything like that.

Having Orpheus in the family is they own blessing, a hope. Being part of the Shroud family for many years is considered a curse, for obvious reasons, in a way it really is. But being together there proved that it doesn't have to be like that all the time.

They learned how to better deal with the curse over the years, mainly with Idia's internal research, which brought some temporary solutions that were sufficient.

So when Orpheus was born, the situation was different, more favorable.

They are the kind of grandparents who will always defend their grandchild. Yeah Idia, you want to scold your son? Don't try that while the Shroud grandparents are visiting.

They won't let you scold their baby boy.

Orpheus name was chosen because it starts with "O" like Ortho. It was a tribute.

[Name] held Orpheus in her arms, rocking him gently as Mrs. Shroud finished straightening the little blue onesie she had bought especially for her grandson.

The living room of the home, normally slightly cold to match Idia's behavior, was filled with a warm and almost chaotic energy. Small electronic toys and gifts were scattered across the coffee table, the result of the recent visit.

"Oh, look how adorable he has become!" Mrs. Shroud exclaimed, her face was lit up with a genuine smile as her eyes roamed over the baby’s tiny figure.

“He’s 30% warmer in that onesie!” Ortho announced excitedly, jumping around [Name] and the baby, little sparkles emitting from his digital display, a sign of his joy.

“He looks perfect.” Mr. Shroud commented, his small, somewhat restrained smile reflecting a calmness that contrasted with his wife.

Beside him, Idia let out a dramatic sigh, as if he had already foreseen how this family scene would unfold.

“Oh, but the cap is missing from the set!” Mrs. Shroud suddenly exclaimed, pulling a small blue cap out of her shopping bag as if she had found the final ingredient for a perfect recipe.

She walked over to [Name], carefully reaching out and placing the small cap on top of Orpheus’s head, the baby’s faded blue hair already beginning to shyly poke through.

With the cap in place, Idia finally spoke, his voice slurred but slightly amused. “Heh, he looks like Mega Man.”

Ortho laughed at this. “That’s right!”

“The outfit is adorable, Mrs. Shroud!” [Name] said sincerely, smiling as she watched her son dressed so perfectly.

“Oh, [Name], please!” Mrs. Shroud replied, turning her attention to her with a warm gaze. “It’s been so many years! There’s no need to call me that. You can call me mother!”

As the two talked, Orpheus began to babble softly, chewing on his fingers. His innocent eyes sparkled, and his little nose wrinkled as if he sensed something strange.

Ortho, ever observant, knelt in front of the baby, leaning down excitedly to talk to him. “Orpheus, are you comfortable? Isn’t that the coolest onesie? I bet you’re 100% safe and warm now!”

But before he could say anything else, Orpheus took a deep breath, as if he were about to sneeze. Then…

“ATCH! ” A small, fiery flare exploded from the top of Orpheus’s head, burning the blue cap completely in a matter of seconds. The fabric crumbled into ash, leaving only the baby’s faded blue hair, now transformed into soft flames that danced in the air.

Everyone in the room froze for a moment, staring open-mouthed at the scene.

“Ahhh!” Mrs. Shroud gasped, her hands going to her face, but in awe, not panic. “Oh my God, his hair…! Ohhh my beautiful baby!”

“The temperature rose so quickly! The cap was destroyed!” Ortho said with genuine amazement.

“Ahhh... so young and already showing us his fiery hair…” Mr. Shroud murmured, emotional.

Idia, still standing next to [Name], widened his eyes in shock before exchanging a glance with his wife. [Name], in turn, began to laugh.

“Yeah… I guess we know who he gets it from,” she says, looking at her husband, who sighed deeply, running a hand through his own fiery hair.

Idia leaned over to look at the charred remains of the cap on the floor, frowning. “I guess I better get something to clean this up…”

He took a step toward the door, clearly trying to discreetly leave the commotion. However, before he could escape, a firm hand landed on his shoulder, making him freeze and sweat.

“Where do you think you’re going, Idy?...” Mrs. Shroud’s voice was soft, but filled with irrefutable authority. “Let’s take a picture. Of all of us. Now.”

"Gulp..." Idia swallowed dryly.

“I’ll get the camera,” Mr. Shroud said calmly, rising from his chair. He seemed almost pleased to be part of this special moment.

“[Name], [Name]! Can I hold Orpheus in the picture?” Ortho asked, jumping up and down excitedly.

“Of course, Ortho.” [Name] replied with a smile, carefully handing the baby over to her robotic brother-in-law, who held him with the precision of his mechanical parts and a surprisingly human affection.

Orpheus, in turn, let out a happy sound, the flames on top of his head dimming to a soft glow.

Shrouds. Always a curious experience.

© blueblossomrose 2024, I do not allow copying/plagiarism of any of my fanfics.

[he-calls-me-kitten]

Sugar, Spice and a Tempting Vice (1)

VA! MC x OM! Characters

TW: Eh it's more fluffy than smutty I'd say, but minors DNI. Loads of random lore for the sake of immersion. Now to brainstorm the rest of the characters.

INTRO

Tagging: @romaissa @eliciana @your-favorite-god @april-notthemonth69 @ikevampharem @k8tznd8wgz @futureittomain @m-majoko @the-auguer @yurinayumi @i-am-empress-irish @deepazur @rippedbutnotamasterpiece @pomegranateboba @ra1ns70rm @anjodedesgostoeerros @sammywo @annoyingbiscuitathleteland-blog @ourfinalisation @creativecupcake @snowthatareblack @angelofbooksworld

"After a freak accident, you and a group of 5 people get teleported into a fantastical world together. Who will you team up with to try and leave this place? Or will they convince you to stay and have a new life with them here instead? Or will you stumble across the biggest secret that this new world holds...?"

You read out the summary for them at a group dinner at Diavolo's castle. Apparently, it was to celebrate your debut as a VA. They all clapped and bombarded you with questions. You tried to answer as many as you could without any spoilers.

They were supposed to have already started playing the game but the game servers got a little overwhelmed and had to go under maintenance with so many people downloading and making accounts at the same time. So Diavolo hosted this party instead.

"So how many endings can you get with a single character?" Simeon inquired.

"Well on an average there's around 12 endings per character, but there's a varying number of endings depending on the character you choose. I'm not sure I remember for all of them-"

"We just want to know yours." Belphie smirked.

"Oi come on, it makes it sound like you're all just going to play my character, don't do that! The other characters are also incredibly well written!"

The sheepish grins and side glances told you that they were clearly going ignore your last advice.

"Honestly you guys, one of the characters here has a teleportation ability, one can read minds, and another one has insane fighting skills - the only thing you know about my character is that I don't have a name!"

"Omg this means they are definitely building you upto to have the most OP ability of them all!" Levi exclaimed excitedly.

"Oh yes that's usually how it goes in these tropes. The most unassuming character ends up giving you the secret ending." Solomon nodded in agreement.

"Both of you, shush! Just play the game normally okay?! You will get to interact with all the characters anyway until the second phase." You reprimanded, sighing, knowing no one would listen anyway.

Lucifer - Saved by the Belle

"Before Tyla takes us home tomorrow, would you like to spend your last day here with me, Lucifer?"

Lucifer and you worked with loyalty and rigor under Tyla, an old world Sorceror. It was because of you two specifically that Tyla's magic was powerful enough to create a portal back home. Your character was so much like you - it felt like he completed this whole journey of freedom with you, and not just an image on screen.

> "Of course, MC. In fact...I would like to spend the night with you too."

MC blushed on screen, looking away and nodding. "Oh? Well then... I'll look forward to it."

He enjoys this way more than he thought he would. He visits for the last time, all the places you both had been together. The first tavern, the first forest path, the first temporary abode - the HumbleBee Inn.

> "It's late. Should we go back here again, for old times sake?"

"Why not? Maybe they'll accidentally put us in the same room again and get overbooked so we have no other choice. Maybe this time it'll be a bit more...eventful." You said with a sly and knowing smile as you skipped ahead.

Lucifer's knee jerked upwards, hitting the table. Just what kind of lines are these? And what are those expressions? Who else was in there listening to you when you recorded this? The way your voice sounded, Lucifer was convinced you were thinking about someone special. If only you saw the effect you were having on him.

> "I've been holding back all day. Forgive me if I'm too rough."

Lucifer pushes you against the wall, caging your body. You blush in the dark, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. It was driving him insane. He could feel his pants getting tighter at the crotch.

Last time he endured the sexual tension of sharing the bed with you, constantly trying avoid your body even though he was desperate to feel it's warmth. This time there wasn't any reason to deprive himself.

"It's okay...I can take it. Please don't hold back..."

Oh hell, you were about to be the death of him. These...are these really the sounds you'd make in bed? Godamnit you are ruining his mind. He can't relax until he's jerked off now. And it's all your fault.

The next couple days, you notice Lucifer hesitates to keep eye contact with you. In fact, he has a rather visceral reaction every time you simply call his name, standing at his door. Only he knows how badly he wants to pull you into his bed to ravage you - practice your lines with him, why don't you?

Mammon - Stranded Together

"Guess they didn't want either of us huh, Mammon?"

Nah Mammon was mad at this ending. He gets why the group left him behind - he made too many questionable choices like stealing the last reserves of food or money (so you never went hungry), running away from the monsters instead of staying and fighting with the group(with you ofc so you wouldn't be in any danger), finding new shelter and not telling anyone (except you).

> "I'm so sorry...it's because of me that they left you too. You did nothing wrong yet...no this will not stand! I'll go threaten them into taking you too!"

"Mammon wait- no don't! Alright fine I was lying! They didn't leave me...I chose not to go!"

Mammon was stunned. He stared at your character blushing and looking elsewhere while holding onto his arm. His heart beat just a little bit faster.

> "Wait...what? But you wanted to...don't you want to go back and keep looking for your family?!"

"Who knows if the family I was looking for even exists?! But you...you are real. And you are so kind to me, and so great. So..."

Your character moved in closer and closer to him. Mammon leaned back too far from the screen, falling backwards on the floor. He was not ready for what was about to come.

"If I really want a family that bad...I can just make one here...with you. But only if you wanted that too ..."

> "I do! Of course I do! We can both find work and home in the kingdom now that big monsters are all dead! I'll be yours and you'll be mine!"

Mammon pressed it on instinct, not knowing his character was gonna grab yours and pin them to the ground. His face burnt up in excitement seeing you all cornered like this. You blushed and whispered as you leaned in to kiss him.

"Hehe...Mammon...I'm all yours already. But there's others ways you can claim me if you like..."

Your sleeves fell loose, and off your shoulders and his hands began to wander. Mammon almost screamed the house down, grabbing at his sheets, humping his pillows, struggling to look away from the screen. But he couldn't stop.

How the fuck was he supposed to face you tomorrow at the breakfast table?! Yet, Mammon re-played that part at least 30 times. And now every time you whispered to him in class, Mammon had to grip his knees and stop himself from imagining the unholiest things.

Leviathan - Power of Friend-ship??

"We did it! We actually did it, Levi! Can you believe it?! Look even the people are cheering for us!"

Levi punched the air in glee, he definitely must have gotten the best ending right?! That was such an intense combat scene - he almost cried when he thought you got swallowed by the Giant of The Depths, then he watched you burst out of its stomach with all the other victims while he slashed through its neck. You and him - the two underdogs dealt the final blow. At this point, every other character was shipping you two together.

> "Let's go Army of the Third Lord!"

MC cheered and high fived him from the screen, while the rest of the group danced in celebration! Ah MC had already become one of his favourite characters of all time. He had already preordered the action figures, posters and a body pillow (yes the ecchi one).

"Come on Levi, won't you join the celebration feast!? Everyone is calling for you!"

Oh no this was Levi's nightmare. Loud and crowded parties - but it was you asking him to go, what if he missed out on an important secret ending. Just to be safe he chose a neutral option to see what you would prefer.

> ... I'm not too sure.

"Then...would you like to celebrate in private with me? I know a quiet place with a good view."

Levi almost fell out of his seat. It's happening. This is where he unlocks the hidden erotic ending. The blush on your face, the way you held out your hand for him to take - biting down on his knuckles in excitement.

> I'd really prefer that! Thank you!

You smile and nod, leading him by the hand to a nearby pond. The moonlight shimmered on the water, the reflections dancing on your skin as you both lay down next to each other. Levi could feel himself falling for you all over again.

"Look Levi, in the pond! The Gloriees are back! Aren't they beautiful?"

Levi looked at the pond in awe, glowing orange fishes swam around in the waters, jumping in and out. He watched the fishes swim around the hand you put in the water. It was like you and hundred Henries in the water.

> "So beautiful..."

"They are my absolute favorite....they have the same color as your eyes..."

Your hands reach up to touch his face, pulling him closer and Levi feels all his self restraint jump out the window. He tried to grab and kiss you but ended falling in the water with you instead.

"Oh? I didn't know I excite you so much... don't worry, it makes me really happy..."

You rose from the water, laughing and coughing slightly, your entire body now laid bare through the transparent white cloth. And if that wasn't already bad enough, he heard your moans as his character started going at it with you in the lake. You were so professional, so skilled at it...he thought he was prepared for it but he clearly wasn't.

Levi couldn't resist jerking himself off there and then, soiling his computer screen with light ropes of his cum. Now every time you announced you were going to shower, this image just popped into his mind, giving him instant boners at the most unfortunate times. And god forbid he sees you walk out of the shower with your hair wet - he'll have to rush to his room to hide that he's creamed his pants.

Satan - Bridge to Televithyia

"Satan, I will be waiting for you always. I know if fate wills it, I'll definitely get to see you again."

Satan cursed himself for this ending, almost chucking his phone at the wall. His magical powers no longer worked since the portal now connected him to his own world. And while you could use all your magic here, it would lose all power in his world. With both worlds needing help after a long and destructive battle, you both knew it was selfish to abandon your either of them - especially since you two were the only Great Guardians left.

> "I will find a permanent path between our worlds. I swear upon my life, MC."

Damnit this game had better not cut his story short. He was willing to keep going, trying to fix the playthrough so he could make a good ending out of this. Just you wait MC, he's not letting you go. A part of him wanted to go into your room and hug you, just to make sure you're there atleast in real life.

Satan rubbed furiously at his eyes as you waved him goodbye. His total playtime could rival Levi's. After gathering enough resources and magical knowledge - he could finally get started on creating the bridge. But to his pleasant surprise, he only needed to build half of the bridge, because there you were standing on the other - building your own path towards him too.

"Satan...is this a dream? Are you really back? Or is this another magical illusion again...?"

Satan blushed as you rushed to hug him peppering kisses all over his face. He had to physically get away from the game, walk around, and silently scream into his hands before he could calm himself down. Because he knew even better things were yet to come.

> "It's really me, MC. I'm sorry did I make you wait too long? I missed you so terribly...I have so many things to tell you about..."

"Come with me, we've been rebuilding our town. I know a place we can catch up...it's a special place I helped build with you in mind."

Satan follows you, your arms intertwined. You point out places to him - old renovations and newer projects. You tell him about everything that's been happening since he left.

How some endangered species came back to life, how the remaining smaller beasts were tamed and how the cursed were given peace. You stopped suddenly in front of a quaint little cottage.

"Welcome to my humble abode. I'm sorry I didn't prepare a separate room for you...because I thought you wouldn't mind sharing a bed with me..."

He blushes and grips your hand as you open the door to your room. He sees pictures of both of you on the wall and next to the bed.

> "You already built a home...with me in mind. *Smiles* Yet...the bed looks in it hasn't been slept in for a while? Did you get no sleep for the past few days?"

"Actually I haven't slept in the bed yet. I sleep on the sofa - I know it's silly but I really don't like sleeping alone in a place of two..."

Satan grips the phone tighter, as he makes his character push you on the bed. How sweet - you both get to enjoy it together for the first time. He climbs after you, trapping you underneath him.

> "Good thing I'm here now, MC."

He cups your face and trails his hands downwards, undoing some buttons on your clothes. You kiss his palms and tug down his collar.

"It's a pity though...I don't think we'll be using the bed for sleeping tonight afterall..."

He watched the screen, slack-jawed as I heard your sultry voice echoing through his room. He fell back on his pillow, hurriedly attaching his earphones. It proved to be more lethal. He could almost imagine you in his bed right now, kissing your way down his chest, while he fondles your bottom.

When you approached him later asking if he liked your work in the game, he had to cover half his face to hide the redness. He couldn't possibly tell you that he had downloaded snippets of all your moans and saved them to a secret folder. Or that he listened to them quite frequently.

[nona1323]

Change of clothes AU "Deal with the Time"

This episode is small, but important. It begins, ironically, not in the house, but in the sands of Chronos (for more details, see separately). While in his domain, Chronos summons Chrysa (Χρυσός [chrysós] – "gold"), a scorpion created by him from his own sands.

Titan takes her away to be the personal guard of their new prisoner, since Chronos himself will not be able to monitor Hypnos all the time. Initially, Chronos does not lock Hypnos in time or in a cell because of his own triumph – he likes to play with chthonic and watch how he hardly accepts a new reality, and is also forced to obey him. But, importantly, Chronos initially does not plan to leave Hypnos, albeit chained, conditionally free to move around the House on a permanent basis. Initially, this is rather a temporary measure, until Chronos has played enough with a new toy, so that after throwing it into the camera and/or putting him on pause, depending on how quickly Hypnos will give the key to understanding Oneiros. As you can see, everything is not going according to plan and it turns out to be a little more complicated.

Chronos returns to the House and picks up the package that was delivered by the servants, and then goes to Hypnos. The first meeting of Hypnos with Chrysa takes place: Chronos introduces her to chthonic with a grin, and Chrysa quickly runs from the titan's shoulder to his arm. Chronos pulls it out, and scorpio finds himself dangerously close to Hyp's face, definitely scaring him, even if he doesn't show it. Chrysa jumps off Chronos and runs away, quickly losing herself in space, Chronos puts the package on the table and, saying that he has something else for Hypnos, opens it.

This something turns out to be clothes, but not easy. As you can see from the illustration attached to the post, it consists of two parts: the lower red chiton and the upper blue peplos. And, well, the fabrics they are made of are what is really of interest to us. They were spun and woven by Persephone and, to Hyp's horror, by Nyx, respectively. Chronos found them in the House when he was settling in and changing it for himself. And now he finally had a chance to use them.

How freely Chronos treats things that do not belong to him is insulting to Hypnos. Especially when it comes to the fabrics of the Mother, because she herself wove them from the night sky and stardust. And this is if you do not take into account how valuable and rare these canvases are considered among the gods also because of their properties and beauty alone. In addition, the outfit itself is sewn with the help of a night spindle, which also angers Hypnos. Chronos has no right to dispose of these things, and yet he does it, and Hypnos can't stop him in any way.

Chronos hands the outfit to chthonic, and Hypnos is forced to accept it with undisguised anger. After that, Chronos asks (demands. He demands) Hypnos to change clothes. The god of sleep waits for the titan to leave, but Chronos just sits down and watches. Hypnos realizes that Chronos is not going to leave the room. They have a silent duel for a while. Chronos ends it with a quiet remark: "I can just rip your clothes off. Your persistence will only make things worse."

Hypnos clenches his teeth and turns away. Slowly, he takes off his chiton, feeling the burning gaze of the Time on himself, and then he changes clothes as quickly as possible, remaining with his back to the titan. Before he can fasten the last fibula, Chronos tells him to stop. Hypnos freezes.

The Titan slowly approaches him.

"Turn around," Chronos's voice is calm.

Hypnos turns slowly and tries not to think about the bed behind them. Chronos looks down at him, and then holds out his hands. He fastens the last fibula, the hourglass symbol, his symbol, himself, stroking it contentedly after, and then his hands run lower, straightening all the folds that arose due to the haste of Hypnos. He is forced to stand and wait for the titan to finish. He's angry, but the last thing he wants is to provoke Chronos now. 

Chronos steps back and looks at he with a satisfied look. "Yes, you look much better this way. And now – give me these rags and trinkets."

Hypnos has to collect his clothes and jewelry and hand them over to Chronos. He won't see his chiton for a very long time.

To sum up, Hypnos will look like in the picture almost throughout the entire plot, although some details will be clarified later. 

The author of the art: @do-n0t-be-afraid

Masterpost AU "Deal with the Time" here

The description of the au is here

(English is not my native language, sorry for the mistakes)

[evertidings]

— JANUARY 2025.

Accomplishments.

Since February started I’ve been in a bit of a brain fog so forgive me if I don’t remember everything that happened in January. But! I hope you’ve all been well and that the New Year was good to everyone!! I don’t think i’m alone in thinking that January felt like the longest month of my life. It usually goes by slow but my God, did it feel bad this time around.

In terms of Chapter 12, I got a fair bit of work done considering December was spent writing the Holiday Special. That said, I've recently entered what feels like one of the worst writer's blocks I've had in a while, so maybe this is my karma. But, to speak on better things, the last time I posted an update, I said I was working on Eliana's initial meeting with the Hunter. Funnily enough, I'm only just getting around to that now. I ended up taking a brief detour and creating another branch with your chosen RO, this one prompted by the choice of who to sit next to when Eliana invites you to the meeting table. I thought it would be fun, but considering this is what caused my slump, it's kinda become the opposite. I should be laughing but I'm not.

Honestly, I didn't think writing about the ROs would give me such a hard time, but here I am. I suppose when you're writing the same content in five different ways it does get very draining—I'm simply at the end of the line. I got about halfway before I started feeling sluggish, but I am pleased with the half that I wrote. Rylan's branch especially, since theirs was the first I finished and the only that I wrote with motivation.

If you follow me on Patreon, you'll have already read my very pessimistic updates (rambles, really) about my current situation, so I'll spare you the details. This isn't to say that Chapter 12 will be cancelled. If anything, it might be slightly delayed as my writing speed has reduced significantly, but I don't have any plans to abandon the project. It's simply a phase I am in.

Overall, though, despite progress being a bit stagnated right now, January was very good to me. Eliana is one of my most interesting characters and I'm really trying to emphasize that through my writing. She's been a challenge that I've been happy to take on. I really hope that I get my motivation back soon and I can continue to write her scenes because, man, she's wonderful. Such an enigma and mystery. I'm really excited for everyone to meet her. Mirai and Ciel are quite similar, with tactics in intimidation, but Eliana has completely different motives, so she presents herself very differently. It's fun. She's fun.

Finally, ICYMI, my 4 Year Anniversary event is going on right now, with prizes to be won. The official end date will be February 24th, the day I posted my intro post. With that said, I'll talk to you all soon and let's all hope my writer's block is only a temporary obstacle in the journey to Chapter 12. Thank you for reading!! <3

Stats.

Chapter Total: 34,523 words (+12,673)

Game Total: ~545,955 words

[octaneink]

Only the memories

Will Lenney x Fem!Reader

Next part: Confessions Summary : The reader looses something important, will she find it again? Warnings : mentioned death of a relative Notes : I don't know if I cooked? Writing this was hard because I kept crying and getting distracted. I feel like this could be better, but I don't know how to improve it?

Standing at the edge of the airport help desk, you look around in utter exhaustion. You have just been on an eighteen-hour non-stop flight with your carry-on and luggage. The densely populated terminal is a blur of non-stop new faces and continual movement, but all you can think about is finding your belongings and getting some much-needed rest.

You turn your head to look, catching movement in the corner of your eye as someone in a uniform walks up to you, “Good evening. I'm Sarah from Heathrow's baggage services.” She offers a sympathetic smile, but her eyes convey a hint of concern.

“I'm really sorry, but we have a situation with your luggage,” Sarah continues, her voice gentle. “Your bag did make it back to Heathrow, but,” she pauses, looking away briefly then back to you, “it appears to have gone missing from our facility. We've checked all possible locations, but we haven't been able to locate it.”

You feel a knot form in your stomach. “So it's just,” you gesture helplessly, “gone?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady. You can feel the burn start behind your itchy, red-from-lack-of-sleep eyes. You blink back the tears.

Sarah nods, “I really do apologise for this inconvenience. We are conducting a thorough search and will do everything we can to find it. In the meantime, we'll assist you with any immediate needs and offer compensation for the lost items. Please come with me to our office so we can start the process and provide further support.”

She gestures behind you, into an unassuming door, leading you away from the chaos of the terminal, her assurances doing little to curb the panic you feel.

You read through the short paperwork, filling in your name, contact details, home address, and describing the bag and its contents. After visiting your home country, you had packed everything you wanted to remember into that one suitcase, including a small, metal biscuit tin filled with pictures of your grandparents and parents who had passed away during the pandemic. It was the last physical thing you had to your family, and now it was gone.

Lost in London Heathrow.

The longer you stay at the airport, the more you feel like its honest-to-god hell on Earth. Once that is all done, you manage to find your way back to your flat. Empty-handed and with a deep pit in your chest. Putting the key into the lock, you turn it, kick off your shoes, lock the door behind you, then head to your bedroom, where you face-plant on your bed.

You take a deep breath. Allow the dam to break. Then, sobbing uncontrollably, you turn to your side and hug yourself.

You allow yourself to do the most painful thing at that point—remember.

Four years have flown by since you lost your luggage at London Heathrow. Now, you find yourself on the set of WillNE's YouTube channel, three years in. The job brings you lots of laughter, chaos, and friendships with people you’d never thought you’d have. It has created a comforting pattern that you’ve grown to love.

Today, Will hired a set in London for two days. The set—from a certain point onwards—has white floors, walls, and ceilings. You are the first one on set, accepting the pallets that hold the luggage, and going inside to set up the temporary tables and cameras needed for the shoot.

First order of operation, you set out a line of slippers on the white floors for everyone, slip on a pair, and put your headset on. Head bopping and mouthing to the songs blaring in your headphones, you start to set up the tables, chairs and lay out the microphones for the shot. Leaving the cameras for Ieuan when he got there.

You then slip your shoes back on and start the task of setting up the one hundred luggage, it was a slow process, moving the luggage into the set, slowly creating a pile. Roughly quarter the way through, you stare at your sock clad feet and wonder if there was an easier way of doing this and hear the sound of the door opening. Ieuan, Will, Mikey, and James had arrived talking amongst themselves as they enter. 

You looked up after placing down the luggage you had in hand, and managed to catch the sight of the door close. “Mornin’ lads!” you greeted with an enthusiastic smile. 

“Morning!” the three greeted back, though Will had more enthusiasm, causing the two guys beside him to share a smile over Will’s head.

“I see you’ve started,” Will said, walking over to you on the carpet, then stopped as you waved your hand back and forth in a ‘no, no’ motion. 

“Shoes off on the white mister.” you said, pointing to your own shoe-less feet. 

His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion and James asked, “Have you been putting your shoes on and off when you stack the luggage in a pile?” you raised a brow at his sassy tone.

“Yes,” you nod your head, “how else would I make sure that the floor stayed white?” 

Will laughed, setting off the other two. His laugh was a slow, easy sound that crinkled the corners of his eyes, the kind that makes your own lips twitch upwards automatically in response. And your stomach do a backflip, landing with a giddy thud against your ribs. “You could have kept your shoes on, and we could have mopped up any scruff marks after you muppet.” Your smile dropped slightly.

“Fuck, you’re right.”

They laughed louder at that. 

Will, still grinning, jumped to the white floor then back with a dramatic sigh. “Oh, the humanity!” He gestured to the floor that now has slight stuff marks from the bottom of his shoes. “My precious, white floor. It's ruined! The set’s been violated!” Will dramatically stated, then crouched down and pretended to inspect the damage. He looked up at you, his eyes soft. “You're in so much trouble.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled softly at him. James smirked and wiggled his eyebrows, the smile dropped quickly on your face, and you flipped him off. “Real mature, James.” you muttered, turning back to Will, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck. “Don't worry, Will,” you said with a reassuring pat on his shoulder. “I'll make sure this floor is spotless by the end of the day.”

Will looked up at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You better. Or I'll have to deduct it from your pay.”

James butted in, hip checking you “You’re getting paid? Favouritism.” James crossed his arms, raised a brow and smirked at Will “When will we get the same treatment?”

Will let out a fake laughing, clutching his stomach. “Pay? What pay? You think I can afford to pay you guys?”

Ieuan, who left to get more luggage, looked confused. “Wait, you're not paying us?”

Will shook his head. “Absolutely not. You're here for fun, right?”

Ieuan and James exchanged a look, then burst into laughter. “Right,” Ieuan said, shaking his head. “fun.”

You cut in “Alright, we’ll discuss the lack of pay during the union later. Lets get this pile sorted then we can start the video.”

Around an hour later, everything was set up, and they were ready to film. So you make yourself scarce and sit at the table off to the side, editing a video, with your headphones on. You don’t notice Will looking at you with soft eyes throughout the shoot. His gaze was soft, endearing, tracing the lines of your face, almost as if he wanted to memorise every curve. You're too focused on your screen to realise he's not looking at you as just an employee but as something more.

The day flew by. Between sorting the opened luggage, you managed to edit one video and make a decent start on another, by seven in the evening, your stomach was growling. Then, Will broke through your concentration by clapping, the sound echoed through the set. “Great job today, everyone! I’m happy to leave things be as they are and come back to do this all over again tomorrow. Make sure to get some rest, we’ll be back here bright and early!” He said cheerfully, though his eyes, despite the smile, looked tired.

You stretched, popping your back and cracking a wide yawn. “Alright, I'm out,” you announced, packing up your things. You looked up as you swung your bag over your shoulder, catching Will's eye. He offered a smile, his gaze lingering on your face a beat longer than necessary. “See you lads tomorrow! Bye.”

“See you.” Ieuan replied.

“See you later, boss lady!” James said with a grin, giving you a playful salute. You give him a sarcastic wave, heading to the door.

Will, his voice softer, added, “Get home safe.”

You couldn't help but smile at him, a warmth spreading through you. “Thanks, Will. See you tomorrow.”

The next morning, you arrived at the set with a sense of dread. You didn’t get much sleep that night, stupidly deciding to finish the video you started to edit. You ended up sleeping around two in the morning, then awake once again at six to get ready. The white floor, now marred with a few stubborn scuff marks, seemed to mock you. You moved through the motions of cleaning it up, your energy levels significantly lower than the previous day. By the time the boys arrived, you were already starting to regret not bringing a coffee.

The day dragged on in a haze. You looked up the props and location for the next video idea, calculating the costs and setting up the KPIs on Excel, with each item added to the Excel, your eyelids felt heavier with each passing minute. You even caught yourself yawning, covering your mouth with a hand. By the time they reached the third-to-last suitcase, you were ready to sleep for a week. You rubbed your eyes, the screen of your laptop blurring before you.

“Almost done’” you muttered to yourself, smiling as you noticed to see Will watching you. He looked tired too. He raised a brow, a silent, “You okay there?”

You smiled, giving him a thumbs up and mimicked wanting to sleep. He laughed under his breath and smiled.

James approached the table, lugging a small, unassuming white suitcase. “Oh, this one's small so it's gonna be fake.” he declared, Mikey and Will nodded and watched James zip it open. Inside, nestled amongst the soft lining, lay a single fluffy blanket. “That's it?” Will asked, confused.

James furrowed his eyebrows and asked, “Wot?” Mikey, defeated from the long days of shooting, tugged at the blanket. It provided more resistance than he expected, after one last hard tug, it released. Photos erupted from the suitcase, scattering across the floor like confetti.

Will and James stared in disbelief. “What the…” Will exclaimed.

“Holy cow, it's a photo album!” Mikey yelled, pointing the go-pro to the floors of scattered pictures, the blanket still in his other hand.

James knelt down, sifting through the photos. He pulled out an A4 size envelope buried under the pile, opening it and peeking inside. He pulled the pile out and said, “Oh, it's letters.” James put it on the table, spreading it out, “It's not in English. But it looks like it's addressed to someone called,” James said your name, so you look up with a raised brow.

Mikey and Will flipped through the photos on the floor, eyes widening at each one. Childhood pictures, family gatherings, birthday celebrations. They recognised you in some photos, your younger self beaming with joy.

Will holds up a picture of you beaming, holding the blanket in the luggage with a peace sign to the camera, “Hey, isn't that you?”

They all looked up at you, but you didn’t react. Everything went still. 

You walked up to the floor with the scattered pictures, your hand trembled as you reached out to touch the photos, the reality sinking in. You knelt down, your heart pounding. It was your childhood pictures, the one you thought had been lost forever. The letters — they were from your grandparents, letters you never received. This was your luggage. Somehow, it had found its way here, to the last place you ever expected to see it again.

“What are the odds?” you whispered, your voice trembling. Your eyes filled with tears, you pick one up of the five of you, and stood up, needing a moment to compose yourself. “Excuse me for a minute.” And head out the door. 

You stumbled out of the building in the back, tears streaming down your face. You clutched the photo to your chest. You remembered this photo, taken on your fifth birthday. You remember the joy on your parents face, their laughter. You remember your grandparents, their warm hugs, their gentle voices.

You slid down against the wall, burying your face in your hands. You startle when you feel a warm hand on your shoulder, you look up. It’s Will.

He looks concerned. "Hey, are you okay?" he asks softly.

You manage a weak smile, shaking your head. “I just…” you trail off, unable to find the words.

Will doesn't press you. He sits down beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, his thumb rubbed circles around the top of your shoulder, remaining silent, simply offering his presence. You take a deep breath, the sobs subsiding slightly.

“It's just…” you begin, your voice thick with emotion, “I thought I'd lost these forever. I already forgot what they sound like, I was worried I’d forget what they look like.”

Will nods understandingly. “I can imagine.”

You look at him through blurry eyes, eternally grateful for this coincidence. It would have never been given back to you if Will had never decided to do this video. You tell him about losing the luggage, about the grief and the memories, about the letters you never received, the love you never got to fully show.

When you finally finish, a comfortable silence settles between you. Will doesn't say anything, but his hand remains on your shoulder, a silent gesture of comfort. You look at him, a small smile gracing your lips. “Thank you.” you say, your voice soft.

Will smiles back, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Anytime.”

You wipe your eyes, “Go back in,” you pat his knee, “I’ll stay out a bit more.” 

Will hesitated, his eyes searching yours. "Are you sure?"

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yea, I think I need a few more minutes here."

He nodded, his gaze lingering on your face. "Okay. But don't be too long, you’ll get cold." He got up off the floor, and as he did, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. 

You blinked, surprised by his gesture. He just smiled, eyes soft, before turning and heading back inside. You watched him go, his figure disappearing back into the building. You touched your forehead, a blush creeping up your neck.

You took a deep breath, the fresh air doing wonders to clear your head. You looked at the photo in your hand, staring at it blankly.

You spent the next few minutes simply sitting there, the photo clutched in your hand. You thought about your grandparents, about the love they had shown you, the love that still lingered in these faded photographs and the faded ink of the letters. You thought about Will, his kindness, his unexpected gentleness, and the soft kiss that still lingered on your forehead.

What do we think? Do you see bits where I can improve? Also, this is the first time that I've really written dialouge, I'm not sure if it was realistic to the persons? 🤔

Also, I did end up loosing pictures of my grandparents... so this hit hard, I wish it went something like this.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Maybanks sister

part 4, chapter 1- let’s do this shit!

summary: after el dorado, your lives are finally getting back to normal. However, someone’s still missing from your life. After a long week, a run in with that someone is the last thing you needed.

a/n: ahhh! Finally some rafe and reader moments lol. they’re a bit in a pining but not talking stage right now. They’re gonna get to talk soon, don’t worry.

SERIES MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

“-98.5%… gold.”

“And that translates to?”

“This is money. A whole lot of money.”

With a smile on his face and everyone else cheering, John B leaned over the table to shake the man’s hand.

You guys went straight to the gas station, with the nearest atm machine being inside.

“Moment of truth.” John B murmured, all of you crowding around the atm.

“Pin is 0-0-0-0… enter.” John B said, entering his pin into the machine.

“You’re kidding.” Sarah had to suppress a laugh.

“Tell me that’s a temporary pin.” You snorted, John B turning to look at you now.

“I thought nobody could guess-“

“You need to change that immediately, dude.” You told him with a loud laugh.

“I’m sorry-“ he turned his head back to the machine when it started to make noise, signaling it was ready.

“Here it comes.”

As soon as the paper came out, JJ reached for it before him and John B fought over it. “That’s me, that’s me,” he said, “let me read it!”

“It’s not even the money, it’s just the receipt!”

You rolled your eyes at the boys, John B winning in the end, opening and pulling it open.

“Okay, okay,” John B said, reading it. “Our joint account balance…”

“Mhm..”

He took a pause, before Cleo told him to get on with it, everyone impatient.

“Our joint account balance is… one point one million… seventy two thousand, five hundred and forty nine dollars.”

“You said mil?”

“Million?” You and pope asked at the same time.

“Um…” John B said, everyone processing just how much money that was.

“That’ll do it!”

He nodded in agreement, everyone cheering and celebrating, being unable to even comprehend just how much that was.

“Holy shit…” you spoke, you laughing to yourself, Sarah laughing with you.

“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever seen on a piece of paper.” Pope said, you smiling and talking to Cleo.

JJ went over to the cooler, taking a beer out and downing it. Kiara glanced over at him, noticing his distance from everyone.

She walked over to him, “You can smile, you know.” She told him, leaning against the cooler.

He sighed, staring at her.

“Look, this doesn’t mean we’re kooks. Just means we have a little money now.”

“Okay, okay, wait, wait, wait, wait… hear me out. Really truck with yellow LEDS to replace the Twinkie for now.”

“That is by far one of the dumbest ideas I’ve heard from you.” You told your brother, rolling your eyes at him.

“I’m not getting rid of the Twinkie.” John B shook his head.

“But with solar panels… maybe. If it’s in the budget.” Kiara suggested, tilting her head to the side.

“And a bigger boat.”

“Guys, hold on. Hold on. It’s… it’s not like we can all go off and buy houses or anything. I mean split between all of us, that’s about 167,507 dollars. Minus what we owe barracuda Mike.”

“Let him try and come take this. I’ll mess him up.”

“I’ll mess him up for my damn leg.” You agreed.

“I’m just gonna say it. I don’t wanna piss off the drug dealer.”

“Listen, if we divide this up, we’re all gonna blow it.” Pope said, everyone turning their heads to Jj the moment he said that.

“Wow, okay. Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“It’s kind of obvious.” You retorted.

“-But maybe if we pool our money together, we can create something with actual economies of scale.”

“Like what?” Kiara asked him.

“You remember the island.”

“Duh.”

“Of course.” Kiara shrugged.

“I mean, it was our own island, and we built everything from basically nothing, right?”

“It was perfect.” Kiara said.

“The best life.” Cleo nodded.

“That whole island just to ourselves. All of us together.”

“It was nice..” you nodded in agreement with them all.

“I think we can have that again. Right here. I mean, Y/n’s and JJ’s property is going up for auction, right? So let’s buy it back. I mean, look around. A lot of land. Deep water access…” he motioned to the water behind him. “unless any of you are planning on going back to school, we’re gonna need a place to work, a place to stay and live. I think we can have both of those things here.”

“Well, it’s a nice idea, but I mean, we’d have to get the land first.” You told pope, he nodded.

“Then we could build like, a.. surf shop. And then maybe we can make our own dock.”

“This place does need a dock.” You nodded, smiling at the image.

“Ooh, what about like a bait and tackle shop?” John B suggested.

“Yeah,”

“Exactly. And… and who knows these waters better than us?”

“Nobody.” You replied.

“JJ, y/n, you guys can get a new boat and run a fishing charter. We can all live and sleep in the house-“

“Just a small warning, if this works, I am not picking up after you little shits.” You told them all, specifically staring right at Jj.

“Hey! Why are you looking at me? I’m not the one who-“

You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around him and ruffling his hair like you would do when you were kids.

“Because we all know how messy you are.”

“I’m not messy-“

“You most definitely are, yeah.” Sarah retorted, him huffing and shoving you off of him while the rest of you laughed.

Before the auction, you went up to Jj, pulling him to the side.

“What?” He asked you, glancing at his friends in front of you all.

“Hey, I know how you’re feeling about the house and shit, but please, don’t do some stupid shit?”

“Don’t worry, sis. We’ll get the house back easy.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, jay.”

“I’m not gonna… do some stupid shit, alright? Trust me. I got this.” He held his hand up.

You sighed, he did not have this.

“Here’s the plan. We go up in one-dollar increments, all right? It’s gonna take a while, but we’re gonna need to save every cent we have for construction.”

“Popes on point, JJ. Got it?”

JJ let a hum, although he hesitated.

“Don’t change the plan.” Pope stared at the pair of you and your brother, you looking offended.

“Hey, don’t look at me, look at this idiot.” You poked your finger into JJs head, him rolling his eyes at you.

Everyone turned to the auctioneer, him pointing to the picture of your dad’s property.

Honestly, you wouldn’t know what you would do with yourself if you didn’t get the house. You grew up in that house, and while you may have a lot of bad memories in those walls, you loved it the same. It was like you could still hear the laughter of you and JJ as kids echoing off the walls.

It was a part of you at this point.

And you knew Jj felt the same way, you could tell it in his eyes.

“-The foreclosure sale of 14 Roger’s point road. Now, this is the old Maybank place.”

“You know, uh, the cuts gonna be figure 8 in a few years. You walk away now, you won’t have to scurry off with your tail between your legs… and I’ll, uh, give you a little taste on the back end.” he spoke to you lowly, you staring at the man in disbelief.

“You’re gonna be dead before that happens.” You told the man, annoyed at what he had just said.

He stared at you with raised eyebrows through his glasses.

“Hey, Dale, was it?” JJ pushed you to the side, standing in front of the man now.

“That’s correct.”

“It’s not happening, hoss.” He cracked his knuckles. “Let’s play ball.”

You stared at Pope, already knowing what would go down.

“150 bid, bidder with 200, I’ve got 200…”

…

“I’ve got 775,000 bid,”

“This is way over our price range.” Pope told John B.

“Will you make him stop, please?” Sarah asked him:

“Get him out of here.”

John B went over to JJ, who you’ve already attempted to stop multiple times.

“Hey, please, it’s too much.”

“Just let me handle this. I’ve got it.. dude, I’ve got it!” He fought John b off of him, “775,010, right here, sir.” Jj shouted.

“775,010 to the gentleman in red.”

“Oh my god!” Pope groaned.

You sighed, half in relief and half in annoyance. Your brother was dumb to be paying that much, but you knew, deep down, you knew why he did. No one else would understand, but you would.

“That’s too rich for my blood, Rog.” Zeasy spoke, John B and Jj staring at each other.

“775,010 bidder, looking for 8…”

The auctioneer continued on, “going once, going twice, sold right here to the gentleman in red. Congratulations.”

Everyone in the group groaned, Jj turning back to Zeasy, holding his hand out.

“The most expensive property in the cut, and it’s not worth it.” He chuckled.

“Well, it is to us, sir. Now, if you can scurry off to your side of the island, and stay there, that’d be appreciated.” He waved his hand, wrapping his arms around John B.

“I get shit done. We got it. That’s all that matters. Whoo! All right.”

“What an idiot.” You murmured to yourself.

“33% above market value. Wildly overpaid. Thats like all the money.” Pope told John b, before walking past him.

You stared at JJ, him looking back at you.

“What?” He asked, you shaking your head at him.

“Well, would you like to do the honors or should I?” You asked your brother, both of you standing in front of the caution taped door.

He shrugged, his hands going to the ends and beginning to rip it off.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I christen thee Poguelandia 2.0.” He spoke, holding the ripped up caution tape in both hands before throwing it.

You stared at him, ripping off the remaining tape.

“Let’s turn this piece of shit into our home.” You told him with a small smile.

“Let’s do it.”

He smiled back, both of you doing your usual handshake, before he opened the door and saluted to the rest of the group.

“We’re home, y’all.”

Construction on the house was the hard part of it all, everything you guys had bought and used had been as cheap as possible, even using old wood from your dad’s old shed.

And finally, after months of construction, you all felt like you had finally perfected it. JJ had his own charter, everything had been feeling normal. Better than normal.

JJ put the sign down at the dock, a proud smile on his face as he stared at everything you all had accomplished.

“Think we’re about done.” You told John B, both of you nodding and smiling, doing a handshake of your own.

“Hey, guys!” JJ called from down the dock, his hat in his hands. “I think we did it.”

“Hell yeah we did!” You shouted back.

“We’re in business baby! Wow!” He shouted, you and John B laughing at his antics. “Oh my gosh, this feels good!” He pumped his fist in the air, and this was the happiest you think you’ve ever seen him.

Everyone watched with a smile on their faces, watching him cheer on and celebrate.

“That boys mad.” Cleo laughed, you nodding in agreement.

He got on the boat, “Captain Maybank at your service! Now that has a ring to it! Nothing can stop a pogue. Nothing!”

All of you laughed, watching him jump off and onto the dock.

“That’s what I’m talking ‘bout!”

“Yeah!” John B shouted.

“Is he okay?” Sarah laughed, Kiara watching him with a smile on her face.

“Yeah. Yeah. He just never really had a home. He’s happy.”

You listened to the girls conversation, finding yourself smiling at it.

He began to dance, talking wildly to himself.

“Slow down, you’re killing ‘em!”

“Twinkle toes, all right!”

Kiara laughed, walking down to the dock, “having fun?” She asked him.

“A little bit.”

“Yeah?”

“What?” He asked, her staring at him with a wide smile on her face.

“I love you.”

He got closer to her, both of their lips crashing into each others.

You whistled at them, John B howling while Sarah laughed.

“We did it.” JJ pressed his forehead against hers, her arms wrapped around his body.

“We did. Somehow.”

“But we did it. We did it!”

That day was one that you swore you’d never forget, seeing him happy like that, that was all you wanted in your life.

Yet, intertwined with the moments of joy, there was a bittersweet ache in your heart. Thoughts of him, of Rafe, drifted through your mind.

It’s been almost two years, and you were still in love with him.

You couldn't shake the memories, the way his laughter would echo in your ears, the warmth of his presence that seemed to haunt your every thought.

A sense of longing wrapped around you, refusing to let go, painting your happiness with unfulfilled desire.

It was as if you could still imagine him looking at you, a small but soft smile on his face.

You knew he wouldn’t want to talk to you, he probably wouldn’t want to even see you.

He probably hated you now, you thought. After you told him about his dad, maybe he didn’t want to see you at all.

Unfortunately, a large thunderstorm the night before had knocked out the power, causing the live bait to pass away, everything ruined.

“What’s the damage, pope?” JJ asked him, pope sighing.

“Fuse box is busted. Without the live bait, the fishermen won’t come, and there goes half of our business right there. We have enough profit to cover it, but barely, just barely. All right?”

Pope walked over to a jar, pulling it down from the cabinet it was in. “This is it.” He pulled out a smaller jar of gold. “The last of our AU.”

“Uh, what?”

“What?”

“English, please.” You snickered.

“Gold. It’s the periodic symbol for gold.” He told you all, as if it was obvious.

“Why not just say gold?” You asked him

“Because it doesn’t matter, all right? This is all of our savings, and it’s a no-go. This is for property taxes. So,” he set the jar of gold on the table, “we’re gonna have to tighten up…”

“Which means no more 600 dollars in gas chasing tarpon up the gulf.”

“Pope, that’s our job-“ JJ started.

“Yeah!” you agreed.

“We were chasing a bait board-“

“No more 200 dollars in heirloom tomato seeds.” Pope continued, pointing at Kiara.

Everyone began to talk over each other, arguing over it.

“What about my imported peppers?”

“Peppers gotta go too, baby.”

“We need to run the charters!

“It’s not the tomato’s fault!”

“No, hey, guys! If the business starts failing, the sharks start circling. All right?” Everyone stopped arguing.

“And we don’t even know if your dad is coming back.”

“He’s got balls if he shows his damn face around here.” You glared at Pope.

“And it’s not even his anymore.” JJ chimed in, hitting his hand against the table he was leaning on.

“It doesn’t matter. What’s he gonna think when he sees all this?”

“He’s not gonna see it.” You spat, Pope sighed, ignoring your comment before continuing.

“Listen, if we want to save this place, we skinny up until the business gets afloat again. Okay?” Pope said, leaving the shack.

JJ glanced at the gold that Pope had left on the table, an idea popping up in his mind.

The enduro. A dumbass bike race where people place their bets on, mostly kook kids who have nothing better to do with it. It was also where your brother went to try his luck each year.

“What a fantastic day we got for racing today. You guys ready to burn some gas?”

People cheered, raising their cups and watching as everyone started practicing, their bikes throwing sand on the viewers.

“The race is kicking off soon, so make sure you get your bets in. And then wave your flag, you know what I’m saying?”

JJ stood there, gas being pumped into his bike. He glanced over to the bike next to him, where Topper sat with a smug face, nodding at JJ. Jj shook his head, turning away from the boy.

John B walked over to JJ, patting him on the shoulder. “Let’s go baby! How we feeling today, champ?”

“Like I got this whole shot.”

“Yeah? Yeah?”

“I’m gonna win it this year. I know I am.”

“Yeah, you are.”

JJ turned to look at Cleo, “Cleo, how we doing, girl?”

“Everything’s all good, man.”

“Great.”

“The girl, out.”

“All right.” He raised his hand up, both of their hands meeting as they did a handshake.

“Hey! Bring it home, little boy.” She smiled at him.

“You know I will.”

John B smiled at him, grabbing his face. “You got this. All right?”

“I know.”

“Yeah, good luck.” John B said, beginning to walk away before JJ called his name.

“Hey, hold on one sec. Hold on.”

John B turned around, Jj walking up to him again.

“Where’d you park your bike?”

“Right there. Why?” He pointed, jj staring at him, hesitating.

“Gotta tell you something before we start.”

“Oh boy, JJ, what’s going on?”

“No, it’s really not that bad.” JJ replied, although John B did not believe him.

“Go on, then. Tell me, what’s up?”

“Like, literally you’re gonna be thanking me after. Okay? So… you know, I… I bet on me. To win.”

John B turned his head, pursing his lips together.

“I know, I know, funds are tight right now, but I feel good this year. So, I put in a bet on myself. Dude, the odds are like, seven to one!” He smiled, “with me on this thing, that’s like three to one.”

“Hold on, okay.”

“It’s free money.”

“Where did you get some extra money?”

“That’s what I’ve got to tell you. Um…” jj cleared his throat, “so, I went into the kitty and bet the last nug…. Now, before you say anything, I just gotta tell you-“

John B scoffed, backing away from JJ.

“Dude, listen, I got this, man.”

John B held his finger out, “JJ, JJ, just stop.” He walked over to JJ again, looking at him in disbelief. “Jj, are you serious?”

“Yes I’m serious.”

“That was our last 20 grand. That was supposed to go to property taxes for poguelandia.”

“Bro, I know! Okay? I know. I know you’re about to hit me now. I can sense it.”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Save it. Gotta commit at this point. I got it. You know I do. But it wouldn’t hurt to have a little backup on this one. You know what I’m saying?”

“You want me to ride?”

“Just cover me. All right? Just like old times in the backyard. You and me? We school these fools, and we save the farm. You know we can do this. Easy.”

Your heart dropped when your eyes spotted the familiar bike, along with those damn blue eyes. His eyes met yours for a moment, and it felt as if time stopped, as if everyone else was gone in that moment.

“Oh my fucking god.” You mumbled to yourself, Pope raising an eyebrow at you, following your gaze.

Rafe stood there, a faint frown creasing his brow when he caught sight of you. A tight knot formed in his throat. He longed to close the distance between you two, to feel the warmth of your embrace or press his lips against yours again—anything to bridge th silence that had stretched between them.

It had been a year and a half since everything, yet his heart remained tethered to you. The weight of his lingering affection tormented him, and hehted how helpless he was.

He could see the tears begin to well up in your eyes, even from afar.

Topper was the one to snap him out of his daze, and Pope was the one to snap him out of yours.

Topper hit his shoulder, Rafe finally taking a breath when his eyes left yours.

“Dude, I told you, forget about her.”

“What? I wasn’t looking at her, dude.” Rafe lied, looking over at you, only to find you looking away again.

“Was he not here last year?” Pope asked you, you finally taking your eyes off of him.

“Yeah, he- he was, but I mean-it doesn’t matter, I gotta go. I can’t be here for this shit.” You held your hands up, your heart beat picking up and your palms beginning to get clammy.

“Just ignore him.“ Pope shrugged, you sighing, holding the back of your hands to your eyes, pressing on them.

You then realized, that he used to do the same thing. You put your hands down, glancing at Pope before speaking and turning around

“I’ll- I’ll be back.” You murmured, stumbling away from the crowd, leaning against a shed, taking deep breaths while trying to think about anything else.

“Shit, I need a drink.” You told yourself, taking one last deep breath before standing up and walking over to the nearest cooler, stealing a drink and downing the entire can in one go, before grabbing another.

You sighed when you walked up to Pope and Cleo, your eyes avoiding Rafe and instead looking at your brother and John B.

“Let’s do this shit, Jay!”

Taglist

@cassie0sstuff @rafesgiirl @fals3-g0d @tiaamberxx @callsignwidow @saintnourah @calmoistorm @ethanthequeefqueen @theoraekenslover @just-levyy @hallecarey1

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> ( eventually ) ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> mental health, abandonment issues, abuse, etc. words -> 4.4k

abstract -> one week can create a lot of attachments...

mingi's perspective

Today was Saturday… and also technically my first day here. The week is gonna be a living pure hell…

Hongjoong just told me everything not to do and who to find to make it easier. I needed to befriend Wooyoung… But I could do that when I was in my temporary room while everyone ate in the dining room. I was hungry… I was really hungry and I smelled meat. It felt like I was being tortured…

I suddenly heard a knock… “Mingi?” I heard. I rushed to open the door as I saw the human girl… she had a plate of meat and then instant ramyeon and the good brand!

“I know you probably lied about not being hungry. I know you won’t be comfortable eating with us but don’t starve. You’ll get sick” she said and gently scolded me as she handed me the food. “Thank you,” I said and I could help my tail to wag so much. “If you want more, you can get more in the kitchen,” she said as she left. 

I haven’t had meat in years! My old owner never wanted to give us food like this and even the ramyeon we couldn’t afford to spend on good brands. I hate that I was hungry afterward… I took a year’s worth of courage to go outside and walk out to see them eat at a table all together. 

“Mingi!” she said and the hybrids soon deflated in their moods. “Are you still hungry?” she asked and I nodded the whole way looking down. “Here, you can sit next to Wooyoung,” she said as she pointed at the fox hybrid.

The one I had to befriend was the fox hybrid... okay progress!

“The cooks are Wooyoung and Seonghwa. I haven’t cooked in a while since I love their cooking too much” she said while laughing and I understood what she meant.

“It's really good. I don’t think I ever ate such good food” I said and I saw the fox hybrid smile. “You see Yeosang! We don’t need fried chicken!” he scolded as he smiled at me. Seonghwa also smiled softly from what I said. I think that's Seonghwa...

He’s the other tiger that Hongjoong mentioned… right?

“Here, you should eat more! I heard wolves need to eat a lot of meat!” Wooyoung said as he filled my plate with more meat. 

“Please, we're supposed to eat more vegetables, yet Hongjoong won’t touch it” the panther said and everyone laughed while my roommate scoffed. 

“It doesn’t taste good, so why should I waste my time eating it?” he asked and I laughed softly. 

“Mingi, important question. It’ll be important for your stay here” Wooyoung said and I felt nervous. “Do you prefer beef or chicken?” he asked and I was confused… Was this important?

“I guess beef," I said truthfully and I noticed they all laughed but one… he rolled his eyes.

“Yeosang it's now five against one” Wooypung said and I was confused but I saw how easily they all talked to each other… It made me miss Yunho.

“Hey, Mingi… why’d you steal from y/n?” Wooyoung asked and I felt all eyes on me. “You don’t have to answer that, no pushing him” she told me then scolded the hybrids. 

“We needed money… we were gonna steal from her wallet at first but Yunho noticed she looked sad so he wanted to comfort her. I was gonna steal her wallet but Yunho would signal me not to… he scolded me twice for stealing from her but we really needed the money” I said and y/n smiled softly. 

“He really did feel guilty for stealing from you when you were so sad! I feel bad too…” I said and she shook her head. “It's all in the past now” she said and I couldn’t help but feel guilty. 

“I couldn’t imagine surviving in the streets,” Wooyoung said and I sighed… “How long were you guys on the streets?” Seonghwa asked and I chuckled… “Almost two years,” I said and it seemed to shock them all. 

“That long?! How did your owner not find you two?!” Wooyoung asked quite loudly. “We would move from place to place… they live far from Seoul, they're only ever here for business but I doubt they’ll ever come back here again,” I said sadly… 

“You miss him a lot don’t you?” y/n asked and I nodded. “He was my only friend… my owners didn’t want me and I’m a lot weaker than a wolf should be,” I said and she shook her head. 

“Humans are almost always bad… most of us here have experienced it” the dog hybrid said bitterly while a lot of them nodded. 

“I wasn’t wanted either,” Wooyoung said and I was shocked. “My owner passed away and I went to her daughter’s family… she was pregnant when I passed down to her. I begged my owner to leave me with y/n but she refused saying I would be too much to handle for a student… but I was too much for her daughter instead” he said sadly…

“Did you run away?” I asked and he shook his head. 

“When she had the baby, she tried juggling a newborn baby and… me. I’m a lot to handle, I was in the facility originally for hyperactivity. Most people wouldn’t want a hybrid who is as energetic as I am. But I met y/n again and she adopted me” he said now in a happy tone. 

I soon heard a series of coughs… 

“Oh shut up, San,” he said… the panther hybrid was San. “He likes to tease me saying that y/n only adopted me because he asked her,” he said and I chuckled softly… they all seemed very close.

“I was the first hybrid,” he said and the fox scoffed. “I knew her longer than you!” he argued. 

“Childish the both of you” Seonghwa muttered as Hongjoong and the dog hybrid laughed…

That would mean he was Yeosang… stay away from him... 

AND I ALREADY MADE HIM ANGRY BY CHOOSING BEEF OVER CHICKEN! IS IT TOO LATE TO CHANGE MY ANSWER?!

“Mingi, what are you being treated for?” Hongjoong asked and I actually didn’t know… “He’s being treated for anxiety and a dependent disorder” y/n answered. 

“What's a dependent disorder?” Seonghwa asked. 

“Ooh! I know! It's when a hybrid isn’t able to take care of themselves because of the dependency of others!” Wooyoung said proudly to know that but I was left confused… I had that?! “I’m guessing you didn’t know?” y/n asked me and I shook my head.

“I’m sorry for being such a burden” I muttered and bowed my head “You aren’t. I hope none of us make you feel like that,” she said and I couldn’t understand her kindness…

She made me feel guilty. 

Sunday… It was usually a day I despised. 

People would be all over the street but I woke up for the first time warm… Hongjoong was still asleep. I walked outside hoping to find the bathroom when I bumped into the dog hybrid…

“Ah! I’m sorry!” I said while bowing. 

He sighed before nodding and walking away. 

“Stupid Yeosang! Never does anything right! Ugh! I’m gonna tell y/n and we’ll see how he likes it when– AHHH '' I also bumped into Seonghwa complaining about the dog hybrid. 

“Good Morning… sorry you heard me,” he said and I shook my head. “You look lost,” he said and I laughed awkwardly. “Is it that obvious?” I asked and he smiled softly and nodded. 

“I wanted to find the bathroom?” I asked and he nodded. “There's one over here but Yeosang went over there, here I’ll lead you” he offered and I thanked him as I followed the tiger. 

“Hongjoong told me he gave you rules?” he asked and I shook my head. “He warned me, '' I said and he laughed. 

“What’d he say?” he asked me as we now stood in front of the bathroom. 

“To stay away from San and Yeosang… to befriend Wooyoung and to be careful of what I say around the two of you,” I said and he smiled softly. 

“Yeosang and San are the most protective of y/n… we all are but those two especially. We went through it too, kind of still do but don’t worry too much” he said and I nodded. 

“Thank you,” I said as he now left me alone…

What did Yunho say about her again? y/n seems to really care for her hybrids… so why were they taken away from her… he mentioned that when he comforted her. They were taken away from her. 

Despite her caring for them… we assumed she did something to them.

Was that right though?

I heard banging on the door scaring me and taking me out of my train of thought. “YEOSANG GET OUT! YOU TAKE FOREVER!” I heard yelling and I opened the door when I saw the fox hybrid’s eyes widen in shock.

“Ah! Sorry, I thought you were Yeosang… only he locks the door of the shower and isn't running” he apologized and I shook my head.

It was their home… I was just intruding.

“Hey, if you ever want to talk about what happened at your old home you can talk to me,” he said and offered me a smile.

My old home? Was that ever home?

Monday was a busier day than yesterday.

Sunday I was deep in thought as I hung out with Wooyoung and the panther… they even taught me how to play games on the TV.

Today, however, I slept in… only waking up because of Hongjoong. 

“What do you mean she’s gonna file a lawsuit?!” I heard as all of her hybrids were waiting for her phone call to finish… She was mad… I could tell. 

“Yeah… I know, bye” she said clearly fuming. “Who is suing?” Seonghwa asked softly and she sighed. 

“Is it my owner?” I asked and she turned around to me and smiled softly. “I’m gonna head out, I need to talk to someone. You guys behave” she said as I saw Yeosang follow her.

“What’s gonna happen?” Wooyoung asked and the oldest shook their heads… they didn’t know.

“It would depend on the lawsuit,” I said and they nodded. I felt like this was my fault… “Mingi don’t blame yourself okay? It’s not your fault” Seonghwa comforted but it didn’t help.

Wooyoung tried distracting everyone saying he was gonna make chicken today since Yeosang has been complaining recently…

“Are you gonna be okay?” San said as I looked behind me to see y/n… she nodded

“It’s not the first lawsuit I’ve had. I’m gonna meet with a lawyer, and trust me you guys don’t have to worry, everything is fine, it's just some petty little lawsuit to discuss some finances” she explained and they nodded.

I felt guilty…

Tuesday wasn’t any better. She said everything was gonna be settled but I didn’t know what I was doing… I was still missing Yunho.

“Mingi?” I heard as I saw her and Yeosang. “Do you want to come with me? I’m gonna meet up with your owner and it’s possible that Yunho is there?” She asked and I nodded

I answered quickly but I really wanted to see him. 

“Ok, Yeosang is gonna help get you ready. I’ll be in the kitchen okay?” I nodded a little nervously to be around the dog hybrid.

“Don’t do anything stupid” he muttered once she left. “If she comes back hurt in any way, you’re dead” he warned and I nodded. He started getting me ready… he was the one who knew the most about living… at least I assumed. 

“You’re lucky she’s even taking you” he muttered and I chuckled. “I’m lucky to even be alive” I whispered and I didn’t see his look of confusion until he asked… “What do you mean by that?”

“Hmm? Oh… that’s nothing to worry about. I’ll get ready now”

We made it to a law firm… I heard of the law firm before. My owner would try to get lawyers from here but was always rejected.

“Why would you bring that mutt?!” I heard as I looked down. “Ladies, refrain from fighting. If you could go to look at Mr. Jung’s office?” he said as he led them away.

“Why are you with her?” I heard as I saw the golden retriever hybrid dressed in nice clothing… he always had the better treatment.

“She’s fostering me… it’s a favor she owes from the doctor” I explained and he sighed. “Don’t get attached to her… if she’s fostering you then it’s only temporary right?” He asked and that felt like a stab.

If it was Yunho would she have adopted him? Of course, she would… he was a purebred, well-behaved… the better hybrid.

“Mingi? You’re in your head again” he said and for some reason, I didn’t want to talk to him… I was happy to see him, but why do I feel this burning feeling?

“Is she at least good to you?” He asks and I nod. “I got to eat meat on my first day there,” I said and he chuckled. “Yesterday the family had a Korean barbecue… they’re sure that they’ll win the lawsuit,” he said and I felt bitter.

He always got everything… Why didn’t I run away by myself? Oh… cause I’m not smart… I wouldn’t have survived on my own. He would… he would’ve been better off without me. 

“Mingi… talk to me. Did you ask her to foster you to see me?” He asked and I scoffed. “Mingi, I'm sorry but everything is falling apart. We can’t see each other anymore… it’ll hurt us more than good” he said and I knew I had to let go of him…

He was doing it because he was their hybrid… I was just a hybrid no one wanted.

Wednesday… I spent it in my bed.

I couldn’t bear to do anything. 

“Get up!” I got yelled at but I didn’t react. “Come on! You haven’t even eaten yet… y/n is worried about you” Hongjoong said and I wondered why?

I wasn’t her hybrid? I wasn’t her responsibility.

“You came back yesterday like this… what’s bothering you?” He asked and I didn’t want to tell him. He left thankfully but I soon heard the door open again. 

“Mingi?” Why was she here?

I sat up and saw her. She brought food… “I’m not hungry,” I said I didn’t want to get attached to the food… I would miss it too much. “What’s bothering you?” She asked and I shook my head. “I wanna go back to the facility,” I said and she sighed.

“Kun told me on Saturday,” she said and I knew she had to complete a week. It’s already been four days? Just two more until Saturday….

“Mingi…tell me what’s wrong,” she said and I felt tears pool my eyes. “Yunho… why did they keep him and not me?” I let out and she sighed as she hugged me… 

She didn’t say anything. So I finally let everything out…

“I always got his leftovers… they never cared for me. Why was I so unlucky?! You treat all your hybrids equally… or am I just inferior to him?” I asked her and he petted my head.

“I think you’re amazing how you are. You easily get along with Wooyoung, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong. A little secret between you and me? You get along with them better than anyone here” she said and j was confused.

“I know San, Yeosang, and Hongjoong are trouble while Seonghwa and Wooyoung are easier but they’re also very bitter against other hybrids” she explained

“Still till this day even after four months of knowing the tigers, Yeosang doesn’t get along with Seonghwa… or not in a normal way,” she said and I chuckled.

Those two were often arguing with each other I’ve seen.

“Eat okay? Don’t compare yourself when you’re fine the way you are”

Thursday... It was hard knowing I’d go back to the facility… 

I’d never get adopted. I know that and I’ve accepted it. It was strange though… I’ve never made friends other than Yunho. This was an experience that was only mine… not with him. 

“Mingi?” I heard Wooyoung come in… “I brought you breakfast,” he said with a cautious smile and I thanked him but he didn’t leave.

“You shouldn’t be too upset… who cares about your old owner, you're really fun. If I was human I would adopt you” he said and it made me feel a bit better. 

“I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused… I shouldn’t have tested my luck with y/n” I said and he shook his head. “You did what you needed to survive,” he said as he rubbed my shoulder trying to comfort me…

“Do you wanna eat with us today? There's more food in the kitchen… this won’t really make you full” he said as I saw the plate… It was toast with fruit.

I’m guessing he did that on purpose…

I followed him and I saw all the hybrids sitting at their table eating and chatting with y/n in the middle of San and Yeosang… “Mingi!” she said happily when she saw me. “Finally,” Hongjoong said and I knew he was probably sick of not having his private space…

“Come on,” Wooyoung said as I looked next to him. 

“y/n are you going to see the lawyer again?” I asked and she nodded hesitantly… she was dressed formally so I assumed she was. “Can I come with you?” I asked and her smile fell… “Look Mingi I think seeing your old–” “I just want to say goodbye to Yunho” I said and her eyes widened… 

“I know I need to let him go and I will… it's part of the treatment right?”

“As you know, hybrids aren’t allowed to pass here. We’ll keep an eye on them for you Miss. l/n '' the receptionist said to her to which she nodded and faced us.

“San be nice, and don’t cause trouble please,” she asked the panther who asked to join us… I still didn't know why but I assumed because he didn’t trust me. “And Mingi don’t push yourself to do anything, San will protect you,” she said the panther stayed silent but I nodded. 

She left me alone with San…

“Are you really gonna say goodbye to that dog?” San asked and I nodded. “I can’t hold on to him like this… I’ll live the rest of my life in that facility, I’ll never be able to see him again” I confessed and he sighed. 

“You know I don’t remember much about my life anymore but I remember the facility I was in and I thought that I would stay at the adoption center until I died… I probably would've already been dead by now if it wasn’t for her'' he said and I envied him.

“Are there more people like her?” I asked and before he answered I saw the she-devil and Yunho come in. 

“Right, this way ma’am,” the receptionist said as she scoffed and didn’t even look at us while throwing her jacket at Yunho.

He was walking towards the seats when he saw us… 

“Mingi…” he muttered, almost frustrated… he sat next to me a little wearily from the panther… 

“I told you that this–” “I know, so I'm saying goodbye. We’ll never see each other again and I know that. My week is almost down with y/n” I said and he nodded giving me a sad look. “I’m sorry for ruining everything,” I said and he shook his head. “Why don’t you just run now?” San asked and I laughed.

“We would’ve been caught eventually… it wouldn't be worth it,” I said and I didn’t notice how Yunho had tears in his eyes until I saw him… almost like it was still a possibility. He always was the positive one out of the two of us. 

“Why are you talking and asking if you're dying?” Yunho asked and I smiled. “I mean… isn't it kinda the same? I’ll never see you–" "But I don’t want that” he cried… 

“I’d rather be in the streets than with her… I miss you and we could do it again. Lets run–” he said standing up but I grabbed his shirt, snapping him out of it. 

“I can't do that,” I said and he hugged me tightly…

“Is she not gonna adopt you?” Yunho asked and I shook my head. “No… she never was like you said it was temporary, it was just a favor–” “Do you want her to adopt you?” San cut me off and I looked at him confused… I’ve gotten to know the panther whilst staying at his home…

He hates people but stays away from hybrids because of some triggers he has from his past… he’s been kind to me though and he even taught me how to play some games he plays… but I’m not the best in fact I think he’d get along with Yunho more

“I couldn’t… I don’t belong there” I said and he stayed silent.

No matter how much I wanted to say yes… I couldn’t be selfish

Friday… officially my last day here

I’ll miss it here and I'll miss Yunho

I came out for lunch today and I didn’t see y/n?

“Mingi! Come!” Wooyoung said as I sat next to him. “What’s your favorite food?” Wooyoung asked and I didn’t know… “I don’t know… I really liked the meat you made on my first day here” I said and he laughed. 

“Then you haven’t tried a lot of food,” he said and I shook my head. “Have you ever tried fried chicken?” San asked and I shook my head. I looked at the Doberman who made a shocked face… he didn’t show a lot of emotion but he did at the moment making everyone laugh

“You really haven’t lived a life,” Yeosang said and I chuckled. “I haven’t you're right,” I said and I didn’t mean to make them sad. 

“If it makes you feel better before getting adopted, Me, Hongjoong, and San never tried most food either,” Seonghwa said and I nodded. 

“Hey, the only reason I know how fried chicken tasted was because I ate it in secret at parties,” Yeosang said and it made me sad how much hybrids suffer…

“Where’s y/n?” I asked and they smiled ominously… “She’ll be back later,” Wooyoung said.

“Mingi, did you ever want to do anything when you were trapped in your old home? Or when you were on the streets?” Hongjoong asked me and I nodded. 

“Of course I did… but I always wanted to do them with Yunho” I confessed and they sighed. “Mingi, what would you do if you got adopted?” Wooyoung asked and I didn’t know how to answer… “I don’t think that would ever happen,” I said instead and he frowned.

“You never know,” Seonghwa said and it looked like they knew something…

“Hey Mingi?” San said and I was shocked he initiated anything… “You need to have more confidence… that dog isn't better than you. You aren’t better than us, and we aren't to you so you need to grow a pair and quit being so insecure and acting like your life is over '' he said and I knew he was right… 

“San…” Seonghwa said while going into whispers scolding the panther… “I know… but it's hard to have hope when I've always been called a runt, '' I said. 

“I was the runt of my litter too,” San said and I felt my eyes widen. “YOU WERE?!” Wooyoung yelled and he nodded. 

“I was in the illegal hybrid rings a few years back from what I was told… I don’t remember much and I'm prone to getting sick more often” he confessed. 

“But you don’t look like one” I muttered and he laughed. “Well no… but neither do you. I do have to do constant checkups with that doctor. I also did daily checkups in the adoption center because of my health” he confessed and I never would have known. 

He was the scariest hybrid after Yeosang but… I really never would have known. 

“So using that you are a runt really isn’t an excuse” Hongjoong confirmed and I chuckled. “Yeah I guess it isn't…” I muttered. 

“I’m back!” I heard as I saw y/n with a bunch of bags and even a friend with her. “Ooh! You were right, everything should suit him” the girl said excitedly while staring at me?

“That’s Wonyoung, she’s a model and good friend of y/n’s” Yeosang said and I nodded. “Thanks, Wonnie '' she said and they said bye to each other when I realized the scattered bags and boxes with designer logos on them.

“Mingi, I hope you liked it here?” she asked and I smiled. “I did… thank you,” I said wanting to say that anyone would be lucky to live with them… that I wish I could stay. 

“I have a gift for you actually,” she said and I was confused. “For me?” I asked and she smiled while handing me a black box with a white bow on the top. 

I unwrapped it when I saw a card…

“An adoption card?” I asked and she smiled. I saw it was for me with… her name? “But… I was supposed to leave–" "Open the rest of the present,” she said, cutting me off and I did see the wrapped collar matching with the hybrids behind me. 

It was a light brown collar that almost looked pink with reddish jewels on it. I didn’t know what to say… I was in shock. 

“We really liked you being here… everyone would have missed you if you went back and I’d regret it,” she said and I wanted to hug her but I didn't know what to do. She must've noticed since she came closer to hug me. 

“Ooh! Can we choose your hair color!” Wooyoung asked and I laughed. “You really do need a haircut,” Yeosang said and I agreed. 

“I know you’ll always miss Yunho but I hope you like it here too,” y/n said and I smiled. 

“I will, I’ll be the happiest here” 

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please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[xechu]

cw: suggestive themes, swearing, 18+ blog mdni

notes: from the same au as my one shot “Warm on a Cold Night” // check out the first HC here

P.S. I've now created a master list for this series: Cross My Heart - check it out!

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who could be charming and actually good with his words when he wanted to be, but overall, communication was not his strong suit.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - whose life might not have been the most smooth sailing, but he always took matters into his own hands and somehow managed to carve out his own path, which fueled his arrogance a little more than it should have.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who struggled with having to accommodate for someone else, when he had been so comfortable living life on his own terms and accord—now it always nagged at the back of his mind that there was someone else he had to answer to. But he still tried his best.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who finally got you to be his girlfriend after half a year. You understood that he could be a little rough around the edges and has a (very) wild side, but you deemed him to be a good man beneath it all. You also respected that he was able to make something for himself despite his turbulent past.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who couldn't believe that he was able to get the girl of his dream, but after a year of being together, your relationship quickly became an emotional roller coaster—volatile and chaotic. The two of you would reach the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. He truly loved you, but given how he had always lived his life, this was all uncharted territory for him. This went on for another three years.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who loved going on vacations with you. Surprisingly, he’s the one who usually plans them. He also pays for every single one of them, he just asks when you’re free to go and plans accordingly. It’s cheesy, but he wanted to see the world with you—only you. The two of you would always have a great time wherever you went. And this also meant that he wasn’t arguing with you about certain aspects of his life, he knew it was a temporary escape, but if only it could always stay like this.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - speaking of arguments and conflict, he always got angry and frustrated when you were upset or crying, but most of the time the frustration and anger wasn't actually directed towards you—it was to himself. He felt like he failed you, and deep down he knew what was causing your grievances, but he was also stubborn and selfish in his own ways.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who argued with you about the same things over and over again. It always starts with you expressing concern about his lifestyle and the crowd of people he hung out with. You weren’t trying to control or dictate him, but his self-destructive behavior always seems to be exacerbated and encouraged by his so-called friends. You were worried about him. The only people that seemed to try to keep him in check was his family and his best friend Uraume.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who walks away, leaving you a sobbing mess in the apartment after one particular nasty argument. Even though he didn't explicitly say he wanted to break up this time, the words said during this argument was hard to come back from, and his choice to walk away instead of addressing the issue time after time, inherently put things into perspective. This time, things seemed rather final, and his intuition was correct as he finds his belongings all packed up in a box the very next day.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who doesn't say much at the sight of his boxed up belongings. There were no questions, no fight, no protest, not a single word. He quietly takes the box, accepting the reality of the situation, throws your spare keys on the dining table, and leaves without sparing you another glance - like the past four years meant nothing, like you meant nothing.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who was working out at the gym after he dropped his stuff back at his own place. He forgot to bring his headphones and had to listen to the much dreaded gym music. "Baby Come Back" was on blast and he nearly wanted to throw his weights into the mirror. Needless to say, he added that song to his playlist the same night.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who found himself in front of Yorozu's door three weeks later. Yes, this wasn't the best idea, but the two of you had broken up. He no longer had to justify his actions with you. Besides, he just needed to blow off some steam, and he didn't know who else to go to that would have openly accepted his current predicament.

ex/boyfriend!sukuna - who knew he majorly fucked up when you called him at 2:30 AM, drunk and sobbing hysterically, while he was still over at Yorozu’s. As he’s scrambling to get dressed to come pick you up, he’s praying to all the gods out there that you will never find out about this. He swears on his life that this was going to be the last time he had ever sought Yorozu out for favors again.

a/n: ahh, I've been enjoying making hc's for this au, it's a nice little break from my other projects right now. Just something fun and lighthearted that doesn’t require a lot of time and editing. And I do enjoy writing hc's because I treat them as little lores and ideas for potential one shots that I can go back on. If I start expanding a lot on this au, I may have to come up with a series name. The events in this hc all happen prior to ‘Warm on a Cold Night’.

Shameless self plug: you can check out some of my other works here under 'archive'. x