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luxaofhesperides · 10 months

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We Are Robins meeting to Signal apprehending Danny ; requested by @zylev-blog!

“Hey, Danny. How are you feeling?”

Danny gives Duke a tired smile, his head falling back against the wall. He’s sitting up today, which is good. It’s definitely an improvement from the many days Danny was unable to do much but lie down and grit his teeth through the pain as Duke checked on the gunshot wound. It’s a good thing Danny’s a meta with a healing factor, or nothing Duke could have done would have saved him.

As it is, the wound was severe enough to keep Danny vulnerable and unable to move on his own without making it worse. Though Duke has looked, he hasn’t had any luck in finding whoever did this to Danny. He hasn’t brought it up to the rest of the We Are Robin gang, but only because Danny only let him help if he kept it between the two of them.

What’s another secret? If it lets him stay close to Danny and make sure he’s healing well, then he’ll keep quiet and carry on the search by himself. He’s got plenty of practice in doing things on his own.

“Busy out there?” Danny asks as Duke sits down next to him, dropping his backpack onto the ground.

“Yeah, it’s tough with the cops after us, but someone needs to help Gotham and with Batman gone…”

A pained expression crossed Danny’s face. Eyeing him carefully, Duke opened his backpack and pulled out a few protein bars and sports drinks for him. Once Danny takes them and began eating one, Duke takes out the first aid kit, always kept at the bottom of the backpack, and sets it in front of Danny.

The most he can do is offer supplies and company at this stage of Danny’s healing. He gets twitchy and tense when Duke tries to tend to his wound, and seems to have plenty of practice in patching himself up.

He didn’t answer when Duke commented on it once, so Duke let the matter drop.

Metas may have legal protection, but that doesn’t stop people from targeting them. Duke has no intention of pushing Danny into remembering unpleasant things while he’s already wounded, hiding out in the upper corner of an abandoned warehouse taken over by a group of homeless people. Most aren’t inside during the day, choosing instead to be out with the rest of the city, which leaves them alone.

Duke keeps an eye on the ground floor of the warehouse, making sure no one comes in while Danny tends to his wound. When he peeks back, he can see that it’s much smaller than it was the night Duke found him, crawling down an alley with one hand clutching his side, tears slipping down his face. There had been so much blood that Duke was sure he had just stumbled upon someone dying and froze, horrified.

And then a shout down the road prompted him to move, hauling Danny up and helping him into the warehouse to hide.

For a normal person, if it didn’t kill them, the wound would still be raw and bleeding, larger than any gunshot wound he’s seen before. But Danny’s wound is closing up quickly, no longer bleeding, the edges a healing pink.

It doesn’t look like it’s going to scar, either.

“Think it’ll be all healed up by the end of the week?”

Danny glances up, then continues covering it with new bandage, large enough to cover the entire wound. “Hopefully,” he says. “Then I’ll be out of your hair and can figure out a way to get home.”

“Your folks gonna look out for you?”

“Probably. I’m not planning on telling them, though, since they’ll get way too overprotective. The only reason they’re not tearing Gotham apart looking for me is because I came here with my godfather and he told them we’d be gone for two weeks. Can’t believe he tried to kill me on day one…”

“Your godfather tried to kill you?”

“Yeah. Not personally, or anything, but he definitely hired the guy who shot me. Though he also yelled at him for shooting me? Not sure what that’s about, but I never trusted the guy and he didn’t try to help me afterwards when I ran away, so. You know.”

Duke wants to have a conversation with Danny’s godfather. Maybe bring the other Robins along to make sure the message sinks in: Don’t touch Danny.

But Danny, acting so casual about his godfather trying to kill him, would be unhappy about it, and Duke would really rather be able to take care of him than be shut out for trying to take control of the situation.

“Shit, man, that sucks,” he offers, instead of prying for details so he can hunt down his godfather. “You want a hug or something? I can’t really do much else, but if it can make you feel better about all this…”

Danny brightens and shoves the first aid kit away, his shirt (one of Duke’s old ones he offered up to replace the bloodstained one) falling to cover the bandage. “Please. I would love a hug, dude, I don’t remember the last time I felt so lonely.”

Carefully, Duke wraps his arms around Danny, leaning back so Danny could relax fully and not worry about holding himself up. Danny sighs into the hug, going fully limp as he drops his forehead onto Duke’s shoulder.

“Thanks for this. And everything,” Danny says some time later. He doesn’t move to pull away, so Duke stays as he is, watching the weak sunlight slowly move across the warehouse as it spills in from dirty windows.

“You don’t need to thank me. I mean, I’m a Robin.” He brings up a hand to tap a finger against the R embroidered into his jacket. “It’s what we’re here for.”

It’s been years since he saw Danny. After he was fully healed, Duke helped him get to city limits, watching as he boarded a bus and disappeared down the road, leaving his life just as suddenly as he entered it.

After spending so much time together, quiet hours of stillness just looking out for each other, his life feels emptier without Danny in it. He knew it wouldn’t last, that Danny would go home eventually, but it didn’t make the parting any easier.

Even now, as Signal, taking a break from going on missions with the Outsiders to spend some time with the Bats, his thoughts drift towards Danny, wondering if he’s alright. In his darker moments, he wonders if Danny’s godfather has tried to kill him again, if he’s succeeded. In calmer, happier moments, he remembers Danny’s quiet stories about his family, his town, all his dreams and hopes for the future, remembers the easy company and how Danny didn’t look at him with pity when talked about his parents, just quiet and contemplative.

Sometimes, he can’t resist the urge to look him up, but there are so many Danny’s out there that he doesn’t know where to start. He never got Danny’s last name or learned when he came from.

It’s not like he can just ask the Bats for help finding a guy he knew for two weeks before he ever joined them. They’re all busy with their own missions, and definitely don’t have time for Duke’s reminiscing.

“Just caught sight of the truck entering city limits,” Oracle says in his ear. “It’s heading towards the Coventry.”

“On it. Any movement from the mobs?”

“None yet. I expect this to change soon. Red Hood and Black Bat are patrolling nearby if you need backup.”

“Got it. Signal out.”

His comline shuts with a little click, and then he’s grappling over the roof tops, keeping an eye on the roads in search of the truck. He doesn’t have time to think of Danny anymore, not when a shipment of new, experimental weapons is passing through Gotham. Spoiler had heard a few whispers of it and Red Robin helped find more solid details; the mobs are all looking to take the shipment for themselves in an attempt to get the upper hand in the nonstop fight for control of Gotham’s streets.

It’s passing through during the day, visible and a good move to keep from being ambushed at night, but it’s not enough to stop mobs hoping to take out their competition with new weapons. Duke enters the Coventry just as his comline beeps once and Oracle begins giving him specific directions, along with a brief description of what the truck looks like.

Apparently, the weapons are being moved in a U-Haul rental truck. That is… certainly a Choice™ to make for moving weapons around the country.

He follows it from the rooftops, but nothing happens. The truck passes through the Coventry without incident and takes a turn that keeps it away from Crime Alley and the Bowery. It gets to the middle of East End then pulls to a stop in the parking lot of a diner.

Two people get out and stretch, then head in to get something to eat.

It would be the perfect time for someone to break in. Duke pulls the light over himself, manipulating it to make him disappear from sight as he looks down from the edge of the rooftop, tense and prepared for anything.

He almost doesn’t see it at first. It’s just a flicker, a flash of color, a shift in the shadows across the street. But he does see it, even if he can’t find it again, and drops down from the roof, creeping towards the truck.

Duke waits, holding his breath, off to the side of the parking lot.

A minute passes. And then a figure materializes out of thin air, floating right behind the truck. All Duke can see is white hair and a black body suit; they’re either a meta or an alien, but either way, Duke is ready to take them down.

The figure lifts their hands and a bolt of neon green energy hits the truck, melting the back and leaving a large hole that gives them direct access to the weapons. And then they shoot again, destroying the weapons.

“Phantom!” someone shouts, and the truck driver comes tearing out of the restaurant, a white gun in his hand. His companion follows, her gun also out, and the begin shooting.

Phantom dodges the blasts, then vanishes from sight. He reappears behind them a moment later, tackling back of them into the side of the truck.

“No you don’t!” Duke say, rushing forward as he pulls at the shadows around him then sends them racing towards Phantom, restraining them. The driver and his companion collapse onto the ground, groaning weakly, and Duke grits his teeth. “O, send someone to look after the people moving the weapons. Apprehending an attacker now.”

He doesn’t wait to hear a response, tightening the shadow’s grip on Phantom, who struggles fiercely.

“We can do this the hard way, or the easy way,” he says, pulling Phantom closer to him.

Phantom doesn’t answer. They just scream, the force of it making Duke fall back. His shadows dissipate, and Phantom flies up.

“Get back here!”

Duke gives chase, dropping in and out of shadows, throwing some at Phantom in the hopes of catching him again. But Phantom is fast and it takes all he has to keep up as they cross Gotham.

He thought Phantom was flying around blindly, but the way they move across the roofs and then through the streets are too confident, too focused to be anything other than someone with a destination in mind. But where? Where could they be going? If they’ve been in Gotham, then Duke would have heard of them.

A flying, powerful meta with a multitude of powers? Yeah, he would have known about them.

Phantom flies through a wall and Duke curses, going onto the roof and looking around, waiting to see them fly out. But they don’t and Duke finds a broken skylight to drop in from, landing on the support beams of the warehouse, well above the ground.

He knows the warehouse, he realizes suddenly. It’s the warehouse Danny hid in while he was healing. Duke hasn’t been back in years.

“Just listen to me, please,” a voice says behind him, and Duke tense, spinning around to face Phantom, floating just out of reaching distance. “Those weapons are dangerous. No one should have them, it’s why I had to destroy them. Please, you can’t let them get those weapons out.”

Duke stares. Something about Phantom is familiar. The shape of his face, maybe. His voice. Maybe it’s just because he’s in the warehouse again, with someone pleading for his help.

Maybe it’s all in his mind.

“Danny?”

Phantom flinches, floating back a few inches. “What— How—”

“What happened? Is it your godfather again?”

“My— Duke? Is that you?!”

He definitely shouldn’t be doing this, but Danny’s here. Danny’s here in front of him, needing help, and he doesn’t need the Signal. He needs Duke.

He pulls off his helmet and lifts his bare face to Danny.

“Oh,” Danny breathes. “Well. I guess I should have known you’d be a hero. Can you help me one last time?”

“Yeah, of course Danny. Tell me what you need.”

“Those weapons, they were first made to kill me and others like me. It’s a whole thing I don’t have time to explain. But they’ve been changed to affect humans, all types of people, as well. I can survive a few hits from those weapons, but for most people, it would kill them instantly. I need to destroy all of them and stop any further production before the rest of the world gets a hold of them.”

“That’s why you—”

“They have to be destroyed,” Danny says. “And the people making and selling them need to be stopped. I can’t do it on my own. I’ve tried, but…”

“I’ll help,” Duke says, “I’ll help. This is a big enough problem to bring the Outsiders into it. Or the Bats, but they like to stay in Gotham.”

Danny floats closer, looking painfully relieved. “Really? They’ll be able to put an end to this?”

Duke reaches for him. “Yeah. they can do it. I’ll make sure of it.”

Danny’s feet land on the support beam as his hand meets Duke’s. They balance above the rest of the warehouse, drinking in the sight of each other. Duke rubs his thumb over Danny’s knuckles in soothing circles and watches as the tension begins to fall away from Danny’s shoulders.

“Duke,” he whispers, “I’ve missed you—”

The door below is kicked open, and a gunshot rings out.

Moving on instinct, Duke tackles Danny, wrapping him up in his arms as they fall off the support beam. They hit the ground hard, rolling a bit, and Duke tucks Danny into his chest, bodily protecting him.

“Narrows!”

The Red Hood stands over him, menacing, a gun pointed at him.

“Hood?” He loosens his grip on Danny. “What the hell was that for?”

“Thought you needed back up. You chased after our guy and lost your helmet, I think I’m right to be a little worried about you. So, who’s this?” There’s a hard edge to his voice, and Duke realizes with a sinking heart that all anyone else sees is an aggressor, a meta who attacked a truck full of weapons, attacked two people, and had to be chased down by the Signal. Jason’s seeing a threat and acting accordingly, putting Duke’s safety first.

And with his helmet off, identity clear, Danny’s even more dangerous now that he has this knowledge.

“I’m sorry,” Danny whispers to Duke. He doesn’t have time to ask for what? before Danny’s shooting another beam of green energy at Jason then taking off, flying through the roof and out of sight.

“Shit,” Jason mutters, straightening up from where he ducked to avoid being hit, then puts his gun away and kneels next to Duke. “You alright? Why’d you let him go? I thought you had him.”

“I’m fine. He’s not… He wasn’t going to hurt me. He just needed help.”

“Sure. And what are you not telling me?”

“I knew him. He’s a good person, but he’s been in danger for a long time. This was him trying to protect others from what he went through.”

Jason takes off the helmet and stares at him. Then he sighs and reaches a hand down to help Duke to his feet. “Alright,” he says, “Let’s head back to the truck. You have until then to convince me that they’re the problem, and if they are, then I’ll help you blow up more of their weapons.” He claps a hand on Duke’s shoulder, then pulls his helmet back on. “Grab your helmet. We’re wasting daylight, Narrows.”

There’s nothing else he can do, no way to search for Danny when there are other leads to chase, so Duke grapples up to the catwalk where his helmet landed and grabs it.

Just before he puts it on, he sees a flicker of white just outside the window he’s facing. He ducks his head to hide a smile. It’s almost like he’s stepped back in time; Danny’s here in Gotham, needing help and asking for it in the warehouse.

And though so much has changed in those years, there’s still one thing that Duke will ensure never changes: he’s Danny’s hero. Above Robin, or Signal, or anything else, Duke is Danny’s hero.

This time, he has the power to actually help Danny. He’s going to make sure no one ever hurts Danny again.

“Let’s go,” he says, jumping back down to Jason, helmet on. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #dp x dc fanfic #prompt fill #my writing #gotta be honest i do Not know much abt the We Are Robin movement. have yet to read those comics....#also this definitely deviated a bit from your prompt. sorry!! still hope i got the main things you wanted to see #duke being dannys hero is something so special to me...#also it is his parents selling weapons and blueprints and things to the giw which is then given to the military for new weapons #a truly terrible pipeline #duke and jason and whoever else joins will find the source of the weapons. break into the fenton home. and dannys just there eating toast #in his pjs like. um hi guys did u need something? (and staring at duke like DUDE HELLO WTF??)#a mess of a situation :) not gonna write it bc i know it would get away from me and get so long #thanks for the prompt!!

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too-much-tma-stuff · 4 months

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I Never Blamed You (Part 6)

So, where has Dick been?

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Dick was not going to reach out to Bruce first, he absolutely was not. He wasn’t wrong, and Bruce was never going to change anyway! Their fighting was the reason he had gone to Bludhaven in the first place, and their relationship had only gotten worse when Bruce had taken in Jason, and worse again when he died. Dick had blamed Bruce, but he had blamed himself more, for not being a better brother to the kid. Ya sure he hadn’t wanted a brother, but that was how siblings usually worked! He should have been there! And now here he was, not being here for Tim either, and feeling like complete shit about it.

He apartment was a fucking pigsty and he didn’t clean it. He hadn’t been taking care of himself, he’d been eating junk, he was barely sleeping. He was not doing well and he didn’t care. He didn’t care about much other than his patrols and being Nightwing, he didn’t care about much besides saving people. Like maybe if he saved enough strangers he could make up for not saving his brother.

He couldn't.

He still checked in on the rest of the family sometimes, and he never blocked Batman on official channels so if they really needed help they could call him. Bruce had never blocked Dick either, or locked him out of their servers, if he did Dick would probably cry.

It had been a few months so it was time to check in again. He still wasn’t locked out thankfully, so he had a look around at the most recently updated files. What were Bruce and Tim having issues with in Gotham?

The most accessed file in the last few weeks was the one on Red Hood and his partner Hyena. Dick really didn’t know that much about them besides they were Gotham’s new crime lords, and he had heard on the news Hyena had killed the Joker. Dick felt like he owed Hyena for that. He had succeeded where Dick had failed after all. He still held a small grudge against the people who had resuscitated the bastard, Nightwing had killed him on purpose after all.

Dick opened the file on Hood, propped his chin on one fist and leaning against the desk, bored and tired, ready to skim the file before moving on. He froze, his body going completely rigid as any trace of his previous fatigue fled his body.

Alias: Red Hood

Civilian name: Jason Todd

It couldn’t be the same Jason Todd, he was dead, it had to be an awful coincidence surely! But he read on with rebid hope anyway. It wasn’t a coincidence. It was Jason, the Baby bird. He’d grown so much, he’d changed so much!

Dick barely remembered to turn off his computer before he grabbed his suit and headed straight for Gotham, and Crime Alley.

It was half a miracle that Dick didn’t crash on his way to Gotham with how fast he was going, and how little attention he was paying. He wound in and out of traffic to get to his little brother as quickly as possible, ignoring everything else till he reached Crime Alley. He abandoned his bike more than parked it, and went looking for Red Hood.

They must have access to the cameras in the Alley, or maybe just a network of informants, because they came to meet him long before he would have found them. Both Hyena and Hood were there, but as soon as Dick saw Red Hood he zeroed in and barely noticed Hyena, didn’t even hear the way he snarled when Dick rushed towards Jason.

Jason made a ‘down’ gesture to Hyena who subsided and stopped growling, fading partially into the shadows, though he was still watching them intently.

“Is that really you Little Wing?” Dick breathed, he felt like the hope was choking him and he didn’t even know if it was real. He’d had delusions and hallucinations before, and Jason featured in them regularly. Hood looked tense, his arms were crossed and his posture closed off, he didn’t seem exactly happy to see Dick.

“What do you want, Big Bird?” He asked. The nickname, even through the modulator Dick recognized the way Jason said it.

Dick was shaking he realized, and he could feel the burning of tears behind his eyes as he crumpled in on himself. Hardly a warm reception, but of course it wasn’t. Why would Jason want to see him? He had been a terrible brother, he hadn’t been there when Jason needed him, he hadn’t been there for Tim. He shouldn’t have come, shouldn’t have intruded on Jason’s new life. He was probably better off without Dick anyway.

“I’m so sorry,” He managed to choke out. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, that I wasn’t here. B didn’t tell me, you- No, you didn’t have to tell me, you don’t have to accept my apology. But I wish-” He was interrupted by a little hiccupping sob. He shook his head and brushed away his tears with the back of his hand, furious at himself for his useless self pity. “I wish I’d been a better brother to you. I should have been there, I should have saved you.”

A pair of strong arms wrapped around Dick and he surrendered to them immediately, if Jason hurt him he probably deserved it. But no, Jason just… held him. “I don’t blame you Dicky,” Jason said softly and the floodgates just broke. Dick wrapped his arms back around Jason and sobbed into his broad chest, clinging like a child and barely processing it as he was picked up. Hyena leading the way and Jason brought him to their nearest safehouse.

Dick passed out before they got there.

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Danny opened the door for Jason and quickly disabled all the traps so Jason could carry Dick in and lay him down on the couch. He covered Dick with a throw blanket and slumped down into a chair, taking his helmet off and took a deep breath, letting his head fall back against the chair with a soft thunk.

Danny trotted to the kitchen and put a pot of coffee on to brew. Once it was done and Jason had a moment to collect himself Danny poured Jason a cup. He pressed it into Jason’s hand and curled up on Jason’s lap purring softly, Jason was sure he wasn’t actually happy right now, but knew Jason found the sound soothing and was doing it for his benefit. He appreciated it.

He absently rubbed Danny’s back while he processed his feelings. Danny didn’t say anything, they never really demanded answers of each other, Jason appreciated that too.

“I didn’t know he cared this much, or that he was doing this badly,” Jason told Danny softly. “I should have reached out to him. I thought he already knew and just didn’t care.”

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t have a great relationship with him before did you? You didn’t think those things for no reason,” Danny told him.

“Ya, he’d left by the time Bruce took me in and he was barely around. And when he was Bruce and he would fight and he’d storm off,” Jason said with a sigh. “But he’s thinner now, and so tired. I didn’t realize-” He cut himself off, hiding his face in Danny’s shoulder.

“He’s here now, we’ll work it out,” Danny promised, and his confidence did soothe Jason, at least enough to come out of hiding and sip his coffee.

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Dick woke up to the smell of fresh baked bread and cinnamon. For a moment he thought that he must be at the manor, and it felt like it had when he was a kid, but when he stretched he realized he was sleeping on a couch. He paused for a moment, and all the memories from before came back. He sat up abruptly and looked around wildly.

“Well welcome back Sleeping Beauty. Seriously, how long has it been since you slept?!” Jason asked, and the other man sitting at the kitchen island cackled. He recognized the laugh, even if Hyena was out of his suit. “You’ve been asleep all night, I made cinnamon rolls.”

As if to prove it Hyena held up his half eaten cinnamon roll, and then took another big bite. “There’s coffee too,” Hyena said with his mouth full, Jason whacked him with a spatula for it and Hyena dramatically pretended to be hurt. Jason rolled his eyes.

Dick blinked and got up, warily approaching the counter as if he expected them to reject or attack him. Jason just got him a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll as he sat down. Dick picked it up and nibbled it, it was delicious enough that he kept picking at it, even though he didn’t have much of an appetite.

“How long have you been back?” Dick asked Jason softly. He should introduce himself to Hyena properly, but he couldn’t seem to focus on anything but Jason right now. He’d grown so much, he looked older than he was. Where had that little boy gone?

“I came back about six months after my death but I wasn’t all there,” Jason said, turning away to pour his own cup of coffee. “The League of Shadows found me and dumped me in the Pit. I had the worst case of Pit Madness afterwards. It took me a year of training with them, and another year with the All-Cast before I really knew who I was enough to come back to Gotham, and I’m still not the same as I was before. I never will be,” Jason said like a warning as he pulled up a stool and sat down across from Dick and Hyena.

“They’re pretty common ongoing side effects of resurrection like that,” Hyena added, finally drawing Dick’s attention to him. “Increased violence and obsessive tendencies are pretty normal. So are the grudges and the need for closure, I mean, it makes perfect sense doesn’t it?”

He stretched across the table towards Jason, and Dick finally noticed the white in his hair. It matched Jason’s now, though the placement was different. Jason absently brushed his fingers over Hyena’s open palm in a brief but practiced caress. Hyena grinned up at him fondly. It made Dick feel out of place.

“How would you know?” Dick bristled, he didn’t mean to, and he shouldn’t have. He just hated how well Hyena obviously knew Jason when Dick didn’t know him at all. He had always been a bit of a jealous person.

“Because I died too and I was the same! And I wasn’t even exposed to this Pit stuff,” Hyena explained with a little shrug before straightening up again.

“Oh,” Dick sounded, deflating again, he really shouldn’t be picking fights. He'd rather focus on Jason anyway. “Why didn’t you tell me you were back,” He said looking at Jason and trying not to cry again. “You’ve been back for, what, 8 months? You could have reached out.”

“I didn’t think you'd care, we weren’t exactly close,” Jason said with a shrug. Dick felt like he had been punched in the gut. “When I revealed myself to Bruce and asked why he hadn’t avenged me he threw a batarang at me to stop me from killing the joker and slit my throat,” He said, tilting his head to show the scar. Dick felt like he might throw up at the sight. “I guess I didn’t want to risk reaching out again.

“I figured I was pretty well disowned and didn’t have a family anymore-”

“Besides me!” Hyena chirped, smiling at Jason who gave his partner a look of fond exasperation.

“Yes, besides you. So I just kept going with what I was doing, making Crime Alley a safer place and stuff. I did reach out to Tim and we’ve had dinner a few times, but I guess I figured… I heard through the grapevine you didn’t come to my funeral. I didn’t think there was any reason to reach out.”

“I was just in denial,” Dick admitted in a near whisper. “I didn’t want to believe you were gone. I never got a chance to be a better brother, I thought that I’d have more time I guess. Bruce and I, we both fell apart after your death. He got violent to the point Tim felt like he needed to step in,” Jason was nodding, Tim must have told him about that. “But I did too, I had nightmares, and didn’t sleep to the point I started hallucinating you. I beat the Joker to death and never forgave the fucking EMTs who resuscitated him, even though I couldn’t bring myself to do it again.” He sighed and rubbed his face. “I missed you.”

“Damn… I’m sorry Dick, if I'd known it fucked you up that bad I would have reached out. I just assumed since Bruce and Tim knew, you must know too. I wasn’t that surprised you didn’t come, but I didn’t blame you.

"Not this time, and not when I died either. I was mad at Bruce, not you, you didn’t ask for a brother and I understood that. I wasn't your responsibility.

"But, I guess, you’re here now, and I am too. We can try and start over. It’ll have to be slow though,” he glanced at Hyena, who nodded encouragingly. “This is going to be… a lot. For both of us I’m sure.”

“Right,” Dick agreed sheepishly. “Whatever you need Little Wing, I’m sorry I just showed up without warning last night. I just needed to see you.”

“It’s okay, I’m… glad to know you care. No one told me that you tried to kill the Joker.” Jason paused and shoved the plate of cinnamon rolls towards Hyena. Huh, Dick hadn’t noticed him trying to sneak another one. Hyena looked sheepish as he took another, Jason shook his head at his boyfriend before continuing. “Just take better care of yourself okay? Next time I see you I don't want you passing out in my arms again,” Jason chided him.

“Ya, ya I will,” Dick agreed with an embarrassed little blush. “I’ll reach out to Tim too.” It was way past time to do that.

“Good, he’s a good kid but his self worth is in the fucking gutter. He’s going to work himself to death before he’s 30 if someone doesn’t give him a healthy role model, and some support, and we all know Bruce won’t do it,” Jason huffed, rolling his eyes.

“I’ll do my best to help,” Dick vowed. This was a second chance he never expected, he was not going to waste it.

#fanfiction #danny phantom #dc x dp #jason todd #dead on main #my writing #dick grayson #Hyena!Danny #batfam #long post #multii part fic #dick grayson has eldest daughter syndrome #Dick Grayson has depression

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uchihaxitachi · 3 months

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itachi’s june -> day 16: yandere itachi - kidnapping

warnings: yandere themes, itachi is sick and twisted of course, i get carried away when i write yandere i hope yall like it 🥰♥️🫡

feelings are, twisted things. they make people forget who they are, they make people forgive what they shouldn’t, they make people cross the boundary between what’s right and what’s wrong. what is right and what is wrong at the end of the day? there isn’t a higher being judging uchiha itachi after all, he doesn’t believe in it. if it did exist, then he would be sitting at the uchiha prefecture, at the comfort of his home and sharing dinner with his younger brother; instead of the carefully painted fake visage of hating sasuke’s guts and putting him in the endless torment of the tsukuyomi.

what is right and what is wrong?

is living for yourself wrong? when all you’ve done so far is fulfill responsibilities that cater to others?

is discreetly observing someone you adore sleep in her bed wearing skimpy clothing wrong? when you’re not intenting to harm her?

is killing the scum of an asshole wrong? who just asked her out when she clearly belongs to you?

what is right and what is wrong?

how annoying. the morality, the justice, nothing exists for those who don’t really lend an ear to it. what happens to those people? nothing. the state of konoha had several corrupt officials who still have a beating heart while several innocent uchihas unaware were slain in their craddle.

itachi is a man. a man’s job is to protect and nurture. he’s just protecting you, and nurturing you. you don’t know what’s right for you anyway, how would you? you haven’t been shown the horrors of the world when you were four? itachi knows. and itachi has to act on it.

so please don’t panic when you’re waking up to somewhere entirely unknown, the whiff of the familiar cinnamon scent that the s-ranked criminal, masked as a traveler carried when he first met you. the cozy duvet of the bed and the fluffy pillows. a perfect gold cage for itachi’s precious little dove. 🕊️

“where am i?” your heart sinks when you don’t realize any familiarity whatsoever around. itachi’s soft, yet sturdy footsteps coming towards the bedroom from the kitchen. “good morning, dear.” voice silk like and hair open, lack of the cloak that hid most of his body now accentuating his collarbone & his lean muscles. no scars… just shows no one’s ever been able to touch him to harm him anyway. just shows… how powerful he truly is.

“where am i? why am i here? itachi-“ you know his name, the only fleeting hope you’re desperately clinging on to, is his name. “please-“ the familiar panic clogs your lungs as you start gasping for air.

“ssh ssh ssh ssh~” itachi raises both his hands up in mock surrender, how these tactics are all that soothes you. you’re so naive… no wonder it had to be done. pretty little thing…

“i am not going to hurt you, okay? do you want to eat something first? should i prepare a shower for you? i want you to relax that mind for me, okay?” he hums, inching closer to you. and that’s when the true panic seeps into you. what if he hurts you — he’s dangerous, you have seen the bingo book. your mouth is dry at the thought of it alone.

so… you pick up the nearest vase at the bedside table and hurl it at him.

itachi doesn’t budge. he could, easily. could hold you by the neck and seethe with annoyance & preach about how unruly you’re behaving. how unbecoming… of a woman. his woman. but he doesn’t. he needs you to trust him, so he lets the vase hit his forehead. the shattering sound and the cut on his forehead imminent.

itachi uchiha… unscarred by all enemies he faced, bleeding for you. “don’t hurt me, either. little one.”

he has patience, it’s okay, you’re just scared, you’d grow to love him, okay?

it’s not like you have any other choice.

181 notes · View notes

navybrat817 · 1 year

Text

The Animal Within

Pairing: Shifter!Bucky Barnes x Shifter!Female Reader Summary: Bucky can't help but follow you when you go through his territory. Word Count: Over 2.2k Warnings: Shifters, flirting, background character death, mention of blood, slight possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Meet Wolfie and Little Red! My fourth and final Connect 4 (C4007 - Square 4) / Into an Alternate Juneiverse AND Week 2 of Hot Bucky Summer for @buckybarnesevents! Theme - What should I call you? ❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby (thank you!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by @firefly-graphics and thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer and @buckets-and-trees for the encouragement! ❤️Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

When Bucky was a child, the townspeople warned him not to venture too far into the woods. Dangerous creatures lurked in the shadows and many who strayed far from the beaten path never came back. What they didn't know was that he often did that very thing since he could walk. The townspeople had no reason to fear for him. While they were right that the forest held many dangers, it was also a place of kinship and wonder. He found solace in the trees.

Because even predators had soft sides.

Which was one of the reasons he started tracking you.

Who are you?

Bucky knew every creature in his territory, but hadn’t seen you before. You were stunning and quick as you wove in and out of the trees, a blur of red amongst the green and brown background. You stopped at one point to smell some flowers, as if you didn’t have a care in the world. Something about your scent excited him like nothing else, tempting him to chase you down. He refrained from doing so and maintained a safe distance as he followed, not wanting to spook you. He should’ve alerted Steve and the others the deeper you went into the woods, but he wanted to keep you to himself for now.

As if you were his.

Steve would likely ask him later why he decided to follow you in the first place. The easy answer was that this wasn't your home and he wanted to know why you decided to go through this part of the forest. It also concerned him a bit that you were by yourself. While he had his found family, he wondered why wasn’t someone by your side? Was it by choice?

Why are you all alone out here, little red?

The air was cool in this part of the forest, even with the sun shining through the branches, but it didn't seem to bother you as you stopped to play with a rock. Bucky crouched between two trees, careful not to draw attention to himself as he curiously watched. You were smaller than him and appeared far too sweet for your own good. It was strange how he felt the need to protect you and snarl that you needed to stay alert. You were all alone and anyone could come along and just eat you up.

A snap of a twig drew his attention, lowering his body more when another scent drifted through the air. You, on the other hand, were perfectly content in your own little world. Either you didn't sense the foreboding atmosphere shift or you didn't care.

Why aren't you paying attention?!

Bucky bit back a growl when he spotted the large man coming from the opposite direction, almost blending in with the background as he watched you. The fur on the back of his neck stood up straight when he saw the arrow aimed in your direction. The man had every intention of killing you. It was a cruel way to die, especially when all you were doing was playing in the woods.

Now I have to save you.

As the hunter released his arrow, you surprised both of them by suddenly leaping toward the nearest tree and narrowly avoided getting hurt. You didn’t look down as you climbed up the bark and walked across one of the large branches with more agility than he expected, your eyes on the hunter as he reached for another arrow. You must have sensed him if you were able to dodge his weapon like that. If Bucky didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought you were laughing or playing a game.

No time to play around, little red. You can't stay up there all day.

You must have known that, too, since you leapt from the high height and onto the man below.

With a small scream, you tackled the hunter to the ground. He tried to toss you away, but he didn't stand a chance when you bit into his neck. Bucky didn't expect such ruthlessness from you, but he understood why you attacked since the hunter intended to kill you. And while he didn't normally hunt without giving chase, the tear of flesh and tissue from the man's throat urged the beast inside him to join you. He had to help as you were smaller and could still get hurt.

Pack mentality. Nothing more, right?

Bucky jumped through the trees and charged at the man lying in the dirt. He was still conscious enough to throw an arm up to try and defend himself, but it only led to the wolf chomping down and crunching the bone. He relented after a moment, only to join you in biting his neck. Blood hit his white fur and dripped onto the soil, staining the earth and adding the hunter to the long list of fallen souls in the shadows.

Should've stuck to the beaten path.

You snapped your head up at the sound of his snarl, licking some of the blood from around your mouth as you assessed him. You seemingly forgot about the lifeless hunter as you slowly backed away. Bucky didn't approach you and he wasn't your enemy, but refused to lower his head in submission as you hunched your back. He was almost impressed at the fearless flash in your eyes.

You won't win a fight against me.

Your body collided with his a second later, a firm reminder of your speed even though he was stronger. You didn't claw or bite as the two of you rolled away from the body, but you screamed again. Maybe you wanted to warn him that you weren't a creature to mess with. Or maybe you knew he followed you and wanted to retaliate.

It was for your own good.

Bucky got on top of you as you came to a stop. With a small growl and raise of his lips, he went for your throat. He would've bitten through your neck, but he didn't since his intention wasn't to kill you. He wouldn't let you do any damage to him either. The clench of his jaw was a warning of what he could do if you didn't submit and the hold was enough to make you go lax beneath him with a small sound. And it was the pounding of your heart against his fur that made him loosen his hold.

It's okay, little red.

He let go completely at the sound of snapping and shifting bones beneath him. He knew those noises all too well. The shrill shriek you let out faded to a groan as your body stretched, the red fur disappearing into your skin. Your eyes were still glowing as you completed the transformation from a fox to a human.

A beautiful, naked human.

Though the townspeople feared the woods and knew monsters existed, not everyone believed the myth that shifters roamed the land. But here you were, living proof just like him. Maybe that was why your scent called to him, a mixture of something wild and grounding. It was only right that he changed back into his human form, too. It didn't mean he'd give you the satisfaction of moving away while he shifted back, his bones molding and skin stretching with a grunt. His hair fell in his blue eyes as he exhaled, his breathing harsh as he realized just how close your bodies were.

And that he could smell your arousal.

"You know I didn't need you to save me, right, wolfie?" you smiled, bringing a hand to his cheek. He bristled, but not because it didn't feel nice. It was because you touched him without hesitation. "I had it under control."

Wolfie?

"I think you did need my help," he couldn't help but say. While you were a predator, you weren't as dangerous as him. Your touch was too soft. "You should be thanking me."

"Thank you for not minding your own business."

"It is my business when you're in my territory," he reminded you, placing his hands on each side of your head as he stared down at you. The intimidating look didn't make you cower. It made you smile.

Why aren't you afraid of me?

"I guess so," you said, stretching a little and drawing his attention to your neck. It would look beautiful with his mark on it.

No. I'm not thinking about claiming this beautiful, sly stranger.

"You guess so?"

"Okay, it is your business," you huffed softly. "That man killed a lot of defenseless creatures in the west end of the forest, so I lured him here. And if he didn't take me as bait, I figured a wolf would either scare him off or kill him."

Cunning and smart.

"So you did need my help," he smirked.

"I attacked him just fine without you."

True.

"But if you hadn't, you would've had to rely on me."

"Yes, I would have. Because you're so biiiiig and so strooooong and I'm sooooo helpless," you teased, raising an eyebrow when you purposely lifted your hips to touch his. "Well, you really are big."

His eyes slipped shut, but it didn't stop the blood from flowing south. You were so warm and soft. If he spread your legs a bit more and sheathed himself, he wondered just how tight and hot you'd feel around him. Would you cry out for him or whimper?

"You're also smelly and hairy like a dog," you added.

With a growl, his eyes flew open. Instead of showing fear, you laughed. He was so thrown off by the sound that you were able to use your strength to roll him on his back. The sight of you above him, your breasts lightly bouncing from another laugh, was one he'd later dream about.

"You know the thing about foxes? People always underestimate us," you said with a smile. "Because we're smaller than wolves and so cute. We look almost innocent."

Bucky laughed this time, the sound deep as he brought his hands to your hips to steady you. No other reason. "I know damned well you’re not innocent at all."

He held his breath as you leaned down, your nipples brushing against his chest. "And how would you know that?" you whispered, your lips so close he could almost kiss you.

The scent of blood and death was only a few feet away, but the tempting smell of your pussy had his mouth watering. He had to keep a level head though. He didn't know you. "No one innocent would rip a throat out like that."

He wondered just how many men you lured to their deaths with your act.

The hunter becomes the hunted.

The playfulness faded from your eyes as you sat up. Had he touched on a sore topic? "Sometimes we have to do those things in order to survive," you said, lifting your weight off of him. "Thank you so much for 'saving' me."

"Wait," he urged as he sat up, not wanting you to go away so quickly. That should've bothered him that he wanted you close by. Everything about his pull to you should have. "That's not a proper thank you."

"And what is?" you asked curiously, your eyes moving along his body as he stood up. He wasn't ashamed of his nakedness. If anything, he liked that you saw some of his scars.

"Helping me get rid of this body," he answered, nodding to the hunter. He'd already have to explain to Steve that he assisted in killing him, but he wasn't at all sorry. "And I need to make sure you get back to the border safely."

You nodded after a moment. "Not the kind of 'thank you' I thought you'd want, but I'll help," you said, briefly looking up at the sky and avoiding his gaze. "Don't worry about taking me back. I can manage just fine getting out of here. I'm used to going it alone."

I don't like that.

"I'd feel better if I went with you," he said.

"Fine," you agreed, gesturing to yourself when a breeze picked up, goosebumps rising on your skin. "Just wish I had my red cape to cover up. Unless you don't mind the view."

He licked his lips when you did a spin, giving him a view of every delicious curve of your body. "I don't mind," he admitted.

Hell, he was still half hard just from having you against him on the ground.

"I like you, wolfie," you smiled.

"That's not my name," he said, even if the little nickname made him want to smile.

"What should I call you?" you asked, brushing a bit of dirt off his right arm.

"Bucky," he replied, gently taking your arm before you could walk away. "What should I call you?"

You smiled as you gave him your name and moved in close again. "You can call me little red if you want," you told him, your breath fanning against his ear. "Let's get to work."

Maybe once you finished burying the body, Bucky would convince you to tell him a bit more about yourself. Because he wasn't ready to let you leave his territory yet. Not when he sensed you had no one to go back to. And he had a feeling you weren't quite ready to leave yet either.

Surprise, surprise, I love them already. Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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muzanswaifu · 1 year

Text

Bittersweet

Demon! Sanemi x Fem! Reader

18+

Request: "I have been waiting to read something like this for so long. Demon Sanemi craving blood because fem!reader is on her period, so yk he eats her out without mercy❤️"

Demon Sanemi is so mean I love hiiiim :3 Need me a man who would eat me out on my period 😒 Jk jk that shit gotta taste nastyyyyyyy

NSFW Warnings: Yandere, Non-con, Smut, Sexism, Kidnapping, Forced Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Menstruation, Blood Kink, Forced Orgasm, Kinda Gross ngl

The rhythmic pitter-patter of feet echoes through the green, a slow churn of water thrumming with the flow of the current. Even the thick noise of crickets and wind couldn't drown out the hint of life found deep in the brush, the figurative curl of a finger beaconing him to draw closer, to close the union of rarity.

He took a breath. A deep one. Taking in the pungent scent of weak males. And a female.

Shinazugawa could nearly taste the delectable meat already, the flavor settling on his tongue and seducing his taste buds. Drool nearly threatened his mouth, but he withheld himself. He wasn't an animal. Not technically, anyway.

But he might as well be. Only an animal could hunt as he did, track as he did, kill as he did. But a beast was not nearly as precise as he was, not leaving even a scrap of evidence in his wake. Only the crime scene would be found, a gorey scene of bone and torn flesh, remnants of his well-earned meal. But only the males would wither...

As for the female -

Oh gods, did just the thought of it make him salivate, his very bones trembling with need. Her scent alone made him feel weak with hunger, his tongue curling with horrid intent. The fragrance was familiar to him, a vague memory of his past existence of rare blood, the same unique trait only serving as a grand pillar toward his success as a demon. Her blood ran the same, her veins full of the powerful elixir that his kind would quite literally kill each other for. But he had no need for such rivalry.

The path the cattle strode upon was a hidden one, veiled by a plentiful layer of wisteria about fifty feet aways on either side of the trail. The effort wasn’t so useless, he supposed. Perhaps it served useful against weaker demons of no rank, the fiends not yet powerful enough to develop some resistance to it. But his godly build was stronger, the frail flower only giving his skin a lingering sting. His hunger far outweighed it.

He had long stalked his prize. The demon had patience in these rare situations, biding his time for the perfect opportunity to make his efforts all the more worth it. It had been several moons ago that he’d first stumbled upon her delivery across these lands, his keen eye catching the lingering dust kicked up by the horses that pulled her carriage. Even back then, the chance had been perfect. The men were unknowing, all walls of defense down as the car came to a halt, surely one of exhaustion. Shinazugawa drew closer, only a breath away from finally feasting when his vision was obscured by a heavenly vision.

A small thing she was, her skirts nearly catching under her feet as she gracefully stepped down from her traveling abode. The moonlight shimmered brilliantly off her glazed skin as she bent her delicate neck back, stretching out the aching tightness trapped there. Her (h/c) hair was frizzy across the outline, the static from the summer heat pulling at the threads and giving them a coiled curl. His maw fell open with his amazement.

He’d come across several humans of marechi blood in his infinite lifetime, and most, if not all, were nothing much to look at, quite ugly in his opinion. They all bore the same simplicity and naïveté, their only unique trait being their delectable composition that gave them their sole purpose of feasting. But she was so drastically different.

Everything about this female sang rarity, her natural features reminiscent of that of ancient goddesses that mortal men could only wish to touch. But here she was. Within an arm’s reach, he could have her, do with her what he wished. He was nearly disgusted with himself, being far more captivated with his food than he should’ve been. Sparing her of death would’ve been such a waste of opportunity, one that even those lower than him wouldn’t have been so idiotic as to squander. Yet, his own self-doubt swallowed him as he drew back into the dark wood, letting her little toy soldiers bring her back to the safety of the nearing daylight.

He’d gorged himself after that, consuming soul after soul at a nearby village in an attempt to quench his own frustration and need. There weren’t many options to consider. He couldn’t spare the thing entirely, he wasn’t that fucking stupid, but he didn’t very much want her dead either. Turning her definitely wasn’t an option, women just didn’t have as much potential as demons, and he had his own personal beliefs that women shouldn’t dirty their hands. But dear gods, her scent, her smell alone probably called upon hundreds of demons to her location daily, perhaps it would’ve been a mercy to take the female’s life.

Fuck.

He hated himself for how indecisive he was. Not once in his entire demonhood had he been at such a crossroad of hesitance. There had to be another option that held the best of both worlds, yes? Shinazugawa just hadn’t come across it yet.

But fate gave him a hint as he snatched up the severed half of a female he’d killed, her guts spilling into his lap as he gnawed on her fat ankle. His daggered eyes trailed up her cold thigh, lining the dark trail of blood that seeped from under her skirt. A small confusion fell over him as he mulled over the strange placement. His blade’s cut through her navel had been clean, her blood pooling into the muddy grass and not at all staining much of her clothing. Yet the chain of red kept its existence, running into the conjunction of her thighs. Cursing his own curiosity, Sanemi swept the pesky material aside, only to be met with the brilliance of a cruel idea.

It hadn’t been hard at all to follow along the woman’s usual route of travel again, her men taking the same path, ignorant of its dangerous discovery. Yet the timing was unfortunately off, her smell still sickeningly sweet and clean rather than bitter and dirty. He’d have to wait for next time. And the next. And the next. He’d nearly given up hope entirely until the fated night his lungs were filled with the metallic scent that had his belly tensing with primal famine. Just the mere aroma of ichor had drool gathering in his jowls, his fists clenching with need. It only grew thicker as her quaint carriage drew near, the clicking wheels singing a dreadful tune with each snap against the road. Sanemi could already taste the woman on his tongue, her savory flesh plump and tender between his teeth… god, he was going to lose it.

He nearly did as she stepped from her carriage in the same manner as their first meeting, her hair knit in tight braids across her crown, framing her delicate features. She was dressed more eloquently this time, Her gown long and loose yet hugging her figure with a gentle tightness. He mused to himself that perhaps she was on her way to some formal event to maintain appearances, maybe even earn herself a husband. Yet the notion of such a possibility irked him all the same. He’d never felt a hunger like this before, if one could even call it that. This felt so much more significant, crucial even, as if his very life depended on it. And maybe it did, since he would most definitely not let himself live if he couldn’t get even a single taste of her blood. Her body was his to take.

It took him no time at all to do away with the weaklings, the men’s bodies falling one after the other into the gravel, making a sad splash as their vitals funneled out. The man ogling at her backside was the first to go, his head severed the instant his eyeline met the wide curve of her dress, dropping to the ground with a thud and rolling to a leisure stop to her heel. When the woman finally turned from her distraction of the ominous wood, she was met with pure, bloody isolation.

Her horrified scream echoed loud, her hands clawing at her own face as she looked upon the gory scene of blood and guts that surrounded her. Shinazugawa was almost impressed at her reaction speed as she quickly turned foot and bolted, running through the thick bush despite her frailty. He couldn’t help but snicker, so enamored by her utter foolishness of trying to escape. If the men protecting her couldn’t even survive, what made her think she was the exception?

“God, you’re fucking stupid, ha!” he cackled, leaping about the tree-line, nipping at her backside but giving her just the right amount of space to let her hope she could get away.

She was not at all athletic, her stamina quickly dwindling as her frail figure fought with itself to continue on. Her chest burned, her feet hurt, her will to keep moving dwindling by the second and feeding into the persuasive idea of giving up. Yet the monster snatched her before she could choose, slamming her into the soft, melted ground and caking her elegance in earth. His hand wrapped around her pretty neck firmly, another snaking down her bodice and tearing open the gold buttons of her dress. His tongue swept across his lip as he unwrapped her, taking his sweet time to unveil every inch of her pristine flesh to his ravenous eye, her little fists pounding at his chest as she sobbed and screamed for help.

“Shut it,” Sanemi growled lowly, surprised to see her actually listen, her lip wobbling and eyes flooding as she silenced herself. He could still hear her pathetic whimpers as he stripped her, her small frame shaking as he brushed down her stomach, removing the lacy undergarments that hid her delicate body from his sight. He could see her plush intimacy coming into view from beneath her coverings, her curved hips thickening her figure, her thighs trembling as they tried desperately to hide themselves. But there was nothing that could be done about that now as she lied there, helpless, powerless, weak.

He opened his mouth wide, exposing sharp canines and letting his hot breath wash over her firm abdomen as her tears began anew and wept down her flushed cheeks. The demon was pleased, relishing in her surrender and submission as he gently ran his tongue down her navel, sampling his meal and savoring the girl's pitiful sobs. He loved it when humans cried, when they begged and pleaded for their lives like the weaklings they were, it made things so much more exciting.

His tongue flicked out over her pelvis, gliding over the pudge over her sex as he breathed in the scent of her musk, tainted with ovulation. Sanemi could already feel the saliva gathering in a jowls as he began to peel down her underwear, a cotton cloth clinging to the crotch of it. Her breath stuttered.

"N-no, no, please! Please... please!" she cried out, shaking hard and grasping at her own face, nearly clawing her eyes out with panic. But she knew better than to try to fight him off again, clearly more afraid of what he would do then than what he was currently doing. He couldn't help but grin against her supple flesh, his edged teeth nicking her thigh. She jerked at the sudden pain and the warm sensation of blood trickling down her leg, soaking into the dirt.

"P-Please, p-p-please don't... h-hurt me," her words shook with her exterior, her sniffling likely a strong persuasion to those who had a heart. He obviously didn't but was still bothered by her pestering fear of being eaten. "If I was going to eat you, don't you think I would have done it already?" he groaned sarcastically.. The human slowly removed her fingers to peak down at him, her eyes red and welled with tears, lip trembling. He laughed.

"I mean come on, you think I'd let you bitch and moan this long just to kill you later? If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead. Quit fucking crying," he hissed.

She sniffled again. "B-but -"

"Zip it."

Her mouth snapped shut, quickly obeying before her brain could even comprehend him.

Sanemi growled. "Talk again and you get to join those fuckers back there." He nodded his head back to the direction of her abandoned carriage and dead guards. His claws dug into her thighs, pulling them to spread wider to encompass his presence. "The sooner you let me take what I want, the sooner I let you go. But I don't deal with brats. You either listen or you don't, 's up to you bitch."

He wasn't sure how he expected her to react, but it definitely wasn't for her to spread herself wider, without any instruction. It was almost touching how quickly she gave in, not even needing a moment to think it over before she opened herself up for him to do as he pleased. If he didn't know any better, he'd think she were eager for it.

His head fell down to her core again, his fangs pricking the surface of her skin yet again, drawing forth a shallow line of blood as he slid them down her inner thighs, his eyes locked on her frightened yet curious gaze. She shivered at the sharpness of his touch, her legs trembling as he moved further south, trying to appease his hungered excitement. He resumed pulling down her panties, reveling in the aroma of moon blood that filled his senses as he took away all obstruction. It was beautiful. The smell of blood. The sight of red dripping from her puffy lips. He could only imagine the taste, so eager in his imagination of its excellence. He'd never tasted pure ovulation blood before, never even thought of it actually. It would be stupid to use just his tongue when he could devour with his teeth in an instant and move on to the next meal. But this was a different situation entirely. This woman could satiate him for years, decades even, with marechi blood. It didn't hurt that she was a hot piece of ass either. If he didn't get himself together soon, he might end up fucking his food as well.

The woman's eyes lingered on his leisure movements, the drawl of his dangerous eyes along her sex as he studied the meal. Embarrassment quickly rose in her chest as she realized his intentions, praying that he’d move on with whatever he was trying to do so her dignity could recover. Although, she supposed letting him taste her menstrual blood was better than getting eaten alive... but hardly.

The demon felt her pulse quicken in his grasp, her breathing growing faster and her patience dwindling as she began to quiver again. He didn't blame her though, not in the slightest. But he had every right to such a rare female, he deserved everything. And if the needs of others were sacrificed, so be it. He knew he wouldn't be able to resist her for too long. He was ravenous.

And he was horny.

He smiled as his head dipped down, his tongue flicking out to smooth against her swollen clitoris, barely brushing the top as he inhaled the fragrance of her blood. Her legs trembled, her muscles tensing as her hips buckled in response, shocked with the sudden feeling of sensitivity. She had to bite her lip to silence her noise of surprise. He chuckled as he teased her, dragging his tongue from one side to the other, teasing her wet folds and leaving behind a thin trail of saliva. He didn't really care for her pleasure at the moment, but he was curious of her response to it. Dinner and a show. That was fine by him.

She bit her lip harder, her thighs flexing to keep from touching him. Sanemi was excited at her reaction, watching her face contort with each and every careless stroke of his tongue, her hips subconsciously rising to feed herself into his awaiting mouth. A few times, she almost grabbed for him, but her arms were still pinned to her side by her own strong will to survive. He liked that, enjoyed her struggle as he continued to lick her up and down, her clit becoming more sensitive with each and every pass. Her blood was intoxicating, his head already growing dizzy as he drank her from the source. He thought it would be difficult to keep himself from biting down but the thought never even grazed his mind as he continued giving sloppy licks and sucks to her weeping heat. She was so tasty, so sweet, so ripe. It seemed like she would never stop bleeding as his tongue was eternally blessed with a fresh coat of red. He wondered for a moment if it was possible to drain her of it all in one night.

He growled, his head lowering down to her opening and his tongue falling out again as she whimpered in anticipation, eyes closed tight. She felt like she was losing her mind with every pass of his ravenous tongue. Her head was so foggy and light, her pussy so warm, she couldn't stop herself from letting out small noises of pleasure as he kept feasting upon her. It took every ounce of her being not to wrap her legs around his head and trap him into her center, forcing him to cease his cruel teasings. What little was left of her fear only heightened the experience, giving her a blissful taste of sin that she'd never indulged before, the sense of danger giving her such a rush.

Her ichor only grew sweeter on his tongue by the second, her slick diluting her blood in heavier batches that gave him more a taste of lust than power. He focused on her hole then, realizing that nipping at her clit certainly wasn't helping the situation. Yet, her pleasure rose none-the-less. His tongue worked hard, dashing inside of her, licking up every drop of liquor, drinking it down as if it were a fine wine. It was nearly too good to be true, this level of strength he felt. He looked down at the girl, his eyes burning into her as he watched her squirm and grip the earth. She was so delicious.

But he needed more.

His tongue pumped into her again and again, dipping as far as it could reach before retreating to her entrance to lick up anything that had escaped him. She shuddered, her hips subtly grinding on his face to chase her nearing end. It continued building in her belly, sending bolts of electricity up her spine and warming her insides. She couldn't even feel the pain of her cramps anymore.

Sanemi sipped at her wetness more vigorously, his tongue lapping at her like a dog, desperate for more of his meal. He slowed only for a moment as the woman gave a small cry, her hips and thighs quaking harshly and tensing in his palms. He wasn't even angry when her juices sprayed him, drenching his lower face and dripping down his lips. If anything he was amused, only a human could come from such little care. Yet, he stopped, her cunt hardly even bleeding anymore being so wet with arousal and relief. What was the point of pleasing her when he gained nothing in return.

He rose from his position on the ground, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as his eyes raked down her sloppy appearance, certainly not that of a noblewoman. Her backside was caked with mud, her hair messy and matted, her face red and mouth leaking with drool. She nearly looked peaceful as she let out gentle pants, still softly shaking from such a strong orgasm. He rolled his eyes.

"Get up," he commanded, uncaring of her condition. "I don't have all fucking night."

The woman only rose when his growls became violent, her movements awkward and her head still in the clouds. She still attempted to cover herself, tucking an arm over her breasts and cupping her sex with another.

"I'm only going to explain this once so I suggest you pay attention-" he began, her eyes quickly lighting up with fright, "You are going to come back to this path every month during your menses. You will come alone. No guards. No friends. No nobody. Understand?"

She squirmed nervously in her footing, her fear beginning to crest again. "B-but I-I won’t be a-allowed to travel for n-no r-r-reason..." she stuttered.

"Not my problem."

"A-and how would I come back without anyone to take-"

"Not. My. Problem." he hissed meanly, making her cower away.

He stepped forward to her, towering over her little form. "I'm not here to negotiate. I'm just telling you what you're going to do. I don't give a fuck how you're gonna do it, but if you know what's good for you, you'll obey. You want anyone else dead because of you?" he sneered.

Her lip quivered and tears glazed in her eyes. "N-no."

Sanemi chuckled, looking down at her and pressing a strong hand over her lower belly and brushing away her small hands, dangerously close to her privates that were still glazed with his saliva.

"This is mine," he stated, passing two fingers between her puffy cunt lips, "Give it to anyone else and I'll kill them and make you watch. I'll make it slow too. You want that?" She violently shook her head, nearly on the cusp of pissing herself from the terror of such a suggestion.

He hummed with his approval of her response, giving her another once over with his eyes and a quick squeeze of her breast before backing away into the night, undisturbed with how on earth she was going to get back home. It would've been any second that he could lose control of himself and pounce, a desperate need growing in pants to satiate himself. He'd have to establish that as another rule - no fucking when she was edible. Maybe he'd pay her another visit later when her period was over, at her estate perhaps, just to take away her innocence and test out how useful she was to him. He could only imagine how pathetic she would look speared on his cock with nowhere else to go, but that would be for another night, he couldn't forget her main purpose.

And he couldn't wait to get a taste of that again.

@acehyacinth

@chaik1

@tomiokas-lunchbox

@walkingtravesty97

@keimuras

@akazaapologist

@prostheticmind

@doumakiss

@uchihabucketlist

@tired-writer04

@magoliaomega

@bishishbored

@animeblog123

@sparklyphantom

@vividelreyy

@ledafox

@that-bih

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

Steve gets the idea from Dustin and Robin, in a roundabout way: Robin insists on buying a camping stove from The War Zone, which Dustin pounces upon with glee as soon as he notices it.

“Oh, we’re cooking with gas now,” he says, which is the worst pun Steve has heard thus far.

Eddie snorts, almost but not quite hidden underneath the sound of the engine. Steve smiles.

“Y’know there’s a stove right here?” he asks in benign exasperation, gestures behind him to the little kitchen area of the RV.

“Steve,” Robin says, “that’s not as fun.”

“Yeah, come on, Steve! It’ll be like at Camp Know Where—”

“Know Nothing,” Steve mutters automatically.

“—we oft dined al fresco.”

“Oft,” Eddie parrots, and Steve can faintly feel the movement of him laughing, from where he’s pressed up against the back of the driver’s seat. “Al fresco. Henderson, what lab did they make you in?”

“Eddie, either shut up or back me up, I wanna get a culturally enriching experience outta this.”

“Oh, excuse me, didn’t realise this was a field trip.”

“You’re excused.”

“Okay,” Steve cuts in, “have fun playing at camping, Henderson, but don’t come crying to me if you, like, blow yourself up.”

Robin chuckles. “Such a happy camper.”

“Boo,” Steve says flatly.

He parks the RV a little bit away from a store just off the main road—heads in alone as it’ll draw less attention. Out loud, he says it’s so he can focus without hearing whining pleas to buy junk food, whether Dustin-approved or not, but he already knows he’ll cater to each and every one of the group’s demands.

Eddie, surprisingly, doesn’t put in a request, says he’s happy to just go along with whatever everyone else wants—a far cry from when Nancy had relayed, with more amusement than frustration, “He said he wants a six-pack.”

Steve figures that the whole being wanted for murder thing would kill anyone’s appetite, but it still makes his stomach sink, that the most substantial meal Eddie’s gotten a chance to eat has been lukewarm Spaghettios.

They set up ‘camp’ in a field, and Robin’s the first to rush outside, shortly followed by Dustin, both intent on using the stove she’s bought.

Steve leaves them all to it, kind of enjoys the temporary peace of just messing about in the RV on his own—it gives him enough time to find where some crockery is kept, anyway.

He’s heating up chicken noodle soup on the stove when Eddie comes back in and tells him, “They got it working, no explosions yet.”

“Oh, miracles can happen. Good timing, by the way.” Steve switches the burner off, pours the soup into a bowl and sets it down on the table—where he’s already laid out a spoon. “Yours is ready.”

At first he doesn’t think the silence is all that unusual. He’s not really looking either, focusing on rinsing out the pan he’d used. But when he does glance up, it’s to see Eddie just standing there, looking at the bowl of soup and blinking rapidly.

It’s almost like… almost like he’s—

“Woah, hey,” Steve says, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Eddie says, even though he’s still quite clearly tearing up. “Absolutely nothing. Jesus Christ.” He groans, presses a couple of fingers to the inner corner of his eyes. “This is fucking mortifying, just pretend you didn’t—ugh.”

In barely a blink, he shuts himself away in the bathroom.

Steve opens his mouth. Closes it. Tries again. “Hate soup that much, huh?”

A watery laugh from behind the door. “No.”

There’s a silence. Steve dries the pan and puts it away before calling, “It’s gonna get cold!”

It won’t for a while yet; he can still see tendrils of steam rising from the bowl.

There’s a long, drawn out sigh, and then Eddie opens the door, sidles in to take a seat at the table.

For a moment, Steve thinks he isn’t going to acknowledge it, which is fine. But as Eddie picks up the spoon he says, head down, “It’s just. That was, uh. Really—really nice.”

Steve’s concern abates a little; he can’t help giving a slight smirk. “Would it help if I was mean instead?”

Eddie laughs again, no tears in it this time. He shrugs with a grin. “Do whatever you want, man.”

He’s eating slowly, his spoon dragging through the soup. His eyes seem distant.

“It’s just… I miss—” His voice threatens to break, but doesn’t quite get there. “I miss… home.”

Before Steve can think of a reasonable reply, Eddie scoffs, rolling his eyes. He drops the spoon with a clatter. “God, that sounds so—”

“It doesn’t,” Steve interrupts.

“Yeah, sure.” Eddie picks up the spoon again, keeps scraping it against the bottom of the bowl.

“Dude, what did I tell you? You’ve gotta give yourself a break.”

Steve pauses, stuck on what to say next.

He can’t even relate, honestly. Home has long become something he couldn’t… Something he couldn’t really miss, exactly.

It’s ever-changing: the luxury of eating a late breakfast in History; the crunch of leaves underfoot as he walked the railroad tracks with Dustin; the chill of the freezer in Scoops Ahoy, Robin’s snorting laugh bouncing off the walls.

Now it’s his car radio playing as he gives rides on busy school mornings. A high school basketball game. A goddamn video store.

“I think you have this thing,” Steve says slowly.

“A promising start,” Eddie says, lips twitching.

He’s finished the soup. The sight spurs Steve on.

“I think you have this thing,” he repeats, more confidently, “where you think that, like, we’re seasoned monster-killers, and you’re—”

“Uh, speaking objectively, Harrington, that’s kinda what you are.”

“My point is,” Steve says, “that you don’t need to—shit, I don’t know, man. Just. You don’t need to apologise or whatever. You’re doing fine.”

Eddie blinks. He’s cupping the empty bowl with his hands, breathing a little deeper, like the residual warmth is calming.

And that Steve can relate to: in the days after Starcourt, when Robin pretty much dragged him to her house, empty thanks to her folks visiting extended family. They both pretended that they just wanted to stay up late because they could, because they were just teenagers enjoying the summer, and Robin had made shitty hot chocolate from a powder, heating up milk on the stove; when Steve complained that he could hardly enjoy it through a busted lip, she’d said, still jittery, “I just thought—it’s just nice to hold, y’know?”

She was right.

One of Eddie’s fingers starts tapping against the bowl, the underside of his ring making a series of restless clinks. Steve wants to still his hand, gently press it further into the warmth. Settle him.

Eddie stands up with the bowl.

“I can—”

“Nah, I’ve got it,” Eddie says, already at the sink. He turns on the faucet, smiles. “Thanks, by the way.”

It’s so simple, so domestic, and all of a sudden, Steve’s struck with a thought: oh, I want this.

“No problem. I’ll get you something better, after… um, everything.”

Eddie chuckles. “Oh, Jesus, I think I actually would kill for some fries.”

Steve clicks his fingers. “So we’ll make it happen.”

“We?”

“Yeah, I hate to break it to you, man, but as soon as they hear about free fries—” Steve jerks his head towards the chatter outside, “—they’re gonna demand to come with, they’re like piranhas.”

He expects Eddie to play up the joke, to groan and complain.

But while he does laugh, Eddie just sighs before saying in earnest, “That sounds fucking fantastic.”

And his eyes are warm and fond, like maybe he’s found another home in all of them, too.

#another ‘throwaway’ line from a previous ficlet wouldn’t let me go #pre steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve and robin #steve and the party #eddie and the party #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve and dustin #eddie and dustin

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wordsvomit101 · 4 months

Text

... Lucifer is how Christian Gray believed he is/jk

We already know Lucifer to be THAT guy but this is just a new whole layer and when combine with some info about him and his brothers, we got a pretty interesting case of why he might has a kink for dacryphilia, or how he might, 'allegedly', be a lowkey sadist (not surprising but still give me a gasp when I think about it).

The original source is here, credits to @shyanimeboi and their friend: https://x.com/shyanimeboi/status/1795183592961655077/video/3\

Warnings: Mentions of torture (info from chapter 5 in canon story), 1ncest, sexual content, and some depiction of violence. MNDI

I noticed how he been switching his way of addressing MC from Solomon, to Adam, and to Eve, throughout his chats. And it either a spontaneous things where he group the 3 humans he know the most together and just address MC with them on a whims or it could be something more personal.

The type of unicorn he is talking about is most commonly known in the western folklore, where unicorns are fierce and hostile, and become docile only in the presence of virgins. While occasionally fiction writers have invoked the principle that men can be virgins also (see, e.g. Poul Anderson’s “Honeymouth”), usually, “virgin” implies “girls or women,” and therefore only women who have never had intercourse can tame a unicorn, but it could be also for those that are utterly pure (of heart if not of mind).

So it pretty much confirm it, Lucifer either get freaky in the 0rgy they got going on in Heaven or he get freaky with his brothers, which is weird but compared that to the torture camps and experimental labs on devil children, the possiblities of unhinged millenia old angels banging each others is something I expected but wholely not interested in opening that can of worm.

I would call myself the weird one when I think of some 50 Shades of Gray when I look at this image since in the chat Lucifer seem like a Disney princess:

This part set apart Lucifer and his brothers in a subtle but clear way because unlike how Gabriel and Michael would get into a fight on whether who would get to kill a devil, how Michael would easily commit genocide on an entire race of dragons, and how Raphael would eat his fellow angels for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Lucifer can form a bond with another creature, who would be killed by the trio if he were to show the same attitude as he did with Lucifer. This also reflected how he became Gamigin and Jjok's brother. His normal open-minded aspect is so jarring that when compared to his brothers it stands out like a neon light.

And how he prefers action over words is probably what got him to care for Gamigin, Jjok, and the devils. Devils are honest by nature, and their feelings are worn on their sleeves, with a few exceptions (Leviathan, Orias, etc.), up until now, we rarely see a devil that doesn't commit to their promises or declarations (Satan does bring Minhyeok back from death, Mammon does own Hell's economy, Leviathan live his life perfectly every day for his friends, etc.), in some cases they might really lose limbs or even die for it (in Leraye's event, he broke pieces of his horn to turn them into bullets to protect the city). In a way, he also values genuine actions as proof of one’s character, loyalty, and intentions. Gamigin took him in when Lucifer was a fallen angel and nursed him back to health despite the danger of getting the devil's ire and how much Lucifer rejected his help (and was rude about it too), he persisted and he was consistent in his kindness. Jjok is scared of him, at first, but he still continues to visit and talk to him almost every day while he is in bed, and even begs Satan to not take his "family" away (I will cry again god-).

It also might be an instinct as an angel if he were to compare them to his love for God and how he might find it hard to correct his brothers' mania, where their only purpose in life is to love and worship God, no matter how terrible they become for him. This principle reflects a certain integrity and consistency in him. He expects others to demonstrate their worth through their actions and probably enjoys them trusting him, and he likely holds himself to the same standard (ie, how he becomes a devil and declares to protect Hell, feels guilty for the atrocities his brothers and Heaven have done, how he didn't shut it down and was a part of the problem, etc).

The horse from Hell he is talking about is probably a bicorn (a not very well-known folklore two-horned creature that is a fan of depraved people) or kelpie (a shape-changing aquatic spirit of Scottish legend known for tricking people into riding on them for some malevolent purpose) or just savage beasts of war that need no rider, the counterparts to the unicorn. So his methods of training the unicorn won't work on them.

Now to get back to my point on the switching of the address from Solomon, to Adam, and to Eve. It is just a theory but it could mean something like this:

"Daughter of Solomon": Used to express a personal or significant connection between them, possibly based on MC's predecessor's wisdom and who is known to be king of peace and someone who is loved by God and the devils.

"Daughter of Adam": Highlights common humanity (Adam represents humanity as the first human created according to biblical texts) while pointing out unique or odd characteristics.

"Daughter of Eve": Emphasizes femininity or human traits related to curiosity (Eve is tempted by the serpent to eat the forbidden fruit from the Tree of the Knowledge) or innocence (Genesis 2:25 states that "Adam and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame," indicating their complete innocence and lack of self-consciousness or worldly concerns, which explain the "You are runaway, or have no sense of crisis").

👀

👀👀

👀👀👀

Um, chile anyway so-

Lucifer has that brat-taming, bondage, and dacryphilia things going on... So be proud and bratty y'all-

#whb #what in hell is bad #wordsvomit notes #whb lucifer

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finniestoncrane · 4 months

Text

Old Times Pornstar!Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, multi-part au fic cooper howard is a former actor, novice pornstar, and current wasteland escort. reader mistakes him for a bounty hunter and ends up getting far more entwined in his lifestyle than they intended in a bid to get what they need from the first 'kind' person they've met in a long time🤎

☢️ Chapter 3: Show Time, word count: 4.5k cooper has a little idea that really seems like a win-win-win-win!! reader gets enough money to hire a bounty hunter, cooper gets paid his due, they both get to spend more time together, and hundreds of people will benefit from that!! unless you hate cowboy themed puns, in which case you WILL NOT benefit... Chapter 1 Chapter 2 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: penetrative sex, blowjobs, cumshot, facial, sex on tape, pornography/sex work, rough sex, exhibitionism, puns and bad acting abound, missionary/doggy style/cowgirl, fingering

The bar was open when you woke up, surprisingly selling alcohol as well as some food. No one else appeared to be eating, only sipping out of bottles or chipped mugs in complete silence. So you thought it would be best to join them.

Once you were comfortable on your stool, you rifled through your bag, finding a few caps in the inside pocket. You asked the bartender for a beer and took a swig, scowling at the taste, but taking another one immediately after anyway. The bitter flavour was waking you up, heightening your senses, clearing your mind with enough of a shock that you could hear your thoughts. About Cooper, about the night before, about how or when you were going to either continue on your mission, or return home empty handed, worse off than when you left.

It would be a difficult choice. But not one you had to make immediately. You could allow yourself a day, maybe another night here or in the next settlement. A break from reality. From the pain of home. You rifled through your bag once more, making sure you had enough of what you needed, except for caps, which you were now lacking in completely, and finished the last of your beer. You had intended to go for a walk around the town, see what else a big settlement like this had to offer, but as you stood up and turned, you walked straight into the person standing behind you.

“You leaving without a goodbye then, darlin’? When you owe me money?”

“Cooper! I, uh… I wasn’t actually-”

“You think I wouldn’t notice?”

He tossed your caps onto the bar, all of them jangling together in their container.

“I seem to be missing a few.”

“Well, I had to pay for the other room, so I thought-”

“No excuses.”

He tapped the tin with one gloved finger, looking at you intently, never blinking, not once.

“You didn’t even leave me a tip. Was it that bad? ‘Cause it sure didn’t seem like it was.”

“No! Cooper, it was… it was really good.”

You had lowered your voice, aware that there were people close enough to hear your discussion, and not wanting to embarrass Cooper in front of them, or have yourself outed to the entire town as the new girl who was only there to fuck their resident trick pony. In response, Cooper leaned in, whispering, his voice rumbling through his chest as he grinned.

“Well, I suppose I can let you in on my plan. A way for you to keep that pittance for your bounty hunter and to give me my dues, plus interest. Whaddaya say?”

It took all of your focus not to jump immediately at the opportunity. Most of that enthusiasm was down to the idea that you might get to spend even more time with Cooper, something you’d been pining for since you’d left the room the night before. And it killed two birds with one stone, because the longer you were here, under the guise of actually working on the plans you set out with, the longer you could avoid the seemingly inevitable conclusion of having to return home with nothing.

Maybe Cooper would offer you something new. An opportunity. Maybe, if you prayed hard enough, you could spend the rest of your life doing nasty things with Cooper, having fun, with someone more exciting that anything you had ever encountered before, and then you’d never have to face home or the failure that came with it. That felt like a pretty good deal.

For Cooper, it was a chance to feel like himself again. He’d spent so long in this new body, this new way of thinking, that he had almost forgotten what values he held close. Before this, before the bombs, before Barb and Vault Tec and the divorce. Until you had spoken simple words of kindness to him, he’d never thought about how much he’d given up. But he realised that with you, he had a chance to help someone, and help himself, his old self, at the same time.

And it wasn’t as if he was giving up on being a reprehensible bastard cold turkey. Even though he was doing some good, he was lining himself up for a damn good time in the process. He just couldn’t send you away yet though, not when he was feeling a proper connection for the first time in a long time. Not when there was someone he felt something with.

Both of you were also worried about the same thing, though neither of you would admit it. It felt far too soon, almost cliched, to be so tied to one another already, but there was a tether there between you. Cooper couldn’t face the idea of going back to anonymous, meaningless sex where his body was the focus and his mind and soul were locked in a box until he was finished doing the task he was paid for. He couldn’t bear the thought of feeling the inside of someone else’s body, when he’d known yours so intimately, although briefly. And on very much the same train of thought as Cooper, it pained you to think about him going off and being with other people, forgetting about you maybe, after one or two or three more clients. There was more to your encounter than that, more than could, or should, be forgotten. Fate, kismet, destiny.

But those felt like very sappy words to throw out so soon after meeting each other, if at all. So you both kept looking at one another until you broke first under his intense gaze.

“Ok then, Cooper. What did you have in mind?”

“Follow me.”

He stood up from the bar and walked towards a table in the corner of the room, shaded and dark, as though he required the atmosphere to drill home the nature of the deal which you imagined was going to be shady, given Cooper’s mischievous grin. Once you were both seated, he leaned in across the table and spoke in a hushed tone.

“Now, I told you I have a way for me to get paid, and for you to make enough money to find a better bounty hunter than you were gonna for that shit budget you had before, but you’re gonna have to hear me out, darlin’, because I don’t think you’ll take kindly to this to begin with.”

You nodded slowly, brows furrowing in a look of concern as you wondered what Cooper was about to say to you. But instead of opening with his plan, he opted to ease you into it, sort of uncomfortably, by reflecting on the night before.

“Listen… I don’t want to give you any undue credit for what was all my work, but last night… Well, that was really something.”

Swallowing your nerves, you nodded once more, trying to downplay the excitement burning in your throat. It might never happen again, despite how much you wanted it, but at least Cooper had felt the same way. It had been different. Special, if you wanted to use a word that made you almost cringe.

“I gotta tell you, I haven’t had that kind of chemistry with someone since… well, in a long time. Usually, this work, it’s a means to an end that doesn’t seem to be coming. But I think I know how to get out of it. If you’ll… indulge me.”

Another nod. Still no words. You didn’t think you could speak even if you had anything to say except a shrill, giddy scream.

“Now, before all of this, and I mean before all of this, I was something of a star. Up on the big screen, and the small screen. Just about any screen they had. And while I’m not particularly proud of some of my work, having had to let my body do the lead role, I can’t deny that it was lucrative. There’s always money in sex, y’know?”

You imagined there was. Already you’d sunk your remaining life savings into it, and you’d only been propositioned once. It was clearly an industry worth something, even though Cooper hardly sold it by proclaiming he wasn’t proud of it. Still, you were keen to know where he was going with this, still unsure, or perhaps not allowing yourself to read too far ahead in fear of making an assumption that would be incredibly embarrassing.

“See, the kind of chemistry we had - have - is one you don’t come across too often, and it works so well on screen. We’d be foolish not to take advantage of that, don’t you think?”

“I agree.”

Your voice cracked on the last syllable, but you felt you had managed to play it cool as best as you could be expected to when Cooper was smiling at you the way he was, leaning over the table, close enough to you that you could feel his warm breath on your cheeks.

“So I propose that we use it to our advantage. A contact of mine, scavenger, he found some pretty good equipment, and one of his friends figured out how to work it. I bought it from them, nostalgia’s sake. We could make ourselves a little movie, sell some bootleg holotapes at the bar to my vast and varied clientele. Profits for me, profits for you. What do you think?”

“You want us… to…?”

“Make some pornography. You’re familiar with it, aren’t you?”

And of course you were. Who wasn’t? Explicit material was hoarded, traded, treated like high class art because of its desirability but rarity. Hand-drawn, audio recordings, some magazines. But you’d never watched any before.

“And that’s… that’s something people would want?”

Cooper scoffed, settling back in his chair, shrugging his shoulders so nonchalantly at your query.

“They might not know it, but it is. Any TV out there, provided it’s not blasted to shit, you can connect it to power. It won’t show anything new of course, but they’ll play a holotape. I know we’ve got a market for this. I know it. But you’ll just have to trust me, I suppose.”

You mulled it over. There were so many things to take into consideration, and so few of them were actually permeating past the excitement of getting to fuck Cooper once more. Besides, you needed the money. It wasn’t as if you were in a position to turn down whatever it was he was going to offer in the way of a grand scheme. You still felt like there should be at least an attempt at pretending to think it over, so you asked him the only question you could think of.

“How will I know what to… do? Or say? Is there going to be a story?”

Cooper grinned wide, his yellowed teeth bared at you in a mischievous expression as he leaned in once more.

“Oh don’t you worry about that. I had a bit of a hobby, writing scripts. No one ever wanted them, but I always fancied myself moving into writing or directing in my later years. And how much later can we get, I’m already two hundred years after considering that.”

Despite giggling at his comment, you could feel the sudden stress rising up in your chest, and you took a deep breath before asking him the follow up question that was playing on your mind.

“Do I need to like… remember what to say?”

“You know what, darlin’?”

Cooper took your hand in his, patting it condescendingly, but you took the comfort eagerly.

“You don’t have to say a thing except for what comes naturally. You let me carry the scene. I am the actor, after all.”

He winked to you, lifting his glass and downing his drink in one.

“Shall I show you my script then? You in?”

With an enthusiastic nod you got up when he did, following him back through to the room you had paid for the previous day and sitting down on the bed with him, clutching the frayed, torn papers he had tossed to you from his pocket. Reading over it, you could feel both a desire to giggle and blush, as well as a heat crossing your lower back. It was so corny, so obvious, but nevertheless it was arousing.

“So, what do you think then, darlin’? Am I good, or am I good?”

“Oh… you’re good, Cooper.”

“You in then?”

Again, you didn’t want to seem too eager, so you pretended to mull it over, looking at the paper so you could avoid Cooper’s gaze, before you set them down next to you and nodded to him.

“I’m in.”

He clapped his hands in excitement, stomping heavily towards the pack in the corner of the room, his own possessions stowed away neatly, a lifetime condensed, dust picking up around him, becoming unsettled in his frenzy.

“What are you… Oh… Oh, Cooper… really?”

In his hands he held two items of clothing. A skirt that was barely anything, moth-bitten and stained slightly, but still surprisingly white in colour. And a shirt, similarly discoloured, fringe detailing on the collar with frayed embroidery detail the shoulders.

“You gotta look the part, darlin’. Now, you go put that on and I’ll get us set up.”

In the bathroom, you put on the outfit Cooper somehow just had, clearly waiting for an opportunity like this to come up, waiting for someone to fill the role. It made you feel special, like you were the chosen one. And that boost of confidence made you feel all the more attractive in the skimpy skirt and shirt that felt a little too tight across your chest. Upon exiting the bathroom, you found Cooper waiting for you by the side of the bed, the big heavy lump of equipment sitting on the wonky dresser and aimed at the bed.

“Shouldn’t it look more like… a Western in here?”

“You got the budget for set dressing, missy?”

You raised your hands up, a silent apology for even questioning it, realising that Cooper had quickly been distracted by your outfit and was already forgetting your insolence as he took in how much of your legs were on display.

Snapping himself out of the fugue state brought on by your body, he swallowed the collecting drool in his mouth and hit the button on the camera, walking over to you and winking. You did your best to recollect the bare bones of the script, enough that it might see you through this. But you were confident that in your excitement, you could play the part well enough.

“You’re safe now, ma’am. Those raiders won’t be comin’ round here no more.”

Standing before Cooper, you hesitated for a moment. But when he caught your eye, he offered you an encouraging nod and a smile that washed away most of your nerves, enough that you managed to get out your first line. And once that was out of the way, everything after it came easily.

“Why, kind sir. How can I ever repay you?”

“Well, little lady, I can think of plenty of ways you could thank me for my valiant efforts.”

“And what might those be, sir?”

Cooper hooked his arm around your back, pulling you into a quick embrace, tipping up the brim of his hat so he could lean into you.

“Oh! Well, sir… is that a pistol in your pocket? Or are you just that happy to do a good deed?”

“It’s my six shooter, darlin’. And if you’re a good girl, I’ll let you unload it.”

“Wow, you truly are a real cowboy, ain’t you?”

Pushing past the urge to cringe at the slight accent you were putting on, you managed to keep up the flirtatious act as you leaned into Cooper, hands behind your back to push your chest out further as you swayed a little.

“Indeed I am, little miss. Now, let me show you how a cowboy gets his thanks.”

Cooper grabbed your hips, pushing you backwards until you landed on the rusting bed with a thud and a squeak. He was quick to hike up your skirt, pushing the fabric up until you were exposed to him, no underwear on. He pulled at your waist, angling you so you could be seen by the camera, and as you nervously pressed your thighs together he pushed his hand between your legs and spread them back apart.

Two of his fingers began gently stroking at your already wet and aching cunt, diving into it slowly, testing the waters, teasing you, like a glimpse of what was to come as his fingertips tapped right against the perfect spot.

“You sure are somethin’, sweetheart. A mare to tame, huh? Lucky for you, I’ve done my fair share of ranch work.”

He worked quickly at his belt and pants, letting them slide down to his thighs, freeing his thick, hard cock. No sooner than you had begun to admire it, mouth watering, stomach clenching, he had lined it up with your entrance. He slid the tip against your folds, the head tapping your clit and sliding back down before he shifted his hips and pushed forward, entering you in one smooth motion.

Your body reacted with a wave of heat, electricity flooding your nervous system, waves of static rushing over you as he began to pump his hips into you. He pushed his arms behind your back and lifted you slightly, bringing you to an angle, bucking up to fuck you deeper. You hooked a leg around his waist, holding him as close as possible, not wanting him to ever slide his cock back out of your cunt. You felt complete with it in there, throbbing against your walls.

With your body close to his, he pressed his forehead to yours, unblinking as he focused on your eyes. There was an insatiable hunger in them, a ravenous desire for you that wasn’t just a bit for the camera. Cooper was really that hungry for you, greedy in his ruinous pounding as he let his cheek rest beside yours, tugging on your earlobes with his teeth as he grunted with exertion. Your heart thrummed as he teased your skin, working down your neck, biting the skin and sucking it into his mouth with a soft groan.

But he let up quickly, softening the blow of his sudden stopping by cupping your cheeks in his hands.

“Bend over, darlin’. I wanna ride you like the wild pony I know you are.”

You were up and repositioning yourself almost immediately, his cock slipping free of your cunt with a deliciously wet sound, your thighs coated in your arousal, spreading apart once you were on your knees before him on the bed, waiting to be filled again.

Cooper watched as you opened yourself up to him, holding his breath as he lined his head up once again with your cunt, pushing in slowly, inch by inch, until he was completely swallowed by your warmth. Setting himself at a brutal pace, he snapped his hips back and forwards against you, biting back his moans, breath hitching as he pulled your hips down onto him hard and fast. His fingers dug into your waist, nails pressing sharp crescents into your skin as he recklessly fucked you.

With a silent scream you arched your back as he rutted into you, deep and penetrating, only becoming more erratic as you writhed under him, squirming with pleasure as the head of his cock pounded against your g spot. Each knock felt like a jolt surging through you, each buck of his hips, the way he rolled into you, a sweet impact of pain and pleasure. You could feel him through you, full of him, happy to take him like this, his co-star, a place for him to bury his cock and make his money.

His legs began trembling, and he slowed his pace with a deep exhale.

“Wanna see if you can make me scream ‘yeehaw’, sweet thing? Why don’t you hop up on my lap. You can ride me so hard they might need to take me out back and shoot me.”

Cooper settled himself onto the bed beside you, patting against his thighs and waiting as you adjusted yourself once more, your legs straddling his hips. He held the base of his cock still as you sank down onto it, your cunt spreading, stretching to fit him once more, taking the entire length immediately, feeling completely stuffed.

He hissed, biting his lip as his cock disappeared into you once more, the pressure around him as you clenched, gripping him, had him whispering out in heated moans, until he was finally accustomed to the feeling.

“I hope you’ve got good balance there, darlin’, cos I want you riding me bareback like you were a pro.”

His voice rasped on the words, a low, guttural sound that fell over his lips, a threat more than flirtatious joking, and you were happy to see it through.

Working your thighs, you began rolling your own hips against him, feeling him twitch as you slid up and down his cock. Cooper’s breathy moans only spurred you on, moving faster, harder against him. His eyes were focused on your body, the way your breasts bounced as you rode him.

In a frenzied move that almost had you falling from him, he pulled your neck, bringing your body down to him, your hips moving up and down to keep sliding over his cock, bringing it inside of you, still buried deep within your cunt, but now he could nuzzle against your chest.

His breath was warm against your skin, his neck stretching so he could catch your nipples in his mouth, worrying the buds with his teeth and tongue, sucking at them with satisfied sounds of ecstacy. Cooper’s own hips had begun bucking to, a syncopated rhythm between you both that led to a wild, frenetic pumping of his cock inside of your aching, fluttering walls.

“Fuck… fuck… fuck.”

He’d lost all control of himself, and could feel the climax approaching, faster than he had hoped, but he couldn’t have expected it to feel this good. With a smile, he pushed your shoulders back, watching you as you sat on his lap, cock deep within you, pulsing, close to cumming with every little movement you made.

“Now I know you ain’t a one trick pony, why don’t you show me what else you got up your sleeve.”

Cooper lifted your hips, guiding you off of his cock, your slick coating it in strands that pulled and dripped against your thighs. Following his strong arms, you sank to your knees on the floor in front of him, noting that you were directly in the line of the camera lens, ready for your big finale.

He began stroking his cock, his palm becoming sticky with your arousal, the smacking sound of the well-lubricated motions so lewd, almost sultry. The perfect addition to the film.

“How familiar are you with ropes? Because I got a few for you here.”

His face was growing warmer, nerves on fire, cheeks burning, as he felt himself reaching his climax. With a racing heart, Cooper began to lose his composure, hitched breaths leading into a loud cry, a choked sob and moan as he came, white, thick ropes of his seed spilling onto your cheeks, against your lips, your neck and chest covered in droplets too.

Standing unsteadily, Cooper began to dissolve into the pleasure of a satisfactory conclusion, but not before he finished up the scene. His hand moved to the side of your neck, stroking around, fingers trailing over the front of your throat before his touch left you.

“I’ll be on my way now, ma’am. But you ever run into trouble again… I sure would like to be the one that saves you.”

You managed to suppress the giggles until he was standing in front of the old camera, hitting the button again. He started dressing himself, presentable enough that he could leave the room.

“Cooper… that was…”

The words wouldn’t come to you, or rather, too many words came to you. Silly. Fun. Surprisingly hot. But as you watched his face contort into one of anticipation, almost nervous, you knew which one he wanted to hear.

“... amazing.”

His charming, cheeky smile rose back up on his lips as he nodded towards.

“Well, thank you, darlin’. You never know… this sells well enough and I might be looking to find a permanent position for you in this little business venture.”

You hoped he would. Beyond anything else, that’s what you wanted. Somewhere, at some point during all of the fun you were having with him, your subconscious had come to the conclusion that spending more time with Cooper, potentially all of your time with him, was what you wanted now. You could send money back to your settlement. You could hire a bounty hunter to do the work for you on their behalf. You could free yourself from a quiet life. You could find excitement, pleasure and, potentially, love. All of it was possible now. And you suspected that Cooper was certain it was too. Otherwise, would he even have mentioned the possibility of continuing to work together? He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would tease about something like that.

The thoughts remained in your head, too afraid to say them out loud in case you scared Cooper off with your quick attachment and your eagerness to be fucked by him on a long-term basis. You tried to think of something to say. Sharp, witty. Something that would set you on the same level as him, or at least close to it. Something that told him how much you wanted him, how much you wanted to stay here, without actually saying those words out right. But as you pondered over it, you realised you had another burning question, one that actually might work on all the levels you needed it to.

“Wait, don’t I get to finish?”

Cooper turned to you from the doorway, smiling wide, a smirk that made your stomach muscles tighten.

“When this little movie gets us our money and you can afford to pay me, I’ll make sure you do.”

He turned away, walking out of the door with the camera and the pile of holotapes in hand. Once you were dressed, and you had cleaned him off of your face, you followed after him, quick and dutifully, as you expected to, or at least hoped to, for as long as he’d let you.

Just as you finished dressing yourself, Cooper appeared in the door frame, tipping his hat to you as he winked.

“You comin’ then, partner?”

#fallout #fallout amazon #finnie writes #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout fic #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard one shot #cooper howard smut #cooper howard imagine #fallout tv #fallout tv series #walton goggins #cooper howard x fem!reader

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mayullla · 1 year

Text

Title: Little Sunshine! (Part 2)

Characters: Mainly Akaza with Douma (/Doma) at the end! (Demon Slayer)

Summary: You were taken into the Paradise Faith cult with Kotoha (Inosuke's mother.) And Douma became rather fond of you like he did with Kotoha. When Kotoha ran away, she had no choice but to leave you behind as Douma hid the truth away from you. After becoming a demon you slept for a year and finally woke up again.

Warnings/tags: Platonic yandere, fem!child!reader, reader recently got turned into a demon and just woke up

Note: Part 1 is here!

Akaza didn't know when or why he started to become so attached to you. When he was forced to come to Douma's cult to tell that damn demon some news about the demon slayers, he wanted to keep the time there at the minimum.

That was where he met you.

You were alone in the middle of the garden, looking everywhere, confused and tired. He thought you were a human child at first but had to take a second glance when he realized that you were a demon.

He wondered if it was a joke, a demon art of some demon that could turn into a kid. Yet when he saw your eyes, it was clear that you were not a trap made by some weak demon. You looked at him with no fear but with curiosity and wonder. An innocence that was not supposed to be in a demon yet there...

You took a step towards him when your leg suddenly lost energy and started to fall. You thought you would hit the floor, face first into the dirt, but that never happened when the collar of your sleeping robe was grabbed by the mysterious man who was once on top of the wall.

Looking up at him, you saw the man confused face, surprised at his own actions. "Thank you, mister!" You said, returning to looking down to the floor, your feet not quite reaching as you made a kicking motion.

He let you down after a pause, but before Akaza could leave, you started asking him questions. Asking if he knew where Douma was? "How do you know that guy?" Akaza asked curiously at you. You pouted at him as he didn't answer your questions. "I live here! Douma-sama had let me stay!" You told him flapping your shoulders' sleeves.

Somehow, everything clicked in an instant when he realized who you were. He suddenly remembered that long ago, Douma had asked Muzan if he could turn a small kid into a demon a year or two ago.

You were probably the child that he had turned into a demon.

Akaza snapped back into reality when he felt his pants being tugged, looking down to see you holding him, wondering why he wasn't saying anything.

"Mister, are you okay?" You asked curiously. Giving you a grunt, you took it as a sign that he was okay and smiled at him. Watching that smile, it was strange if not weird almost to see it in a demon. Most demons have malicious intent, as most have killed or done things that were morally wrong, even if they haven't by now the smell of blood should linger on their skin. Demons can't eat food anymore to survive.

They needed blood.

Yet here you were. He barely could smell any of it from you. He wondered if this was the first time this ever happened. Why were you even here, Akaza thought to himself as he unconsciously patted your head.

When you giggled, the innocent sounds made him uneasy.

"Mister, play with me!" You called out to him, raising your arms. "Up! Up!" You told him. Akaza blinked again in surprise when he saw you asking him such a thing. Never in his life after becoming a demon did someone ask him to play like this. Most human kids run away either because they already know that he was a demon or they witness him kill someone.

However, you refuse to let your hands down and continue to stare at him. He wondered if you couldn't feel it at all, the difference in rank between him and you. Most demons can't even look at him in the eyes. Yet it seems that you didn't care as you approached him again one step and then suddenly lost strength again, staggering as you thought that you would fall again.

Akaza caught you... again. Why did he do that??

Bring you up to eye level, holding you by the collar Akaza examined you as if you were some foreign alien. You looked at him again and smiled as he wondered why you are so weird?!

Reaching out to him again, you motioned that you want to get on his shoulders.

"... Fine... Just this once." Following your instructions hesitantly as he placed you on his shoulders, holding your legs as you held on his hair. You giggled as you started pointing him in directions to head to, "Go there, Mister! Go there!"

It was so awkward for him as he followed your childish demands, wondering why he was even listening to them. Walking over to trees, you touched the branches that were far too high for you to reach before and beamed at him with self-pride. "I am so tall!" You laughed.

The more the two of you played under the moonlight, the more relaxed Akaza started to become. When was the last time he played like this when he was relaxed with almost no care in the world? He smiled as you showed off to him that you were taller than him when both of you knew that he was carrying you which made you tall.

And Akaza... maybe in a way, wanted to show his powers to you. He thought it would be a fun idea really.

You gasped in surprise when he jumped, the wind on your hair, as you guys reach so high over 3-story buildings up. This was your first time seeing up so high. You shouted in awe and excitement as the both of you landed on the roof of a building. You raved on and on about how cool that was and that Akaza was amazing, with so much respect in your eyes begging him to do it again.

You don't know how long you played with Akaza, jumping higher and higher up in the sky, and you looked at the world around you under the night sky. You didn't know when you fell asleep again, a smile on your lips hugging Akaza's neck as he held you in his arms.

Akaza looked at you in wonder, wondering why you were a demon yet so amazed by what Akaza thought was normal as a demon.

But right now wasn't the time.

"You can show yourself now." Akaza didn't turn around to face Douma. He knew for a long time when the guy showed up but would rather focus on you to really care for the man.

"Ah, Akaza-donno, thank you for taking care of her. She has been sleeping for a while now and must have been so confused to wake alone like this. It is such a shame that I wasn't by her side." Douma walked towards you, his eyes on your hair, your face hidden by Akaza's neck softly snoring away, unable to notice the two demons looking at you.

"She didn't notice anything... she is weak." Akaza stated he could not smell, not even a scent of blood other than Muzan and Douma's in you. In his mind, it was obvious that Douma had been staving you for so long now.

"She has been sleeping for over a year now after her transformation to a demon. The poor little girl refused to drink blood when her senses were telling her to do so. I had an amazing meal prepared just for her, too, that time." Douma smiled, his eyes on you slowly turning to the one holding you. "Thank you for caring for her but I will take it over from her-"

Douma's hand that was reaching out for you suddenly exploded into bits and pieces, spraying blood and flesh. His eyes still smiling as he stared at Akaza showed no emotions of annoyance or anger.

But you could see a small vein on the side of his temple.

Akaza didn't want to give you back to Douma. He didn't want to give you to this sick bastard because Akaza knew that he would break you. And as a demon now, this pain can be forever. Rather than with Douma, Akaza knew you would be father better off with him.

He would not let you go, not like this.

Note: Hope you liked it! Have a nice day guys~

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dojunie · 7 months

Text

MISDIAL; LJN [CH5] VOICEMAIL REDUX

[★]; [MISDIAL MASTERLIST] [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

info;

lee jeno x fem!reader

college au

chaptered

very slow burn

genre; not-quite-friends to lovers, older brother mark lee, brothers best friend lee jeno, light angst, yn is a menace to society, story/character driven

warnings for this chapter; kys mention in joking manner

chapter wc: ...13K

a/n: i couldn't decide between posting this monster whole or cutting it into two parts, but two parts kind of makes the pacing weird, so here she is in all her glory! been editing this so long that i've gotten sick of looking at it so im just going to release it into the world now LOL, pls pls pls give me feedback on this chapter, im not 100% satisfied w it but i cant tell if its because it sucks or i've just been rereading it too much 🥸

current tl: @hibernatinghamster / @jenoxygen / @eaglesnotravens / @donutswithjaminthemiddle / @jvjsssnaa / @huangrenhyucks / @luvenshiti / @shiningdery / @jaeminsbebu / @aliceinwhateverland / @bebsky / @gem-gem / @jkjkseo / @jenosbliss / @pewpewpwe00 / @ti–red / @philanarose / @softbbyg0rl / @aaasteroidsky / @carelessshootanonymous / @en-boyz / @jlsavyy / @roseymerrie / @bangchanisemo / @skuezk / @jaehyuns-adorable-dimples / @ourbeautifulaffair / @jeonnyread / @jvjsssnaa / @episkeyjeno / @bockhyun / @jenojammin / @zarastrawberry / @peachie-bear / @itadaramaterasu / @alymii / @cuteejeno / @episkeyjeno / @nohunlee / @ooojisoo / @luv4jeno / @jydivrs / @pinkysinnerbaby / @jenojenoyes / @maeyoung / @axmdocs / @nctzennikki09

FORGET WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT NEVER BEING ABLE TO GET MAD AT SOMI, BECAUSE THIS TIME, YOU’RE REALLY GOING TO KILL HER.

At this exact moment in time, the Aegon Showcase is set to begin in about fifteen minutes. You’ve got half of a chocolate muffin stuffed into your mouth (courtesy of Somi sneaking a few snacks from the audience lounge, since the dancers technically weren’t supposed to be eating any of the guest refreshments), and you were about halfway through swallowing this chunk of bread when Somi said something that made you nearly choke.

For context: six and a half days have passed since you’ve last spoken to Jeno.

And you haven’t been counting, either. It just so happens that it is surprisingly easy to recall every passing minute when each one feels like it’s been put there specifically to test you.

The afternoon after the Balcony Incident, for example— a few fresh hours after you left Lee Jeno behind on that overlook with the full intention of never looking him in the eyes ever again. After a late breakfast with Somi you’d told her you weren’t feeling too well, that you’d be leaving a little earlier than planned (which, even though you’d said your pain was of the intestinal variety, wasn’t untrue; you didn’t feel well, if the widening pit in your stomach caused by that morning was anything to go by) and departed her penthouse a little after one.

You’d foolishly hoped that Jeno and his entourage would have plans literally anywhere other than Mark’s place for once, wanting to do nothing but silently mope around the apartment for a few hours once you'd gotten home, but you’d been naive.

You’d been so, so naive.

“Oh!” you’d heard. Renjun. Brown hair, big dark eyes peeking at you around the doorframe as you cradled your now-aching nose bridge. You opened the front door and crashed face first into something solid. “Hey, you. Perfect timing. Do you wanna come grocery shopping with us? Jaemin’s cooking tonight!”

“We’ll even let you ride in the cart,” Chenle chimed in from further into the hallway, grinning wickedly, but you couldn’t focus on either of them because they were both half-hidden behind what you’d smashed into with your haste to get inside. No gray flannel this time, but the same unreadable expression on his face as he, much like he did at the party last night, instinctively grabbed you to keep you from falling on your ass.

(Or his expression was unreadable. Until his eyes trained on something about your face that he didn’t like and his dark eyebrows furrowed with something akin to concern. Then you remembered you’d been crying all morning and surely looked like some sort of dried-out blowfish, eyelids puffy and swollen, so you averted your eyes and jumped out of his grip like he’d stung you.)

“Busy,” you told them quickly, “Sorry. Not today.”

Renjun pouted. Chenle squinted at you, obviously doubtful. And when Jeno finally moved out of the way, you didn’t even thank him for keeping you upright. You just kept your attention on the ground and beelined into the apartment.

Little did you know, that one word would become your mantra. Busy, busy, busy. But it wasn’t like you were completely lying, because you were busy. The Aegon showcase was in a week which meant you had practice every free hour with Somi and the others, and the last thing you needed was to get distracted by circling Jeno like some kind of sad, miserable shark. The good thing about being out of the house so often was that most of the week passed with no more Jeno-related incidents.

Thursday night ended up being the first time you’d seen him with your own eyes since you face-planted into him the previous Saturday.

You’d returned home at 10PM, sweaty and exhausted from a last minute choreo change that had, apparently, also wiped clean the memory of what Thursday nights meant in the Mark Lee household. Movie night. The tiredness you felt was so all-encompassing that upon the discovery of all seven of them sitting around the couch staring at you as you entered, there wasn’t even enough energy to feel awkward. Even then, you must not have looked as ghastly as you felt because Jaemin smiled at you like nothing was amiss, gesturing towards the dining table and the mountain of brown bags atop it.

“You’re late, Rockstar. Take-out’s gone cold.”

Jeno was sitting right next to him. Your muscles were like jelly. All of your bones hurt. Your brain felt like it was operating on nothing but fumes. (And this is what you blamed for your cowardice— the fact that you couldn’t even hold your head up to look in his direction in fear of catching his eye.)

After everyone had gone home and you had free reign of the kitchen once again, Mark hit you with a few more questions about the Aegon Comp; seemingly insignificant inquiries like how the parking situation was (which you didn’t understand the importance of, since he said he’d probably ride his bike there), and if he could sit wherever he wanted (which again, confused you, because the ticke you’d gotten him was one of the best in house). But in your state of fatigue you didn’t think to question it. All you wanted to do was eat something and go to bed, and that’s exactly what you did.

(If you’d had your wits about you maybe you’d have put two and two together. Maybe Somi’s words wouldn’t have caught you with the surprise they did. But as it stands…)

As it stands it’s Friday afternoon, the day of the Aegon Showcase, and half a chocolate muffin is stuffed into your face (technically now stuffed into your airway) as you come to the realization that your friend might secretly be trying to ruin your life.

“You really need to stop eating your food so fast,” Jiara murmurs, clapping you on the back with a little more force than necessary. “No one is going to take it from you. Smaller bites will go a long way.”

You gasp a breath when the chunk finally unsticks. Then, “You saw who in the audience lounge?”

Somi is nonplussed by your horror.

“I saw your brother out there trying to throw a skittle over a lighting fixture and still catch it in his mouth. When I was leaving with our food I think I heard a bunch of people cheer so I’d bet he managed to do it, which, when you think about how high these ceilings are, is actually pretty impressive—”

You fight the urge to grab her by her shoulders and shake her. “I’m not asking about the goddamn skittles!” you hiss. “Somi, you said you saw ‘them’ when you went out there. Them as in plural. Who is them?”

She makes a face like you should already know who. “Who else? Mark and the rest of his crew. And Donghyuck asked to bring a few more, so I guess those are who the other guys out there are. Why are you acting like you didn’t already know this? You were sitting right next to me when Donghyuck was practically begging to come!”

Your life flashes before your eyes.

Jeno’s car. The rain, pounding against the windows. Catching him looking at you in the mirror after Somi told them about the showcase, how it felt like the world outside faded away a little as some little message passed between you— when you felt like he was telling you something without saying a single word.

Then you remember it. In your distant, distant periphery, even though she’d been sitting not even a millimeter to your left when these alleged plans were discussed.

‘Yeah! I mean, I reserved like, a bajillion seats in advance because I knew I’d want to invite everyone who would even consider coming— I’ll definitely get the best row for you guys!’

“However,” she says after a beat, voice finally starting to show the tiniest bit of caution. You realize that your face has begun to contort on its own. “I am starting… to get vibes. That I maybe should have run that by you first? Would now be a bad time to let you know that I told them about the afterparty, too?”

Utter disbelief. The only reason you don’t leap on her once you fully comprehend what she’s said is because Gawon, who’d been watching this entire exchange with quiet brown eyes, puts a hand on your shoulder. She must be able to tell that you’re about to start freaking out, because her therapist-voice is fully activated when she clears her throat.

“Can I ask what's so surprising about this?” she asks carefully. “When we were telling Aegon about how many tickets we each wanted, you said you only needed one. For your brother, right?”

You thought of the ticket, the little envelope you’d held under your pillow for weeks as you fought with the idea of actually giving it to Mark. In the end, a few days ago, when you handed it to him and told him he could come watch you perform if he wanted to, he smiled so big that you felt bad for waiting so long in the first place. But you’d then quickly explained the caveat: that he was not to tell any of the others about it, because there was only one ticket and you didn’t want them hassling you about getting more. And Mark agreed.

Which is why you’d dared to assume that tonight would be safe.

“Yes,” you mutter. “The ticket was for him.”

“Which means you’re not surprised he’s here. So are his friends the problem?”

“The problem?”

You pause. That word makes it seem like their appearance here is actually detrimental to you in some way, like they’re just here to hassle or bully you or something, but that’s not really it at all. Your annoyance at them being here is rooted in the exact opposite. They’re not going to joke around and take it easy, or pat you on the back and tell you that you did well, like how they would if they’d come to watch one of their friends dance. They’re going to swarm you and coo and treat you like a five year old that just stumbled through their first ballet recital.

And as if that isn't bad enough, you realize with a start that you've actually got more to worry about than just being embarrassed by their innate need to baby you.

They, you remember yet again. Plural.

You quickly fix your doomsday-esque expression. "Uh. No, no problem, just... I'm over-exaggerating, forget it, Somi, when you said they, how many are we talking exactly?"

"Seven," she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and you fight to keep your shoulders from sagging. "The three from the car, your brother, and three others I don't really know as well, but who're all just as cute."

Seven. Which means Lee Jeno will be in the audience as well. You should've already known that, fully aware that wherever Mark goes Jeno will follow, but you'd been so startled by the change in attendance that you'd momentarily forgotten that you were pointedly avoiding one of that seven.

Great.

A click echoes over the announcement system. You recognize the voice that follows as the organizer of the showcase, the cheerful woman from the promotional video, happily informing all the performers to head to their greenrooms for final warm-ups before the show.

Well. Even if you wanted to mope for longer about your predicament, your mind switches lanes to the task at hand. Somi and Gawon both titter excitedly at the update, but make sure to quickly give their final reassurances about not worrying too much about the people in the audience and using that energy to give your all on stage. They’re right of course, and you probably would have come to this conclusion on your own once you swallowed your knee-jerk reaction to gripe about everything involving your brother and his friends, but you can’t say that their enthusiasm doesn't do the heavy lifting of bringing you back to earth.

You've got a competition to rock, after all. You could worry about everything else after.

Adrenaline made the hour-long showcase go by in what seemed like fifteen seconds.

Just like that, a short chapter of your life closed with a bang; seven minutes on the stage, deafening cheers, Jiara and Guyeon pulling everyone into one big sweaty hug as soon as you were all out of the spotlight— then you blink and you’re in Gawon’s car with the windows down blasting down Gangnam on the way to Somi’s house, the girls in the seats around you singing along to the radio at the top of their lungs. The sun is setting, you’re heading to your celebratory afterparty, and what should be a picture-perfect moment is completely ruined by the fact that your mind has been in shambles for the last hour and a half. Why?

Because as you inch closer and closer to Somi’s penthouse, all you can think about is the fact that Lee Jeno is sitting up there biding his time before he can stomp your heart into a million more microscopic pieces.

What you didn’t mention about the moments after the performance was that, after rushing through changing out of your performance outfit to find your friends and get the hell out of there, you stumbled out of the greenroom to find a person. A person who was frowning out in the corridor like some sort of mopey ghost, Jeno in all his annoyingly perfect glory, caught mid-pace.

Upon seeing him your body rebooted, a hundred different emotions flashing through your system from the shock of him appearing in front of you at that moment. The only thing you had time to notice before his words ruined the rest of your afternoon was how… fidgety he was; Running his hand through his hair, rocking from foot to foot, crossing and uncrossing his arms over his chest. You’d always taken note of how still Jeno could be sometimes, not moving an inch for seemingly hours at a time, which was the main reason his current inability to stay still even caught your eye— but it was quickly overtaken by the utter despair you felt not soon after he caught sight of you and opened his mouth.

“Can we talk?” he’d asked. And he’d sounded so unsure of himself that you almost instantly crumbled to the puppy-dog eyes, before reality grabbed you by the neck and you remembered that talking to him was actually the last thing you wanted to be doing right now.

“Busy,” you’d forced out. “My friends are waiting for me outside.”

But he must’ve seen this coming because he looked nonplussed as you took a step back, his own feet matching yours stride for stride, hands coming out almost as if to calm you like one might a spooked horse.

“It won’t take longer than a few minutes,” he tried, “Five minutes, just five. I just— I really, really want to clarify a few things from Saturday. What I said on the balcony.”

He said it like there was a chance you might’ve forgotten what happened, which almost made you laugh in disbelief. Like it was possible to forget that shitshow, your first love telling you that he was kind of interested in you once upon a time, but did nothing about it because your brother came first. Though, once you fully realized that he meant he wanted to talk about that right now, the moment lost its humor.

Now? Here? You glanced up and down the hallway. Your friends weren’t around, nor were his, but you were hardly alone.

“I wasn’t being entirely—”

“You're going to the party, aren’t you?” You cut Jeno off. Very unlike you when it came to him, and with the way he blinked you had a feeling he knew that too.

“The party?”

“Somi said she invited you guys.”

“I— I wasn't sure you wanted me to come.”

“Somi invited you, Lee. Is that any way to treat your hostess? We can—” You swallowed. “Come by, and we can find a minute to talk then, but for now I really—”

“Have to go,” he finished with a small wince. “Got it.”

And once he’d metaphorically let you go, taking a step back to slip his hands in his pockets, you’d all but run away; finding Guyeon and Gawon waiting for you like they said they’d be, ready to leave and head to Alice’s house to pretty-up for the party in her gigantic flat. You were trying your best to keep up the energy when you got into the car with them, laughing along to their jokes and dancing along to the music, but you couldn’t stop thinking of what type of curbstomp Jeno was about to release on the suffering remains of your sixteen year-old feelings.

Even up until the final touches of your make-up, you were commiserating. What the hell could he possibly want to clarify?

Was he going to tell you to stop being weird around him and the others, because your mood was fucking up their vibe? To stop avoiding him so obviously, that it was as noticeable for everyone as it felt for you, that it was making it awkward for him?

Or could he mean that he was going to tell you he’d… misspoken? That he’d never really liked you the way you liked him, and didn’t want you to misunderstand— by interested in you he meant in the way all guys were interested in all girls, some lowly, surface level thing that he quickly got over when he realized his friendship with your brother could be jeopardized by it?

The last thought had stung a little more than the others, and you’d accidentally frowned so hard about it that it creased your still-setting concealer and had to wipe it all off.

After angrily redoing your base you’d forced it from your mind and got dressed, stealing a simple henley dress from Gawon’s closet upon realizing that you were not in the mood for sexy-cute like Somi had said the dress code was. Instead you opted for ‘hey, you can see my legs and that's good enough,’ and huffed your old leather jacket on top of it; the latter was sure to piss her off but she still owed you from the Mosquito Boy Incident, so she could kick rocks about it for all you cared.

You had a feeling that no matter what you wore, tonight wasn’t going to be very sexy-cute at all.

The party is just getting into the swing of things when you make it upstairs. It’s like the explosion of a birthday surprise when you and the girls walk through the door. This party is technically a celebration, and you guess a lot of these people must’ve been in the Aegon audience without you knowing it, because you’re getting congratulations and kudos and pats on the back like you’ve just won an olympic medal.

But your pride is short lived, tainted by a bolt of nerves when you think you spot someone that looks like Donghyuck in your periphery. Where Hyuck is, Jeno will be.

It turns out to only be a very tall girl with a pixie cut who winks at you when you whirl your head to her, but the stress of it doesn't ebb away. God. Is the whole night going to be like this? Walking on pins and needles until he finds you?

“You know, new girl,” A voice starts at your side, startling you further, “Your ice breaker back at that my party could’ve been that you’re a kick-ass dancer, instead of that bullshit with the mosquitos.”

Wooyoung. Your friends are suddenly nowhere to be seen when your turn to him, clearly having fucked off into the mass the second alcohol became available, so it’s just the both of you hovering over by this snack table. Though this is only the second or third time you’ve interacted with him past a greeting (you see him sometimes on campus, and he always waves at you like you’re best friends when you pass each other), you’re actually rather soothed by his presence.

“You wanted to know juicy secrets, not secret hobbies. If you asked me for an ice breaker and I told you I could dance, you would’ve kicked me out of that house.”

He laughs, a snickering sound, before eyeing two jello-shots a girl walks by with in her hands.

“Do a shot with me?” he pouts. “My friends are running late and I’m still painfully sober.”

A shot?

...Hm. A shot. Inebriation. You’re not one to like straight liquor because the burn in your throat is often more than you think the gag is worth. But if you’re looking to relax sooner rather than later… the pain might not be without its merit.

Liquid courage. Something you could definitely use right now, as skittish as you’re being. Maybe he’s onto something.

“Just one?” you pique, turning to survey the options. “Thought you were more hardcore than that, VP.”

One jello-shot quickly turns into four with Wooyoung involved, and your mouth is sweet with the taste of artificial dye by the time you actually spot Donghyuck, over by Somi’s balcony doors chatting up some pretty girl you recognize from your physical education class. The volleyball player. Xiaoting or something close, and you almost snort at the sight because she seems way out of his league. But he has a way with words that you guess you could be attractive when he wields it with flirtation in mind, instead of the intent to piss off like he always does with you.

The Smirnoff burning in your stomach must already be settling in because you only mildly bristle when you see him. Like you thought earlier: Hyuck is here, which means Jeno is here. And… and the Smirnoff must’ve already hit your brain, actually, because all of a sudden you’re feeling agitated and confrontational.

You don’t want to spend all night worrying about when he’s going to find you and drop the bomb. So what if he doesn’t like you! So what if he probably wants to forget the moment that happened out on that balcony never occurred at all? You lived your life without yearning over Jeno for years before you moved back here, so it won’t even be that hard to go cold-turkey when he says what he needs to and inevitably squashes the remainder of your heart in his fist. It’s fine. You’ll live.

You just need to rip it off like a bandaid first. And to do that?

“Hey, Woo, I think I need to go and look for somebody. You’re still down for that dance battle later?”

“I don’t play around with my challenges,” he says, grinning much too wide, “I’ll find you later, and then it’s on. Knock em’ dead, new girl.”

As bold as you suddenly are, you actually don’t want to go and interrupt whatever Donghyuck has going on just to ask him where Jeno is. So you’re on your own for a little, scanning the walls for him and the stupid clavicles poking out of his button-up, hair all windswept and eyes so dark. It’s nearly a minute of searching before you see something familiar— but it’s not exactly what you’re looking for.

Close enough, though.

It seems like Na Jaemin has actually spotted you first, since he’s already heading towards you when you spot his head of pink darting through the crowd. You don’t fuss when he musses your hair and gasps over the competition, applauding you in that sickeningly earnest way he always has, since you’re used to his preening and compliments. Not to say you’re not appreciative. It always makes your face hot when he coos over you like this. But you’ve got a mission in mind, and fretting at him over the pouting and cheek-squeezing will get you nowhere.

“Yes, thank you, I did hear you cheering over everyone else at the end, no I wasn’t hiding my swag from you on purpose, thank you, you can stop pretending to cry now. Where is Jeno?”

The idea of you looking for Lee Jeno on purpose must startle him, because there’s a second after his clear offense at you brushing him off where he registers what you’re asking for and actually looks a little concerned. “Jeno? No-Jam? Why? Did he say something to you?”

“What? No, I just need to talk to him about something. Thought he’d be hanging around you.”

Imperceptibly, Jaemin lightens.

“Oh. He’s downstairs hefting handles out of Somi’s car, because blondie forgot half the drinks in her trunk. He got volunteered by Chenle as Mr. Muscles and left with her like five minutes ago, so he should be back any minute.”

Damn it. Forlornly, you glance at the door, but there's nothing. No movement. Nada. There goes all your building bravado.

“But before he returns, young lady, should we talk about how that red tinge to your lips better be from the non-alcoholic jello-shots?”

Ah. Whoops. Not only no movement, but now you’ve gotten yourself trapped in the sights of Na Jaemin, who likes to pretend to be staunch on things like laws and teenage innocence and waiting to do things until the government says you’re allowed to. You constantly forget that you’re not yet the drinking age, because no college student handing out drinks at a party ever gives a fuck about the fact that you’re legally not quite legal yet. No other college student besides the one standing in front of you.

“You’ll stunt your growth if you drink before you’re supposed to!”

To this you glance at the cup he’s holding, clearly half full of something, and nearly go to laugh and ask him what his excuse is since he’s barely 21 himself, but then you think of something funnier. Without really thinking about it you snatch the cup from his hand and hork it down. Your eyes are locked with his the entire time so you get to see his surprise grow into shock, then expand into disbelief as you chug, and chug, and chug.

There’s a lot of… some peach flavored crap in here, burning like murder all the way down, to the point that you’re more bewildered than smug when the cup is finally drained because, “Fuck, Na, what is that shit? Are you trying to black out?”

“Language!” he hisses, genuinely startled for the first time you’ve seen in a long time, which makes you laugh, “And of course not because that wasn’t mine, you little brat! I was holding that for Somi!"

“Oh,” you reply, only mildly shifted by this news. Sorry, Som. Now you know it must be peach Schnapps. She loves Schnapps. “What, so you’re not drinking tonight at all? Are you DD?”

“No! I’m not drinking, and I’m offended that you don’t already know I hate the taste of alcohol. Mark, who may I remind you is in this room and would’ve just shit himself if he’d seen what you just did, is playing designated driver tonight! He’s…”

And as he glances towards the kitchen you follow his gaze. You’re expecting to see your brother, most likely laughing over something his friends are saying, maybe even trying to dance-battle someone if he's having a particularly good time. Instead you see your brother chatting up Jeon Soyeon.

Jeon… Soyeon. Nabi Bar, Jeon Soyeon. Who you haven’t spoken to or even seen since that awful night in Gangnam.

And you nearly gasp in terror at the sight.

Jaemin doesn't finish his sentence, and you dart your eyes to him when you realize this. He doesn’t look very pleased by what he’s seeing either, though you’re guessing for an entirely different reason than the one that’s just made you go cold.

“What?” you ask a little too quickly. The front door opens, which should be your cue to look for who’s just come in, but you can’t tear your eyes from the sight of Soyeon and Mark. What the fuck? What the fuck? “Do they know each other?”

“Know each other?” Jaemin scoffs. “Hard to quantify.”

It would be very, very bad for you if they knew each other. Very bad. If not already clear, Mark still had no clue you weren’t where you said you were on the night of Nabi Bar. If she happened to mention your involvement in that shity, shitty idea, you had no doubt that Mark would go all holier-than-thou on you in front of all these people, and that you’d probably have to dive off of the balcony to escape the reaming.

He doesn’t look particularly comfortable, near pressed up against kitchen island because Soyeon is so close to him, hand rubbing at the back of his neck in that way you’re well aware means he’s getting flustered; but you see him laugh at something she says in the next second, and it doesn’t seem like his fake laugh. Mark’s fake laugh is terrible, and even from a distance you can spot it like the flashing lights on an ambulance, a beacon of distress just the same. So he’s laughing for real, at something… Soyeon is saying?

But you hardly recall her being very funny.

“What does that mean, hard to quantify? Do they have history?”

“Something like that,” he murmurs. “Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about. Anyway, I think Jeno is—”

“You never look at anyone with any kind of attitude, and just now you rolled your eyes at her.”

“I didn’t roll my eyes. I blinked. For a long time. Something in my eye. Dusty in here.”

“Somi has this place deep cleaned twice a week.”

He stares at you like he’s begging you to drop it. You stare back, unwilling. “You know, Na, the longer you stall, the more time that all this illegal alcohol in my blood has to make me more bold and reckless and unruly. If I don’t get an answer from you I might just go over there and ask her myself. How do they know each other?”

You’re bluffing, of course— there’s no way you’re about to go over there just to see what they’re talking about when you could safely squeeze that information out of Jaemin instead. In reality, you were only pressing because you wanted to know if they were close enough for Soyeon to know you and Mark were related. If not? Then perfect! You’d forget it all and be on your merry way, reverting back to your original plan of finding Jeno, because there’d be no chance Soyeon could spill the beans.

But if Soyeon does know? You might have to leave this party a little earlier than scheduled.

“You want the whole, grown-up truth?” Jaemin finally relents.

“Might I remind you for the hundredth time that I’m only a year younger than you?”

“A year and a half,” he acquiesces with a sigh, “And Jeon Soyeon may or may not have slept with your brother to get him to do their midterm project last year.”

It comes out like he’s reading the headline from a newspaper and you made the mistake of swallowing right before he opens his mouth, choking violently on your own spit. He pats you on the back as you hack and cough before continuing.

“None of us are really sure about exactly what really happened because Mark kind of shut down after, wouldn’t tell us anything. But it was pretty clear he liked her before. She’s kinda his type, you know?”

Edgy, pretty, and fucking evil, yeah, after having to chase a few of them away in high school you’re well aware of his type! This was not what you wanted to know about when you asked if they were close! What the hell?

“He told us they’d gone all the way right before she asked him to do their entire music production project because she was too busy caring for her sick little sister. He, being the bleeding heart he is, pretty much refused to listen to us about how convenient the timing was; he even got mad when Chenle did some sleuthing and found out that Soyeon’s parents facebook, which was filled to the brim of photos of their family, didn’t have any trace of another kid in their midst besides her. Wouldn’t believe us until after the project was turned in, when he tried to meet up with her for weeks and she ghosted him every time.”

He frowns. “At the end of it, he wasn’t… It wasn’t good. He was pretty crushed.”

Now you regret chugging his drink for fun. Even before it you’d been feeling further than chill, pleasant and buzzing from your shots, well prepared for whatever hell was to arise with Jeno. Now you felt loose; too loose, fingertips tingling at your sides because of this news, heart pounding in your chest, body so warm from the alcohol that you felt like Jaemin would hiss if he’d laid a finger on your skin.

To play games with you, that’s one thing. But Soyeon has laid her hands on your brother?

“And, knowing all of that,” you say slowly, clearly, “You’re still letting him sit there and talk to her?”

“I want to kick her away,” Jaemin says flatly. “I’d be lying if I said I trust that girl as far as I can throw her. But it’s not really up to us to get involved.”

“Who is us?”

“His friends? I mean he was pretty clear when it happened that he did not want to talk about it—”

You bark a laugh, but there’s no humor to it at all. “So he can pout and gripe about the sanctity of discussing your problems with people, the embarrassing, the horrifying, but when it comes to him he gets to keep secrets? Forget how hypocritical that is, you guys are listening?”

Jaemin, finally, seems to catch the heat in your words. “Uh. He told… I mean, before you get all up in arms, she may be over there apologizing for all we know. Maybe she’s repenting.”

You both stare at her as she tips her head back in laughter, the salacious flirty kind where you’re more focused on being attractive than actually enjoying the joke, before she puts her hand on his chest in a, ‘Wow, you’re so funny, take me now,’ kind of way, leaning in to say something to him that she clearly doesn’t want anyone else to hear. Every hair on your body stands up when Mark doesn’t push her away.

He’s not seriously buying her shit again, is he?

“Jaemin, are you willing to bet your life on that?”

“What?”

“Everything you just said about Soyeon. You know that for fact?”

“Well, no, Mark didn’t actually tell us about it so I can never be sure, but… but with what we could gather, it was pretty cut and dry. Chenle actually also found out she had a boyfriend at the same time she did all that stuff with Mark. We just couldn’t bear to tell him that after the fact, so we never… Hey, where—”

You’re sober enough to make it through the throng of people without stumbling, but not sober enough to fully anticipate what you’re really about to do. The goal is just to separate them, somehow, to get that harlot away from your brother, and then you’ll go and deal with Jeno. If people greet you as you pass you don’t hear or see it; all you can grasp is her, touching him, laughing with him, cheating, lying, people-using—

“Mark,” you nearly hiss, “I need to talk to you. Now.”

Mark jumps a foot in the air when you grab him but Soyeon, for some reason, doesn’t look surprised to see you in the slightest. She does, however, raise a sharp blonde eyebrow at your tone.

“What,” Mark splutters, “Right now?”

“Yeah,” Soyeon sighs, continuing to trail her eyes up and down Mark’s face instead of looking at you, “The grown-ups are talking, sweetheart. Can’t you give us a second?”

Mark turns back to the sensual softness of her voice like a moth to a flame, and you want to smack him. “No. Not a second now, not a second later, not a second tomorrow or forever. Now, Mark.”

And that was where you made the mistake that turned this whole night sour. Only when Soyeon realizes it’s her you have a problem with, catching on from the agitation in your tone that you’re not just here to bother Mark for fun, does she slide her unreadable gaze to you.

“You know I haven’t seen you in a while, Little Lee.”

“For the better,” you mutter. “Seriously—”

“I was so surprised when Yuqi told me you two were related.”

She’s talking to Mark but looking at you, eyes squinted a little, like someone analyzing a germ under a microscope. So she does know. Great. “I couldn’t believe that this girl was the same little star you used to tell me about when I met her. She’s grown up a lot, you know? Doesn’t take after you at all, Markie.”

“Soyeon,” you say again, “Let him go.”

“Why? So you can keep throwing your tantrum? Every time you open your mouth it gets harder and harder to see the resemblance. When you’re so…”

She doesn’t need to say it, and it’s honestly probably better that she didn’t, because you would’ve leapt at her if she’d gone as far as she’d been intending to dig with that comment. You’re aware you don’t resemble Mark, physically or otherwise— in accomplishment, in talent, in patience, in perfect unmarred reputation. You’re well fucking aware.

“Soyeon,” Mark finally says, thankfully lurching a little in your direction like her evil witch's spell is finally wearing off, “I don’t think there’s any need for that, what the hell is going on? Do you two know each other?”

Soyeon opens her eyes comically wide. “You don’t know?”

And you feel Mark stop. What the hell are you doing, you want to scream. Why are you even pausing for this bullshit? Come on! But he doesn’t. He stands there and he stares at her, as if searching her face for any sign of truth, and Soyeon takes this as her cue.

“Little star is a big girl now! Her own fake ID, clinging along with her baby bottle to any club the adults want to go to, even catching her own ride home with any wasted guy that smiles in her direction! Don’t you live together? What a handful she must be if she can sneak out under your nose, Markie.”

The blood rushing in your ears makes it hard to tell if it’s only you that’s losing your hearing or if the rest of the people hanging around in the kitchen really have quieted to watch the rising altercation, but you don’t dare move your eyes from the girl to check. The baby bottle comment, outing your fake ID, all of that is rage inducing on its own— but it’s a cold, stomach twisting madness that grabs you when you latch on to the last part of what she’s just said. Catching your own ride home?

Was she referring to Yoobin?

Your fingers unfurl from Mark’s jacket.

“What do you mean, catch my own ride?”

Soyeon laughs. Under normal circumstances, it would be a pretty sound. “Did you think we didn’t see you leave? Blowing up our phones like there was some big emergency— We sent that guy out there to keep you the company you wanted so much, God, we got tired of babysitting you. You stopped calling and neither of you came back inside. What, cause your brother is here you’re going to try and soften it up now, huh? Tell us all you didn’t go home with that drunkard, when you love to tell people you’re no stranger to a bar?”

Yoobin, who grabbed you, touched you, tried to drive you home in his wasted state with clear intentions on what he wanted in return.

Yoobin, who Soyeon and Yuqi and their friends had sent, knowing you were panicked, knowing he made you uncomfortable, knowing you were looking for them.

Soyeon who stopped hearing from you and laughed it off. Soyeon who stopped hearing from you for days and didn’t bat an eye, knowing what she’d left you alone with.

Soyeon, who’s straight, pretty nose cracks under your fist in the same way Yoobin’s did, except this time you don’t run away when she screams and collapses and you realize what you’ve done. Except this time you hit her again— or you try to at least, lunging for her with your eyes ablaze, unsure what you’ll do when you get there but 100% sure it’ll hurt worse than a bloody fucking nose— but don’t quite get there, because someone has lifted you off the ground, two iron-bar arms wrapped like vices around your ribs, the worlds tightest back hug.

In your right mind you might’ve placed the sandalwood and the bergamot, or recognized the rolled up sleeves of his oversized button up, ivory and forest green, but as it stood—

As it stood, as you shouted and thrashed and fought, you only made out one thing.

Mark Lee, your own brother, helping Jeon Soyeon to her feet, two hands firm on her arms to hold her up; his surprised voice the last thing you hear before Lee Jeno hauls you out of that house.

“Wow, Soyeon. Is that true?”

(”Rockstar is going to wallop that girl,” Donghyuck mutters, staring at you like they all are from behind the pillar separating the kitchen from the living room, alerted to the worsening confrontation by a sheepish Jaemin.

“No she won’t," Jaemin tries, clearly feeling guilty, "She knows better than that.”

“She’s gone still. And I’ve never, ever seen her eyes that wide before.”

“That’s control. It’s restraint. She’s not going to hit her.”

Renjun, then, “If you really believe that then why do you look so nervous?”

“Her fist is balled up,” Jisung comments quietly.

“It’s restraint!”

“You weren’t there the day that she knocked the socks off of Park Gyubin, right? When he tried lifting her friend’s skirt up in the cafeteria?”

“She…” Jaemin glances at Donghyuck, “She’s tried to fight men before?”

“Tried to? I thought she was going to kill him. Y/N hit him so hard he had to get his retainer refitted. She’s got a right hook like her brothers. I bruise when she hits me, you know.”

Renjun again, “Why do you sound so proud of that?”

“She… Well, no, look, look! She let go of Mark. They have to be deescalating, she—”

“Does deescalating usually involve getting closer to the object of your anger?” Jisung asks.

“She—”

“Here it comes,” Chenle announces excitedly.

And then Jeno is across the room.)

Jeno realizes before you do that you’re not going back home tonight.

His apartment looks the same. Obviously. It’s only been three weeks since you were last here. Like before, Jeno doesn’t bother with the lights, kicking his shoes off in the entryway the same way, except this time you have two shoes of your own to place next to them instead of the sad and lonely single. Three weeks ago, but it feels like it’s only been a day or two since you did this whole song and dance; following him to the bathroom, sitting on the counter as he stoops under to rummage through his first-aid bin, gritting your teeth when he rubs your knuckles with the antiseptic, smiling weakly when he apologizes for the sting.

You’d cried in his car.

When Jeno carried you out of Somi’s apartment you thought the stinging in your eyes was just discombobulated rage. But when he set you down on your feet in the elevator and you began to come down from the adrenaline high, the burning just intensified as you understood what just happened. You’d only been able to keep the tears at bay until he told you to put your seatbelt on in his passenger seat and it all became too real.

Though you’re not sober enough right now for it to feel like a problem yet, you know you’ll want to kill yourself tomorrow for allowing yourself to devolve in front of him like that no matter the circumstance. In the moment, you weren’t even entirely sure what you were crying about. Was it the craze of fury wearing off after punching Soyeon, and the jitters it left behind? Or the fact that even when Jeno was tugging you towards the elevator up there, you’d stood and waited for Mark to follow for nearly an entire minute, just for him to never come out?

You’d like to chalk it up to adrenaline and inebriation, but deep down you knew exactly what it was that had your eyes brimming with those tears.

He’d chosen Soyeon. The girl who’d lied to him, cheated with him, fucked him over for a grade and left you for dead on the streets of Gangnam, and he’d stayed in that house with her instead of coming out to check on you. And you weren’t really one to catastrophize, but how couldn’t that signal the definitive end of Mark putting up with your shit? The nail in the coffin of his patience with you?

You knew things had been rough lately with you moving in, the thread of butting heads over little things like curfews and the people you hung out with, but you hadn’t thought your relationship had deteriorated to the point that he’d ever… that he’d ever choose someone else. You’re his sister. No matter how mad he is, he’s supposed to choose you.

But he didn't. And in Lee Jeno’s passenger seat, like a giant baby, you cried about it.

In proper Y/N fashion the only thing that had chuffed you into sucking it all up and swallowing it into the depths of your soul never to be seen again, was Jeno’s building appearing on the horizon. The threat of him asking you if you’re alright and actually having to confront those feelings was terrifying enough to jar you out of your self pity.

But he hadn’t asked you about your red eyes. He hadn’t said anything, actually. He just tugged you out of the car and into the elevator. Herded you into his apartment. And tipped his head towards his bathroom just like before, except this time he was smiling. In the soft, polite kind of way that let you know he was well aware of what just transpired in his car, but was simply... letting it be.

(And you always knew Jeno was rather observant. But man, the thought behind that smile could’ve made you burst into tears all over again.)

On the counter, holding out your hand for the steps that would never come, you blinked back to the present when Jeno stopped at the healing salve. You’d been waiting for him to bust out the gauze again, already lamenting the next week of your life with the itchy fabric tight around your wrist, but all Jeno does is raise an eyebrow at you when you don’t hop off of the sink after he puts the kit away.

“What are you waiting for?” he asks.

You blink down at your hand, shiny with the balm, and then back up at him. “The rest of it.”

“The wrap? I didn’t think you needed it.”

“But that’s what you did last time I was here.”

“Because the last time you were here you didn’t know how to punch someone properly. It looked like you got her the right way this time. When I was tugging at that wrist in the elevator just now you hardly seemed to notice, when you could barely close your fist a few weeks ago.”

…Oh. Only as he mentions it do you roll your hand around in its socket, flexing your fingers under the bathroom light. Your knuckles look like shit, the newly forming bruises and angry skin, but it doesn’t actually ache like it did that night with Yoobin.

Well you’ll be damned. So straightening your wrist really does work.

“Oh,” you mumble. “I guess I don’t. Wasn’t really thinking about it.”

“Of course you weren’t. Probably thinking about what you wanted to eat, right?”

“What I— What?”

What you wanted to eat? When did you discuss that you were hungry?

“Heard your stomach grumbling in the car, so I’m assuming you haven’t eaten since before the competition. There’s a pizza place down the street that I think you’d like, a jajangmyeon shop too, but their delivery takes ages. It’s up to you.”

You stare at him, clearly not following. Jeno is relaying this to you like tonight was planned, as if it was always in the cards for you to be hanging out at his place tonight like a couple of pals, leaning against the door with his arms crossed, the perfect picture of normalcy. He thinks you’re going to be here long enough to eat? He’s not planning to have you shipped out of here in the next half hour?

But then you realize that there isn’t really another place for you to be shipped to. Mark’s apartment is… not really an option. The idea of going back there tonight almost makes your stomach roll, actually.

But if you don’t go back, that doesn’t leave much in the realm of locations to hide out at. Somi’s brother is coming home tonight, she’d squealed as much this morning, and considering how rare it is that he’s not busy in other countries you abhor the idea of intruding on their reunification. You don’t have many other friends here that you’re close enough with to just show up at their place at 10PM unannounced, not that you’d want to given that your little spat with Soyeon is probably all over everyones instagram stories right now, and is surely the only thing they’ll want to talk about.

You don’t have very many options right now. And Jeno probably knew that from the moment he decided to bring you here.

“Thinking pretty hard over there,” Jeno hums, “for what is supposed to be a two choice question. Unless you don’t want either?”

“Pizza is… fine.”

“Just fine, or actually good? I can check to see if there’s any—”

“It’s good, Lee.”

He smiles like he’s got you in the bag, and then stands up straight. “I’ll order it then.”

You nod emptily and make moves to follow him out of the bathroom, right on his tail, which is why you nearly crash into him when he whirls back around to stop you. “Oh. Almost forgot.”

“What? Forgot what?"

But you only grow more confused when Jeno speeds off towards his room without replying. There’s a creak and a shuffle, doors opening and closing before Jeno returns with a bundle of fabric bunched up in his arms.

“Can’t imagine it’ll be very comfortable to hang out in that dress all night.”

He holds out the mass; what appears to be a heather gray hoodie and black sweatpants that, even bunched up like this, still look miles too long for you. He sees you eyeing it and you fear he’s going to do something awful, like politely offer to go and get you something else as if he hasn’t already done a hundred other things for you tonight, so you quickly oblige. Once you relieve him of the pile he laughs, tells you he’s going to put the order in for the pizza, and closes the door on the way out.

You stand there unmoving for much too long, the heap of fabric clutched to your chest.

There’s so much to unpack. Being here again. The fact that he was supposed to break your heart today instead of doing all of... this. How casual he’s being about it all. The brother-slash-bestfriend shaped elephant in the room. The clothes.

But, for the sake of not collapsing under the weight of all of that turmoil, you decide to just focus on the latter; the most immediate and least heart wrenching of the bunch. His clothes. You’re going to wear his clothes.

Yet another of your old dreams coming to fruition in this apartment. Lucky you.

Jeno is laying across the long part of the couch when you exit the bathroom, footsteps making no noise because you’re padding along on top of the ankle hems. He’s dressed differently too; gone is the jeans and the ivory button up, in its place a black long sleeve and navy blue sweatpants just like yours, except his actually fit. He’s texting furiously on his phone when you round the corner, eyebrows furrowed with something like irritation before he sees your looming figure in the corner of his eye and looks up.

"I put an X-Men movie into the DVD player," he announces, squinting back down to his screen, "Couldn't think of a better time than now to finally get into it, since you'll be here to explain all the things I don't understand..."

But he trails off as he stares at his phone, eyebrows furrowing at something before he frowns and stands up. The look is gone when you shuffle towards the couch and he looks up again, smiling at you like you like nothing is wrong, before he says, "I need to make a call though. Start the movie, yeah? I'll be back before things get interesting."

You stare at him. Probably shouldn't miss the opening scene if you really want to 'get into it', you nearly say. But you've been on this earth for long enough to recognize when someone wants a little privacy.

You want to ask if it's Mark. If he's the one Jeno had been messaging back so agitatedly just now. But the fear of it not being him, Jeno instead just trying to sort something out with like, a truant project partner or something, makes you stuff it down again. It'll just make you look even more pitiful.

"Sure. Most of the intro is fan service anyway."

He opens his mouth like he's about to say something else but then his phone starts to ring and he only smiles tightly at you instead. Then he's gone down the corridor, into his bedroom, and when the ringtone finally stops you can barely hear his voice much less make out what he's saying. Hm.

A different day and you might've snuck off after him to eavesdrop just to see for yourself. But after tonight?

You simply watch him go, and then tumble onto his couch with the exhaustion of someone who's just run up and down the building a dozen times.

You don't even have the strength to reach over for the TV remote; you just lay there and revel in the softness of the cushions, and at how tired you suddenly feel. Rehearsal all morning, giving it your all on stage, the energy-leeching atmosphere of a house party, the alcohol sagging through your veins. Not to mention the emotional confusion. Crying always takes it out of you.

So it's no wonder that you forgo turning the movie on to just take a moment to breathe in the pleasantly dark living room, closing your eyes for what you intended to be a brief second, just to gather the last bits of your patience and sanity for the night ahead... only to fall victim to what happens to most people when they say they're just resting their eyes.

You fall asleep.

At least for a little while, you do. A brief, dreamless, blissful unconsciousness.

It’s so blissful in fact, that when you’re startled back to life by a knock at the front door a few minutes later— blinking the haze out of your eyes and seeing Jeno’s ceiling instead of your own, understanding with a sinking hopelessness that you’re not waking from a nightmare, that all of tonight has really happened— the dread is almost crushing when it all comes back.

But there isn't even any time to mourn. Because you realize that if someone's just knocked on the door, like the good homeowner he is, Jeno will be out here any second now to open it. He'll come out here and he'll see you and you'll be sucked right back into that nightmare, pretending like everything is fine when you both know that tonight was supposed to go so, so differently. Sitting next to each other and eating next to each other and attempting small talk for the sake of keeping things civil until you can escape this place in ten hours.

The idea almost gives you hives. You can't do it. You can't. There has to be another way. What if you make something up? A sore throat? A sudden headache?

But there's no time to think of anything fancy because in the next second Jeno's bedroom door clicks open down the hall, and panic flies up in your throat.

So you do the only think you can fathom. Before he can come around the corner and see you freaking out, you fling yourself back over and pretend to still be dead asleep.

As foolish as you immediately feel, it must work at least a little bit; you hear him come into the living room, hesitate, and then continue on past the couch on lighter steps as if worried about making too much noise. You even steady your breathing when he’s opening the door for the pizza guy— smooth inhale, smooth exhale, spaced just far enough to replicate what someone sounds like when they’ve been out for a while.

Shit. Will this actually work?

When he closes the door and the room falls to silence your heart picks up a little bit. What is he doing? Is he staring at you, trying to see if you’re faking?

Is he wondering if he should wake you up to eat? Oh, God! What if—

“Are you up?” he whispers. And you almost choke trying to swallow down the instinctual response that rises in your throat.

With surprisingly great effort, you do nothing. Say nothing. You don’t even stir. You just pray to whatever God is out there that Jeno will take the hint, eat his pizza at the kitchen island, leave you out here and go to bed. You get excited when you hear his steps again and think he’s going to pass the couch straight, but of course a second later you feel the couch dip somewhere off behind your back and you nearly curse.

“Guess not,” Jeno mumbles. "I forgot that you knock out so easily."

A few more seconds of what feels like an endless quiet, only his shuffling making sound; through your squeezed-shut eyes you see the light of the TV flicker like he’s just changed the channel, and with it you hear what must be the intro to a gameshow or something— excited chatter, ringing bells, audience cheers. But the volume is turned down so low that it feels like the show is playing in another room. Is he keeping the volume low because of you?

Is he… going to stay out here?

“So you won’t mind if I think out loud,” he says suddenly, and your eyes nearly fly open in surprise. What?

But he sounds serious. “Like a test run, almost. For what I wanted to talk about earlier at Aegon. Since I still don’t really know what the hell I’m going to say even after losing sleep over it all week, and I know you’ll try to stop me if you’re awake. I should just try it now, right?”

Try it... now?

Your fake deep-breathing almost hitches in panic when you realize what he’s getting at. Sweet God, please, no. What he wanted to talk about earlier? He wants to get into that now?

“Jaemin scolded me for springing it on you like that after your showcase, by the way. I didn’t realize that I might’ve cornered you until later and I’m sorry about that. I just really, really wanted to talk. Because I didn’t before, and everything got all…” he sighs, heavily. “I’m thankful that you told me to get lost earlier, because I think I can explain it better, like this. I can start from the beginning. I know how thorough you are about things like this.”

You hear the beep of a digital watch somewhere in his house as your face scrunches up in confusion. It's officially midnight, if the watch is making noise to denote the hour, but the realization of the time only comes second to the slow bewilderment slipping through your gloom.

From the beginning? The beginning of what? What the hell does any of that have to do with firmly rejecting you?

“Before we met, because of the way Mark talked about you, I had this idea in my head that you’d be some sort of perfect, flawless angel. That you’d be a little version of him; neat and proper and just a little bit naive, too nice for your own good. A rule follower.”

He laughs at this, a genuine laugh at the memory, and your frown deepens in embarrassment. “Then I actually laid my own eyes on you for the first time, and I realized I couldn’t have been more off.”

You remember it clearly, the first time you’d made a fool out of yourself in front of him and the rest of Mark’s friends. Fourteen years old, running inside the house after walking home from class with your own crew; you’d completely forgotten that you were supposed to bring your skateboard and a change of clothes to school because you all planned to ride around the park that day, the first warm afternoon after a mushy spring, and they said if you didn’t come back out in sixty seconds or less they’d leave you in the dust. So you stormed into the house, past the living room with all of them in it without even a glance or greeting since you hadn’t realized it wasn’t just your brother in there, hurled off your uniform in favor of your outfit staples at the time— an oversized tee that you stole from Mark, hand-me-down cargo shorts that also came from your brother’s closet, and your most cherished possessions: a Yankees baseball cap and your beat-up blue Nikes.

But you couldn’t find your skateboard and the clock was running out, so you howled down the staircase, “If you moved my skateboard again from where I put it I’m going to kill you in your sleep!” only for Mark to shout back up, “It’s a tripping hazard! It’s in the hallway closet! And aren’t you grounded right now? Where are you even going? Does mom know?”

You hadn’t replied. Just snatched the board from where he said he’d stashed it, barreled back down the stairs, and was fully preparing to toss your brother some half-assed explanation, but then you’d seen him. Seen them. Mark’s new school friends, all lounging on your living room couch, staring at you as if you’d come into the room with a bomb. Lee Jeno (who’s name you’d only later find out) appeared the most stunned by your tornado-like appearance.

You could only imagine what they were seeing. Some rowdy tomboy, technically on house arrest but running out to wreak havoc on the town regardless, threatening to kill people in their sleep for tidying up. Exaggerated, obviously, but you remember being mortified halfway to Sunday by how cute they all were and that this was their first introduction to you— and in that mortification, sprinting out of the house without telling your brother anything at all.

You’d gotten a good scolding for that later.

“And it’s going to sound kind of stupid,” Jeno continues, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think you heard the smile in his voice, “But because of that, I got this idea in my head that Mark must’ve only been seeing you through those rose-tinted glasses. The type every older brother has for every younger sister, the ones that make everything they do look cute and miraculous and perfect even if they’re clearly evil to everyone else. Not saying I thought you were secretly some sort of demon or anything either, ‘cause I know you’d roll your eyes at me right now if you could. Just that the girl I saw that day was nowhere near the delicate little thing he’d described. And I got... curious. I started wondering what you were actually like.”

Your face is getting hot again. You’ve never, ever heard him speak this much in one sitting, and the idea of him ever paying this much attention to you is mind boggling. But you don’t let yourself lean into whatever feeling of hope is whistling through your head.

So what if he made a game out of trying to separate your real traits from the things Mark got wrong about you six years ago? Sometimes you liked to make up season-long dramas about strangers you saw on campus. It doesn’t mean anything now.

You want to scrunch into a ball. You aren’t sure how much more of this monologue you can handle, even despite the consequences of rolling over and breaking the facade just to get him to stop. The heat in your face is spreading to your neck, your stomach, every inch of your skin, it’s making your stomach churn with discomfort.

“But then the next year you came to our school,” Jeno says with finality, like this is supposed to be some important distinction. “And it stopped being as casual of an interest. The months went by and at some point I stopped looking for you just to see if you were doing something Mark didn’t know about, and started looking for you just because I wanted to know what you were doing. We’d come over for movie night and while Hyuck and Jae argued for hours about what they did and didn’t want to watch, I’d be wondering if I’d get to see you. You probably won’t remember this, but one of those nights I even ordered an extra curry bowl just so I’d have an excuse to knock on your door to tell you about it. And I thought that was a normal thing to do.”

Jesus Christ. Do you remember? Of course you remember! You’d been reading at your desk with your headphones in, which meant Jeno had to come all the way into your room to get your attention— tapping the side of your earbud with two gentle fingers, laughing all crescent-eyed at you when you yelped in surprise. The sight of him in your room for the first time was like a grenade going off in your tweenaged mind; you’d had to calm down for nearly an entire minute before going downstairs to get your food.

“I thought it was just Mark rubbing off on me. He cared so much about you that I thought my sudden interest was simply overprotection by relation— that he was the reason why I couldn’t stop looking for you. ‘Cause in my mind it couldn't be anything else but brotherly. Mark was pretty clear about what he thought of the people that liked you so I knew it couldn’t be that; I wasn’t stupid enough to let myself be interested in you like that. Right?”

He laughs again, but it doesn’t sound nearly as sweet this time. “I’m rambling, huh?”

Yes, you are. You are.

“I’ll cut to the ending then,” he replies like he’s read your mind. “I realized I did in fact ‘like you like that’, at our graduation.”

And your eyes pop open. It’s completely involuntary, and if you’d been facing him you would have been screwed. But you’re still looking deep into the cushions of the black couch; wide eyes staring into a deep, dark, nothing.

“I hid behind that brotherly excuse for three years. My eyes followed you in the hallway because I wanted to make sure you were okay like Mark would’ve wanted me to. I offered to drive you home from school when he was busy because that’s what Mark would’ve asked me to do anyway. Everything I wanted to do I told myself I was doing because I was just a good friend. You know?” A beat passes before he hums to himself. “But I guess you don’t, actually. Because you liked me authentically, like you do with everything. The night of our graduation, the backyard barbecue your parents threw for us. You remember that, right?”

Duh. You’d bawled your eyes out on the front porch halfway through because only then did it fully sink in that they’d all be leaving you behind, these losers you swore you didn’t even like, before wiping your face and moodily rejoining the celebration.

“Jaemin and Donghyuck were having fun like it was their last day on earth. Even Mark didn’t seem too worried about the fact that we’d be leaving our whole lives behind in a few weeks when we drove off to SNU. I asked him if he was going to miss anything and he listed a dozen things, the friends of ours that were going to different colleges, his parents cooking, his backyard, his bedroom, his electric keyboard. And I remember feeling frozen when he didn’t mention you. In hindsight I know that it was probably because he’d still be coming back home every break, and you had a whole year of high school to finish so it wasn’t like you were going anywhere, but at the moment I felt like someone just yanked the blanket off of me. Three years of pretending and it only took one conversation for it to smash through all of that and hit me like a truck. If Mark isn’t worried about it, why the hell has the idea of leaving you here been haunting me for the last week and a half?”

Oh.

“It was then, I think. That I went, ‘Ah. So this hasn’t all been because of Mark, then,’ and everything I’d ever done under the guise of brotherly obligation popped into context all at once. And as if it wasn’t enough being in my own head, I was still in the middle of talking to Mark as I realized that not only did I like you more than I’d ever liked anyone— I was looking directly at the person who would surely strangle me to death if he ever found out that I liked you more than I’d ever liked anyone. So I pretended it never happened. I said ‘yeah, me too,’ the party ended, I went home, the summer went on, and before I knew it I was on campus and had a million other things to worry about. I saw how well you seemed to be doing when Mark would show me your Instagram posts, how much fun you were having, and I let that make me feel better about being such a coward. Over time, without you around, I convinced myself that things were better like this. That it never would have worked out anyway.”

There’s a moment of silence so utterly long that for a moment you genuinely think that this is going to be it. That he’s going to have said all of that and just… sighed, gotten up, and gone to sleep, leaving you alone to be in misery over what you’ve just heard until morning.

But that’s not it. He’s got a few more words for you. The worst of them all. A string of syllables at first, ones that instantly shatter every bit of emotional resistance you’ve built for yourself these last few days— and then a sentence that has your blood turning to ice in your veins when you realize what it means.

“But then you came back to Seoul,” Jeno started simply, “And a lot of things I thought I knew for sure don’t feel quite as concrete anymore.”

You inhaled.

You exhaled.

And tried to understand what the fuck that last part was supposed to mean.

But then before you could he continued on, his voice soft, casual, innocent. Too innocent. “Like how I used to be sure that you snored when you were sleeping,” he murmured. “Has it been so long that I've forgotten? Or are you not actually asleep, Rockstar?”

[♥︎]: and there it is, folks! please leave a like if you enjoyed! it REALLY gives me the motivation to work on this faster!

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