#exactly nowhere in his job description

[gloomwitchwrites]

What if prompt for the 141: In the Rain

"It's pouring rain, why are you here?" Or something to this nature. I love a confession in the rain, stuck in the rain, kissing in the rain, all of it! Lol

I too love a good confession in the rain. That final scene in Pride & Prejudice is still peak confession in the rain trope for me. I think about it all the time. I think about it on repeat. I want it tattooed on my eyelids. When I think "in the rain," I think of that scene.

So, these aren't smutty by any means but one (maybe two) have some spice to them. They are full of love and longing. There are emotions, angst, and lots of kissing. It's our soaked to the bone 141 boys confessing their hearts in the pouring rain.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, brief mention of alcohol, suggestive themes, grief/mourning, love confessions, kissing, emotional hurt/comfort, feelings, intimacy, non-descriptive sex

Word Count: 3k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

There are few things that John Price indulges in.

Cigars. Whiskey. The thought of you as his woman.

That last one plagues him. It burrows in. Makes a home every night to flood his dreams with images of you. John awakens each morning with you on his mind—and then you linger the rest of the day, crawling forward to say hello when he least expects it.

John sits on a barstool in a dive bar, contemplating life in the bottom of his whiskey glass. It’s the middle of fucking nowhere, but that’s the point. This isn’t a celebration or a job well done. This is a “thank fuck it’s over” drink.

The dive bar is dark and smoky. A jukebox in the corner endlessly rotates between eighties rock and country music. Next to the jukebox is a pool table where a group of three play. Otherwise, the place is entirely empty.

John knocks back the rest of his whiskey, signaling the bartender for a refill. He’s only half-listening to the conversations around him.

Laswell, MacTavish, Garrick, and Riley are all here. Simon is silent, staring off into space as the other three have an animated conversation. You’re here too, sandwiched between MacTavish and Riley. You’re not speaking, but you are listening, nodding your head at all the right moments.

But you look tired. Like you’re about ready to pack it up and call it a night. It’s deserved. This mission sucked. It was brutal. Tough. A complete shit-eating stink of a job. You aren’t part of the team. Not really. Laswell dragged you in last second, and John is happy that she did. Otherwise, he’d never have met you.

And that would be a tragedy.

John only has eyes for you. It is a sweet tooth that cannot be satiated. He’s been a bit reserved in how he’s approached you, but you always have a soft smile for him or a cheeky remark. It’s devolved into flirting at times, and at points so blatant that everyone else chimes in.

“I think I’m gonna head out,” you yawn, pushing your empty glass to the edge of the bar. The bartender walks by and snags it, whisking it away to be deposited into the sink.

This is it. You’re about to walk away. John will likely never see you again unless Laswell decides to call on you. This might very well be his only chance.

You slip off your barstool, and John abruptly stands, his leg smacking into Laswell’s stool. Everyone—including Simon—turns in John’s direction.

He coughs. Clears his throat. “I’ll walk you to your car,” he says quickly.

MacTavish smirks and elbows Gas in the arm. The two men exchange a knowing glance before they both raise their eyebrows at John. MacTavish even shakes his shoulders a bit. John shoots them a cold look over your shoulder. They stifle their laughter behind their glasses.

You don’t notice at all. Your focus is on John, and that’s exactly how he wants it.

The entrance of the dive consists of one interior door, a small entryway, and an exterior door. As the two of you enter the small entryway, a crack of thunder erupts overhead. You pause, staring out the small window on the exterior door. It’s not pouring, but the rain is steady. Getting caught it in for any period of time will likely result in soaked clothes.

You turn slightly in his direction, and John is suddenly aware of how cramped the space is.

“You don’t need to walk me to my car,” you say softly, gesturing toward the downpour. “Not with the rain.”

John shrugs. “I want to.”

It’s true. He does. But there is an ulterior motive here. This is his one chance to have a final goodbye or a new start.

You smile softly, gaze flicking down to the floor before returning to his face. John’s cheeks heat—and it’s ridiculous. He’s a grown fucking man. He doesn’t get flustered. But this space is small. It is far too cramped. John is nearly on top of you.

Beneath those long eyelashes are your gentle eyes. It’s a look you only give him. Your lips part slightly. They’re gorgeous. You’re gorgeous. He wants nothing more than to lean down and close the distance.

“Okay,” you reply with a teasing laugh, opening the door.

The earthy scent of rain hits him first and then the pattering of the falling rain comes next. You slip out the door and stand close to the building under the small awning, attempting to stay out of the rain. John follows behind, coming up next to you.

Your smile is sweet as you gaze up into the dark sky. But then you turn to him, and that smile morphs into something devious.

“Should we race to the car?” you ask, as if conspiring.

John grins. “Think you can beat me?”

You laugh. “An old man like you? Absolutely.”

John can’t help but smile back, nudging you with his elbow. “Not that old.”

“What do I get if I win?” you ask, turning to look at him.

“A kiss,” says John automatically. It rolls right off his tongue. There is no way for him to take it back. And he doesn’t want to. “What do I get if I win?”

You wait a beat. And then answer.

“A kiss,” you reply slowly.

A kiss.

John blinks, his mind momentarily stuttering out. Your grin widens, and then you’re off, sprinting into the rain and to the car.

John nearly trips as he jogs after you. The gravel is slick and the rain splatters against his jacket. He isn’t all that interested in racing. John is only watching you, and the way your ass bounces as you make for the car. Your curves are lovely. He imagines opening the rear door and pushing you into the back seat, only to drag you into his lap to take whatever he wants.

You make it before he does, but John is right behind, nearly sliding to a stop in the wet gravel. You turn toward him, grinning. Pieces of hair stick to the sides of your face. John cannot help himself. He grabs the back of your neck and draws you in.

You don’t resist. You surrender.

John’s mouth crashes against yours and you open beautifully for him. There is no one kiss. There are many. Multitudes. It is endless. It is rain-laced. Whiskey-drenched. John might have the buzz of alcohol in his veins but you are quickly replacing it.

Your lips part and John slides his tongue inside. Your hands grab at him, fingers digging in. The two of you are pressed together, rain falling to drench clothing and skin.

With a low groan, John pushes you up against the car, intensifying his kisses. You eagerly greet him, accepting them all, returning them in equal measure. You are just as desperate. Just as hungry. Time is an illusion—and it isn’t until you shiver beneath him that John pulls away, aware that the two of you are now soaked through.

“Why are you still here?” you ask.

“You don’t know?” he replies, his hand cupping your face, thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“It’s pouring, John.”

“I know.” You smile, and John goes in for one more kiss. “Do you not feel this? Am I the only one?”

You shake your head. “I feel it. Everywhere, John. I feel you everywhere.”

“Let’s go. Get out of here.”

“Right now?”

John’s grip tightens and you gasp, hips pressing against his.

“Right now.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

The rain is light but steady. It falls from the cloudy sky to patter against your umbrella.

The graveyard is empty, and yet you knew Simon would be here. He always is on the anniversary of Johnny’s death. Like clockwork. It’s routine for him. A ritual.

Simon’s back is to you, his head bent as he stands in front of Johnny’s grave. There is no body there. It’s ornamental. Something for family and friends. There are fresh flowers next to the headstone.

You have no idea how long Simon has been out here. Simon has no umbrella with him, and the hood of his jacket is off. He’ll catch a chill like this, which is why you came. Seeing him like this is always difficult, and since Johnny’s passing, Simon has grown more attached.

He is always checking in on you—always near. You’d call it protectiveness but it feels more like obligation. A duty. Most days, Simon appears to be on the cusp of telling you something, revealing a secret that he’s itching to confess. You don’t know what it might be. Couldn’t take a guess. But you have thought about it. You have imagined all sorts of possibilities.

The two of you are always finding the other. Always reconnecting. Always reaching out. If it’s not him, it’s you. Perhaps it’s Johnny’s death that has brought this on. Whatever it might be, Simon is closer to you than he’s ever been, and sometimes it frightens you.

It feels like more.

“I brought you an umbrella,” you say to Simon’s back.

He turns slightly, glancing over his shoulder. Simon’s gaze sweeps from the ground and then lands on you. His hair is wet and droplets of water speckle his face like freckles.

Simon fully turns toward you.

The rain picks up a bit, soaking Simon further. You rush to him, holding your umbrella over his head, cutting off the rain. The two of you stand under it in silence, simply staring at each other. Time stretches, and then Simon’s hand rises, wrapping around your own where you hold to the handle.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

You swallow, and gather your courage. “You shouldn’t grieve alone.”

Simon’s brow softens. “I’m supposed to be the one looking after you.”

“I never asked you to,” you reply.

“But Johnny did.”

You start, eyes widening slightly. “What do you mean?”

Simon licks his lips. A droplet of water drips from the tip of his nose. “I made a promise. To Johnny. I made a promise to him.”

“What promise?” you whisper as the rain picks up more. The rain strikes the top of the umbrella in loud patters that nearly drown out your voice.

Another droplet falls from Simon’s nose. He leans in slightly, and the movement is confusing. It’s too intimate, like he wants to close the distance.

“I promised that I would—” he abruptly cuts off, swallowing. Simon’s gaze darts from your eyes to your lips and then back again.

“What is it, Simon?”

He sighs. “Fuck it,” he growls, shredding any distance there might have been between your bodies.

Simon claims your lips, kissing you so completely that you’re momentarily stunned. You taste the rain. Mint. A slight hint of smoke. You return the kiss, not pushing him away or pulling back. You open for him, accepting it all, and Simon continues to take, his free arm wrapping around your waist to draw you closer.

Even though he’s drenched, Simon is incredibly warm. It’s unfair how he can be an inferno in this downpour.

The graveyard is forgotten. The rain is a distant. There is only Simon’s lips, and the groan he makes when you return each kiss in equal enthusiasm.

Simon goes in for a quick nip before drawing away. It leaves you breathless and wanton.

“Was that part of the promise?” you ask, only half-joking.

Simon shrugs. “In a way.” You arch an eyebrow and Simon smiles softly. “I told Johnny I’d make a move. And now I have.”

“Yes,” you agree, heat blooming in your cheeks and your core. “You have.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

There is no turning back.

You made a choice. Kyle made a choice.

This is how it is.

You don’t want to be at the airport. You don’t want to leave. This entire situation is shit. But Kyle seemed willing to let you go. He’s not here. He didn’t beg you to stay. He didn’t try to convince you that all he wants in life is you.

That’s all you need. To be wanted. To be loved.

After all of this—after everything, and Kyle isn’t here.

You’re not mad. Not really. You are both adults. You both have made a choice. Just because you don’t like something doesn’t mean you don’t understand. Because at the end of the day, you do. Truly.

Sighing, you haul your suitcase over the curb and on the sidewalk. The Uber that brought you here is already pulling away to go pick up someone else. The airport is packed on the inside, and the rain that falls from the sky in sheets. You have a coat, and the hood is up, but what you really need is an umbrella.

Already, you feel the water seeping into the unprotected places. Rain does that sometimes. Trickles in where it isn’t wanted.

You start to pull your suitcase behind you. A wheel catches in a small crack, and it nearly takes you down with it. Stumbling forward, you put a hand out to catch your fall. You expect your bare palm to land on concrete. To burn with pain.

But you don’t make it to the ground. You don’t touch it at all.

There are arms around you. They are strong. And somehow so damn familiar it’s frightening.

Then, you’re being lifted, guided back to your feet. Those strong arms ease you onto solid ground, and then you’re turning to thank the stranger that’s saved you from falling face first into the concrete.

But it is no stranger.

“Kyle,” you breathe, staring into the face of the man you’ve loved for years now.

Something breaks. Shatters.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

Kyle hasn’t let you go. His arms are still around you. Your hands grasp his biceps, and his jacket is slick with rain. His hood is not up. And yours has fallen at some point. Already, the rain is soaking your hair. Strands of it stick to your face.

“Coming to right a wrong,” he says. Your lips part but Kyle shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t fight hard enough. I let you slip through the cracks.”

Kyle draws you in a bit closer. The people passing by and the cars are distant.

“I should have told you ‘I love you’ every day. I should have been present.”

“Kyle—”

Your next words are stolen. Kyle closes the distance, and then you’re wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, sinking into the kiss.

You can’t leave now.

You can’t.

John "Soap" MacTavish

The rain falls gently from the sky.

Johnny grins, staring up into it, opening his mouth. His tongue is out to capture the droplets. You laugh, and wrap your arms around his shoulders, going in for a quick kiss on his cheek.

As you draw back, one of Johnny’s hands shoots out, snagging your arm. You playfully yelp, and swat at him, thinking that Johnny will let you go. He’s flirty, and sweet, but there is nothing more to it.

At least, you didn’t think so.

But Johnny’s gaze is heated, and the way he holds you against him is far too intimate to be anything other than what it is.

“Johnny,” you laugh, trying to play it off, but he remains firm.

His smile faulters slightly but it’s not a frown. It’s a heated stare. His gaze is on your lips, and you can see the desire there. What would happen if you went for it? If you kissed him?

“What are we doing?” he asks. “Can’t I have you?”

Startled, everything leaves your head. “What?”

Johnny’s gaze flicks up, and those gorgeous eyes drown you—submerging you in his depths. “Why are we stepping around this? We want each other.”

You do want him, but you thought it was mostly one-sided.

“Is that what you want?” you ask, softly.

Johnny smirks, and then he’s lifting you up into the air, placing you on top of the low stone wall. “Should I use my words?” he asks, fingers sliding underneath your rain-drenched shirt. He is warm, and his touch heats your skin. “Or should I show you with my body?”

Johnny nips at your bottom lip as his hands ascend. One slides between your breasts just as his lips meet yours. Your core clenches, and then you’re grabbing for him, touching him as much as he’s touching you.

The two of you are in the Scottish countryside. There are no people around. Just the two of you, and rolling green hills.

Johnny slots himself between your legs, and you reach beneath his kilt, finding him hard and wanting. He hisses, and then groans when you stroke him.

Everything is warm. Everything is rough.

It doesn’t matter that it’s raining, or that it’s a bit cold. You allow Johnny to shove articles of clothing aside, to find the places where you’re needing him to be. His touch is a brand, and you love how it feels, pulsing through your loins like an overheated engine.

“Johnny,” you gasp into the rain, fingers threading through his hair as he goes to his knees to taste between your thighs.

There is only heavy breath. A twisting of pleasure.

When he finally brings your bodies together, there is nothing but him. Nothing but you. Just two people finding each other.

The rain is nothing.

It isn’t even cold anymore.

Johnny is all heat. And you are burning for him.

taglist:

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@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Long Snake Moan 1

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Loki

Summary: your boss gives you a task you're not prepared for.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“I think it’s best it comes from you,” Tony pats your shoulder. You stare at him in disbelief. 

“Me?” You bat your eyes dumbly. “But I just... I’m just passing along the information--” 

“Look, sweetheart, I’m in the middle of a PR crisis here.” He flashes his phone screen at you. The talk of Stark Tower has been his latest disaster out in the middle of nowhere. Usually, these things are forgotten but an unfortunate post has made the rounds. “You delivered the message perfectly, you can do it again.” 

“But, sir, with due respect, this isn’t exactly in my job description.” You walk backwards as he strides around his desk and tucks his phone away. 

“Your job is to do what I tell you to do. Now,” he looks at you, his eyes flicking up and down, “I think you’re the best possible carrier pigeon for this. Look at you. That ungodly asshole can’t be mad at you and I definitely am not telling him. Not without another explosion and I’m on probation right now.” He taps his chest and his suit expands around his body. “His brother should be wandering around, maybe he can help control the beast.” 

“Sir, don’t make me do this--” He goes to the window and hits the button to pop out the pane. 

“I pay you well enough, sweetheart, so get to work.” He jumps out and his helmet covers his head, blue flame blasting from his heels and gloves as he takes off into the sky.  

You cringe and look down. You should quit. You’ve been reciting the mantra to yourself for months; quit, quit, quit. You wish you had that choice. So far, your resume hasn’t baited any takers. Even with all your work for Stark Industries. Considering who your reference is, you’re starting to wonder. 

You glance around and steel yourself. You walk out of the office and down the hall. Your low heels click, in slow tempo with your dread. You trawl the top floor, searching for a certain blond giant. Thor isn’t anywhere to be found. You’ll have to try the compound... maybe you could just give them a call. 

No, you know Mr. Stark wouldn’t like that. Even if you could get a hold of either of the Asgardians, your boss would make you face the music in person. You take out your phone and scroll through the contacts. Most of them, you’ve never had to call, they’re only there for emergencies and usually, you’re not the one calling them for that. 

You put the phone to your ear as it dials. It rolls for so long, you’re certain you’ll get the voicemail. It picks up at the last moment, the line buzzing and unclear. 

“Hel-lo?” Thor’s deep baritone greets you. “It is the little assistant, yes?” 

You can just make out his hazy words. “Yes, Mr. Odinson? Can you hear me?” 

He laughs and you hear him shuffling around. The crackling stops and the line clears. “Mr. Odinson. You Midgardians. It’s Thor.” 

“Yes, Thor, well, um, where are you?” 

“Is there something the matter?” He asks as his tone turns dire. “Where are you, little one?” 

You ignore the question tossed back at you and clear your throat. “Um, it’s about... um, I think it would be best if we had this discussion face to face but Mr. Stark told me to pass on some news and yeah... I’d like to meet up if poss--” 

“Little one!” Thor appears before you, out of breath, his phone clutched in his hand. He didn’t hear a damn thing you just said. You smile. You’ve trained that expression so well, it’s almost believable. “Where is the danger?” 

You almost laugh. It’s endearing to have him so concerned. You doubt his brother will be as accommodating. 

“Hi, uh, like I said, it’s nothing serious. It’s erm, do you know where you brother is?” Your voice hits a pitch so high it makes your ears hurt. 

“Ugh, what has he done now? I swear, I’ve told him--” 

“It’s nothing he’s done. Well, it’s kind of it. Okay, um, Thor, I need to talk to your brother.” 

“Loki? You need to talk to him? No one wants to talk to Loki,” he narrows his eyes in consternation. 

“Yes, well, I have a job to do. I’d also appreciate if you’d be there to, you know, act as mediator,” you make yourself small as you push your shoulders up to your ears. “Please?” 

“Of course, little one, of course, let us go find that snake!” He grabs your arm before you can react and almost has you off your feet as he drags you down the hall. “I left him in the lobby. He isn’t fond of this place.” 

Maybe that will make this all easier, you think. 

Thor doesn’t slow down. You stumble with him as you struggle to keep your shoes from falling off. You tap his arm as you get to the elevator. 

“Really, we can take our time,” you assure him as he jams his finger into the down button.  

You’re really in no hurry for any of this. You’re almost hoping that if you put this off longer, someone else might just come along and tell them for you. You know that won’t happen but you can hope. Even so, Tony has more important things to do and as usual, you’re left with his grunt work. 

[spitdrunken]

THIS IS INCREDIBLY SELF-INDULGENT BUT. MY BLOG!

notes: power imbalance, sexual harrassment, murder mentions.

rotating a thought in my head where 'you' are an increasingly popular erotica writer from the pride ring. with writing, you've hit a bit of a niche, as a lot of the big porn producers (VoxTech's subsidiaries) are not exactly known for their riveting dialogue or personalities. no one's there for anything more than that, but there are demons who do want a bit more 'meat', so to say, with nowhere else turn. that is where you come in!

it's not enough to make a steady living off of, not even when you start taking incredibly specific commissions, but it's never been more of a hobby anyway. you are completely anonymous online, keeping care to use throwaway emails and accounts for everything. still, voxtech's products are utterly inescapable: it's either using them, or using nothing at all. (and those rumours about their boss vox having complete control over his technology, even after selling, has to be a rumour... you hope.)

meanwhile, as your penname continues to grow more and more recognizable, it falls in the vees' meeting room. valentino's immediate suggestion is just to kill you. people in the comments keep comparing his dialogue to yours. what the fuck is that about? who the hell watches porn for the DIALOGUE in the first place?

velvette, while shrugging her shoulders, only adds that their new releases tend to go trending, prior to release. fucking far from the top of that list, but still. trending is trending.

vox, sighing internally, plasters a smile on his face. there's really no need to kill new up and coming talent, val. we should suggest them to work for us instead. and if they don't... we can simply prevent them from working. they'll make up their mind, then.

you return to your laptop to an utterly inescapable pop-up describing the opportunity of a lifetime: the chance to work at voxtech! it's a whole wall of text, describing your pay (higher than you would have expected), where you will be living (in one of the appartment buildings owned by voxtech), and when to head to their main office. there is no word on denying the contract, an utter impossibility, it seems. not that you'd dare. vox's and the radio demon's showdown was the talk of the ring for days, and apparantly, all that rancour was the source of alastor denying a contract of his own. that really is more shit than you can handle in your undead life now. so, you take the job.

as your stories are starting to get heavily promoted, velvette absolutely insists that you add in at least a couple of looong clothing descriptions, based on her tastes. she's such an overwhelming, pushy presence, that it's hard for you to say no. she goes on about how, if it gets popular enough, people might be interested in somewhat similar outfits. probably not, though, let's be honest with ourselves. she makes you model them, all the while telling you that you really wouldn't be allowed to breathe in the direction of her studio otherwise. when you ask her why you absolutely have the one modelling, she just rolls her eyes. you based large parts of their appearances after you, didn't you? might as well make you look the part.

valentino is one of the worst parts of the job. compared to everyone else, he hardly pesters you, but he's still a terrifying presence. he'll give you 'suggestions' and make you steer your work in certain directions, getting too close and blowing smoke into your face. he gives a graphic description of how he jacked off to one of your stories, just to see your response. (this is a lie: why would he jack off if he can just call some stupid whore over to do it for him? also, he doesn't read.)

if a part of one of your stories ever gets a 'porno adaptation', he's having you play the part of the director, and has you sit in during the entirety of the viewing. you can tell he takes great pleasure out of any of your discomfort, or any of your fumbling- until it's too sloppy, and then he gets mad, of course, and you end up leaving the room with shaky legs.

vox seems to be the nicest one out of the three of them. really, he's only ever been courteous to you. but you've seen him flip his lid during the aforementioned 'radio demon fiasco', which you have been wise enough to never mention, so you still walk on eggshells around him. he can also get pretty pushy about deadlines, so you're not taking any chances.

he insists on having semi-regular meetings with you about the sales figures of your most recent works, wherein you also have to describe your process on other projects and pitch new ideas. frankly, you wish these meetings could be an email! but even when you tried to broach the subject, telling him that, surely, the company leader's time is much more important than this?

he simply brushed you off, telling you that he can decide for himself who and what to spend his time on, thank you very much. now, please continue. he'll inform you of the latest kinks and dynamics that have been most popular, though with some peculiar additions as well. you swear that, sometimes, the main character really does seem to resemble yourself in those suggestions, and the love interest a member of the vees...? you're certain you're just imagining it.

[jjbalice]

Martyr's Folly

Summary: Yunho helps and comforts the reader after they've accidentally cut too deep.

Genre: a hurt/comfort Yunho x reader oneshot

Word count: 4.81k (15-20 mins)

Trigger warnings: semi-descriptive self-harm (blood, cuts, use of blades - nothing too crazy, though, don't worry!), panicking, crying, mentions of relapsing, lots of pet names, nicknames, and physical affection lol, Yunho is a blessing

A/N: This fic is pretty personal since I've been struggling with not feeling valid enough because of the way I SH, which isn't the stereotypical kind you see in movies and such. In a way, it's an attempt at scaring myself from buying any actual blades mixed in with the comfort I crave whenever I slip up, I guess.

Baby cuts. Cat scratches. Damage dealt within the epidermis and the higher half of the dermis. Whatever you want to call it.

For a few weeks now, that's exactly what has been slowly but steadily appearing on your feet and lower calves. Or re-appearing, rather. A bad habit from the past coming back to haunt you all over again for no apparent reason.

No but seriously, what reason for doing this is there? You're happy, you have a stable part-time job on the side of your studies that are also going great, and an incredible boyfriend with whom you've just celebrated a 6-month anniversary. No real issues in your life as far as you can see.

Sure, sometimes you get caught up in a fight with your friends or parents, or even with Yunho, or maybe some of your insecurities hit extra strong on some days. But all of that is normal, right? Just some passing obstacles that get resolved in a few days tops.

So why are you here, at 3 am, staring at the husk of a person in the mirror? Why is your head so empty yet incomprehensibly full at the same time? Why are your hands all fidgety, getting ready to strike any moment?

Truth be told, you have no clue.

This was supposed to be a lovely weekend for you. You got off work early on Friday, securing enough time to pack your stuff at your dorm before heading to Yunho's apartment for a sleepover. He's been trying to convince you to move in with him after your anniversary, saying how it would be both cheaper and closer to your university. Both of those arguments are true, and yet you remain stubborn, wanting to keep your independence for just a bit longer.

Alas, Yunho has no choice but to respect your decision and settle for weekend sleepovers in the meantime.

And even those are great! The two of you get to talk for hours and play games, cook dinner together or order in and watch TV... Mainly, though, you get to cuddle and snuggle to your hearts' content (and maybe even do a bit more than that, if the opportunity and want arises).

That's also one of the main reasons for your hesitance over this whole... relapse thing.

Because of Yunho and his affectionate nature towards you, hiding the traces of your renewed habits became much more difficult. You couldn't cut where you used to before, all of those areas feeling way too exposed now.

And so, you settled on the bottom of your legs. Anything a pair of longer socks could easily hide without too much questioning from your boyfriend. Let's just say your feet are cold all the time now, even though summer's just barely starting to end.

Is it satisfying to harm there? No, not at all. The area is too small and angular, and the pain-to-mark ratio is nowhere near optimal. Everything feels too bony and stings more than other places, and all you get from it are the faintest of scratches.

But anything to at least partially quell the urge, right?

Well, not exactly.

If the razor blade hidden within the confines of your duffel bag was any proof, your methods weren't exactly effective.

You've never used an actual razor blade before, never even planned on trying it since you knew about the dangers of using it and how everything could get out of hand within seconds. Sure, the scissors and other sharp objects you've used until now weren't exactly perfect either, but they didn't put you at as much of a risk of going to the ER.

...So why did you buy the blade then?

Well, it was pretty cheap, first of all. You could just buy it, think about using it, and then throw it out without feeling too guilty about it, right? Not to mention how it helped you feel more valid about harming, even if you haven't used it yet. Self-harm is always depicted as razor blades on wrists, so even just owning one somehow helped you feel a bit more valid amidst the disappointing scratches on your leg.

It's been a week since you've bought said blade (or 5 blades rather, as they came in a pack - what a steal!). During that week, not much has happened to it. Right after you paid and got your receipt, you tossed the paper into a nearby trash can and stashed the pack of blades into your wallet. And there they were even later tonight, as you quietly crept to your bag to retrieve them, careful not to wake Yunho up.

But let's rewind back a bit. Back to where today's misfortune started.

Just like with everything else lately, you don't know why the urge to indulge washed over you specifically tonight. You and Yunho have spent such a fun evening together, lounging around and enjoying each other in whatever way felt right.

And yet, the moment the lights were turned off and your boyfriend spooned you from behind, holding you close while his breathing slowly evened out, it was as if something had shifted in the air. An overwhelming sense of emptiness washed over you, making you feel both completely dull and overstimulated. Yunho's arms around you felt both like an anchor and a vice, the opposing feelings adding even more to the already rising chaos in your mind. You were suddenly overly aware of every part of your body, as if your own skin was calling out to you.

You didn't want to.

You knew you had to.

As gently and quietly as you could, you unwrapped yourself from Yunho's embrace and got up. He let out a soft sigh at the loss of contact, and you had to admit, you already mourned it too.

Sneaking into the bathroom, you closed the door before turning on the lights. Avoiding the reflection in the mirror, you began searching through the cabinet under the sink. You didn't want to see yourself right now. If anything, it would just add to the confusing conflict raging within you, and you really didn't need that.

Rummaging through each shelf one more time, you let out a frustrated huff. There was nothing you could use. Well, save for the expensive-looking razor Yunho owned, but you really didn't have the patience or coherency to take apart your boyfriend's belongings.

It's time, then.

The return to the bedroom was a bit stressful, as you couldn't decide between searching through your duffel bag there or bringing it with you to the bathroom. Both options seemed too noisy right now, causing you to awkwardly loom over the bag for a few moments, chewing nervously on your bottom lip.

In the end, you decided to just risk it, crouching down to begin unzipping the top. Strangely enough, you kind of hoped Yunho would hear it and wake up. Maybe the shock of being caught would stop you for the time being and you could just go back to bed.

To both your luck and dismay, Yunho didn't wake up, his biggest reaction being the slightest stir of the sheets.

With your wallet in hand, you walked back to the bathroom, your steps a bit bolder this time. Now that you knew Yunho wouldn't wake up so easily, you didn't pay as much mind to the noise you were making.

In a weird way, you were upset. Upset he didn't wake up. Upset he didn't magically realize what your new obsession with socks could possibly mean. Upset he wasn't there to stop you right now.

But along with the upset came a strange feeling of calm. Joy, even.

He doesn't know. Nobody has any idea you're doing this right now. Nobody cares enough to find out anyway. You're free to reign over your body as you please, especially if it will finally shut down the confusing mess of emotions boiling within you.

It will, right?

It's 3 am. You're staying over at Yunho's apartment and he's currently sleeping in the bedroom next-door. You finally gather enough courage to look at yourself in the mirror, but it's rather disappointing. The shell standing in front of you doesn't bring up any emotions anymore. It doesn't even look like you, you think. Maybe this isn't you, after all. That's what you like to tell yourself whenever the moment is over, that this isn't actually the real you harming yourself. This is someone else taking hold of you and your upcoming actions.

You sit down on the cold bathroom floor, a razor blade in hand. When did you unpack them? The small paper packaging and 4 other blades are lying right next to you. Huh. Guess you did just now.

You don't bother taking off the socks. A precious thing like this shouldn't be used in such a shitty spot anyways.

Then again, you also don't exactly want to die right now, so the wrists are off-limits. Sure, you want to feel more valid and that place is the most stereotypical one to cut, but you're already holding the blade you thought you'd never dare use, so that's enough "progress" for now.

Now that you think about it, the thighs sound pretty scary too. You've always heard of some major arteries being located in the thigh. Perhaps you shouldn't risk it there then. Not yet, at least.

And so, like a coward, you move back to your lower leg.

To your defense, you do go considerably higher than usual! You pick a nice spot that's vaguely in the middle of the side of your leg, where your shins and calves would meet.

Deep breaths. You can do this. Just brace yourself and-

...

...

Oh fuck.

No, no, no nonono-

You knew the risks, you knew you should watch out for the pressure when using a razor blade for the first time since it's so much sharper than any pair of scissors you own, but somehow even the lessened pressure you put was too much.

Within seconds, blood started flowing to the surface. You dropped the blade, making it fly in a random direction as your hands trembled.

Your eyes welled with tears as, despite the blood, you could see a gash way deeper than any cut you'd ever made until now; you could literally see two parts of your skin split-

You're gonna throw up. Or faint. Or both. Oh fuck.

The first drops of blood fell onto the tiles just as your own tears pooled over. Your chest heaved with your labored breathing. You didn't know what to do.

Should you go to the ER? Will it stop on its own? Should you wake Yunho up? Oh god, you should probably wake Yunho up, shouldn't you.

Wiping your tear-stained face as best as you could with your shirt, you crawled over to the bathroom door. You were too scared to walk, afraid you'd faint if you stood up so suddenly.

As you sat by the door, another sob wracked through you. You couldn't calm down, you were too scared of what might happen if you didn't take care of the gash in time. And yet, you couldn't help but fear what might happen if you woke Yunho up. Now that you think about it, maybe it will just stop on its own and you can hide it for the rest of the weekend and then you'll just make up a story of how you got into an accident at work and-

One look at the trail of blood behind you was enough to get your hands on the door handle, pulling the door open on your second try. The door handle flew back up with a loud bang as you dropped back down, but the door was open at last. You pulled it fully open from where you sat, taking a few shallow breaths once you did so.

"...Y/N?"

Now. Now he wakes up. Not at any point before you could have done this. Now.

In the back of your mind, a strange feeling of anger bubbled up. Somehow, you wanted to blame Yunho for not getting to you sooner. But the second you realized what your brain was trying to do, you felt another pang of nausea hit you.

Yunho was not to blame in the slightest. This is all you. You started this, you went through with it, and now you're crawling back to him for help. Don't even try to put any blame on him, no matter how much easier it would make this whole thing to stomach.

"Y/N, are you okay?"

Right, he was awake. The shuffling of the sheets coming from the bedroom confirmed as much.

You tried to call out to him but choked on another sob instead.

All of your fear of being seriously hurt and needing help immediately shifted, transforming into the most heart-wrenching wave of guilt imaginable. Just what have you done? Why are you burdening someone else with this? Are you really going to make him see this?

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by the first footstep. All the raging panic hit you anew, making you speak before you could think.

"W-wait!" You cried, an unknown feeling of desperation clutching your chest. "Please, please don't come here, please."

To your surprise, the footsteps actually stopped.

"...I'm waiting, but please tell me what's going on," Yunho replied with obvious unease.

Well, uh. You haven't exactly thought this far, have you?

"O-okay, I, well, I," you stumbled over your words, trying to work through the mush of your brain to come up with anything even barely comprehensible. "I did something really bad and I think I need your help but you have to promise not to be mad. I don't know what to do but please don't be upset."

Selfish. That's what you were. Even amongst all this chaos and pain you were about to drag Yunho into, all you could think about was saving your own face and evading consequences.

"Y/N, I'm sorry but I'm coming in," Yunho suddenly announced, and the footsteps resumed. "I need to see if you're okay, I promise I won't be mad."

There was no escaping it now. You could only brace yourself for the worst, whatever that would entail.

Two feet stood before your hunched-over form. You didn't dare look up, you didn't dare see what he was feeling.

As carefully as he could, Yunho stepped around you and further into the bathroom. You heard the scraping of metal across tiles before the cabinet doors opened. A towel, a first aid kit, and a medium-sized, colorful box appeared before you, along with your boyfriend in his cozy pajamas. Still, you didn't dare look up.

Wordlessly, he propped your injured leg up as gently as he could, as if he was handling the finest china in the world. Placing the dark grey towel under it, blood immediately rolled down and seeped into the material.

"Okay, this might seem a bit weird, but just- I'm not an expert or anything, far from it, really, but-"

As Yunho rambled nervously, you watched his hands tear open a pack of pads. Ever since your sleepovers became a more regular thing, he'd made sure to keep some in his apartment at all times in case of an emergency. Never had he thought he'd use them in this type of emergency, though.

You watched in confusion as he pulled out one of the pads, opening it and double-checking which side was sticky and which was dry. Unable to hide his worried grimace as he got closer to the wound, he pressed the cotton pad against it.

"I- I probably have something better in the first aid kit to stop the bleeding, but while I look through it, just hold that down to the cut, okay?"

You nodded weakly, deciding not to ask any questions and just let your boyfriend try to fix you. Not that you could say much anyway, not with the way your throat had dried and closed up from all the anxiety.

You silently kept watch as Yunho fumbled through the red bag, noticing the slight tremors in his hands. When you looked at his face, however, it appeared surprisingly neutral.

Ah, so he was trying to stay calm to not worry you any further, but on the inside, he was freaking out just as much as you, if not more. Great. You didn't think you could feel more guilt than you already had, but guess not.

"I'm sorry it's taking so long," he spoke up again, "Mingi would get injured all the time before he'd moved out - you know how clumsy he can get - and I, uh, haven't exactly taken the time to re-organize everything. Sorry."

Your lips twitched into the smallest of smiles, along with a hushed "It's okay, babe".

Yunho's eyes shot up at your words, mirroring your soft smile with his own. Pausing his search for just a second, he leaned over and planted a quick, reassuring kiss on your forehead. "You're right. I'll take good care of you, don't worry. After the first accident Mingi had here, I bought some steri-strips... They should still be around here somewhere, but we threw the original packaging away, so they're just a bit hard to find."

You hummed in understanding, hoping you could ease at least some of his worries by showing him you were doing alright.

Somehow, the moment Yunho appeared in the doorway, all of your previous panic stopped. It was as if through his presence, the jumbled mess of worries surrounding you had split into two. Yunho had graciously shouldered the worries about your physical state, while you focused on keeping his mental well-being in check. All of the fear about his reaction to this situation as a whole was still there, of course, but for the time being, you'd managed to shove them to the back of your mind. It was something to worry about later, when the two of you could calm down and properly talk to each other.

For now, all you had to do was just worry about Yunho while he worried about you.

"Finally!" Yunho sighed in relief, fishing out two small packs of steri-strips. "Okay. Let's do this, then."

But as he shuffled closer to your leg again, he paused.

"Wait, I'm sorry for assuming," he began while opening the first set, "but you don't want to go to the hospital, right? They'd obviously do a much better job than me, but since you said you needed my help, I just, I guessed that- you know. Should we go to the hospital instead?"

You immediately shook your head no, making Yunho smile faintly, glad to have read you right and that he wasn't wasting time trying to play hero.

You were thankful he didn't insist on taking you to the hospital. You knew it would probably be for the best, but right now, in your state, you couldn't even fathom going. You were terrified just crawling to the door to beg for Yunho's help, let alone driving to the opposite part of town to have complete strangers examine you.

"Right then," Yunho sighed, mentally steeling himself for the next step. "Can you feel your leg fine? Feeling faint or anything?"

You just shook your head, slowly easing the pressure you held on the cut. "I'm okay, I think. Just a little shaken up still."

Yunho nodded thoughtfully, helping you unstick the bloody pad from your hand. Luckily, it seemed that most of the bleeding had stopped, at least for now. "It's okay, I'm a bit out of it too."

"Sorry for making you do this," you whispered sincerely, but Yunho quickly stopped you again.

"Don't be sorry, Y/N. I know you didn't mean to do this. You wouldn't have called for me like that if things went down the way you wanted them to."

You couldn't bring yourself to say anything after that, feeling your throat tighten as a fresh wave of tears rushed to your eyes.

You averted your gaze as Yunho began cleaning the area as gently as he could before placing the strips down, helping hold the wound shut. Four strips helped the cut close up, and then two were laid on top of them to help everything stay put. Despite no professional medical training, you swear your boyfriend could do anything like an expert first-try. Well, considering him saying something about treating Mingi's injuries, he might have actually trained a bit already. Either way, you could feel your nerves easing a considerable bit at the sight of the gash finally closed-up.

"There we go," Yunho said contently, giving your other leg a gentle pat. "Just stay put a little longer, okay? I'm gonna clean up a bit in here."

Oh, that's right.

You were so out of it you completely forgot about the blades scattered around, the blood dripping across the floor, the towel, pads, first aid kit, everything.

Closing your eyes, you tried to focus on your breathing. It has mostly returned to normal, but you could still feel a lot of tightness in your chest.

"Hey now, don't go falling asleep on me, okay?" You heard Yunho calling out to you a few meters away, making you peek one eye open.

He was kneeling by the sink, scrubbing at the dirty tiles. When he noticed you looking at him, he flashed you a quick, comforting smile.

"'m not falling asleep," you protested, "I'm just resting a bit, sorry."

"It's okay, I was just a little worried."

Yeah. That's definitely one way to put how Yunho was likely feeling right now.

But that could be dwelled on and discussed later. For now, all you had to do was sit still, breathe deep, and stay strong.

...

"You still with me, princess?"

You opened your eyes again, this time to find Yunho sitting in front of you. You don't know how much time has passed, too focused on pacing your breaths, saying the alphabet forwards and backwards, thinking about your favorite TV show moments - anything to calm down, really.

When he saw you were still fully awake, he pulled out a gauze bandage with a small smile. "We should be fine with just the steri-strips, but let me wrap this up for you to be one hundred percent safe, okay?"

You let him do as he pleased, trusting his judgment better than your own at the moment. As he bandaged your leg, you looked around the room, noticing everything was back the way it was before you'd entered.

"I put the, uh, the blades away for now," Yunho continued, a nervous edge to his tone. "I didn't want to just throw them away without permission, but leaving them out here in the open didn't seem like a great idea either. Sorry if it seems distrustful, it's just... you know."

"You're scared I might do it again," you finished for him, making him nod hesitantly. "It's okay, I get it."

It was honestly surprising how easy it was to talk to Yunho about this. Maybe it's because he already saw the worst of it, maybe it was the way he took such gentle care of you, or maybe it was just his entire attitude about this so far. Caring, non-judgemental, open to listen.

"Alright then, I think we're done here. Let's get you to bed, shall we?"

Before you could respond, you were picked up by a pair of strong, warm hands. You wanted to object for a split second, but on second thought, maybe it was in your best interest not to move too much right now.

A few moments later, you were laid back down on the bed, a soft kiss pressed to your temple before you were shrouded in your blanket. With a whispered promise of returning again, Yunho rushed back to turn off the lights and close the door, enveloping the two of you in darkness. You waited a second, two, and then the bed dipped behind you with a quiet creak.

"Come here." Yunho's arms wrapped around your waist from behind again, holding you closer than before. "Is this okay? Should I give you space?"

"It's fine, Yuyu."

His chest shook with a small chuckle. "Oh come on, don't call me that right now." He somehow snuggled up even closer to you, pressing his face into your neck. "I'm already emotional enough as is."

A beat or two of silence passed between the two of you before he spoke up again.

"Was this," Yunho paused, hesitating for a second, "was this the first time you did something like this, or are there... more?"

You sighed. "Well, this was the first time I've messed up like this and used an actual razor blade, but in general? There's been a few instances, yeah. Most of them happened years ago, but lately, it started up again."

Yunho stayed quiet this time. As the silence stretched on, you began to grow worried. Is this the moment where he gets mad at you?

A sniffle broke through the air, quickly followed by another. The hold around your waist tightened.

"It's the socks, isn't it?" Yunho barely choked out, voice trembling.

Never have you felt so guilty in your life before.

"I thought it was weird, I wanted to ask you about it, I really did," he sobbed, burying his wet face further into your shirt. "I didn't want to make you feel bad about it if it was genuinely just something you preferred, so I held back, but it worried me anyway. I should have asked so much sooner."

"Yu..." You tried to turn around in his embrace, but he stopped you, not letting you see his tearful eyes. "Honey, it's not your fault in the slightest, please don't beat yourself up about it."

"But I should have-"

"Just listen to the same advice you gave me, hm? You never wanted this to happen, you wouldn't be so torn up about it otherwise. It's really not your fault."

With what you assumed to be a watery hum of agreement, Yunho nodded into your back.

You tried to turn around again, and this time, Yunho finally let you. You watched as his silhouette sat up, reaching around for the tissue box on the nightstand before wiping his tears and blowing his nose.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, crumpling the tissue and putting it away, "you're the one hurting and I'm making it all about myself."

You tutted softly as he laid back down, shuffling closer to him to drape yourself over his broad chest. "That's not true, Yun. I know this is really hard on you as well, you have all the right to be upset. Please don't hide it just because I'm also in pain."

"Okay," he accepted, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

The room stayed quiet for another few minutes, save for the faint rustling of the sheets as you intertwined one of your hands with his.

"If it's okay," Yunho croaked in a careful, ginger tone, "could we maybe talk more about this tomorrow? I feel like I have over a million questions right now, but I don't want to overwhelm you when you should be resting."

You let out a small, sleepy chuckle. "Yeah, that sounds good. I think I'll also feel a bit better if we talk about this some more tomorrow. It's a bit embarrassing even now when I know that you know, but I trust you enough to share this part of me, I think."

Yunho leaned down to kiss the top of your head, making you smile. "Thank you, you have no idea how much that means to me. And please, never feel embarrassed about this. Just because this stuff is not talked about enough doesn't mean your feelings are wrong or not valid. We'll figure this out together, I promise. No matter what it takes."

"Okay. I look forward to tomorrow," you said, pressing a quick peck to his sternum before lying down again. "Goodnight, Yuyu."

"Goodnight, love."

Please, don't hesitate to reblog or comment!! Any kind of feedback is much appreciated!! <333

(Also would once again like to say that this was not meant to romanticize SH in any way, and I hope it did not come across that way. Take care, everyone <3)

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Folsom Prison Blues | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual ? ;) )

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, sexual harassment, crude sexual comments directed at reader, mentions of rape, panic attacks, sexual coercion, blackmail, recovery from an assault (PLEASE PLEASE EXERCISE CAUTION WHEN READING THIS CHAPTER IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO ANYTHING PREVIOUSLY MENTIONED! Please take care of yourselves, lovebugs.)

Word Count: 5303

A/N: This is definitely one of the darker chapters I’ve written. I just wanna reiterate that if you are at all triggered by mentions of rape or sexual harrassment happening toward the reader, please skip this chapter. However, there are no explicit scenes of assault. I always feel like that crosses a line when writers add those really descriptive scenes.

Remember, if you are a victim of anything like this, you are loved and you are not defined by what happens to you. As a victim myself, I completely understand if you make the decision to skip this week's chapter.

Again, please, please, please take care of yourself while you read this chapter. I love you all! And minors, definitely do not read. doooo notttt readddd.

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

“Have I mentioned that I hate this idea?” you said to Dean harshly, standing outside of the Impala.

Dean chuckled. “I think a few times.” He kissed your forehead. “Look, Deacon’s a friend of ours. He’s got you covered. See you in a few days, okay?”

“I fucking hate this idea,” you groaned.

Dean leaned down to kiss you, effectively cutting off your sentence. “Just trust me, okay?”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. See you, Dee.”

And with that, you set off to meet a friend of John Winchester’s, Deacon, at Green River County Detention Center. Several men had been brutally murdered in the B-block of their men’s prison, and Deacon, the warden at the prison, had come to the Winchester brothers for help. Reluctantly, you agreed to pose as a guard in-training to be right there with the boys the whole time and to assist with their escape. 

Your plan was only able to be accomplished due to the fact that the FBI hadn’t gotten a clear photo of you; not from the bank and not from your previous arrest. Your mugshot from Baltimore had “mysteriously disappeared.” However, Sam’s and Dean’s photos were all over the place; Dean’s from St. Louis and a sketch of Sam from a witness in Milwaukee. The two boys were going to purposefully get arrested to be able to get into the B-block of the prison. That was why you hated the idea so much. 

Deacon was tough, you wouldn’t lie, but no tougher than your father. His whole “ex-military” thing didn’t intimidate you at all, and perhaps that was what kept the other officers from messing with you. You’d proved in your “training” how capable you were, and Deacon claimed that was part of the reason they accelerated the hiring process for you. 

However, your tough, impenetrable attitude didn’t deter the inmates from making jabs at you. Your first day on the job, a scrawny inmate with rotting teeth smacked your ass harshly in the cafeteria. You promptly had him on his stomach with his arm twisted behind his back. Deacon called you into his office afterward to fill out an incident report.

“Guessing you guys don’t have that many female hires, huh?” you asked Deacon upon entering his office.

He chuckled. “That’s a nice way of saying it. Most girls wouldn’t be caught dead in here, and we pretty much don’t hire ‘em. Just for their own safety.”

“Don’t you think that’ll raise some red flags, then? Especially given the fact that I appeared out of nowhere and ‘accelerated through training’?” you questioned.

“(Y/N), we don’t exactly hire the best and the brightest. Besides, that sort of thing happens with the guys all the time. Some get transferred from other prison, for others, this is their jumping-off point before they start workin’ for the police force. Actually, I think a lot of ‘em are too excited to see a girl to even think about where you came from. Trust me, nobody’s paying enough mind to your circumstance to notice any of the cracks,” he assured you. 

You let out a breath. “Okay. The boys get arrested yet?”

He nodded. “Should be on their way over now. Just finished questioning them a few counties over.”

“Wait, questioning them? How serious of a questioning are we talkin’ here?” you asked.

“Uh, I don’t know. That’s above my paygrade, kid,” he replied. “Look, I’m gonna be honest with you. This isn’t gonna be a cakewalk for you. I run a tight ship, but you’re fresh meat. Some of these guys haven’t seen a girl in fifteen, twenty, thirty years. When they see you, be prepared for some wild animals. What happened earlier isn’t gonna be an isolated incident. 

“But one of ‘em even looks at you funny, you tell me. Don’t go lookin’ for trouble, though. Keep your head down and only jump in when you absolutely have to. I have you on patrol of the cell blocks so there’ll at least be a barrier between you and them. At meal and rec time, though, I can’t protect you from what’ll happen.”

You nodded, bile rising in your throat. 

“Why don’t you get outta here? I’ll see you around, okay?”

You nodded again and smiled a little before turning around and heading out of the door. Some of the male guards snickered as you walked past them through the hallways of the prison, but you paid no mind to them. You were focused on seeing your boys again. 

“You don’t belong here,” one of the guards called after you.

You turned on your heel sharply. “What’d you say to me?” 

“You heard me, toots. Go back where you came from,” the guard replied, a foul smile across his face as his buddies snickered.

You gave him a challenging glare. “I’m gonna say this as politely as I can: get fucked.” 

You turned back around and walked away, only to feel a harsh yank on your arm to turn you to face the man. “What’d you say?”

“You heard me, toots,” you said, mocking him. “How small is your dick that a third-grade insult from me got you all fired up? And holy shit, do you need some listerine. You got halitosis? What’s going on there?”

The guard’s friends began to laugh, too, much to the chagrin of the man still holding your arm. He released you roughly, and you knew it’d bruise tomorrow. “I oughta teach you some respect,” he said.

“Oh yeah? And risk losing your job?” you questioned. “You make one wrong move, and I start screaming.”

He scoffed. “Whatever. Just fuck off.”

“That’s what I was doin’,” you replied, turning away again. This time, he let you leave, and you were grateful. You were trying to remain as unnoticed as possible during your time here; despite the fact that being the only female guard put an immediate spotlight on you. 

You continued down the corridor to your assigned patrol; right outside the doors of one of the cell blocks. You tried to seem as unfazed as possible in your nerve-wracking situation and walked with authority; as much as you could muster given most of these men towered over you. You mentally cursed your father for stunting your growth by starving you to make sure you stayed small for hunting purposes. Your baton in hand, you walked up and down the cells. 

“Hey, they got us a hooker,” one of the men from the cell laughed. “How much for the hour, sweetness?”

As that man’s cell erupted into laughter, you walked past another where a man was pleasuring himself in plain view of the hallway. You knew he was doing so to get a rise out of you, and you swallowed your nausea and continued walking. 

“I’m gonna fuck you real good, sweetheart,” a man growled from behind his bars. “At rec time, your ass is mine.”

Again, you just kept walking, ignoring their lewd and offensive comments. You prayed to see Sam, Dean, or Deacon sooner rather than later to continue going through with this. And for a moment, you wondered if this case was even worth it. ‘If these fucking scumbags are the ones dyin’, I’d be okay with that,’ you considered. 

***

At the prisoner’s scheduled lunch time, you held up the end of the line of prisoners heading to the cafeteria. Every time the men at the back of the line tried to turn their heads to sneak a glimpse at you, you used the butt of your baton to hit them on the back of the head and turn their gazes forward. You weren’t completely comfortable doing that, but you were doing your best to prove that you weren’t someone to be messed with.

When you arrived with your group of inmates in the cafeteria, you saw Sam and Dean sitting alone at a small table and talking in hushed voices. You hoped your face didn’t convey your relief to see them. Even though they were in orange jumpsuits, just the sight of the Winchesters made you feel safer. Dean caught you staring at him and smirked a little before turning back to his plate. You forced yourself to remain stoic and keep your hardened expression on your face. Dean got up from the table with his tray to go throw his food away, and Sam followed. Sam somehow didn’t notice a heavily tattooed prisoner with a thick goatee heading straight for him, and he crashed right into him.

“Sorry. I—” Sam tried.

“Watch where you're going,” the man said.

The brunet stumbled over his words. “Yeah. Sure. I just—”

Dean walked up in front of Sam, voice darkening. “He said he was sorry.”

“You talking to me?” the man scoffed. “Are you talking to me?” 

“Great, another guy who's seen Taxi Driver too many times,” Dean quipped. “Yeah, I'm talking to you. Trust me. Let it go.”

The tattooed man walked away, and Dean turned around to Sam. He said something quietly and winked at his brother, making Sam roll his eyes before catching sight of the much larger man the tattooed prisoner was walking back over to them with.

You tried to keep your composure when the man swung a punch at Dean. Dean, however, caught him and held him in place from behind. “We can end this right now. No harm, no foul,” the Older Winchester asserted.

The prisoner soon broke from Dean’s hold. He grabbed him again and slammed him against a wall. The man stepped back on Dean’s foot, and Deacon subtly jerked his head at you for you to step forward to help break up the situation.

“That’s enough!” Deacon commanded, walking over to the man Dean had brought to the floor. “On your feet, Lucas.”

The tattooed man, whose name you just found out, stood. “Yes, sir, boss.”

Deacon held out his baton and pushed Dean’s chin up with it. “What's your name?” he asked him.

“Winchester.”

“Well, Winchester, not a good start.” Deacon stared him down angrily. “Solitary. You too, Lucas.”

You immediately grabbed Dean’s wrists and began pushing him in the direction of solitary confinement while another guard grabbed Lucas. 

“Are we having fun yet, huh?” Dean called over your shoulder to Sam.

You roughly shoved him forward, making him face ahead again. 

“Y’know, I usually don’t let girls tie me up without a first date,” Dean quipped. You knew he was trying to rile you up and get you to break character for his own fun.

“If you wanna keep your tongue, I suggest you keep your mouth shut,” you replied forcefully.

For some reason, that comment seemed to excite Dean. You fought back an eye roll at his amused expression. You roughly shoved him— not too hard, just hard enough to sell it— into the solitary confinement cell and slammed the door shut. 

Dean smirked at you. “See you around, sweetheart.”

You tried to fight the heat rising to your cheeks, upset by how easily he could get a rise out of you. You left him in solitary confinement and followed the guard who’d brought Lucas to solitary back to the cafeteria. 

“The boys seem to like you a lot,” he sneered. “Havin’ fun yet?”

You recognized him as one of the men who’d taunted you after you left Deacon’s office earlier that morning.

“Buckets,” you responded dryly. 

“I can think of a few ways we could have some more fun,” he said to you, backing you into a wall. 

“Get off me!” Your breath quickened, and without even thinking about it, you used the flat part of your forearm to push his chest away and kneed him in the groin.  

“You bitch!” he yelped. You took off running back to the direction you thought the cafeteria was in, taking a moment to steady yourself against a wall. You couldn’t seem to catch your breath, and you slumped down against the wall, clutching at your chest. You closed your eyes and did your best to steady your breathing and thankfully succeeded. You wiped the few tears that had fallen from your eyes, and steeled yourself to go back out there. 

You rejoined your group of guards, including Deacon, and the other prisoners. Deacon seemed to notice you were upset but said nothing about it. All he said was, “You’re watching the bathrooms with Jones,” referring to your next assignment during the prisoners’ working hours and your partner for the time being. 

You were relieved to see Sam when you made it to your destination. He was having to scrub the floors with a mop that seemed to be more like ragged threads now than a cleaning tool. 

“How you doing?” Sam asked the older prisoner he was with.

“I’m fifty-four years old, mopping the floor of a crapper with bars on the windows. How you think I'm doing?” the man’s scratchy voice replied.

“Alright. Bad icebreaker. I'm Sam.”

“Randall.”

“Nice to meet y—” Sam cut himself off, seeming to have realized something. “Randall. Hey, weren't you there the night that guard died?” 

That caught your attention. You threw a look to the guard in the other part of the bathroom ensuring he was focused on other prisoners and not Sam and Randall’s conversation.

“Yeah,” the man replied.

“Well, what happened?” Sam pressed.

“They say the stress of the job got him.”

Sam stopped mopping. “Yeah? What do you say?”

Randall didn’t answer. “Why are you inside, kid?”

“ 'Cause I got an idiot for a brother.”

“That'll do it,” Randall replied. “Well, this place ain't so bad. Compared to the old cellblock, this is the damn Hilton.”

“You spent time in the old block?” Sam questioned.

“Oh, yeah, I was a regular customer.”

“Didn't they have Mark Moody over there for a while?” Mark Moody was the man who Sam and Dean suspected of being your ghost killer.

“He was there. Yeah I was there, too, the night that lunatic bought it,” Randall explained.

“Yeah? It was a heart attack, right?”

The older man chuckled. “Sure, his heart stopped right after the guard stopped using his head for batting practice. The next morning, I was in his cell, mopping up the blood. What a mess.” He shook his head.

“Wait. So he– he was beaten and– and nobody reported it?” Sam asked in confusion.

“You kept your mouth shut, unless you wanted to die from the same heart attack, y’know?” Randall chuckled; the gravelly sound almost sending a chill down your spine. 

‘This guy could easily play Hannibal Lector,’ you thought.

“Randall, exactly how much blood was there?”

*** When working time was over, the prisoners had an hour in the yard before dinner and returning to their cells. You watched from the far corner of the fence while he played poker with every man who was dumb enough to try him for cigarettes. You folded your arms across your chest and watched with amusement when Sam came up to him and began bickering with him about something.

Dean then stood and yelled, “Hey, fellas! Who's ready to deal?”

He played several more rounds of poker, and you did your best to pry your eyes away from him so as to not arouse suspicions of any kind. However, that proved to be the least of your worries.

The guard from earlier whose balls you’d kicked in came up beside you and nonchalantly leaned against the gate. “You’re playing hard to get. It’s cute. I like it,” he said.

“Leave me alone, please,” you replied coolly. You were ready to bash his head in.

“Or what?” he challenged, still facing forward. “I think you owe me an apology for earlier. I’ll have a real treat for you tonight when we get off work.”

You jerked your head toward him. “You try anything, and I swear to god I will gut you.”

“Easy there, princess. It’d do you well to get in good with me. I’ll be able to protect you from them.” The guard nodded out to the inmates who would turn their heads every once in a while in your direction.

“Not interested,” you said simply. “Besides, I think I need more protection from you than from them.”

You could feel his gaze burning into the side of your head. “Maybe so. Maybe if you don’t give me what I want, I’ll take it out on your little inmate friend over there.” He nodded toward Dean who was triumphantly fistpumping after winning another hand of poker. 

You looked back at him, worry swimming in your eyes.

“That’s right, I noticed how you keep looking at him. You’re not very subtle, I hope you know. And he’s definitely not,” the guard said. “So, if you wanna keep him alive, you scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours. I’ll see you tonight.”

You stared at the ground ahead of you in fear and tried to think your way out of your situation. All that played over in your mind was the sickening feeling of his body against yours in that cinderblock corridor outside of solitary confinement. Bile rose in your throat, and the only thing snapping you out of your trance was the whistle indicating the end of rec time.

You went through the motions of your “job” by escorting the prisoners from the yard into the cafeteria for dinner. Your head was not at all in the moment or in the case, and fear kept your adrenaline moving for the next several minutes. It wasn’t until Dean got in another fight and nearly got himself killed that your adrenaline surged for a different reason.

“If we'd waited any longer, you'd be dead,” Deacon told Dean.

“You waited long enough,” Dean huffed, trying to catch his breath.

Deacon shoved his baton into Dean’s stomach, and you nearly lunged at him for doing so. He grabbed the back of Dean’s head and told him, “Do yourself a favor. Don't. Talk.” The warden looked up at you. “Take them both up to the infirmary.”

You and the guard who’d been harassing you did so. Dean noticed how off you were, but did his best not to convey what he knew. When you got both Tiny and Dean into cells, you had no desire to leave with the guard; afraid of what would happen to you.

You were almost angry at yourself. You were (Y/N) (Y/L/N). You’d fought monsters, ghosts, and demons, and you were losing your mind over a guy that would shit his pants if he knew what you’d seen. However, the fact that he was still a very real threat drowned out those thoughts.

***

The man Dean had fought had apparently died in the infirmary; no doubt by the hands of the thing you were hunting. While Dean was fighting said man, Sam snuck to the room Moody had been murdered in and burnt the rest of the blood away, so you knew it couldn’t be him. All you could do was wait for the boys to talk to the other prisoners to get the name of your true target.

Later that night, you just wanted to make it back to the Impala when you got off your shift. You even waited a while after everyone else on your shift had left to make your way out of the prison. You hoped the guard whose name you didn’t even know wouldn’t make good on his threats. However, your stomach dropped when you saw him leaning against Dean’s car.

You stopped several feet from him.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he told you.

“How the fuck do you know what car I drive?” you questioned.

“It’s not hard. I mean, you’re the only ‘67 Chevy in the parking lot. Nice ride, by the way,” he said.

“Fuck you.”

In an instant, he was running toward you. You turned and sprinted away, only to be knocked to the ground by the man. He roughly pulled your hair back, yanking your head back against him. “Remember what I fucking told you,” he growled against your ear. “Are you gonna start playing nice?”

***

Everything felt wrong. No matter how many showers you took, you couldn’t scrub the feeling off your skin. Back in your motel room, you laid on your side wrapped in an oversized shirt. You stared at the wall in the dark, completely numb. You hadn’t even been able to cry since it happened.

You couldn’t think. You couldn’t move. For hours, you laid there. You wouldn’t allow sleep to hold you close enough to darken the world around you. 

One thing you kept thinking was ‘I’ll never be the same again.’ The words played on a loop over and over in your mind. They danced around in your head for hours, taunting you. 

You wanted to climb out of your skin. Start the day over. You wished you’d fought back. Wished someone had been sound to stop him. The scrapes on your left wrist and arm were undoubtedly going to bruise in the morning, and your uniform wouldn’t exactly hide them. You knew Dean and Sam would ask questions, and the former would rip the guy’s head off. You didn’t even know that guard’s name. Everything just felt so wrong. 

But you wouldn’t let this stop you from doing your job. You wouldn’t let those boys brave that place alone with no word from you. And so, despite everything in your body telling you not to, you went back to the prison the next day.

***

You could tell Deacon knew something was wrong, but he didn’t press you further. The other prison guards didn’t seem to notice a difference in you; except, of course, the guard’s posse. They would snicker at you every time you walked past, and you could only imagine what your abuser had said about you. 

Thankfully, you only had to endure this last day of awfulness. Deacon was going to “fire” you right after rec time was over to give you enough time to get the Impala pulled around the back of the jail for the brothers to escape through. Your job was to wait for Sam to come over to you and give you the name of the person you were after and find what cemetery they were at. Then, you were going to get the boys the hell out of dodge. 

You watched the boys in the rec yard talking to Randall, the man Sam had gotten information from while they were cleaning the bathrooms. Then, the younger brother came over to you. 

“Hey,” he said, looking around to see if anyone was paying much attention to him.

“Hi,” you replied.

“Whoa, what happened to your arm?” Sam asked in concern, noticing your very obvious scrapes. 

“Oh, it’s nothing, I—”

“This guy bothering you?” That awful, familiar voice said from behind you. 

Without turning around to face your abuser, you replied, “No. Please, go away.”

Sam glared at the man behind you when he noticed how upset the guard’s mere presence made you. You could tell he knew the guard had done something to you; he was a smart boy. 

“Glockner,” was all Sam said to you before turning away. 

“Surprised you’re able to still walk—”

You immediately turned around to him and punched him square across his jaw. 

“Bitch!” he yelled.

“Fuck you!” you yelled. 

‘Deacon’s firing me anyway,’ you thought. ‘Might as well give him a legitimate reason to.’

You got down on top of the guard and started punching hard. His face was bloodied and bruised, the man barely hanging on to consciousness before you were pulled away, kicking and screaming by two other guards. They dragged you over to Deacon, who promptly made a scene of firing you. He escorted you out to the parking lot where he said the cops would be waiting for you to bring you in for questioning. 

Once the two of you were far enough away, he roughly spun you around to face him. “What the hell was that?!” he questioned. “You know they’re gonna be out for blood now!”

“I know that, Deacon! Maybe if your guards weren’t fucking scumbags, though, I wouldn’t have had to do that!” you yelled back.

“What?” his voice quieted considerably. 

“Nothing,” you said. “Just tell my boys I’ll be back for ‘em tonight.” You turned on your heel and walked away. 

“Hey, kid,” Deacon called after you.

You turned around. 

“Thank you. And… I’m sorry. For whatever happened.”

You nodded and turned back around again.

*** You discovered that “Glockner” was the name of a nurse in the seventies who’d been caught in the crossfire of the inmate uprising that occurred following Moody’s death. She’d been buried at Green Valley Cemetery following the severe cerebral edema the inmates gave her. 

You returned to the detention center under the cover of night and pulled the car around the back of the prison away from the parking lot where the guards were beginning to change shifts. You waited anxiously dressed in civilian clothes again for the boys to come out of the HVAC unit Deacon told you would be attached to the room he would be bringing the boys into following their staged fight. 

“Oh, man, are you a sight for sore eyes,” a familiar voice rumbled. 

Dean and Sam leapt over the fence separating you from them, and you couldn’t help but collapse into Dean’s arms. “Whoa, sweetheart, what’s—”

“No time, guys,” Sam reminded you. “You can reunite later. We gotta go.”

As if on cue, an alarm began to sound through the prison. Immediately, you nodded and broke away from Dean. You headed to the driver’s seat so Sam and Dean could change while you drove. Quickly, you headed to the cemetery Nurse Glockner was buried in. 

***

The brothers caught you up on everything that had been happening to them since you hadn’t been able to talk much over the last week.

“What?!” you exclaimed, following them through the cemetery. “Henriksen’s here?!”

“Yeah, which is exactly why I wanted to get the hell out,” Sam told you. “They were gonna extradite us back to St. Louis or Baltimore or something. Whatever was gonna happen to us, it wasn’t gonna be pretty.

“Jesus,” you responded. “And no doubt, they’re gonna be looking for me soon, too. I beat the fuck out of a guy who knows I drive a ‘67 Impala.”

“What?!” both boys questioned upon reaching the grave of Nurse Glockner.

You nodded solemnly. “Yeah,” you said. 

“I’m gonna need a bit more of a response than ‘yeah,’ sweetheart,” Dean grunted as he began digging.

“Later. Let’s just get this over with, okay?” you said, helping the boys dig faster. 

You could feel both brothers staring at you in concern, but you couldn’t look up at them. 

***

When Glockner had finally been salted and burned, you and the Winchesters returned to the Impala and quickly drove away. 

“You know, I almost wish I could see Henriksen's face,” Dean joked as the Impala’s engine purred.

“Really? 'Cause I'd be happy if I never saw him again,” Sam replied tightly. “I mean, we're not really out of the woods yet, Dean, you know? You thought we were screwed before?”

“Yeah, I know. We got to go deep this time,” Dean responded.

“ ‘Deep,’ Dean? We should go to Yemen,” Sam quipped.

“Ooh, I'm— I'm not sure I'm ready to go that deep.”

You were silent the entirety of the drive over state lines and to a motel in the middle of wooded nowhere. You were silent through the check-in process, and silent when Dean crawled into your bed behind you later that night. He began to kiss down your neck, and you wanted to enjoy the feeling so badly.

“Dean.” Your voice broke as you whispered his name.

Immediately, Dean took his face away from your neck. “What?” he asked, hearing how upset you were. “What is it?” 

“I, um—” you started, unable to turn to face him. “I can’t.”

“Why?” he asked softly.

“The guard—” you said. “—from the rec yard. He, um.”

Dean lightly turned you to face him. “(Y/N), what’d he do?” His voice had darkened considerably at the thought of someone hurting you. 

“He, uh—” your breath shuddered, and you were unable to meet his gaze. “He raped me.”

You swear all of the oxygen looked like it’d been punched out of Dean, his face hardening in the darkness. “Oh, I’ll kill him—”

“Dean, don’t, okay? It’s not gonna—” you protested, reaching up to grab his face to make him look at you. “It’s not gonna change anything.”

“I know, but—”

“Dean, I thought beating him to a bloody pulp was gonna make me feel better. It didn’t. I just feel more disgusting. Like, why didn’t I do that when it was all happening?” You began to cry. “I just— I’m trying to forget it ever happened. And I know I won’t. And it’s awful. And I just— I need time,” you explained.

Silence settled over the two of you for a moment.

“Do you want me to leave?” Dean asked softly.

“I— I don’t know. I just—” You took a deep breath. “I don’t really know how I feel about touching right now. Can you just lay with me?”

He nodded and climbed into bed beside you, the two of you staring up at the ceiling. Wordlessly, you slipped your hand under the covers and reached for his hand, lacing his fingers with yours and squeezing tightly. 

Your world was turning completely upside down. Your mind wouldn’t slow down, and you didn’t sleep much at all that night. However, you knew that whatever happened to you, Dean was there to keep you grounded. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Nikki McCann Ramírez at Rolling Stone:

Donald Trump lasted about two minutes into Vice President Kamala Harris’ nomination acceptance speech before launching into a full-blown public unraveling.  Moments after Harris took the stage Thursday at the Democratic National Convention, it became clear that the former president — and her 2024 opponent — was glued to the television in a hate-watch for the ages. 

“Here she comes into the Arena,” was the first of around furious 50 posts in a Truth Social meltdown that began when Harris entered the United Center in Chicago, Illinois, and continued long after she left the stage.  Notable reactions to Harris’ statements included:  “IS SHE TALKING ABOUT ME?”  “A lot of talk about childhood, we’ve got to get to the Border, Inflation, and Crime!” “Walz was an ASSISTANT Coach, not a COACH.”  “Too many ‘Thank yous,’ too rapidly said, what’s going on with her?”  “She caused the Attack of October 7th.” The former president was especially apoplectic about Harris’ description of he and his allies’ expansive plans to restrict reproductive rights. Harris said Trump “would limit access to birth control, ban medication abortion, and enact a nationwide abortion ban, with or without Congress.” She added that Trump “plans to create a national anti-abortion coordinator and force states to report on women’s miscarriages and abortions.” “Simply put, they are out of their minds,” Harris concluded. “One must ask: why exactly, is it that they don’t trust women?” Harris was describing components of Project 2025, the conservative personnel and policy program created to help the next GOP president (read: Trump) quickly impose a far-right agenda. 

Trump has actively tried to run away from the project in recent months, because its plans poll terribly. He was not pleased with being tied once again to its proposals. “I do not limit access to birth control … THAT IS A LIE, these are all false stories that she’s making up, that I’ve never even heard of. It’s just words coming out of her mouth,” Trump posted. “I TRUST WOMEN, ALSO, AND I WILL KEEP WOMEN SAFE! SHE WON’T, BECAUSE THE INVASION OF OUR COUNTRY AT HER OPEN BORDER IS DESTROYING THE LIVES OF WOMEN, AND THE FAMILIES AND JOBS OF AFRICAN AMERICANS AND HISPANICS.” Trump only stopped posting in order to call into Fox News, where he raged at anchors Bret Baier and Martha MacCallum. When MacCallum pointed out that Harris was gaining in several polls and key demographics, Trump countered that “she’s not having success. I’m having success.” 

[...] The hosts eventually cut him off, ostensibly because it was time for a special edition of Fox’s cringiest show: Gutfeld! Trump, however, was nowhere near done, and within minutes was calling into Newsmax’s live DNC coverage. There, the former president complained that Harris hadn’t addressed “woman trafficking” in her speech, and suggested he and the hosts take a trip to Caracas, Venezuela.  He was still accidentally jamming the buttons on his phone during the call. “He is uhh, he’s a very special man,” host Greg Kelly said when the former president finally hung up. 

During Kamala Harris’s DNC speech last night, Donald Trump had an unhinged hissy fit on multiple outlets: TRUTH Social, Faux “News”, and Newsmax.

Let that be a reminder that this unhinged jerk cannot be allowed another term in office.

See Also:

Daily Kos: After days of near silence on the DNC, Trump ‘reviews’ Harris’ speech

The Guardian: Harris’s convention speech sparks live rant from outraged Trump

[soullumii]

masked up | joel miller x f!reader

pairing: joel miller x fem!afab!reader

summary: joel fucks you while wearing his gas mask

warnings/tags: 18+ content MDNI, very self indulgent smut (unprotected piv oops, mask kink 🤭, vaginal fingering, riding joel cowgirl because that is for sure his fav position, little bit of a bulge kink, oral [m receiving]) descriptions of blood and violence, established relationship (married!! whoop whoop!!), making joel call you “my wife” because i’m weak for that shit, soft!joel, protective!joel, this got sappy, pet names galore as usual, NO USE OF Y/N

word count: 4.2k

a/n: i can’t explain how i feel about joel wearing a gas mask. i swear every time he put it on while i was playing tlou pt 1 i moaned /hj. just HEAR ME OUT PLEEK. JUST WATCH THIS (it’s a tiktok edit) OK YOULL UNDERSTAND.

You don’t mean for the mask to become a thing.

But it does. It becomes a Thing™.

It all starts and ends with Joel, like good and bad things usually do. And this thing is no exception.

But it all begins with something bad.

Coming across spores nowadays is few and far between for you. You're not usually on patrol much, your job being to tend to the crops in the greenhouse and feed the livestock. 

Today, though, you’re not so lucky. With Tommy out sick, you’re filling in for him. Thankfully, though, you’re paired with Joel, your very lovely and very experienced in the art of dealing with infected, husband. So you know if you come across spores, your husband will have your back. 

Spores are annoying, but they're manageable with gas masks. When you and Joel enter an abandoned office building on a new patrol route and you catch sight of the little specks floating through the air, you immediately put yours on, Joel doing just the same. 

The floaty fungal fuckers themselves aren't scary, especially not when you have the gas masks to keep you safe. It's just what waits in the shadows that scares you, because where there are spores, there's infected. Lots of them. 

And usually interspersed in that conglomerate of stalkers and clickers are the big, meaty ones. The kind that have been sitting and festering for years. The kind that could literally rip you into pieces, regardless if you have a gas mask on or not. Bloaters, yeah, those big shits. The fucking bane of your existence.

Unfortunately, the one lazing around in this abandoned office building must somehow pick up on your undying hate for them because within minutes of you and Joel looting the place for all it’s worth, it comes clambering out of what used to be a conference room.

It's a big one. Noticeably disgusting, outrageously hideous, growling and slobbering as it slings mycotoxin at you. It's not very fast, and yet it's so fucking terrifying as it lumbers after you, because you know exactly what it’s capable of. 

You're shooting at it with whatever arrows you have left in your backpack (though they’re mostly just bouncing off it’s thick fungal exterior), and Joel's crunching out shot after shot with his shotgun, but neither of you are hardly making a dent.

God, you wish Joel had brought the flamethrower he keeps in his storage room. You’d make a Molotov cocktail, but with the other infected hot on your heels, there's no time. 

A stalker comes crawling out of the shadows behind you, knocking over an office chair in the process, and you whip around to lodge an arrow right between its eyes. Two more come swinging out of nowhere, and you're so focused on trying to get rid of them so that they can't reach you—can't reach Joel—that you don't realize you've left your back unattended until a large, gross excuse for a hand lands hard on your shoulder, lugging you backwards with inhuman strength. 

Joel shouts your name with increased panic, and you hear his gun fire off more rounds into the bloater's back, but it doesn't care, it's hands finding your head and jaw, gripping you so tight you think it might shatter your mandible.

"Joel!" You scream, eyes squeezing shut as the pain in your jaw multiplies.

This motherfucker is about to rip you clean in half—

You think this is it, I'm about to die in front of my husband by being torn from the jaw down, but, thankfully, death never comes. Instead, the bloater releases you with a pained roar as the sound of squelching fills your ears. You manage to back away enough to watch Joel tug the bloater off of you by the handle of his machete, the blade lodged in its chest. 

He pulls the machete out only to swing it down in an arc straight into its head, repeatedly. Blood splatters all over him as he bludgeons the wretched thing. Over his veiny arms, his black mask. It sinks into the fabric of his flannel.

And funnily enough, this is when it becomes a thing.

The bloater crumples to the floor with a gurgling groan as it finally dies, and Joel turns to you, chest heaving and eyes wide and panicked. They soften, relieved when he catches sight of you physically intact, though, mentally a bit checked out.

Whether that’s because you’re in shock or because your brain is rewiring as it files this new image of Joel away, who knows? Maybe it's a little bit of both. 

“Are you okay?" Joel asks, sheathing his machete to look you over. His hands catch your jaw gently, a welcome contrast to the bloater. He turns it this way and that, checking for any damage or possible bites.

A traitorous thrumming starts up between your thighs as he stares you down through the lenses of his mask. 

"I'm fine, Joel," you say, breathlessly. "Thanks."

“Thank god,” he squeezes your arm lovingly, grateful to see you in one piece. “Let’s get outta here.”

- - -

"Do you like the masks?" You ask him eventually, when you're back outside, the setting sun warming you pleasantly as the tall borders of Jackson rise in the distance.

You both took the masks off the minute you escaped the spores, but a part of you secretly hoped Joel would keep his on.

Joel scratches at his graying beard. "They keep us safe. Don't feel much for 'em at all really." He glances sidelong at you, a curious quirk to his lips. "Why?"

You shrug, "No reason."

Just trying to figure out if you'd wear it during sex if I asked you to, that's all.

“Alright, somethin's up," Joel says. "You've got the look.” 

“What look?” 

“The sex look.” 

You halt in your hike, turning to narrow your eyes at him. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

Joel fails to stifle a chuckle. “You’re horny. That’s the face you make when you want to have sex. Like you wanna eat me alive.” 

Shit. He’s found you out.

“How would you know?”

He blinks. “Honey, I’m married to ya. Of course I’m gonna know.”

Valid. Still-

"I’m not horny," you try to defend, though you've never been good at lying, and based on the self satisfied smile Joel wears, you know he sees right through you. "We almost died, Joel. Maybe this is my 'loving every minute of my life' look."

"I know that look. This ain't it."

Jesus Christ.

You sigh heavily. “Okay, yes. Maybe I am a little horny.” 

"Because…what? We almost died? That gets you goin'?" 

"No," you grit. You can’t even look at him when you say it. “It’s the mask.”

His brows knit. “The...gas mask?”

You nod tightly. 

“I don’t think I’m followin’,” Joel says. 

Is he seriously asking you to spell it out for him?

You take a deep, steadying breath. You don’t quite know how to phrase this, so you just go for it. “Watching you save my life in the gas mask just sort of woke something up in me. It was hot.” 

“Oh.”

Yup. He definitely thinks you’re crazy.

“So, what, you want me to fuck you while wearin' the mask or somethin’?”

Heat pools heavy and thick between your thighs at his words, your heart hammering behind your ribs. “Something like that, yeah.” 

Joel straightens. “...Okay. I can do that.” 

Your head whips up. “Wait, seriously?”

“You’re my wife. If you asked me to fuck you with a damn jester’s hat on I’d do it.” 

You laugh. “Okay, let’s not go that far.”

“I’d really do it for you.”

“It sounds like you actually want to wear it.”

He chuckles, and you two resume walking back to Jackson. “Alright, so, gas mask on tonight,” he says. “Any other requests?” 

“Since you’re asking…maybe you could wear a cowboy hat sometime…”

- - -

"Jesus, you're really lovin' this," Joel muses.

You're laid out beneath him in your shared bed, his long calloused fingers deep in your cunt, his thumb circling slowly over your clit, drawing out your pleasure, stretching it like taffy. Your jeans are still on, unbuttoned and unzipped, and your soiled underwear is pulled to the side as Joel’s hands unwind you. 

You're grasping onto his muscled forearm for dear life, moans leaking out of you in a steady stream as he fucks his fingers into you, curling up to stroke that spot that has you clenching down hard on his digits as the burning starts in your toes, climbing up your thighs. 

He looks so fucking good with that mask situated over his handsome face, his peppered hair flipping out over the straps that keep it snug on him. His eyes are dark through the lenses as they watch you unravel before him, almost black from how dilated his pupils are.

His jeans are still on, his erection straining hard against his zipper. The flannel he wore earlier is gone, giving you the perfect view of his toned chest and the dark hair that dusts it. There's still some blood stains on his mask. Every time you catch sight of them, your body ignites with something carnal and hungry.

"’Cause, you look hot," you huff between moans. 

Joel laughs, deep and rumbling, and the mask warbles it a bit, adding a distortion to his voice that for some reason makes everything happening so much hotter. “I still don’t really get it, but if it’s makin’ you this wet, I don’t care.”

You moan particularly loud at the sound of his voice muffled through the mask and cant your hips against his hand, the combination of his thumb circling your clit and his fingers fucking up into you has you dangling dangerously close to the edge.

“I-I’m close, Joel.”

His brows furrow behind his mask, and he quirks his fingers inside you even more, and you jolt against his hand. 

“C’mon then, baby. Come for me. Show me how much this pretty pussy loves this mask.”

Fucking shit. When you first met Joel, he hardly spoke a single word, and even when you got him to open up more, he was thoughtful with what he said, chose his words carefully. Unless he was angry, then he could be a bit of an ass.

In bed though? Shit, if you can get him to shut up it’s a damn miracle.

“F-fuck, Joel,” you whine, legs stiffening as your orgasm swells inside you, a match striking, lighting up your viscera as pleasure fast-releases inside your veins. 

“There you go baby, that’s it,” Joel purrs. “So pretty when you come.”

You inhale shakily as the last few shocks fizzle through you, your clit throbbing as you come down from your high.

“Fuck…” you huff, trying to catch your breath.

He strokes your thigh lovingly, and if you could see him behind the mask you’d assume he’s probably wearing that soft smile that he gets sometimes that melts you into a puddle of mushy gushy feelings.

Joel leans back on his knees. “Now it’s time to deliver on that promise,” he says, and your skin tingles at the sound of his zipper. 

“Wait,” you tell him, and he stops, looking at you in concern.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“No I just…I wanna show you how much this means to me.”

“Me wearin’ this mask? It’s not a big deal-“

You sit up and plant your hands on his chest, pushing him down until his back hits the mattress, effectively shutting him up.

You swing your leg over him, situating yourself right on his lap and peel off your tank, delighting in the way his eyes widen and his hands come down to settle warmly on your thighs. 

The muscles in his arms shift as he squeezes your flesh. The drag of the crotch of his jeans against yours has you biting your lip, a zing of pleasure shooting through you.

Joel’s eyes have darkened behind his mask, his pupils swallowing his irises whole besides the thin circle of hazel remaining at the edges as he watches you.

“I’ve never hated jeans more than I do right now,” he says lowly, his gaze dropping to the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

His strong hands slide up from your thighs to your hips to your waist, his dry, calloused skin causing goosebumps to rise in their wake. Finally, his palms cup your breasts, unrestrained by a bra because they’re too hard to come by in this day and age. 

He squeezes gently, and your nipples tighten beneath his palms. And then he rolls one between his thumb and forefinger, and your back arches, pressing you further into him. Your hips grind down automatically, and Joel releases a hazy moan. 

“Maybe,” you gasp when you roll your hips again, reveling in the delicious friction against your clit. “You should take them off.”

“Yours first.”

You don’t press him on it. You want your jeans off. So you lift yourself off of him and the bed to tug at your zipper, and Joel watches raptly as you pull your skinny jeans down your thighs, kicking them off your ankles.

And then you’re only in your underwear, and you throw your legs astride him again, the cloth of your underwear catching deliciously on the tent in his jeans. Joel’s hands find your body immediately, like a sweet tooth to a chocolate bar. His fingers dig into your flesh, and he grips your thighs, pulling them apart to set you on him fully. A shudder wracks your spine at the feeling of him pressed against your throbbing core.

“Goddamn,” he growls, eyes roving over you hungrily. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

You grind down on the hard outline of his cock, and Joel can’t help his reflexive thrust into you, and you sigh. 

“I need you in me, Joel,” you whisper, leaning forward to plant your hands on his broad chest, your fingers messing with the hair dusting his sternum. “Need your cock filling me up.”

“Christ,” he swears, eyes falling shut as he bucks again. “Need’a be in you, sweetheart.”

His hands find your hips and then your ass, squeezing the muscle cultivated there from twenty years of surviving in an apocalyptic world. 

His fingers dip beneath the waistband of your panties, warm and confident. He lightly rakes his fingernails over your skin, running his calloused fingertips reverently over the stretch marks on your hips. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispers through the mask. “Wish I could kiss you.” 

You shiver and your arms loop around his neck. His back is scarred beneath your hands, and you rub gently into the muscle of his traps, causing Joel to release a groan. 

His hand gravitates from your hips to the apex of your thighs, and your breath catches in your throat at the warmth radiating from his fingers when he positions them just below where you want him most.

He circles your clit again, smooth pleasure seeping through your nerve endings and your head falls back in a relaxed moan. You grind against the hard outline of his cock and the pads of his fingers against your clit, each slow drag of your hips causing pleasure to fizzle through you, like a flavored tab in a glass of water.

Your hands travel down his chest and stomach, outlining the thick, jagged scar there. Over his dark happy trail that starts just above his belly button and leads down to what your body is desperately craving. A little treasure map. 

You deftly undo the button and zipper and Joel makes a wrecked noise in the back of his throat when your hand brushes the hard outline of him through his briefs. 

“Wanna show you how much I like you in the mask,” you purr as you palm him. “How hot it gets me.” 

“Fuck,” his head falls back when you tug him out of his briefs, stroking his thick length to full mast. “Please, baby.”

You inch yourself down his legs so that you’re face to face with his weeping cock. Joel’s eyes widen and his hand comes up to gently stroke your hair appreciatively, tucking a lock of it behind your ear. He looks at you with adoration, and your heart swells in your chest.

“I love you, y’know that?” He says, softly. 

You can’t help but get a bit misty-eyed, always a fan of Joel when he gets soft like this. “I love you, too.” 

He smiles, and glances down at his dick, maneuvering it so that the head skates across your lips, leaving a trail of precum. His heated eyes find yours again. “Go on and show me then.”

“Yes sir.”

You keep eye contact as you lean forward to give his cock little kitten licks, and his head drops against the pillow with a groan, eyes lidded. “Shit, you can’t be lookin’ at me like that.”

You just smirk, and lick a long stripe up a prominent vein and kiss the tip of his cock sweetly before slowly taking him into your mouth. You take in as much as you can (which isn’t much, he’s pretty fucking big), and your hands find whatever you can’t fit.

You start sucking him in earnest, pressing the flat of your tongue against the ridge of his cock, delighting in the way the hand that had softly petted your hair before is now gripping it tight when you tongue that sensitive spot that always gets him reeling.

“That’s it, honey,” he groans, his hips twitching with tiny little thrusts as he tries to hold himself back. “Just like that.”

You moan against his cock, which has him bucking up reflexively, shoving his dick further into your warm mouth. Your throat spasms around the head of his cock when it hits the back of it, gagging lightly and tears forming at the edges of your eyes.

“Shit, I'm sorry, sweetheart,” he says, wiping the tears from your eyes with his thumb.

You shake your head slightly in reassurance, moaning around his cock again, and he releases a heavy breath, eyes fluttering shut once more as you continue to suck and bob and lick, effectively ruining him.

“Okay, okay, baby,” he says after a little while, lightly tugging on your hair to try and get you to stop. “I’m gonna come if you keep doin’ that.” 

You release his cock with an audible pop and send him a pout, “But that’s the whole point.” 

He chuckles a bit, sliding the mask off for a second so he can pull you up to kiss you softly, his tongue swiping over your bottom lip. You moan gratefully into his mouth when he tilts his head to deepen it, opening up greedily. As attractive as you find the mask, you certainly do miss being able to kiss him. You sigh happily when he pulls back to mouth at your jaw and throat, sucking and nipping his way down. 

“I wanna be in you when I come,” he murmurs against your skin, voice rough and gruff and you don’t think you’ll ever tire of it. “How’s that sound?”

You moan softly when he bites down on your throat, his beard and mustache tickling your skin. “Sounds…sounds good.”

He gives you another kiss before tugging his mask back down over his head, and your skin ignites, pussy fluttering.

Joel laughs. “I can literally see the cogs in your brain turnin’ when I put this on. You really do like it, huh?”

You shrug with a guilty smile. “The heart wants what it wants.”

And what it wants is him. Real bad.

So you drift a hand down to pull your panties to the side and shift your hips to position yourself over him, the head of his cock catching on your entrance. You sink slowly down, his length filling you.

The two of you moan in tandem.

“There we go,” he sighs.

“Mm, so big, Joel…” you whimper, and his dick jumps inside you.

You both just hang there for a moment, suspended in time as you get used to the feeling of each other. You’ve done this so many times, know each others bodies inside and out, yet it’s still a brand new experience every time.

You always have to adjust to his thickness. 

You break the spell with an experimental roll of your hips, and Joel’s hands clamp down on your hips with a vice grip.

“Christ—“ he swears. “You’re so good, so good for me.”

He’s filling you so fully, so deeply right now, you’re practically speared on him, and each roll of your hips has your clit brushing against his pelvic bone, amplifying that white hot pressure building inside you. 

When you and Joel first started getting intimate together, he was quiet in the bedroom. Probably a bit nervous around you—he was the one that fell first, after all.

But now after years together, he lets it all out.

Grunts and moans leak out of his gritted teeth as you fuck yourself on top of him. He’s dousing you in praises, telling you what a good girl you are. How perfect you are. How lucky he is to call you his wife. 

It’s all so very adorable and very sexy and you just love him so fucking much. 

Joel plants his feet down behind you, just to get some leverage so he can thrust his hips up into you at a steady pace. Your hands find purchase on his chest, keeping you upright while he fucks you.

His large palm slides around the front of your stomach, pressing down, and you can feel the way his cock moves inside you as he does it.

“You see that, baby?” 

You haven’t really looked down, so focused on the way he looks in the mask, how his breaths are coming out heavier and rougher through it. The way he sounds wrecked. But now that he’s asking, you do. 

You look down, only to see a slight bulge in your stomach with each thrust of his hips. 

A pleasant shudder runs through you. “Oh fuck.”

“Love seein’ the way I fuck you,” he rasps.

You watch his cock disappear and reappear with a slack jaw, eyes glazed as his hands stray to your thighs, squeezing and kneading the flesh.

You’re losing strength in your arms, your nails scraping through his chest hair as you try and remain upright, but the effort of matching his thrusts with your own along with the steady ecstasy filling your marrow is enough to have you collapsing against his chest, boneless.

And now Joel can really take the reins. His big hands grip your ass, holding you still as he pounds into you, your cheek smushing against his pecs with each heavy thrust, your clit rubbing against his sweat-slicked skin.

“F-fuck, Joel. Oh my god—“

“Yeah, yeah,” he grunts. “Atta girl.” 

Within moments you’re already there, eyes squeezing shut, brows pulled together in ecstasy as your climax crashes over you in rolling waves. It ebbs and flows within you as you listen to the heated pants modulating through Joel’s mask, watching his eyes gloss over as he chases his own release. 

It’s so fucking good. So right. Your husband never fails to give you exactly what you want.

His thrusts grow sloppier as he follows soon behind you, the fluttering walls of your cunt pulling him over faster.

“I’m comin’,” he grits. And then he’s grinding his cock into your pussy, holding you still against him as he paints your insides with thick ropes of cum, releasing a long, drawn out, wrecked moan of your name.

You lay pliant on his chest, practically drooling on him as you both come down and his cock softens inside you, slick and cum running down the inside of your thighs. His heart pounds under your ear, a steady reminder that he’s alive and here and that you, thank fuck, didn’t die earlier today.

“Thanks,” you mumble against his perspirant skin.

He tugs the mask off, his hair sticking to his sweaty temple. “‘Course, darlin’. Though as hot as that was, I dunno about having sex wearin’ that again. I think I was startin’ to get light headed from the lack of air.”

You giggle, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no. I liked it. But now anytime we have to wear them again I’m just gonna be thinkin’ about this. Gonna get a damn hard-on when I’m on patrol.”

You smirk, leaning up to plant a kiss on his lips. He opens up beneath you immediately, moaning softly into your mouth. 

“Maybe that was my goal all along,” you mumble, smiling into the kiss.

He pulls back with a quirked brow and crooked grin. “You are into some sick kinds of torture.”

“I mean, if it gets you coming home to me quicker…”

“Oh I’ll be comin’, alright.”

Your face scrunches. “God, you’re sick. Why did I even marry you?”

His eyes melt, one hand squeezing your ass cheek, the other stroking your jaw. “Because you love me.”

That causes tears to well in your eyes again, because despite everything, despite all the fucked up things about this world, you do love him. You’re capable of loving him. And you’re grateful that, even with the terrible way life has treated him, he’s capable of loving you too.

“Yeah, I do,” you say.

He kisses you again, sweet and passionate and filled with all the things he never knows how to say. “I love you, too.”

[lilystyles]

gingerbread at midnight.

part one of the sweetest thing series by @lilystyles

the sweetest thing masterlist & my main masterlist xxx

authors note did somebody say christmas fic szn??? if there is two things people know about me it is that i love christmas and i love harry styles. so here u go!

brief description during a chilly evening at the bakery, harry learns how to make gingerbread.

warnings! fluffy christmas baking including niall :) (4.3k words)

grumpy!roommate!journalist!H x sunshine!baker!roommate!reader

* * * * *

It was a snowy December evening and Harry finished work early for a change. Being a busy journalist who worked for one of the biggest media companies in the world, he never finished before the sun went down. Even before he’d been promoted to his high position now, and he was just some young fresh-faced Uni graduate assistant who rarely saw the light of day. Waking up early and finishing late. He was always running off much less sleep than your average person, and even when he was at home he was busily typing away on his laptop. But despite his strenuous hours and stressful workload, he loved his job a lot, and openly admitted he was a workaholic.

This was why he needed a roommate. He worried for his sweet girl while he was away during the evenings. 

At first, he couldn’t think of anything worse, he’d had roommates in Uni who literally made him want to pull his (gorgeous) hair out and swore to himself he’d never do anything like that again if he could avoid it. It wasn’t that his job didn’t pay well, in fact, he was very wealthy and he could’ve gotten a sitter for the days but it just didn’t seem practical to have a sitter every day for the rest of his life. And no, his sweet girl was not a partner to crawl into bed with during the evenings, or a child who needed his attention throughout the day. 

His sweet girl was his spotted Dalmatian named Peaches, who got lonely during the long nights he’d stay at the office. 

Y/n had been the perfect candidate for a roommate. Who he had met through a mutual friend Niall, they went to school together apparently and Niall worked with her now. He vouched that she was easy to live with. There had been a period of time when he had nowhere to go and Y/n let him live rent-free in her flat for a month until he could afford to get back on his feet. She was stupidly kind and generous, sometimes to a fault, but if you had the privilege of her friendship you were so lucky. When Niall explained to Harry what a good person she was Harry believed him. Niall had this great ability to see people’s true intentions, and when he looked at Y/n he saw a beacon of light coloured like spun gold.

Y/n worked for most of the week too, sometimes on weekends if they needed extra hands or she felt like going in, but her hours were flexible despite being a baker, which was unusual for her occupation. But she had a good group of workers who all loved their jobs even if it wasn’t exactly high-paying to work for her, which meant Y/n’s day-to-day life was pretty breezy. And during Harry’s hunt for roommates when Niall mentioned that this friend looking for an apartment with roommates happened to be a girl he was happy, because girls were usually clean and smelt good. Y/n very much smelt good and left a warm touch to the once cold large apartment. Quickly after she started living there, suddenly vases of flowers appeared everywhere, paintings were strung up on his grey walls, hand-knitted rugs found their way onto the couch, food was baking in his oven and Y/n’s contagious warmth filled every room. Harry had grown up with just his mum and sister and there was something he liked about having a feminine touch that made it feel homely. He liked how soft, caring, and gentle they were. Y/n was so sweet, whenever he had a bad day she made a tea and let him complain for however long he needed. And she and Peaches got on great, Y/n took her for long walks in the park near their flat and sometimes she even took Peaches into her work and the gorgeous pup would just sit in the front greeting customers.

The tires of Harry’s car rolled against the snow as he steadily drove through the busy middle of the city to the familiar route of Y/n’s bakery. She’d ran it for a couple of years now, having bought it fresh out of culinary school. It used to be a bookshop that was owned by a lady called Miss Green, now it was called ‘Sweets & Things’ and very successful with all the locals. Before they’d became roommates and he’d even known of her existence Harry remembers eating a particularly delicious danish pastry with blueberries in it, funny that a few years later his roommate made him fresh ones when he’d had a particularly rough day at work. 

During the Christmas season the little bakery picked up a lot more. Y/n found herself catering for lots more events starting from October and she didn’t know why but people seemed to need more sweets around this time of year. Halloween needed lots of cookies and sweets, but something about Christmas drove her sales right up. Maybe it was what got them through the bleak winter weather. And since Harry knew she’d been a bit stressed by it all lately, not that she would ever complain that wasn’t her way because she loved her job and was grateful to live out her dreams, he thought it might be nice to drop her some dinner since she’d been neglecting proper meals during the work week.

He picked up some takeaway from this little mexican place near his office, Niall had raved about it a few times now, he got an array of food from the menu and asked what they thought was best. Now he had three big bags of spicy smelling goodness heating up his backseats. He knew that Niall and Y/n would be eternally grateful and Harry wouldn’t mind eating with their company tonight. He forgot not everyone ate takeaway at their desk in the pitch black like he did.

His car pulled up out the front of Sweets & Things and he saw the golden bright lights were still on in the front area of the bakery, but no one was behind the counter manning for costumers. Snow littered the grass and concrete out the front, all the benches people sat at were caked in a thick layer of white and Harry shivered at the sight of outside. His office heaters were broken so he was actually always sweating, no matter the season. 

He parked his car lethargically and the sound of Fleetwood Mac cut off with the engine. He knew that the bakery stayed open until nine during the holiday season since Y/n had been working much later than normal and he’d asked about it, Harry checked his watch, and there was a little bit until they would shut down but it didn’t seem all that busy. And his friends deserved to eat after all.

He locked the car and walked along the path shivering and hugging the food to his body in attempt to warm himself up. He wiped his dress shoes against the welcome mat as he pushed the door with his broad shoulder, his dress shoes clicking on the tiles as he entered the bell above the door rang and he heard Y/n’s soft sweet laugh from behind the counter and footsteps. A warmth wrapped around his body and the smell of sweet baking and pastries filled his nose. 

The shelves with glass casing showed to be practically empty of sweets. This made him smile. Y/n always felt particulary chirpy when people liked her new creations of the week.

He felt his face start to warm up now and he sighed to himself.

“Hello! Welcome to Sweet & Things, what can I get y—” Y/n’s voice began in her usual script to customers stopping when she saw him, “Oh, Harry! What are you doing here?!” 

She rushed around the counter to come give him a cuddle in greeting. That was something about Y/n that took him a while to get used to, she was very physically affectionate. He opened his arms for her and held her happily. 

She looked cute as ever. Dressed in an apron that was covered in all sorts of powder and a little pink blouse that hugged her figure, paired with her favourite well-loved Levi’s, her shoes were these dark pink boots that made little clicks on the tiles. She looked beautiful, despite the fact she was running off less sleep than usual, she’d been here since the early morning and was probably very tired by now. Her hair was up in a messy bun that she’d thrown back with a pen and her face was bare of much makeup today. She was just in some lip balm that he could smell was strawberry-scented.

She pulled back from his warm arms and smiled up at him as if she hadn’t seen him weeks when in reality he’d driven her to work that morning. They carpooled and in the evening she’d either walk or catch the bus but usually Niall offered her a lift home.

“I just thought I’d bring you and Niel dinner, it’s from that Flaming Green Jose’s place he was talking about.” He said showing the bags of food. 

Y/n smiled this really big grin that Harry loved to make appear on her precious face. 

Y/n knew Harry was a bit of a grumpy old bastard sometimes, he tended to complain and not like new ideas, but he really was the sweetest thing underneath his stern face and scary resting stare. He was a sweetheart underneath it all. Even though he was so intimidating and tall Y/n always thought he was quite delicate looking. He looked pretty even under the harsh light of the front room, he was in one of his usual business outfits he wore to the office that made him look especially good. Today’s suit was all black and he had a big beige-brown coat over the top to keep him warm in the cold and this deep dark crimson scarf that Y/n had bought him when she noticed he had no scarfs, he said how much he liked her purple one day it was so soft he said and she decided then he needed one too. His long curls of brown hair were dusted in snow and messier now that it was the end of the day. She was sure it was from running his hands through it, he did that a lot when he was concentrating or thinking.

She rushed forward hugged him again with a big squeeze and kissed his cheek in thanks, he smelt so addicting and her head was the perfect height to smell his clothes that smelt like he always did. Like tobacco, vanilla, and his citrusy and woodsy shampoo. 

“Well aren’t you just a doll?” She said with a smile.

Harry couldn’t help but smile back at her looking down at her as a dimple formed in his normally stoic face. She pulled away from him hand still holding his bicep as she examined all the bags in his hands. Even though he dressed very formal always, he still had his touch on things, like his rings. Harry always wore dozens of amazing large rings, and nail polish too. Y/n had conviced him a few evenings ago to choose this nice lavender colour rather than his normal black. He said he would only if she would match him. So her nails were littered in that same colour and she was reminded of him whenever she looked at the chipping colour while she was kneading dough. And underneath those long shirts and pants were so many inked pieces of skin, that suited him more than you’d think. 

Y/n loved when, usually on Sundays which were his day off, he was sat at home in just some pyjamas that showed all the ink and she could ask him the stories behind each while they did laundry. She liked him in suits of course, there was something very attractive about it, but she liked him all cosy and casual too. He barely ever dressed that way, only at home. She felt lucky to see him that way.

She snapped herself out of her daydreams about his gorgeous hands and that cross tattoo she loved when her tummy rumbled hungrily at the smell of the delicious dinner.

“Niall! Harry brought us dinner!” She called out and Niall stepped out of the kitchen. He looked similar to Y/n, dressed casual too, because she didn’t think uniforms suited her place. The shorter man was in a pair of his own baggy jeans and this brown knitted jumper and a pair of ratty old sneakers. His bleach blonde hair was in messy spikes and he had a pair of glasses on today instead of contacts.

“Haz, is that Flaming Green Jose’s?” Niall asked instantly without even greeting him properly as he walked over to sniff and grab at the bags.

Harry nodded lifting the bags in show, the green plastic was printed in the familiar taco on fire logo that proved it was in fact Flaming Green Jose’s.

Niall practically drooled and looked up at him eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. 

“I could kiss you, mate!” He said, his Irish accent dancing off his tongue.

Harry grimanced at him and handed over the bags. “Please don’t. Just take the tacos.”

Y/n giggled by his side squeezing his arm in her usual way when he said something that made her laugh. 

Niall and Harry quickly began to set up the containers of different Mexican dishes while Y/n grabbed some cutlery, cups, and cold water for them all to enjoy their late dinner. The bakery had a few tables for people to sit and enjoy snacks at, and only for one portion of the day did they serve hot drinks, Niall was also a trained barista, which was perfect because she thought coffee suited a lot of her sweets. 

The three of them set up their food in one of the booths that was a cherry red leather colour. The snow was falling heavily outside now against the windows and it had started to quiet down out there. Not as many shoppers or people finishing work were wandering around outside as usual. The storm was keeping people, hopefully, rugged up and warm inside.

Y/n dreamily looked outside as she turned the big overhead lights off and switched on just the fairy lights she had strung up for Christmas spirit. They were a nice soft golden orange glow for them to eat. 

The three friends enjoyed their dinner quietly as the radio hummed some old jazz Christmas songs, they were all huddled together really close and Y/n leaned into Harry sleepily which he didn’t mind at all. The bakery was warm but Y/n felt chilly now that she was sweating away in the kitchen. Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulder to help warm her as they lazily chewed down their food. Even though he’d stripped himself of his massive coat and scarf he was still rather warm. 

Niall was right it was quite good food and a family-run business which was always nice to support. Y/n knew how it hard was to be a little business in the busy city of London.

The three chatted about nothing particularly worth noting, just talking about normal Harry, Y/n, and Niall things and enjoying the food. Harry was very hungry so he’d barely spoken a word just chewing lazily beside Y/n. When all the food was gone and they all felt sufficiently full Y/n kissed Harry’s cheek once more. 

“Thanks again for dinner, H.” She said softly eyes drooping, now that’d she been fed she was getting a bit sleepy.

He smiled, a big one for Harry, he was almost showing teeth. 

“I know how hard y’guys have been workin’, just wanted to help in some way.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. And it wasn’t too much of a big deal but the fact he’d thought of them when he’d gotten the night off was sweet, he was so busy and he chose to spend some free time helping friends. That hardly matched his scary persona.

This made Y/n’s heart swell and she spoke softly. “Thanks, Haz.”

“Yeah mate, you’re the best.” Chimed Niall wiping his face with a napkin. Niall had devoured his food contently. 

Their little dinner together was interrupted by the door swinging open, the bell ringing, and a couple of two walked in. 

Y/n stood up, moving from the warmth of Harry. 

“Hi! How can I help you?” She said plastering a smile on her face, walking over and tying the back of her apron back on.

The couple ordered a few Christmas cookies decorated like pieces of art and some cream horns that Y/n had made that morning. Y/n handed them their bags took their change and waved goodbye. 

“Have a good night!” She chirped to them.

They smiled and waved. “You too, Y/n!”

Y/n came back over and sat down again, looking over to Niall tucking her knees up to her chest. “Is it gingerbread time then, Ni?”

Niall nodded throwing his head back with a sigh. 

Gingerbread could be quite tedious. Especially the way Y/n decorated them. She really made them all individual pieces of art just for people to eat them. Which was beautiful, but also very time consuming.

Harry looked over, “I thought gingerbread was quite easy, Y/n makes it so quickly.”

Niall scoffed. “That’s because Y/n’s a machine. But even she can’t do this many cookies alone.”

Harry looked over at the tired pair of bakers and down at his hands. He tried to think of the last time he’d made gingerbread. Must have been with his sister Gemma when they were kids visiting their grandparents. But he thought if he could get an interview with James Hadden (a man who notoriously never answered questions to the media) then he could bake some cookies. How hard could it be? 

“Let me help then. Many hands make light work.”

Y/n blinked. “You hate Christmas,” she stated.

He looked over at her. “But I like your Christmas cookies.”

Y/n decided not to fight him on it. “Alright. Niall find him an apron I’ll start setting up.”

Y/n began getting out all the ingredients they’d be needing this way they could each make a batch to save time. She grabbed flour pouring enough into three bowls for each batch, some unsalted butter, brown sugar from the cupboard, some eggs from the fridge, baking soda, milk, and all the spices. As she looked at the array of ingredients laid out on the steel bench she noticed she was missing the most with most important ingredient; golden syrup.

She walked to the stock cupboard and saw the big bottle of golden syrup sitting on the tallest shelf. Adam, a really tall baker, had been working earlier he must’ve put it there. Y/n tried to reach on her tiptoes though it was no use, her fingernails only just grazed it.

When a hand came out from behind her gripping the big can it startled her and she turned to see Harry standing behind her.

“Oh, you scared me,” She giggled.

“Sorry, Love.”

She followed him back out to the kitchen. He placed the big can down on the bench and she took in his form. His long shoulder-length hair was pulled back in a bun now, and he’d taken off his suit jacket and tie, his black shirt was rolled up to his elbows and the buttons on his collar were undone. He had an apron on now too, one of Y/n’s collection, it was pink and frilly with flowers.

Y/n softly explained to Harry the process of making the batter and he was intently listening to her every word watching her through his lashes. Soon enough the dough was perfect and all three of them rolled out the dough the perfect width which meant Harry had to re-roll it. Once Y/n gave a thumbs up of approval they began using the cookie cutter shapes and cutting the cookies out. 

Harry had the make hearts and stars, Niall made gingerbread men and women, and Y/n made circles and snowflakes. 

Eventually, they put in their first batch, a little after 10. They kept re-rolling the dough and cutting as many as they could until the batches vanished. Harry was very good and gentle with his technique, and some were wonky but Y/n loved that he was helping and it took her years to perfect her cookies so he was doing very well for his first time. She selfishly wanted to keep his batch for them to go home and eat but she didn’t. 

By 11 all the batches were cooked or still cooking. Niall was on oven duty and Y/n was teaching Harry how to decorate. 

The ginger people were decorated all classic. White iced smiley faces and an outline around their body, little chocolate buttons for the outfits and a pinch of icing sugar to look like snow. Harry tried his best to do them and Y/n loved their imperfections it was like real people; all individual.

The others needed to be painted in colourful swirls of festive landscapes and honestly, they looked like individual paintings. Harry was amazed at her steady hand and ability to decorate such creative and individual designs for each cookie.

“Y’like tha’ bloody Andy Wharol of cookies, Y/n.” He said.

And she giggled her concentrated face cracking to a smile. She looked over at him. “It’s just practice.”

“No, it’s not.” Said Niall, from his station. “I’ve been practising for ages, your baking is just pure talent.” 

By midnight the last batch had cooled down and they were all decorating together and Y/n was humming along to the Christmas playlist she had put on. 

Niall twirled Y/n around and they sang along goofily. Niall and Y/n had been friends since culanary school which felt like years ago now. They were only teenagers then. All baby-faced and wide-eyed, now they were older and still just as immature when put together. When Y/n opened her bakery and she needed extra hands he was the first person she called. 

Niall was her best friend, and Harry had easily become her other one. Even though she was so tired and it was late, and her feet ached. The boys made it better. Niall singing into a spatula and Harry refusing to dance or sing was what kept her going the final stretch. She stopped decorating to go over to Harry, she looped her arms through his waist forcing him to step away from the bench and she tried to make him sway with her. 

His body stayed still and she moved closer to the front of him, in hopes of seeing his face. 

“C’mon! Dance, Grinch!”

“I don’t even dance when it isn’t Christmas, Y/n.”

She huffed arms crossing, “Please?” she asked, fluttering her eyes best of her ability in hopes of convincing him. 

Harry melted at the sight. She was so cute, even Harry couldn’t say no to her. He sighed like it was the most horrible task anyone could’ve asked him and she held out her hand with a smile. He grabbed it and she raised her hand for him to twirl under and he obliged spinning even though he was much taller than her. She leaned in close to him hands landing on his hips as his landed on her shoulders in an embrace while they swayed. She sang softly, and very off-key and Harry just shook his head. 

She was like a ray of sunlight, and he was like the moon. She looked up at him, “Thanks for helping,” she said softly.

“Of course….you’ve done way more for me.” He said.

She just shook her head and was about to reply but Niall cut them off. 

“I gotta’ get home to Max soon.” Max was Niall’s recent boyfriend. 

“Sorry, let’s get back too it.” Y/n said pulling away from Harry.

By almost 1 AM they were finished with every cookie. It was perfect. They would probably all sell out tomorrow. Y/n grabbed two handfuls one for Niall and one for Harry. She wrapped them like she would for costumers. She tied two pink ribbons and handed one to Niall. 

“Thank you for all your hard work, Ni, I’ll see you Monday?” He nodded smiling in his easy going way, and pecked her cheek.

“Bye, Pet, see you Monday.” They waved him off and they heard him leave when the bell chimed.

Y/n and Harry turned the lights off and grabbed there things. Y/n put on her layers of clothes. A big red coat, her lavender scarf, and her blue beanie that had a fuzzy ball on top. She grabbed her bags and keys and they locked up the shop. 

At least tomorrow both her and Harry had the day off. 

The walk to the car was brisk but short, the snow had stopped now and but it was still freezing. The pair stayed close by to one another, trying to keep warm as they walked quickly to the car. 

Harry started the car as fast as he could and cranked the heat and while they waited for it warm up they finally tried the few pieces of gingerbread she’d saved for them.

“Y/n this is so fucking good.” He said looking over at her. His hair was back down and he’d put on all his layers too. She smiled. 

“All you, H.”

He just shook his head. “You’re the best.”

She looked over blushing. “And you’re the sweetest.”

[k-slla]

Fate, Or Something Like It | part 1

Little bit of a crossover between The Boys & Suits

A/N: So this is the last square filled on my first card for @jacklesversebingo ! Honestly didn't think I'd get to this, but look at that! 😄

Square filled: "You made me get out of my pajamas for this?"

Also using the chance to post it as my first entry to @artyandink's JENSEN-A-THON.:) (I was said there is no max word count😅)

Based on THIS request that an anon sent me and it will be a 2 part story :)

Word count: ~12.9k | My Masterlist

Both parts will have separate warning, in this one you will find: Slightly OOC Ben, naive reader, physical assault, choking, language, angst, mentions and descriptions of torture, use of drugs and alcohol, mentions of past traumas, partial frontal nudity, size kink(if you squint), brief Fem masturbation -I hope I didn't miss any:)

Special thanks to @nescaveckwriter - for your help and inspiration torture through all those gifs you hyped me up with! 😈Love you, Nes!

ENJOY!

If anyone would’ve asked you right now ‘Are you happy?’ you could've easily answered them with a simple ‘yes’. Saying you were a workaholic, would've been definitely an understatement, but it was a good thing that anything else in your personal life didn't require that much attention, so you happily took on as much work as possible. At least it kept you busy. 

You were working at Pearson Hardman, one of the top law firms in New York. With a professional long-time dream of becoming a senior partner in the firm, you were glad to see that your efforts were slowly paying off. Only one obstacle stood in your way - Harvey Specter. Harvey was a good attorney, you had to admit that. Probably one of the best New York has ever seen, but you hoped to have a chance to prove that you were better. 

You didn't hide your ambition of becoming a partner from anyone and Jessica saw how hard you worked to deserve that spot amongst them. The other partners saw that. And you knew that even Harvey saw how much you were ready to sacrifice for the job. You practically lived in your office. And if that was what it took to reach your goal then sleeping in your bed and having a personal life were small things to give up on. But Harvey shared that mentality, and you were well aware of that. 

Both of you had been competing with each other ever since you met in Harvard, so it wasn't exactly a surprise that this position was basically up between you two, too. But a friendly competition hurt no one, if anything, it gave you the drive to work even harder than before. And you loved it. So yes, you could've said you were happy with your life, because then you just didn’t know yet what, or rather who was missing from it. Until you ran into the man, who'd then turn your life upside down just in a week. 

There he was waiting in front of your work place one evening. You had to admit, he was hard to miss in his green super soldier outfit, but you walked right past him, which just seemed to offend him, judging by the sudden shift of his attitude. Of course you knew who he was, how the women threw themselves at him. All the ladies’ favorite Soldier Boy. You could’ve bet he expected the same kind of reaction from you he had already gotten used to. 

But you didn't fall for his look. You didn't have strength to react to him in any way, so you continued on your way, trying to get home to sleep. Out of nowhere someone yanked you backwards towards the alleyway. A quick ‘hey’ was all you managed to say, before you saw that it was in fact Soldier Boy who had attacked you. 

There was no one around at the moment so just screaming for help wouldn't have worked. Not that it would've even with people around you. He was huge and could easily take on anyone in a fight, but you still tried to get yourself away from him. “No! Let me go!” you grunted. Having a hard time keeping up with his long strides, you were around the building already as he dragged you after him into the alley, pushing you then roughly against the wall. “What do you want from me?” you gritted through the teeth as he held you against the wall, trying your hardest to get yourself free from him.

“Nothing much, doll. Just a little…payback.” He whispered, coming in closer to your face, his low voice vibrating in your ear. With a grin, his hand slowly rose from your chest up to your neck, cutting off the air from you. You fought hard trying to pry his hand away from your neck, but he only tightened his grip. 

“I…haven't…done anything…to you.” You said with a strained voice. You could already feel his hurt, anger and hate, it was just radiating from him. You tried to get through to him, to try to ease him from all that, help him, but all you got was what he's been through for those close to 40 years that he was considered dead. Seeing what he went through, you knew that's what he probably wished for as well. 

You were also a supe, but one of those unimportant ones, who besides The Seven didn't really exist to the rest of the society. Luckily you weren't shooting lasers from your eyes, so it was easy for you to hide your power from others. You were a healer. Kind of. 

You could feel what the person had been through, by physical contact. That's how it usually was. It came to you as a sense of negative emotion they had, caused by their experienced distress and trauma, and you “healed” them - erased the pain etched to the memory. But sometimes, when those memories were stronger, they ran in your head like movies. Sometimes, they even caused you physical pain. 

“Don't fucking lie to me! You were there! I saw you.” You already started to get light headed, but gathering your last strength, you managed to kick him. No surprise - it had no effect on him, but it still made him lighten his grip around your neck slightly. 

You could feel everything he was put through. The torture. The betrayal. And all the hurt that had remained. It was too much for one person to go through, even for a supe like him. 

The images of his memories in Russia started to flash before your eyes. Pictures of him restrained- being shot at, burned, poisoned, electrocuted. All that pain over and over again. 

You saw all of it through his eyes. You felt everything he was put through. He may be hard to kill, probably impossible even, but he still felt all that pain and torture. It all must've left some mark on his psyche. 

Hot tears started prickling in your eyes. What you weren't sure of was the reason why. Were they just your body's natural response to him choking you or did you feel sorry for him? First option sounded like a reasonable choice, but you knew your heart was leaning towards the other end. Your naivety got you believing that even someone like Soldier Boy didn't deserve that.

“I wasn't there. I heard what they did, but I wasn't there!” You couldn't tell him about your power, what you had just seen, he'd never believe you and would probably kill you right then and there. 

But Ben on the other hand was sure he wasn't imagining things. He might have downed a bottle of pills and a whiskey before coming for you, but his mind was clear. As much as it could've been. He didn't get much influenced by drugs or alcohol before, but after Russia something had changed. He had no idea what they'd exactly done to him, but he started to get occasional blackouts from drugs and those fucking obnoxious Russian tracks that started ringing in his ears every time someone pissed him off. Even now he was a little bit out of it. 

He knew what he saw when the Reds had him held up. He thought so at least. Every day, or night even, when they experimented on him, tried to kill him, or whatever the fuck they were doing, there was a woman. Spitting image of the one in front of him. The one that he was most eager to find. 

She took away his will. His will to fight back. She took away his will to break free from his restraints and to rip the heads off them one by one, leaving as his only option to wait for his love to come to save him, not knowing she was part of the team who had betrayed him. She had left him to rot in the hopelessness of his own mind. 

But focusing on the woman standing in front of him, Ben's mind was getting a little foggy. Fuck...was it even her? She's not using her power. She's scared, polar opposite to the woman he saw in the lab - cold as ice, lifeless. For a moment he thought that his mind had just started to fill the blanks. She’s…different. She's not even trying to control me. Am I just high? 

Ben was getting truly hesitant of trusting himself. He almost wanted to let her go, when he realized it was just some trick on him. It had to be. She is playing with me. Like she did there.

“I saw you! You were there, every goddamn day when they tortured me! Playing your fucking mind games with me.” He wasn't giving up. He had a list. He had almost forty years to think of each one of them who betrayed him, how to make them pay. Of course he started with Countess. She sure was surprised to see him alive. And finally when he had found you, he now had second thoughts. 

“No...I.. wasn't! I...please...” Your words were slowly dying on your lips. If it weren't for the group of teenagers walking by, Ben would've most certainly killed you. He threw a sideways glance at them. As tempting as it might've been, he knew better than to kill with witnesses around. Not to mention kids. He still had some reputation to maintain. Not that he really cared about that. But he knew he'd have another chance with you. He'll make sure of it. Ben let go of you and you fell straight to the ground. Without missing a beat, you grabbed your bag that you had dropped and ran from him, not daring to look back. “The fuck you're staring at?” You heard him shout behind you, aiming it towards the teens who had begun staring at you two.

When you finally got home - much, much later than you had expected - you had no energy left to cook or clean. All you wanted was a relaxing shower and a decent amount of sleep for a change. Mindlessly you sat under the hot stream of water on the bathroom floor and the events of tonight really got to you. 

He was ready to kill you tonight and still you were sympathetic for him. While studying the pattern of the floor tiles for a long time, you got more certain with each passing minute that there must be something wrong with you, because there was just no other reason for you to feel sorry for him. You were so stuck in tonight's events, you didn't even notice the water starting to run colder, until the sudden icy water falling onto your shoulders brought you back. Trying not to slip, you scrambled out of the shower as quickly you could. 

You couldn't sleep that night. Not as much as you had hoped at least. You couldn't stop thinking about his words that were still echoing in your head. 

“You were there, every goddamn day when they tortured me!” 

It was almost four decades ago. You weren't even alive then. He must've been just hallucinating there. There couldn’t be any other explanation. Wouldn't be a surprise exactly, too, if you thought more about it, considering what he went through. 

Finally, very early in the morning, you managed to fall asleep. But in all those barely three hours of sleep that you got, you had one sight in mind. Green eyes. His eyes. Full of hate and anger towards the world around him, and trying to hide the pain eating him up from the inside. You knew it was probably not his plan to let it show, but he just didn't know who you really are. 

For the remaining two work days you had left before the weekend, as hard as it was, you were fortunately able to push the incident with him from your mind and focus fully on work. 

And on Friday night, another asshole, a lot friendlier than Soldier Boy, but still a kind of jerk, flew in to ruin your night, again, in the form of Billy Butcher.

“Hey there, sweetheart.” 

Your friendship with Billy was, to put it mildly...odd. He only called you to ask “favors” regarding your power, every now and then, and while you had no reason to give in to him, you just couldn't bring yourself to say no. But considering how the last few times have gone, this time he called to probably claim your soul. 

“What do you want?” Just a call from him had already put a dent into your peaceful evening, so you were in no mood for him beating around the bush. 

“What? No hello?” He laughed, but not getting a reaction from you, he continued. “Straight to the business then. Can a..uh.. let's just call him a friend of mine..can he stay with you for a week?” There was silence on the line for a second. “Or possibly two?” Billy added under his breath.

“What! No!” You couldn’t get your rejection at his plan out any faster. “Not after last time!” 

“Hey! Don't blame me for that. I didn't know they would…nevermind..” he muttered. “I just really need someone to keep an eye on Ben. He's.. He's been through some stuff and has a bit of a “shell shock” as one might say.” 

You heard a little shuffling on the other side and a faint grumpy voice. “I don't have shell shock. Fuck you!” 

“I'm not letting anyone in my apartment again.” You stood your ground. 

“Sweetheart, I'm begging you! Really am! Just this one time.” You sensed from his voice he was getting a bit desperate. 

“Is she bitching?” You heard that same low voice as before. 

“You can tell your friend that I heard that and I do not appreciate it! My answer is no!"

“Ben, shut it. Please, I need someone I trust to look after him. He needs help and I know you, you really are the only one who can help him.” Billy said quietly into the phone. 

“No. I have work and I don't want anyone in my home when I'm not there.” 

“Fair! How about this then...”    

You had no idea how he managed to convince you to move into their headquarters or apartment or whatever they chose to call it. Not a fucking clue. But here you were with your suitcase, ready to move in for an indefinite time. All this had only one upside for you - shorter commute to work. 

Standing outside, you called through the intercom, and waited for Butcher to answer. Probably knowing it was you downstairs, he opened the door immediately. You really felt luck being against you lately, so it came to you as no surprise that the elevator, too, was out of order. With a heavy sigh, you braced yourself for the stupid amount of stairs ahead. 

When you made it to their door, you were absolutely out of breath. Why couldn't I have flying as my power? That would have come handy right now. No, no, no...I am a healer. Unfair. 

You knocked on the door, still trying to calm your breathing. After a moment, Butcher finally opened it. “Hello, luv! You made it!” You wanted to beat this shit-eating grin off his face. Too bad he was stronger than you. “We were about to start betting on how long it would take for you to get up here.” 

“That piece of shit elevator is out of order again.” You grunted, pulling your suitcase into the room after you. 

Setting it down in the living room, you looked around in the apartment. You saw only Butcher and Hughie around. “So? Where's that friend of yours?” The grin on Billy's face grew wider. 

“I swear to God, if that was just some joke that you two tried to play on me..” you were still out of breath, but tried to sound threatening, although, there wasn’t much you could do to him. Maybe to Hughie, yes, if he was in on the joke, but not to Butcher. 

“No, not a joke. He's real and I bet you'll get along nicely.” It seemed as if Ben had heard you, and sauntered cockily out of his room. “So, where's the new roomie...?” His smug grin only widened when he saw your dumbfounded face. You defensively took a step back. “No, Billy, hell no!” 

Butcher stepped protectively in front of you. “Relax, he's not gonna bite.” 

“Not gonna bite?! He tried to kill me less than three days ago.” You hissed as an answer, glaring at Ben, as you learnt was his name, over Billy's shoulder. 

“And now he'll promise to behave, right, Ben?” Ben rolled his eyes at you and walked into the kitchen. “Whatever.” 

You stared after him. “Why can't someone else babysit him?” 

“We have some work coming up. Listen. I know what happened between you two. He told me and right after I explained to him that there was no possible way for you to have been in Russia all this time ago. But, Y/N, you're the only one who can help me. Please.” It was really out of his character to see him beg for something. 

You stood in silence for a minute. You spineless piece of… You cursed yourself in your head. “Where’s my room?"

Waking up next morning you were glad that it was Saturday. You had the whole weekend to assess this…situation. You were the first one up and started making breakfast for everyone. Butcher was still snoring on the couch in the living room, as Hughie probably claimed the last free room to himself. You have always been more of a ‘forgive and forget’ type of person. Always seeing the best in people. Even if it took time to let go, you never were one to hold a grudge. It would have been totally understandable for you to walk out this time, too, but all you wanted was just to try to let go of what had happened with Ben a few days ago, so you tried to be nice.

You knew you two wouldn't be friends, not like with Hughie or Butcher, not that you were very close to them either, but you hoped that you could at least be civil around each other for the few weeks now that you had agreed to live with him.

In the middle of frying up some bacon, you heard a bedroom door opening, so it was either Hughie or Ben. A second later, from the corner of your eye, you saw a figure appear on the kitchen door. 

“That's what I like to see - a woman in the kitchen, right where she belongs.” Definitely not Hughie. You were about to shoot back some snarky comment, when you finally took a look at him. “Shit...” You mumbled quietly. 

Leaning on the doorway, Ben was wearing only some green floral silk robe that hung open on his shoulders. Nothing underneath it. The unexpectedness of seeing his cock the first thing in the morning hit you hard. Your mind went blank and against your will, you had to admit that you were quite literally hypnotized by him. 

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” A low chuckle rang in the distance, bringing you out of your short daydream. You blinked at him and blushed hard, realizing you had been just standing there, staring at him. Talk about morning wood. After letting out a long exhale, your focus was now fully back on bacon. “P-please put on s-some clothes?” 

He slowly walked towards you, not closing the robe. Heat started to climb up your cheeks when he stopped next to you. “You do like the view.” Ben said smugly and snatched a piece of bacon from the plate. Not even a question this time. He knew the effect he had on you. You couldn't even deny it to yourself. 

“Stop harassing the poor woman and put on some clothes.” Billy grumbled from the couch. 

“You're no fun.” Ben said to Billy before stepping in even closer to you, seizing the last of the personal space you had left and whispering. “But soon we'll be all alone and I'll tell you, sweetheart, you'll fuckin’ beg for it.” He winked and you just stared at him, mouth slightly agape. 

“Bacon's a bit burned, by the way.” Ben grinned and finally covered himself before turning around and leaving the kitchen. 

Rest of the day went luckily quietly, with you staying mostly hidden in your own room. Kimiko, Frenchie and MM came around noon, to talk through the last minute changes on the plan for their new job. 

“So, please don't kill each other. Or I mean, Ben, don’t kill her.” Hughie smiled at you and Ben, before walking out of the door, making you roll your eyes at his back. 

“And don't tear the place down, if you decide to...you know…get acquainted better. Which you probably will.” Billy said with a smirk. “If you do, you fix it up. Got it?” He continued sternly. 

“Got it.” Quick slap from Ben landed on your ass, making a shrill yelp escape from you. 

“Hey! We're not - I - he won't..!” Your brain short-circuited again, for the second time today, because of Ben. Butcher winked knowingly and then turned around to leave. “See ya!” With a wave, he was out the door.

You were now left alone with Ben, who scoffed beside you. “What's your problem?” 

“Don't even get me started.” You mumbled quietly and walked past him into the kitchen.

“I heard that!” He called after you. 

“Good!” You looked back at the doorway, and saw Ben stomping towards you. You rolled your eyes and started to make some coffee. 

“No, seriously. What's your problem?” He crossed his arms. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Do you really want to know?” 

“That's why I asked.” 

You fully turned towards him and leaned on the kitchen island with one hip. “My problem is that three days ago you tried to kill me, without any explanation, you haven't even apologized and now you're acting like nothing's happened, and I'm stuck here with you because of my inability to say no. So there you go.”

“Actually, I had an explanation.” He said absentmindedly, before stepping in front of you, squinting his eyes and pointing his finger at you. “And, no, that's not your problem, but I know what it really is.” He said slowly.

You waved your arms in front of you, his cockiness started to slowly infuriate you. “Please, enlighten me.”

Ben bit his bottom lip and raised his eyebrows with a little nod. “You haven't been properly fucked for a while.” He said boldly, making you fume on the inside. “Yeah. That's it. I can see all that...frustration in you, sweetheart.” He was now grinning ear to ear, flashing his bright smile. “More than happy to help you out.” He added with a simple shrug. “You're a tad bit young for me, but I can look past it. I tend to go to women with a bit more experience.” He left you completely speechless and the grin on his face grew wider with each second you sputtered in front of him, blinking rapidly as you tried to figure out something to say.

“Ew, just stop it, okay!” You blurted out finally. “Can we just try to be normal around each other for one day, without you making some lewd suggestions about my personal life?”

Ben's eyes twinkled mischievously. “Okay.” He shrugged and then raised his finger. “I'll give you one day.” And with that he walked out of the kitchen and left you there standing, cursing the choice of words you had made.

“Fuck me..” You muttered, realizing that now Ben will probably start riling you up even more.

“What was that?” He appeared again on the kitchen door with a wicked smile on his lips, clearly hoping he had heard you correctly. You had to admit - Ben was hellishly handsome, too handsome for his own good and of course he knew that. You couldn't hold back the chuckle that escaped from your lips, seeing that little playful glint in his eyes.

“Nothing!” You called out quickly, face turning red.

Note to self - be careful when speaking to yourself. Man has super hearing.

You had to be grateful that at least Ben did keep his promise and kept to his own on Sunday.

A blood-curdling scream woke you in the middle of the night. You were certain that you had just dreamed it, because when you sat up in bed, it was all silent around you. Until you heard him again.

So this is what Butcher meant by helping him.

It now kind of made sense also, why he called you in the first place. Obviously it wasn't just to keep Ben company. You dragged yourself out of the bed and made your way to his room next to yours.

You could hear the strained screams even through the door. Not bothering with knocking, you pushed it open and entered his bedroom.

Ben was cramped up in his bed, like in a shock. His teeth were bared, grunting almost animalistically, and his breathing was rapid.

You could instantly feel your own breath getting caught in your throat and tears starting to well up in your eyes. “Ben.” You said quietly and sat down next to him on the bed.

Whatever he was experiencing right now must've been some of the most horrible things you could ever imagine.

You put one hand on his chest, trying to gently wake him up. Instead you got more nauseous every second, feeling like a knife was twisted in your guts and every inch of your skin was on fire. You were unable to control the tears streaming down your cheeks. The flashbacks you started to get were horrible. You felt every stab, cut and burn he had gotten. They made you physically want to vomit. Never before have you reacted this strongly to someone. But never before have you met someone who has experienced so much pain like Ben. You tried your hardest to keep the disturbing images from creeping up in your mind.

“Ben, wake up!” You softly stroked his head, grimacing along with him, seeing his beautiful features distorted from pain. You couldn't take it anymore. Placing both of your hands on his face, you turned him towards you. To be able to help him, you had to calm down yourself first. With what Ben went through, this was surely going to be a challenge. You closed your eyes and focused on your breathing and the feeling of his face in your arms. He still hadn't woken up, so you had to get him to calm down in his sleep.

It took a long time. It took so much more from you than it usually did. You could feel your energy drain. Ben was still cramped up, strained groans leaving his lips, but slowly you were able to ease your breathing. Tears were still flowing down your cheeks but your mind was getting clearer with each exhale, until there was nothing left. No pain. No flashbacks. You felt Ben quieting down next to you, his body slowly starting to relax. Your eyes were still closed, when you heard him waking up. You had hoped to be gone already when he would wake, but now it was too late.

“Y/N? What- where am I?” He was drowsy and confused about his surroundings. Seeing him awake, you immediately pulled your hands from his face to dry your eyes, so he wouldn't see you crying.

“It's okay, Ben. You're fine.” He rubbed his hand over his face, visibly more confused now. He turned to look at you, brows knit tightly together. “Wait, what are you doing here? What did you do to me?”

You turned away from him on the edge of the bed. “I didn't do anything. I just heard you scream and came to check on you.”

You knew he didn't believe you. You didn’t even believe yourself what you were saying.

“Don't lie to me. Who are you?” Ben sat up in bed.

“I am not lying, Ben. I didn't do anything.”

You saw that he was quickly getting annoyed, angry even. “I don't wake up from these dreams just like that. I have to…suffer through them.” Ben gritted, glaring at you. “And you are here, crying. Who are you?” He repeated himself and quickly got out of bed, pulling you up with him. “Tell me!”

“Alright, fine! Just so I can go to bed.” You yelled back. You looked down at his hand grabbing your shoulder painfully. “Let go of me, then I'll talk. Thank you.” You added in a slightly softer manner when he let go of your arm, but hesitantly waited for a second before you started talking. “I…am a supe, too, although my powers aren't as good as “The Seven” or whatever, but I am a kind of healer.” You started cautiously, being afraid of his reaction. “Like almost an empathic healer?” You added and took a glance at him. You could see he was not following you at that moment. “It means I can feel and heal people's emotional traumas. Well, I don't “heal” heal, but you know, make them less painful over time.” You were pacing around the room, not knowing what was going through his head. “That's why Butcher even called me in the first place. To come and help you.”

“Why didn't you just tell me that?” He asked, voice quieter than before.

“I don't know.” You shrugged.

Ben sat down on the bed again and you thought he wanted to go back to sleep, so you started to leave the room.

“Wait.” You heard him suddenly ask behind you. He stared after you with a questioning look in his eyes. “Why were you crying?”

You got slightly embarrassed, hoping he hadn't noticed that. “Um...Well, when I say I feel the pain, I actually tend to feel it. It comes to me almost like memories or sometimes flashbacks through the eyes of the person going through it, but..uh..I feel it all that too. Tonight was actually the first time I've cried. It was just too much today.” You stood on the door and kept your eyes down on the floor.

Feeling like you had overshared, you quickly muttered “good night” under your breath, and almost ran out of the room. You heard Ben call something after you, but you didn't stay to hear what he had to say. He didn't follow.

Now it was Monday morning and you were again making breakfast before you had to go to work. After leaving Ben's room last night, you couldn't fall asleep, so you tried to think of a few simple rules to have set up for the time you two were living together. But with Ben being as he is, you were certain he'd not welcome them warmly. So first you needed to bribe him. Just a little.

You had set everything on the table, coffee, bacon and eggs and whatever else you thought he'd like for breakfast. You sucked in a quick breath before you went to wake him up. You knocked on the door and opened it. “Hey, Ben! Wake up!’

He only lifted his head to look at the clock on the bedside table. “No.”

“Yes. We have to talk before I go to work.” You picked up some sweatpants and a t-shirt from the chair by the door and threw them on his bed. “And put some clothes on.”

When he saw that you were not leaving, Ben finally sat up in bed. It took all of your willpower not to let your eyes wander over his body, barely covered by the familiar green silk robe. “Damn it, woman. It's 7 in the morning.” He opened the drawer next to the bed and pulled out a ready rolled joint. You made no effort to hide the disgust on your face as he lit it and took a long drag on it. “Seriously?” You looked between him and the reefer between his fingers.

“What?” He shrugged, clearly it has become a part of his routine.

“It's 7am. That's really the first thing that goes into your mouth in the morning after waking up?”

Ben pulled the blunt from his lips with a smirk and took a long look at you up and down. “I mean, if I'd have you in the bed with me, this definitely wouldn't be the first thing in my mouth.”

You crossed your arms on your chest, hoping to hide the jolt of unexpected arousal that ran through your core.

“Stop that. I made breakfast.” You said sternly as you walked out of his room. “And put the clothes on!” You added over your shoulder.

You sat at the kitchen table with a notebook, writing down some basic rules you'd both have to follow. You hoped that Ben could be reasonable about these few things. It was nothing major. Just to make sure you both agreed on cleaning after yourselves and some compromises over cooking.

After a little while Ben finally joined you in the kitchen. You were focused on reading a news article on your phone, when you heard him opening and closing the cupboards looking for a cup for himself. You looked up at him, and you almost choked on air, but managed to disguise it as a simple cough. Of course Ben wasn't fully dressed. It was clearly too much to ask of him.

His bare back was turned towards you, muscles flexing as he reached for a cup. You didn't want to, but couldn't hold back on checking out the rest of his body, too. More importantly, you were quietly admiring the way his sweatpants hugged his butt. Usually you were not one to thirst over men, but something about Ben felt different. You almost had completely forgotten his attack on you, which you knew was wrong, but given what you saw that night then and now again last night, you knew that there was more to him than he let on. He had been through a lot and it wasn't his fault. You wanted to believe that not all of it at least.

You gave Ben a few minutes to wake up properly in silence. You decided that you weren't going to talk about last night if he wouldn't bring it up himself.

“So, I wanted to talk about house chores with you.”

He looked at you with a completely dead face. “You made me get out of my pajamas for this? Are you having a stroke?”

It was not easy for you to hold back laughter. “First of all - no, I'm not having a stroke.” You took too big of a bite out of your breakfast sandwich. “Secondly - you really call that silky green pornstar robe a pajama? Are you a five year old?” You started choking on your food, trying to keep a straight face asking this from him.

“I don't know. Sounds to me like you're just jealous. I can lend it to you, you know? It's very comfortable.” A genuine smile, the first one you’ve seen from him, lit up his whole face. He took his plate and got up from the table. God, he’s gorgeous. You gave yourself a mental slap and stopped that thought right there. NO, Y/N. You can’t think like that. He literally tried to kill you. It started to feel dangerous already being around him, and it was only the start of the third day. You cleared your throat before speaking.

“No, seriously though. We have to set up some basic stuff to keep the place tidy for both of us. It's not the 50s anymore. Women have jobs now, you know. I have a job, too and I will not take everything onto my shoulders.”

“Mm, yeah, not gonna happen.” Ben took his food and disappeared into his room.

“Oh, come on! Ben!” You called after him, but the only answer you received was the loud thud from the door shutting behind him. This went as well as I had expected. You sighed defeatedly and started to clean up the kitchen before heading to work.

Meeting after meeting, one deposition on top of the other, your day passed excruciatingly slow. And it was just Monday, which was already the downside to begin with.

On your way out of the office building, you pulled out your phone. On your lock screen glowed notifications of unanswered calls and a message from Ben, asking you to pick up some whiskey and drugs.

You rolled your eyes, already regretting giving him your phone number. Hughie had taught Ben how to use a smartphone. You can only imagine how that must've looked to a bystander. For a scrawny little dude, Hughie must have iron nerves to have kept up with Ben.

Before you could text him back, a call from Jessica came in and a sense of dread washed over you.

“Hi, Jessica. What can I do for you?”

“Hello, Y/N, I know you left the office for the day already, but please come see me first thing in the morning. We need to talk.”

We need to talk. That definitely didn’t ease your mind. You breathed deeply for a moment before answering to her. “Alright, I'll see you tomorrow.”

You knew what this was going to be about. They’ve decided on who to offer the Senior partner position. And judging by Jessica’s voice, it probably wasn’t going to be you. Scratch that. It definitely wasn’t going to be you.

You did a quick trip to the grocery store, picking up coffee and some things for dinner tonight. And you didn't forget Ben, and got him whiskey, although drugs were where you would draw the line. You will not be one to supply him with drugs.

Walking home from the corner store, you had some time to think. You wanted that position. You wanted to give your contribution to developing Pearson Hardman to its best. You wished to have the same kind of impact on junior associates, like Jessica had on you when you first started in the firm. You’ve given a lot to work yourself up. It didn’t feel selfish to you to think that you deserved that. But even if you wouldn’t get it, you knew it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Becoming a partner would be one of your biggest goals in professional life, but at the end of the day, you were still working to help people. And that's what matters. That’s what you tried to focus on at least.

You tried to push all the work thoughts out of your mind so you could relax just for a few hours that's left of the evening before you'd pass out on the couch. You threw together a quick dinner for both you and Ben and went straight to bed afterwards, hoping that you’d get more sleep this time.

But again, you woke up in the middle of the night, hearing his screams from the other room. It was only the second night and already you could feel it drain you more than the last night.

You stood at the door for a minute, just staring at him. How you were supposed to last two weeks or longer doing this almost every night, you had no idea, but now you knew that you couldn’t just leave him either. If it was in your power to help him, you had to at least try. No matter what he’d done. No matter what he would do. Knowing what he had gone through, it had already become impossible for you to just walk away from him. So you didn't.

For over an hour you were by his bed tonight, barely holding yourself together as you got him through the nightmare.

“I don't need your help. I'm fine,” Ben snapped at you as he woke up and rested his head against the headboard with a sigh.

“Yeah, looks like it.” You stared at him for a minute, but seeing he wouldn't even look at you, you scoffed and got up from the bed.

“Fine.” You left his room in a hurry and closed the door behind you with a loud thud.

You pulled the blanket over your head, trying to fall back asleep. After laying in bed for almost an hour, you finally managed to get some sleep, but only a short time later, your alarm pulled you out from deep sleep and you had to back down from the urge to throw your phone across the room. Exhaustedly you sat up in bed and let your legs hang over the edge.

You had all your hope put into a morning shower and a strong coffee to make you somewhat functional, but today they chose to let you down. You were still tired and distraught from Ben's dreams from the night.

You know that these dreams are tormenting him almost daily, but if he says he doesn't want help, should you even keep doing that? Should you still put yourself through all that pain? It hasn't been this bad while helping others, but with Ben, everything felt tenfold stronger. You could feel yourself being so close to breaking already.

Jessica was already in the office when you arrived, despite it being a few hours before the official start of the work day. She really is the perfect example of a self-made woman and you were definitely lucky to have her as a mentor.

You knocked on the open door of her office. “Hi, Jessica, you wanted to see me?”

“Y/N, good morning. Yes, come on in.” Jessica greeted you with a smile as you stepped in. “Close the door and take a seat, please.”

You sat down across from her. She already had the look. The same look she always gets when she has to give bad news. You knew what was coming, but still you held onto the small glimmer of hope that the outcome would be in your favor.

“I asked you to come here to tell you that the board had a meeting yesterday. All the partners voted on who will be offered the open Senior partner position.”

You took a deep breath and nervously started to play with your rings under the table out of Jessica's sight.

“I want you to know that we were thinking in favor of the firm and the decision was purely made on professional aspects. That's why we're going to move forward with Harvey. I hope you understand.”

“Right, of course. I do understand. He's..” you swallowed the lump in your throat before continuing. “Harvey is a hard worker. He's the right choice.” You smiled at her, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice.

For the rest of the day you buried yourself into work to use it as a distraction. Because that's what usually keeps you from spiraling down. Today you hoped it would keep your mind away from Ben, too.

For the whole day you had managed to keep yourself from thinking about him. You were busy. You just didn’t have time to thirst over him from that one moment you saw him without a shirt.

Or that morning in the kitchen…almost naked. But now in your quiet office? It was hard not to think of him. You swallowed hard before forcing your focus back to the papers in front of you. You were berating yourself for even giving him space in your head. You knew the guy for three days and he had tried to kill you. Literally.

But something about him still pulled you towards him. And it was much more than just sexual attraction. You weren’t going to lie to yourself - he was hot. Goddamn, he was hot and you wanted him all over you. And if keeping your dignity wouldn’t have mattered to you, you probably would’ve jumped his bed yesterday morning. But something else captivated you about him and you couldn't put a finger on it.

It was well past 9pm when you heard a startling knock on your office door. You raised your head quickly and saw Harvey at the door.

“Hey, you're still here this late?” He asked curiously, leaning on the doorframe. Letting out a deep sigh you started to gather together all the papers scattered around on the table.

“Just finished. It's not that late, is it? Time just flies when you're having fun. You of all people should know it.” Tired smile on your face betrayed how you were feeling on the inside. You cleared your throat. “I saw Jessica this morning. I guess congratulations are in order.” You stood up from the desk and reached out your hand to him.

The air in the room was dense from the tension between you and Harvey. “You don't have to do that.” He gave you a little, sad smile.

“Do what?” You lowered your hand back down after seeing him not reach out to it.

“You don't have to pretend that you're happy for me, Y/N. I know you wanted that spot, too.”

For a moment the room fell silent, the only sound in the office was quiet shuffling as you packed up your bag to leave. “I'm not.” You zipped up your bag and threw it over your shoulder. “I'm not pretending, I mean. I am happy for you.” You quickly followed up before he'd get the wrong idea. “They did what they think is best for the company, and you deserve it, so of course I’m happy for you.” You smiled genuinely as you walked past Harvey into the hallway.

“Thanks.” He still sounded hesitant, but from you there were no hidden meanings behind your words. You really were happy for him. He is a good friend of yours and has been for a long time. That didn’t mean that you weren’t just a little jealous of him.

Cool night air hit you as soon as you stepped out of the building. You were tired, but you didn’t want to go home yet.

You started to walk, completely unsure of where you’d end up. Mindlessly you wandered around on the streets, witnessing the start of the night life in front of your eyes, despite it being Tuesday.

One underground bar caught your attention, and you decidedly walked towards it to check it out. You weren't planning to stay longer than for a drink. Working with a hangover was hell on earth, so one time was enough for you. You had definitely learned from your mistakes and were not excited to repeat them.

From the looks of the groups of people lingering outside of the bar, you expected it to be crowded to the roof, but you were pleasantly surprised that there were not that many people in there, and you even had the option to choose seating for yourself. It’s still early, you thought as you picked out a table in the far back corner.

You sat down right beside the wall, facing away from the rest of the room, leaving an empty seat between the table and wall.

You sat there for a minute, massaging your temples to get rid of the headache that slowly started to build. You hadn't slept well for the past few nights and it started to get to you.

After getting your drink, you sat back down and raised the glass to your lips, when you heard a voice behind you, the same one you were trying to run away from right now.

“Didn't think I'd find you in a hole like this.”

Fuck. Now I'm imagining things, too. You downed the drink in one go. You had planned on sipping on it slowly, savoring it. You winced as the whiskey burned your throat going down. There were heavy footsteps approaching and then he sat down across from you.

“What are you doing here?” You sighed tiredly.

Ben flagged down the bartender. “What does it look like, sweetheart? I'm getting a drink."

“Why here? Were you following me?” You asked him straight up.

Ben scoffed. “Hah, don't flatter yourself. I like this bar.”

“Really?” You didn't hide the disbelief from your voice. You had a feeling that he wasn't telling quite the truth. “What's the name of it?”

You saw from his expression that he was racking his brains to come up with some name. “Little…Sal’s?” A grin broke out on his face. “What?”

You grimaced at his stupid answer. “No, Ben, it's not...that. Why were you following me?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don't even know. I tried to call, but you didn't answer.”

“Well, that should've been your first clue that I didn't want to talk.”

“And you didn't come home either.”

“Should’ve taken that as a second clue. Don't tell me you actually started to worry about me?” You winked at him teasingly.

“Well, it's not safe for a woman like you to be out alone at this hour.”

“A woman like me?”

“Yeah. In my experience, beautiful women like you tend to meet troublesome men, who then try to take advantage of them.” He smiled at you amusingly.

“Oh, is that so? And you thought, what, that you'd come and save a damsel in distress?” You got up to leave. “I can take care of myself.”

“Y/N, please. Stay for a drink.”

“Already had a drink.” You answered him curtly.

“Well, humor me. I can see there's something bothering you.” He ordered new drinks, one for you, too and it would've been impolite to not accept it. That's how you tried to convince yourself, even though you were pretty sure he would've just drank it himself, if you would've declined.

He pushed a glass towards you as you sat back down. “As an apology.” You laughed wryly at his gesture. “I would actually like a real apology as an apology.” You then squared your shoulders and looked directly at him.

You could see him tense up, as if saying three little words would somehow now break him. You didn't want to let him see how intimidating he actually was to you. You had already seen what he had been through, but at the same time you were well aware of the atrocities he was accused of and what he was actually capable of doing. In every sense possible, Ben was a dangerous man. And now you were calling him out to apologize to you, knowing very well that if anything sets him off the wrong way, he could blow up the bar and half of the block with it. Your heart was almost jumping out of your throat when the two of you kept staring at each other in silence.

You saw his jaw slack. “Fine.” He gritted through his teeth. “I'm sorry."

After practically pulling these words out of him, you decided you were not going to accept them this easily. “For what exactly?” Your head was turned to the side as you squinted at him quizzically.

“Oh, come on! Really? I said I was sorry!” He fell back in his chair.

“Yes, really! I'm not going to accept some half-assed apology after I had to drag it out from you!”

Ben leaned in on the chair and took one of your hands into his. He probably heard how hard your heart was beating at his move, given that little smirk on his lips which disappeared quickly.

You wanted to believe. For the sake of your own heart, you wanted to believe that Ben was actually a good man, because you started to get scared of where you were heading with your scaringly, stupidly fast developing feelings. You hadn't even had a proper conversation before other than the one you just had.

“I really am sorry for assaulting you. I... I was completely out of my head and…I think high, too” He seemed to be genuinely sorry. “...and unfortunately you got caught in the way.” He squeezed your hand assuringly.

You bit your cheek and you were torn. Your mind was screaming ‘run and don't look back’, but in your heart there was a gaping loneliness. And that loneliness spoke louder. ‘Just give in. Give in to what you want and tell it to him. You just might have a chance of happiness.’

“You know, I can not tell you to trust me. Not after what I did. I can't make you believe that I've changed. That has to be your own judgment call. And I know I haven't really given you much to look for the positive in me and for that, I am sorry, too.”

You didn't know what to answer him. It was like he was reading your mind. He let go of your hand and raised both glasses. You took one from him, silently accepting the apology. You both finished your drinks in silence, before Ben started to talk again.

“So...Who pissed in your Cheerios?” He leaned forward on the table.

“What do you mean? Other than wanting you to apologize to me, I'm fine.” You tried to brush it off.

“Well, don't get me wrong, doll, but you don't exactly look the type to go to bars on Tuesday evenings. Alone. Yet here you are.”

You downed the last sip and raised a finger to stop Ben from ordering more. You winced a bit, still not getting quite used to the burn. “None for me, thanks.”

“Well, suit yourself.” And he ordered himself a new one. You were debating in your head on how much you really wanted to let him in.

“Will you tell me? Or will we just consider this night to be over?” He asked again.

“It’s just some work stuff.” You said then quietly.

“What about it?” He seemed to really want to know. You didn't understand him at all anymore. On Saturday he didn't even apologize to you for his attack and then made some vile comments that totally had started to mess with your head, and now he is showing interest in your work.

“Why do you care? Why are you so nice to me all of sudden?” You snapped, maybe a little too harshly even, but it was hard for you to keep it in. Ben raised his hands up. “Relax, okay? It's not that I've started to ‘care’. I just..” he scratched his beard, trying to find the words.

“You just what, Ben? You are honestly giving me fucking whiplash with how you have acted after…after that night.” You finished with a shaky voice and crossed your arms on your chest, but you weren't quiet for long. “Not to mention all that crap in the kitchen. And now you are here, let me rephrase it- you followed me here,” you corrected yourself. “And you are asking now ‘who pissed in your Cheerios?’” you made your voice low, comically imitating his. “Well, I guess you did, Ben. So why are you really here?”

“I..” he took a deep breath in. “I'm just trying to be nicer, okay? You don't...” he rubbed his palm over his eyes and beard, as you continued staring at him frowningly. “You have no idea what these last two nights have done to me.” Ben said quietly, voice heavy with what was for him a new, unfamiliar feeling of genuine gratitude. “After you've left, I've been able to fall back asleep, without those nightmares and…it's clear to me that you have not.”

You weren't going to lie to him that it was nothing. Because it was not. You had never expected to be so affected by him. By his pain. And you really were tired. You stared at your hands on the table noticing how you’ve unknowingly started to pick on your nail polish, seeing it chipped on the edges. Maybe you chose wrong, but it was either him or you. “That's why I came in the first place. To help you, Ben. That's what I do.”

“But that's the thing. You help me, but that shouldn't come from your account. And don't get me wrong, I've been needing good sleep for quite some time, because after that..” he left a little pause. “...chamber, all that there's been for me, are just those nightmares, but you don't deserve to go through that for me.”

“How else would I be able to help you then? You didn’t deserve it either.”

“What do you know of what I deserve?” An insincere smile creeped on his lips. “And why should you even help me? You don't know what I've done. Or what I'm capable of doing.” Ben hinted, leaning towards you over the table. You weren't sure if it was one of his scare tactics, but you refused to back down.

"Because of what you just said to me! You told me you've changed. And I've seen what they did to you. I'm not believing for a second that it was all justified.” You reached over the table for his hand. You knew how naive you must’ve sounded. “Deep down you know yourself that you're not a bad person. If you were, if you didn't just care about anyone, you wouldn't have come looking for me. And I should help you, just because I can.” You weren't really sure whether you tried to convince him or yourself.

He pulled away his hand and quickly stood up. “Don't give me that crap!” Suddenly agitated again, he stomped out of the bar. With a heavy sigh you pulled out a few bills for the tab and followed him out.

You didn't see him outside the bar and had no idea if he went home or not, but that's where you were headed.

It was only just a little after midnight when you got home, but Ben was nowhere to be seen. At least I'll be able to sleep peacefully tonight. You thought spitefully and regretted it immediately.

Karma's a bitch indeed. You thought while laying sleepless in your bed, contemplating everything that had happened in the past week.

First of all - the night you first met Soldier Boy. That’s who he was then, before you got to know him. Before he became “Ben” to you. You’ve just seen some glimpses of his past, that’s all. But now he still has claimed a special spot in your mind, even after what he did.

You really didn’t know him at all before all this happened. Just what you’ve seen being published by Vought to the masses. And you always knew to take their words with a grain of salt.

Secondly, you weren’t sure whether to believe his own words either. He was so sure that he did not deserve your help from his night terrors. And you didn’t even know why, but for some reason that crushed you. Maybe you had just fallen for his charm, without a second thought, but his certainty of being so sure of that had to come from somewhere. Somewhere much deeper and you hoped to have a chance to find it out.

But what came as the biggest realization, was what you finally understood about yourself. You had been alone since childhood, only found your friends when you were in college, and the closest who had stayed even after graduating was Harvey. Only now you were mostly just coworkers to each other.

Being alone had made your skin thick, and you learnt to suppress your emotions well. That was the reason why you were so good at your job- you just couldn’t allow yourself to get too emotionally attached to the cases, because you have had the first hand view of good attorneys making grave mistakes, when they’ve gotten influenced by the cases or clients. And now, after years of shutting down your feelings, you know why helping Ben was so important for you. Even his pain made you feel something, and you were more than glad to find out that your heart hadn’t turned completely into stone yet.

You decided there was no point for you to just lay there in bed, so you thought you'd get up and just go to work early. At least that would make you feel useful. Sitting in the kitchen, drinking your coffee you felt eerily weird knowing that you were alone again. You hadn't heard Ben come home during the night and when you woke up, stopping at his door, you didn’t hear his snoring too.

For the whole day you had a gnawing feeling inside. The conversation you and Ben had felt far from finished when he left the bar last night. You weren't sure if he's going to be home in the evening too. Home. You let out a short chuckle staring at your computer screen. It felt funny to think of it as home. You had been there less than a week. This wasn't your home. Not really. But somehow you already got attached to the place, or rather your roommate and you weren't sure how to feel about it.

Few hours later you felt your eyes growing tired and everything started to get hazy. You had been staring at the computer screen far too long and when you were satisfied with what you got done today so after getting the final case files revised, you counted the work day ended.

Standing in front of the apartment building you were once again cursing its existence. Getting down the stairs was easy, but after work climbing up them was the worst imaginable thing for you. Sure, it was good for your health. Cardio and whatnot. You never have time to go to the gym anyway. You just couldn't wait to get used to them. Until then you had no shame in taking off your heels and taking the stairs in stockings. The feeling you got was indescribable, making you let out a sigh of relief.

You fumbled with your keys to open the door, only to discover that Ben had it chained up from the inside. “Oh, come on, Ben! Open the door!” You called in from the cracked door, before closing it. But he didn't came to the door and it felt like it was straight out of some comedy - you, locked out of the apartment, without shoes like some crazy person and of course, of course, in that moment the neighbors happened to come out of their apartment as you were pounding on the door for Ben to let you in. “Open up! Oh- sorry!” You smiled at them apologetically and stepped out of their way to let them past you.

“Alright, alright, stop with the banging! I'm coming.” You heard his muffled grumpy voice through the door.

“Finally…” you mumbled to yourself.

When Ben opened the door you just glared at him for a second. “Why do you, of all people, need to chain the door from the inside?” You pushed past him into the room.

A barely hearable “oh” was all that left your lips when your eyes stopped on the bottle of lotion and a tissue box on the living room table. Suddenly you felt very grateful for him locking up the door.

“So this is what you do when I'm at work? Must be..” you made your eyes exaggeratingly big, even though he didn't see it. “..exciting.”

“It was, yes.” He was already in the kitchen, pouring himself a drink. “Would have been even more so, if I would've been able to finish just now.” He came back to the room, a big smile on his lips and handed you a glass as well and waved at the couch. “Sit.”

You frowned, looking down at the couch too. “Do I want to?”

“Don't be such a prude.”

You rolled your eyes at him and took a seat. “I'm not a prude.” You mumbled quietly into the glass as you started to drink.

You tried to relax next to him, but in his presence you now felt an awkward silence fall between you and Ben.

Anxiety started to slowly rise in your chest thinking about the conversation ahead of you.

“So, Ben. Did you want to talk or were you just waiting for me to spend some quality time together?”

“Yeah, I was just waiting for you,” he answered. “Because you are such a joy to be around.”

Rolling your eyes, you swirled the amber gold liquid in your glass, and shifted in your seat to turn more towards Ben. “Shoot.”

“You know, you don't have to do this, right?”

Here we go again. About how he doesn't deserve my help. You sighed, waiting for him to continue.

“I'm serious. You can just leave. You should've left after the first night. Why are you putting yourself through this?”

“Because I want to help you."

Ben laughed at your words. “Now you want to help me? You didn't seem so keen on doing that when you first saw me.”

“Well, excuse me! I'd like to think my first reaction seeing you was totally justified, considering that you literally tried to kill me a few nights prior.”

“So what changed? Why are you torturing yourself with me?”

“You wouldn't understand. I–” you clamped up and finished your drink instead.

He snorted beside you. “Try me. I'm smarter than I look.” But without another word you got up from the couch and went to the kitchen to grab the whiskey bottle.

“It's just…” you looked at him quickly as you topped up your glass. His eyes were focused on you, indicating he was actually interested in hearing what you had to share.

“It's just that for most of my life I have been alone. Of course I only found that out later, but I was supposedly one of the first babies who got some new experimental version of the Compound V. They found me in some orphanage, where I was quite literally dumped at, so probably they thought ‘perfect, no one will miss her, let's fuck her up’.”

You emptied half of your glass. You even surprised yourself with how easily your story flowed out of you. This is the first time you ever talked about it. Something about him just made you feel safe enough to finally do it.

“I was kept in for a few years, for all kinds of tests and stuff, but when they thought that the V didn't work on me, I was once again thrown onto the streets. Hadn't one of the workers saved me, I probably wouldn't have seen double digits even.”

Thinking back to your childhood, you started to feel your eyes watering. Feeling silly about crying at that, you chuckled, before taking in another sip.

“Sounds like a happy ending, right? Well for me it was out of the frying pan, straight into the fire. For a little while everything was good. Then one day it started to seem like even just me waking up in the morning was an immediate day ruined for my mom. Being belittled and scolded by her became a daily occurrence for me. And if I dared to make a sound then I'd get the belt. “A failure” she used to call me. And that's just what I was. A failed fucking science experiment.”

You sniffled, sipping the whiskey and relishing in the burn it left in your throat, taking the attention from the pain that suddenly filled your heart. “But I pushed through it all. Until she died, when I was in senior year in high school.”

You tried to laugh through the tears. “I get a feeling you didn't ask for my whole life story, but that's what you're getting now.” You exhaled slowly and cleared your throat before continuing. “Well, even when she wasn't that nice or caring towards me when she was raising me, it was still just me and her. And apparently she cared a lot more than just a little, since after her death I found out she left me her apartment and an inheritance big enough to help me start college and gave me a little more time to find a job. And for that I have to be grateful, because I wouldn’t be here without her.”

“When did your powers show?” Ben finally asked. You were almost certain he had fallen asleep, but no, he was still listening. You dried your tears with the sleeve of your shirt.

“Jesus, woman, take a tissue.” Ben awkwardly offered you the tissue box from the table and your eyes went big seeing his gesture, but smiled at him, pulling a few out of the box.

“Uhh...thanks..It was in college. Sophomore year I think. Don't really remember how they started then. And I never told anyone, not even Harvey, who was my best friend then. Now it feels like we only speak to each other, because we work together.” You were feeling a little lighter to be able to get this off your mind. “Anyways, you wanted to know why I want to help you?”

You smiled at Ben, and saw his eyes softening just a little, but he was still clearly uncomfortable by your crying. “Yeah.” It was weird having him being so nice with you.

“Well, growing up like I did, I learned to close up all my emotions. With the job I have, I can't allow myself to make errors because I've gotten too attached to a client or a case. That's against not only my personal morals, but also the company's ethics, because in the end it would only end up with me screwing up my work. I can't afford that. How is it all connected to you? Well…” you looked directly at him. “This sounds so horrible, but even just feeling your pain makes me glad that everything I've gone through hasn't turned me into a senseless zombie yet. At least the pain is something.” You laughed humorlessly, feeling glad to see your little breakdown passing.

He remained quiet, visibly in thought and you couldn't even take a guess what was going on in his head.

For a while both of you drank in silence. Of course Ben did most of the job with emptying the bottle, you couldn't possibly outdrink him, but you didn't fall far behind and you knew already that you were fucked at tomorrow’s meeting. Figuratively. Sadly.

You had to give him some credit. He definitely wasn't wrong when he accused your moodiness with being too long without getting laid. The question was now if his offer to help you was still standing, but you didn't want to seem too desperate by just asking him to fuck you. Trying to get your mind off him, you decided to grab a new bottle from the fridge and ditched your glass, drinking it directly from the bottle. Ben seemed a little surprised for a second but accepted the bottle when you offered it to him.

“What is this shit?” He grimaced after taking a big sip from the bottle, and looked at the label, furrowing his brows. “Honey Whiskey.” You held back your laugh, seeing his face and added innocently, without revealing that this is what you usually drink. You just can't help it, you like your alcohol sweet. “They didn't have anything else.” He only rolled his eyes at you, and made a little face before drinking again.

“So what about you, Ben?” You asked as your eyes relaxed on Ben's lips, coming off the bottle with a drop of whiskey on them. His tongue quickly darted out to lick it up, but it seemed to happen in slow-motion and you desperately wished you could've been brave enough to do it yourself. To taste the sweetness on his lips. Instead you wet your own drying lips from the sight of him, before he looked at you. He caught you staring and his green eyes held you locked with a burning gaze for a minute. Coughing awkwardly, you quickly turned your eyes down from him.

“What about me?” He finally asked, scoffing at seeing you shy away.

“Why are you so convinced that you are so undeserving of my help?”

“Well, didn't you hear? I was a fucking menace to my team.” He chuckled darkly and handed the bottle over to you. “Apparently so much that they saw the need to get rid of me. Well, fuck them..” he laughed slowly. “They all got what they deserved.”

You didn't have to think twice about what he was implying, but you were wondering whether to raise the topic of why tried to kill you. You decided to not bring it up. He did say he was high then.

“And you think that this is the reason why you're not worth my help?"

“No, I-I just am not..” he grabbed the bottle from your hands. “I've done a lot of batshit crazy stuff in the past. Being honest now, not even half the crap that Vought has pinned on me, but that doesn't make it any better, does it?”

“Well, tell me one thing, Ben.” You scooted across the couch a little bit closer to him. “You told me yesterday you're a "changed man". If you had the chance, would you do it again? All that payback on Payback?”

“What are you now? My shrink?” He looked down on you, almost condescendingly, and sitting next to him made you feel so small. You couldn't push away the thoughts of asking him to have his way with you. You blamed it on the alcohol. It didn't help you relax at all, it only managed to make you horny.

“No, not that..” you said slowly, trying to get your mind out of the gutter, but with no effect. “Just trying to make up my mind on you, I guess.”

“What's the point of speculating on that then? If I say yes, would that change your current opinion on me?”

You looked up at him. “As you said yesterday, you're leaving it up to me to make my mind up on you. So, probably no, it wouldn't change it. I still think you didn't deserve what happened to you and I'd want to help you.”

You took the bottle from him to finish it off. “But you know, if you're fine with the nightmares, you can always lock your bedroom door. Message received loud and clear. Your decision, that's all.” You simply shrugged and got up from the couch.

“I'm off to bed.” You decided to end the night right there, before you did anything you'd probably come to regret in the morning. “Good night, Ben.”

“Night.” He mumbled under his breath and you heard him crush a pill with a glass, followed by a snort.

After your quick night routine, you got into your comfy shorts and top for sleep and tied your hair into a bun. Laying down in bed you rolled from side to side, unable to find a comfortable position. For over an hour you tried to fall asleep, getting more and more annoyed by the familiar ache for release keeping you from it. You had to do something for it and you hoped to God that Ben wouldn't hear you.

You reached for the drawer on your left and pulled out your good old reliable vibrator. You were damn glad that you decided to pack it up. It was nothing fancy, but in the last desperation, it got its job done well. It had been quite a while since you've used it and you were hoping it would not fail you now.

You quickly discarded your pants, threw them over the edge onto the floor. Your fingers slipped easily through the slick that had drenched your underwear. He didn't even do anything to me. How the fuck am I so wet already?

Your mind was racing when you started to slowly rub your clit. You quickly fell into a familiar rhythm with your fingers, despite it being a long time since you've last masturbated. Pleasuring yourself for a while, you felt the tension starting to build deep in your core, but the release seemed still miles away. It had been too fucking long for you and even now you knew you couldn't get yourself off with just your fingers. You needed more.

You grabbed the vibrator from the bed and slid it up against your clit before turning it on the slowest speed. Your hips bucked involuntarily when the low hum filled the room. The sweet tingling sensation against your bud quickly became almost overbearing.

You were just about to slide it in, when a knock on your door brought you out of your growing bliss.

“Sugar, if you're only relying on that plastic stick to get you off, then I'm honestly not surprised you're so pent up.” Your pussy quivered involuntarily when you heard his low rumble from the other side of the door.

You sat up in bed, trying to slow your breathing. “Leave me alone!” You couldn't bring yourself to tell him to take the toy’s place, that was still turned on in your hands, even though that's what you were imagining.

“Oh, no, sweetheart, I'm coming in.” You saw the door open.

“Ben! What the fuck? No!” You yelled at him as you tried to cover yourself in a hurry, but with no luck because before you got under the covers, Ben's large frame was already in your doorway.

To Be Continued »»» Part 2

Taglist: @jackles010378 @nescavaneck @cevansbaby-dove @deanwinchestersgirl87 @winchesterwild78 @anundyingfidelity @suckitands33 @waynes-multiverse

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[noramoons]

what lies beneath | k.hj

pairing: kim hongjoong x g/n reader

genre: siren au, artist!reader

includes: angst, some fluff

rating: T/13+

warnings: language, slight horror themes, mentions/descriptions of food, Family Issues as a plot point (💀)

word count: 13.5k

summary: there’s a pair of eyes blinking up at you from below the pier. you think you know who (or what, really) they belong to—but you might be too afraid to admit it.

You had been sure of several things before you spent the summer at the beach with your cousins.

One, that you were not an "outside" person. You couldn't stand fishing, you hated lying underneath the sun to tan—you could swim well enough, you supposed, to keep yourself afloat—but that was it.

Two, that there was nothing more embarrassing than being a tourist in a town you'd practically grown up in.

And three, that sea monsters of any kind were absolutely, completely, 100% fictional.

It was fun to pretend as a child, sure—you remember plenty of summers playing in the ocean with your friends, or listening to your uncle tell scary stories to you and your siblings about the creatures he'd seen in his time in the navy or deep-sea fishing—but that was it. Pretending. You knew that just as well as the rest of them did.

Which is why it's now somewhat embarrassing to be back here—spending yet another summer with your extended family, and now seeing your younger cousins now running up and down the side of your uncle's small pontoon boat. "Fish-man!" one of them cries out, pointing towards the water. "I saw it! I swear!"

The other one nods. "He was huge!"

Your uncle laughs from the wheel behind you. "I bet he was! I always heard they like to catch the sides of the waves the boats make for speed—can't get too close, though, or they'll get chomped by the propellers!" He makes a chomping gesture by opening and closing his fist, and your cousins giggle.

"You heard?" you ask, turning around from the seat near the bow. "I thought you always said you'd seen those fish-men with your own two eyes back in the day, Uncle."

He smirks at you. "Those were the deep-sea days. I've never seen any creatures this close to shore, but who knows?" he shrugs, winning at you. "Maybe we'll get lucky."

Right. You resist the urge to roll your eyes as you turn back around, the spray of the saltwater coming up on either side refreshing enough to distract you from the stories your cousins are now hurriedly making up behind you.

The rest of the day is decidedly less painful; your uncle is considerate enough to let you stay on the boat when he anchors it on a nearby island, so you're able to at least attempt relaxing while your cousins run amuck on the shore. By the time you're finally pulling back in to the dock behind your uncle's house on the bay, you can already see the hues of pink and orange growing in the sky as the sun begins its descent beneath the horizon.

Your cousins make a mad dash for the house once they're within leaping distance of the dock, and you let out an exasperated sigh when you realize it's just you and your uncle left on the boat. You know exactly what that means—all the work's been left to you.

He grins at you. "You remember how to tie her to the dock, don't you?" As if this hasn't been your job on-and-off for the last ten years.

You offer a faint smile in response, but you keep yourself from saying anything negative while you pull out the ropes from beneath the seats, tying them into the knots you know from memory around the poles on the dock. You don't want to complain in front of your uncle—he's never been anything less than kind to you, especially letting you stay at his house this summer out of nowhere when you told him you needed a place to stay for a while, even when it's been over five years since your last summer here. No questions asked, although you're sure he's curious.

You might tell him the truth. Eventually.

His voice suddenly interrupts the stream of thoughts in your mind. "If you've got it covered, I'm gonna head inside and start on dinner."

You nod absentmindedly, tucking the last rope into the beginning of its knot. "What are we eating?"

He smiles at you. "Guess you'd better hurry up and find out."

You roll your eyes at him, but in your sudden rush to finish the knot, you don't complete it nearly as tightly as you should—and you can already feel the boat drifting to one side from the loose knot.

You sigh at your own impatience, but you start the knot over again anyway, pulling on the other ropes to line the boat up with the side of the dock again before you start, checking the angle into the water to make sure it'll be as close to perfect as possible so you can hurry up and go inside, and it's then that you see it.

There's a face in the water—and it isn't yours.

No. You're seeing things. After a long day in the sun, you know it's not unheard of for your eyes to play tricks on you looking into the water. You draw your focus back to completing the knot, shaking the unusual thoughts out of your head of what you know you couldn't have possibly seen.

When the knot's finally complete, you cast your gaze into the water beside the boat one final time—and you realize, in stunned horror, that you'd been right before. There is a face, a face you can just barely see in the water as you peer over the edge of the dock—and it isn't your reflection. No, the angles of the jawline, the cheekbones, the chin are all far too sharp and precise to be yours. To be human.

He blinks up at you, far too innocently for someone—something that has been holding its breath underwater for at least the past five minutes.

You don't know how long the two of you stare at each other. It could be minutes, hours—you really aren't sure. You're finding yourself practically lost in the eyes of the being before you, dark and abysmal and inviting all at the same time—this, you imagine, must be what drowning feels like. Completely helpless.

It's then that you realize your ankles are touching the water. That's strange—you'd been sitting atop the dock just a moment ago. When did you get in the water?

You feel as if you've just awoken from a dream. You don't know how you've gotten here so suddenly, but you've definitely moved—you've turned around to face the dock, and your arms are the only thing keeping you above the water, your legs submerged up to your knees.

You quickly scramble back out of the water and heave your body back onto the dock, making sure all your limbs are still attached before staring back into the bay beneath you, looking for that face beneath the water again—but it's gone. Whatever it was has completely vanished, leaving nothing but the soft lapping of the waves against the shore in its wake.

Your mind races to find an explanation. You've been in the sun for hours. You must not have had much sleep last night. Your cousins are driving you insane and they've finally pushed you past the brink. One of those, surely, has to be the answer for whatever the hell you've just seen.

It's all you can think about during dinner—you hardly touch the clam chowder your uncle had prepared. He notices the small helping you've poured for yourself when you sit down at the table, and you see him frown out of the corner of your eye. "Feeling alright, Y/N?"

You nod quickly. Too quickly. "I'm fine. Think I might've been out in the sun for too long today—I'll probably just get some water after dinner and head to bed."

He nods, visibly relaxing at your words. "Ah. That certainly can happen—I saw far too many colleagues faint back in the day after a long shift. It's brutal, that sun. That reminds me of one particular instance, actually—couldn't have been less than twenty years ago, I'll bet, when..."

He launches into another fishing anecdote, much to the delight of your cousins, while you continue to mentally spiral for the duration of dinner, locked in your own thoughts and what you know you couldn't have possibly seen. Your behavior, however, means your uncle doesn't mind at all when you go up to your room early—and when night finally falls and everyone else has gone to bed, no one notices you creeping back downstairs, either.

You have to know. You'll never be able to go to sleep tonight if you can't confirm whatever the hell you saw in the water earlier.

Your stomach interrupts your thoughts, piercing the quiet living room with an unfortunate grumble.

"Shit," you swear softly to yourself. You're hungry—it's no wonder. You barely ate dinner, and you only picked at a few snacks on the boat earlier. It certainly won't assuage your fears if you scare away whatever that thing was if your stomach growls the minute you step outside.

You quickly grab the first thing your eyes land on out of the first shelf in the refrigator—an apple, before finally striding over to the door and making your way back outside as quietly and nimbly as you can.

You practically run back to the edge of the dock, peering into the inky blackness of the water illuminated simply by the moonlight, only to find your own reflection staring back at you. There's nothing.

And you want to be reassured by that fact. You had to have been seeing things earlier, then—a result of the afternoon spent under the blistering sun, doing things to your eyes and your mind, and yet—

You have to check. You'll just dip a toe in, maybe—you're already barefoot, anyway. Nothing bites at your toe when you do, sitting down at the edge of the dock and letting the waves lap at your skin.

Well. You suppose to be really sure, you'll have to get in the water. It feels much better now than it did earlier today, you think as you lower yourself in up to your waist, still holding onto the dock with one hand, apple in the other. You don't remember the water ever feeling this good—this inviting. You wonder what it would feel like to go all the way up to your neck. Maybe even to go all the way underwater, to feel it enveloping every inch.

That last thought particularly entices you, so you let go of the dock, holding your hand (and the apple) above the water while you submerge the rest of your body beneath the waves. You wonder how long you can hold your breath underwater. Does it even matter, though? It wouldn't be so bad to stay here like this forever—

"...What is this?"

You're broken out of your thoughts by a muffled voice above you, piercing the silence and suddenly reminding you how long you've been underwater. Panic sets in almost immediately as you kick toward the surface, gasping for breath when your head breaches the waves again, breathing in sweet, fresh air as your arms attempt to tread water.

Well—arm. Singular. Someone else is holding on to your other arm, you realize far too late—the arm that's currently clutching that poor, stupid apple. A hand is wrapped around your wrist, and you feel dread sinking through your chest when your eyes follow the hand back to its owner. Perhaps that dread is why you aren't at all surprised when you once again lock eyes with the creature from earlier, this time his head and chest above water.

He looks at your sputtering form, unsurprised, before turning back to stare at the apple in your hand, head tilting to the side. "What is this?" you hear him repeat. His voice is incredibly raspy—as if he hasn't used it in years.

His lack of recognition towards you is almost irritating—as if he's disappointed that you exist. "...What?" you finally ask.

He brings another hand out of the water to tap at the apple. "This," he says. "I don't know what this is. Tell me."

You're still struggling for breath. "I...I'll tell you what it is if you let me back onto the dock."

He turns back to face you—quickly, head shifting far too quickly for something human. "No," he says, grip on your wrist unrelenting. "Tell me what it is."

Shit. "It's an apple," you say, frustration suddenly blooming in your chest. You're going to die because of an apple. Because you couldn't be bothered to eat your uncle's clam chowder for dinner. What the hell is wrong with you? If you ever get out of this, you swear on every god listening that you'll eat second helpings of every meal that man makes for the rest of your life. "You eat it."

Apparently you eat it to this creature means you can eat it—because he's lunging forward suddenly, bringing his teeth that look much more like that of a shark's than like the teeth in your own mouth onto the apple in your palm, tearing away a bite and swallowing it whole. God, you hope you aren't about to meet the same fate.

He makes a face, turning to look at you. "It's weird."

You heave a sigh. This is insane, you think. Maybe you really did lose your mind earlier on the boat—it's all your cousins' fault. Has to be. Hearing that constant, nonstop chatter about the overseas vacation they just went on (their third this year alone), and the toys the twins got for their birthdays, and the teacher at school they really don't like, has finally made you snap. "I don't know what to tell you," you say. "You said you'd never had it before. And you're stealing—I was going to eat that."

He lets go of your wrist from his damp grasp. "Hmm. You can have the rest of it, I guess."

He has let go of you. Every logical nerve in your body is screaming at you to start swimming, to pedal back up to the dock as fast as you can and scream for your uncle—but you don't. He let go of you. He had just wanted the apple.

You stare at him. You'd been right before—every feature of his is far too sharp to be human. The edge of his nose, the line of his jaw, the angles of his cheekbones—everything except his eyes. They're dark, as dark as the night sky behind you, but they're soft. They hold none of the sharpness of what you can see of the rest of his body.

You think back to the beginning of the day—to the stories of the fish-men your uncle had tried to spook your cousins with as you drove around the inlet. Damn him to hell—he was right.

You aren't sure who you're angrier at—him, for being correct about something so utterly insane, or you, for not being smart enough to realize he was telling the truth.

The creature in the water notices you staring at him. He blinks at you, tilting his head to the side. His gaze hasn't left you for a single instant, but there's something else spreading across his face now, tugging up the side of his lips in a faint smile.

"You aren't afraid," he says now, the rasp in his voice gradually beginning to ebb away.

You notice him watching your arms treading water now, apple bobbing beside you, but you don't say anything about it. You also don't say anything about how he isn't treading water but is still staying perfectly afloat—something else is propelling him to stay upright. And you think you may have an idea of what it is. "I...I don't know. I don't think so," is the only thing you can offer in response. "I don't know what you are."

He thinks for a moment. "A...a siren was what your people called us the last time we went to the surface."

A siren. You'll admit you didn't always pay constant attention in school, especially reading the Odyssey nearly three years ago, but you have a clear enough recollection of what these creatures were. Their entire purpose was to lure sailors to their deaths with their charms, wrecking their ships with a few words of a song.

"We couldn't come up to the surface very often then," he adds thoughtfully, remembering. "Too much of that black smoke in the air. That's what my father said, anyway."

Black smoke? You're confused for a moment before it dawns on you—you distinctly remember your uncle telling you that the railroad used to lie almost perfectly adjacent to the bay his house now resides on, back in the day before they'd decided to reroute the tracks to make room for the neighborhoods they were building. And if the trains the siren in front of you remembers were still billowing out black smoke...

Christ, how old is he, anyway?

"I'm supposed to drown you," he says plainly.

You furrow your brow at him. "You can try, I guess. I used to be pretty good at swimming."

He laughs at that too. The sound of his laugh is unbearably musical—light and gentle and not at all comparable to the rasp his voice had been at first, nor is it fitting for a creature who had just said he was here to kill you. "I almost did. That's how you ended up in the water—don't you see?"

Oh. Fuck. He must have been in your head, practically—convincing you to get in the water. It's what'd he done earlier in the day too, you realize—when you'd gotten in all the way up to your ankles without realizing. "How...how'd you do that?"

He shrugs. "I just hum. Some of my brothers are good at singing, but I think humming does the same thing at a much quieter rate. Harder to get caught that way." 

"Does that happen to you often?" you ask. "Getting caught?"

He seems to ponder that for a moment. "No. I...I didn't have any plans on telling you this, but I've never actually drowned anyone before. You've been my first attempt."

You scoff at that. "I guess you're not a very good siren, then."

He stares at you, and you wonder for a split second if you've just made a fatal mistake by running your mouth, like you always do—but the edges of his lips quirk up in a strange smile. "That's not all we do, you know. We were the record-keepers of the ocean, back in the days before that fool Homer decided to only focus on our...occasional people-drowning habits. Once you become known for something, no one really cares what you used to do."

You blink at him. "Sorry, I...are you trying to make me feel bad for you? After you tried to drown me?"

His smile widens. "But I didn't drown you! I decided not to. Because I wanted to know what that was in your hand." He looks down at the apple bobbing in the water between the two of you. "Do you have anything else like this?"

You let out an incredulous laugh. "Why? Do you want to go through all the fruit in our fridge and take a single bite out of each one?"

He cocks his head slightly at you. "Why would I do that?"

Because it's what you just did, you want to yell at him—but you don't. Some semblance of common sense must be returning to you, now that you know you aren't in mortal danger.

He continues anyway. "I want to go back to our record-keeping ways. I like learning things. I've never spoken to a human before now—I've already learned so much. I know what an apple is. I know how easy it is to tell you to drown yourself."

You try to ignore the way your blood freezes cold for an instant at that last comment—and the way he gives you a knowing look after it leaves his lips. You think you may have a better understanding of what your situation is, now. "So you decided not to drown me because you wanted to know about the apple. You...you're only going to keep me alive if I keep bringing you things that you find interesting?"

But he shakes his head no. "You can go back up to the land now. I won't stop you. I was just suggesting that you'd think about doing me a favor, since I did one for you."

Deciding not to drown me isn't much of a favor—but you keep that to yourself. "You really wouldn't stop me if I went back up the dock? If I never set foot in the water again? Won't you...I don't know, get in trouble with the siren police or whoever you answer to?"

A bemused expression flashes across his face. "No, I don't answer to anyone. We used to travel in packs—and I think some still do, especially in the southern sects of the Pacific, but most of us are solitary, now. I do whatever I want."

“Must be nice," you reply before you can think to stop yourself.

He frowns a little at that. "What do you mean? You're the masters of the world as we know it, aren't you?" There may be a little edge of mocking at the end of that sentence, but neither of you comment on it.

Instead, you take one arm out of the water briefly to try to wave your words away, accidentally flicking a few drops of water on his face—but he doesn't even flinch. "Look—I shouldn't have said that,” you say.

"Who could possibly be telling you what to do?" he asks again. "I'm serious."

Now you do let a small laugh pass your lips. "You'd be surprised."

He just blinks. "Surprise me, then."

He did say he liked to learn. "Listen, I can't—" You cut off your own sentence when you see a light on the second story window flick on out of your peripheral vision. Shit. "I've got to go."

He casts his gaze upwards to the soft light emanating from the house. "I see," you hear him say as you plant your elbows on the edge of the dock, hauling your body back up to the wooden surface. Once you're out of the water, a sudden thought occurs to you—you never even asked the siren for his name.

Who cares? a voice in your head cries out. Your conscience, most likely—whatever scraps of common sense you have left. That thing was going to drown you. You don't need his name; you're never going to see him again.

Well—that you aren't entirely sure of, even if you may not be completely prepared to admit it. As much as you had apparently intrigued him, he had certainly kept your interest too. For crying out loud—he's a goddamn siren. How often did you get to have a sit-down conversation with a sea creature you had been perfectly convinced wasn't real an hour ago?

Even more intriguing, you think, was that air of freedom about him. I do whatever I want, he'd said. You can't imagine the last time anything like that left your mouth—or if anything like it ever had. You're drawn to that feeling of freedom—either out of jealousy or a desire to live vicariously through it, you aren't sure. But you do want to experience it again.

So you turn back around, the question of his name on the tip of your tongue—but it never gets any further. By the time you're looking back into the water below you, he's gone. Had you imagined the entire thing all along, you wonder for a brief instant?

But that thought shatters when you hear a splash to your right, at the very edge of the canal before it opens back up into the ocean, and you see the edge of a long, blue tail flicker in the moonlight before it disappears below the surface.

You let out a short laugh of disbelief at the sight. And the small smile that lingers on your lips—even as you hurry back towards the house, open the back door as quietly as possible, hurry back upstairs, throw your wet clothes in the bathroom, and jump back in your bed in a fresh pair of pajamas—doesn't fade away for quite some time.

Three days pass before you see him again.

You'd run out to the dock three nights in a row after everyone in the house had fallen asleep, peering into the water only to be met with the ripples of your own reflection staring back up at you. Disappointed, you had trudged back to the back porch and snuck back up to your room, lingering confusions about that damn siren swirling around in your head. You won't go check again tomorrow night. That entire meeting with him was apparently a one-time thing. It was a miracle that he'd let you live, anyway—a miracle that you aren't ever supposed to see again.

You still find yourself padding down to the dock on the fourth night—and this time, you aren't alone.

There's an apple sitting on the very last wooden plank on the end of the dock, water dripping off the edge and forming a small puddle around it. You almost let out a laugh at the sight, but it's swallowed by the yelp you accidentally let out when the siren's head emerges suddenly from beneath the surface. He stares at you, unblinking as he hauls his forearms onto the edge of the dock, propelling himself forward to look up at you.

"You're surprised," he says.

You take a breath to calm yourself before speaking. "You're observant."

He blinks once. Twice. "That's for you," he says, gesturing towards the singular fruit on the last plank of wood. "Since I ate the other one."

You look down at the apple, deciding you're safer not asking where he got this one—and then you look lower, peering down off the edge. The siren has pulled himself up to rest against the dock, which means he's only about halfway submerged into the water now. You see his arms, crossed on top of each other to support him resting on top of the dock. You see his chest, his abdomen, droplets of water still rolling down the toned muscles. And you swallow the gasp that threatens to escape you when you finally lock eyes on the dark blue tail that begins past his waist, swishing back and forth as it glistens with every beam of moonlight it reflects.

If he knows the cause of your sudden amazement, he doesn't say anything about it. Instead, he speaks again. "I wasn't sure if you'd be back."

You manage to pull your eyes back up towards his. "I, um...I realized I never got your name the other night. I figured you didn't just go by 'siren.'"

He smirks. "No, I don't. But I've never had to say it out loud before, like this." He thinks about it for a moment. "Hongjoong."

Hongjoong. "Hongjoong," you repeat. 

You aren't sure if it's the moonlight playing tricks on you, or if his cheeks really do twinge a shade pink at the repetition from your lips. "What's yours?"

Now it's your turn to smirk a little. "You won't, like...gain some kind of terrible power over me once you know my name, right?" You think you remember reading about the fae having that kind of ability in school, but that was ages ago. And at the time, you didn't think you'd ever need to remember information about creatures you were certain didn't exist.

The siren—Hongjoong—shakes his head. "Not that I know of. I can look into it in our historical records though, if you'd like."

You shake your head quickly. Probably better off not knowing.

But you do tell him your name, and he smiles too. "Pretty," he says, and you think you understand how someone like him could talk someone like you into walking off a boat—but the thought doesn't scare you the way it might have the other night. He's so beautiful, you're realizing—almost impossibly so. To hear him say he thinks you're pretty, or at least your name is, almost makes you want to laugh.

Hongjoong pulls you out of your thoughts when he taps the space on the dock next to the apple with one hand. "Well? Are you going to take it?"

Oh. "Oh!" you say, bending over to pick up the fruit. "Sure. Thank you for bringing this to me—" and then, before you can stop yourself from the most sudden and peculiar act of boldness in your entire life so far— "do you...I don't know, want anything in return for it?"

He seems taken aback by your proposition at first, but only a moment passes before that soft, self-assured grin appears across his features again. "What would you want to give me?"

Christ. Why did you say that? "Well—um..." You glance down at your shoes with wet sand still caked to the sides, the green charm on the end of one shoelace, the fraying ends of the jacket you'd hastily pulled over your shoulders before walking outside tonight, before you see—

You quickly work it off of your wrist and hand it over to him. "Here," you say, sitting down at the dock's edge and handing Hongjoong the bracelet you've been wearing since you came to your uncle's house this summer. "You can keep it."

Hongjoong takes the bracelet delicately from your outstretched hand. He peers at it in the moonlight. "What is it?"

"It's a bracelet," you explain. "You can just wear it on your wrist for decoration—it doesn't have to mean anything. This one, um...it was actually from my parents, but believe me—it doesn't mean anything," you finish, trying (and failing) not to let that all-too-familiar drip of malicious venom back into your voice at the mention of the people who raised you. Who bought you this bracelet—a week-late birthday gift from your mother who had missed it while she was on a 'girls trip' in Italy. And yet, you still turned out like this—

Hongjoong continues studying the bracelet, poring over each individual charm. If he notices your attitude about your parents, he doesn't say anything—but after that first conversation you'd had with him, you think he may understand what you mean anyway.

The silence is starting to make you drowsy, so you move to stand back up. "Look, Hongjoong, I'd better head back. It's late. Will I, um—" Why does he make you so nervous now? "Will I see—"

"What are you bringing next time?" Hongjoong interrupts.

You blink. "What?"

He taps the bracelet with one finger. "I'll bring something else the next time I see you, if you bring something too."

He had said he liked to learn. "Okay," you say. There's a sudden warmth in your chest at the thought of seeing him again, even despite the cool breeze suddenly drifting off from the sea. "When will you be back?"

Hongjoong tilts his head to one side, thinking. "The next half moon. It should be in a few nights. I'll need time to find something good for you," he says, grinning.

You can't fight the grin that tugs at your own lips. "I'll be here, then."

You think about how the first two weeks of your summer had dragged by. Every day had felt like an unending loop of babysitting your cousins while your uncle went to work, of making an effort to laugh at said uncle's intentionally not-funny jokes, of picking up groceries and running errands and getting lost in the monotony of the mundane—but the second half of your summer is the complete opposite.

Going out and meeting Hongjoong by the end of the dock goes from a once a week occurrence to a nightly routine. And it doesn't stop at just bringing each other different little trinkets and knick-knacks and snacks that you find—you and Hongjoong both discover that you're better conversationalists than you'd previously thought. The two of you find yourself talking for hours about anything you can think of; you learn that Hongjoong's family is several times larger than yours, and that sirens swim further south when the water gets cold in the winter ("the same as everything else in the sea with any sense," he points out). And you tell Hongjoong about you, about all the summers you spent here with your older siblings when you were all still children, about the nights you snuck out with them and went to the gas station for ice cream—both of you hanging on each other's every word.

You find yourself looking forward to seeing him all day. You're in far better spirits than you were at the beginning of the summer, your uncle teases on several occasions, but you can't find it in yourself to be bothered.

You probably could try to make it slightly less obvious, though. After nearly a month of spending almost all your nights with Hongjoong, you find yourself one midsummer day back on the pontoon boat with your cousins and uncle, looking for an island to go for a picnic on—just like you had been that day you'd first seen him. You still keep to yourself on the bow of the boat the same way you did at the beginning of the summer, but your thoughts are full of nothing but the siren, now. You'd found an unfinished scrapbook of you and your siblings from years ago in your uncle's garage last night, and you're practically beaming at the thought of showing it to Hongjoong tonight. You wonder if he'll be able to pick out which one is you in the photos if you don't tell him. Maybe you'll—

"There's something in the water!" one of your cousins cries out, pointing towards the right side of the boat.

You practically shoot out of your seat. "Where?" you ask, rushing over to her side of the boat.

She blinks up at you, caught off-guard by your sudden enthusiasm. "Um...right next to the boat." She points again with a shrug. "There was a face, but it's gone now. I swear I'm telling the truth."

You nod, giving her a knowing grin. "I believe you."

Her eyes widen, a smile growing across her own features. "You do?"

Your uncle laughs from the wheel of the boat behind you. "You mean your reflection, bub?"

Your cousin shakes her head quickly. "No, it wasn't. It was something else, I know it."

Your uncle looks back and forth between the two of you, landing his gaze firmly on you. "Well—if you see anything else, you just let me know. It's almost the end of the summer, you know," he points out. "I've kept you all under my watch this long—I don't want anything to happen to either of you."

The little girl next to you nods before going back to her seat with the rest of your cousins, but you stay planted at the side of the boat for a while with them.

It's almost the end of the summer, you know.

What's been wrong with you for the last several weeks? Befriending a siren, of all things—where did you think that was going to go? Did you think you'd get to pack him up in your suitcase with everything else and take him home? Stupid, you think—you've been completely, utterly stupid. It's the only explanation for it.

No—that isn't entirely true, either. You may have been foolish, thinking you could keep a friendship with a siren, but that wasn't the only place those feelings were coming from. You've been distracting yourself, you realize now. You're trying to run, still—from the very same thing that led you to stay with your uncle this summer for the first time in years.

Maybe you've had your fill of running. It may be time to try facing the thing you've been avoiding all summer before it's too late—which is how you find yourself alone in the kitchen later that night, holding on to your uncle's home phone with one hand while you read her number to yourself off of your own phone (you're fairly certain she won't answer if she recognizes your number on her caller ID).

You almost hesitate before punching in the last number to dial and sealing your fate, but your uncle's words float back to you again. It's almost the end of the summer. What do you have to lose now, anyway?

You finish dialing the number.

She picks up on the fourth ring. "Hello?" She sounds slightly out of breath, as if she'd ran to catch the phone before it stopped ringing. The thought gives you a momentary sense of hope—maybe she won't hang up on you immediately once she realizes who's calling.

You take a deep breath before answering. "Hi, Mom," you say, slowly. "It's me."

She's silent for a long, long time—but she doesn't hang up. "...Oh," is the first thing your mother says. "I thought this was your uncle calling." You hear her take a breath, hesitating on saying what you know she's about to say. "I guess that's why you called from his phone, huh?"

You know there's no point answering that. "Mom, I...I wanted to talk to you, since the summer's almost over. I thought we could possibly talk about, um...about me staying at home for a little bit before school starts—or maybe coming home during winter break."

There's another long period of silence—and like the fool you are, you allow yourself to hope, for a brief moment, that she won't say exactly what you've known she was going to say the minute you dialed her number. "Hmm...no, Y/N, I don't really think that's a good idea." Your heart sinks, but she continues to push the dagger (that you practically handed her by making this call) further into your chest. "You know what—it's not really a good time right now, anyway. I'll talk to you some other time, alright?"

"Listen, Mom, I'm—"

Click.

She's hung up.

You told yourself earlier you wouldn't cry if she did this (you knew she was going to). And yet—you still can't fight those tears brimming at the edge of your eyelids, threatening to spill over. As you try to blink them away, your gaze is drawn towards the back window—towards the head of blue hair you can just barely see at the end of the dock, waiting expectantly for you already.

God. You cannot talk to Hongjoong right now—but you can't just blow him off entirely, either. You'll make something up, tell him you've gotten sick and can't see him for a few days, and hope he'll just forget about you and find some other human to trade apples for bracelets with.

You pad as quickly as you can down the end of the beach to the dock, peering over the edge to see Hongjoong's dark eyes looking up at you. "I can't talk tonight," you say sharply. "I'm sorry."

Hongjoong frowns. "What's wrong? Did you forget to bring something? It's okay, you know. I don't mind just talking to you. If you want."

Of course that's what he's concerned about. "No," you say, somewhat shakily. "I just can't, alright?"

You move to turn around, but the siren is a step ahead of you like always. He lunges forward onto the dock, grabbing ahold of your ankle with a strength you hadn't known he'd had. You think, for a moment, that if he had really wanted to drown you that day—he could have. "That's not good enough," he replies firmly, but his gaze softens the minute he sees your face closer. "I want to know what's wrong. Please."

It doesn't take much pleading from him for you to succumb to his wishes, so you relent, turning back around and sitting down on the edge of the dock. Hongjoong props himself up with his forearms before pushing the rest of his body up onto the dock, sitting upright and facing the sea beside you, just like you—something he's never done before. Only the last few scales on the edge of his tail just barely brush the water. "Tell me," he asks again, gentler this time.

So you do.

"It's my mother," you tell him, slowly. "Both my parents, really—they planned out me and my brothers' lives from the moment we were born. We were all supposed to be doctors, or lawyers, or scientists—something to make a ridiculous amount of money for them, just like they did for their parents. It was the only way to make them proud. They sent us to private schools and paid for expensive tutoring for years to ensure it, and they only spoke to us when we did well. They didn't want children—they wanted trophies. Things they could show off to their friends who were just as selfish and conceited as them. And they got them with my brothers—they did exactly what they were supposed to. Graduated law school or got their doctorates or PhDs, and now do nothing except work and get filthy rich. I'm the last one to fulfill what my parents had planned out for us. But I guess things don't always work out the way you planned," you add, somewhat bitterly.

Hongjoong keeps his gaze fixed on you. "No," he says, as gently as the water lapping at your ankles. "They don't. And...you don't want to do what they want you to."

You nod. "That's right. I don't. I think I should get a choice in what I make of my life, not slaving away forever at something someone else picked out for me. To do something of my own volition. And I told them so—and they told me I'd be on my own, forever, because of it."

"What do you want, then?" he asks.

You feel tears brushing against the edges of your eyelashes again. "It doesn't matter," you say, trying to keep your voice as steady as you can. "I'm screwed as it is. I have enough money saved for this semester of college, but they've cut me off entirely. I tried to call and make an attempt to patch things up tonight, but she wouldn't even listen to me. I'll be coming here every other semester to work, save up for the next semester, and stay with my uncle. I'm extremely grateful to at least have him on my side, to have someone who will allow me to stay with them—but I don't know if I'll ever get to see my parents or my brothers again. And I knew that would happen," you admit, voice definitely shaking now.

"I knew that was the choice I was making when I told them I didn't want to just be a stupid trophy for them to display, that I wanted to make something worthwhile, that I deemed worthwhile with my life. I knew it wouldn't be easy and that I was taking the harder route, but I thought I'd be able to just cut ties with them. Go no contact, and all that, but it...it's hard, Hongjoong," you tell him, tears rolling down your cheeks. "So fucking hard. And it's so stupid. Even after all this, after she's told me she doesn't want anything to do with me, now that I've chosen to 'waste my life away' and she 'doesn't know who I am anymore—' I still care what she thinks of me, for some stupid reason. She's still my mother—God, what am I supposed to do?"

Hongjoong turns to you almost instantly, cupping your face in both hands, and the sudden touch alone almost makes your tears stop falling. "Nothing stops the flow of the sea," he says, quietly. You want to move your gaze, to move your head away so your eyes aren't locked onto Hongjoong's so intensely, but he keeps you there anyway. "You just have to keep moving through it. With it. I think it's the same with your mother. It won't immediately be better tomorrow, just like how the sea isn't immediately perfectly calm after a typhoon—but it will be better, eventually. A little bit every day, as the waves return back to their normal rolling patterns."

"You don't think it's stupid?" you ask, quietly. "That I'm still so desperate to hold on to my mother, even if she's practically already thrown me away?"

Hongjoong shrugs. "Nonsensical, maybe. But not stupid. I don't think there's anything stupid about reaching out for someone who's taken care of you. My family has always been spread across the oceans—no matter where I go, it seems, I can find someone. I think it would be a much harder life if I was told none of them wanted to see me ever again. I'd feel stranded. And I haven't lived the same life as you, so I don't know what the exact circumstances are like, but I don't think it's a stupid aspiration. Just slightly nonsensical—but I think I'm realizing that a lot of things you do—that humans do," he corrects, "are that way."

That makes you laugh, even as his words settle into your ears and you begin to feel a kind of lightness in your chest. His world is so different from yours, you think. You're almost jealous of it, in a way.

And still, when he says things will be easier, eventually—you believe him.

"What is it that you want with your life?" he asks.

You laugh a little again. "It's cliché."

Hongjoong doesn't hesitate. "How would I know what your clichés are?" His hands are still firmly cupped against your cheeks.

Now the smile that ghosts across your face is real. Genuine. "Art," you say, quietly—as if you're afraid of admitting the truth even to him. "I love drawing—always have. It's all I've ever wanted to do. It used to be my escape when I came here in the summers with my family; I'd sneak away from everyone and paint on the beach for hours until my uncle would call for dinner. I begged for paint sets as a kid for birthday presents—even stole a set of charcoal pencils from the art room in middle school once. The teacher let me keep them even after finding out," you add, laughing a little. You bare your soul to Hongjoong, the parts of you that you've tried to squash for years but have failed to completely erase—like charcoal marks on a piece of paper that just won't quite go away.

He seems to ponder this for a moment. "Could you draw me?"

You laugh, feeling like a dam of relief is beginning to break within within you. He knows what has practically been your deepest, darkest secret for your entire life, and he doesn't want to shun you forever for it. "You know, I've always heard that's the one thing you aren't supposed to ask an artist."

Hongjoong blinks. "I didn't know that." There's only a single beat of silence before he asks, "Can you draw me anyway?"

"It won't be very good," you say with a shrug, smirk still tugging at the corners of your mouth. "I've never been very good at portraits. Landscapes and still life are easier for me."

He moves one hand to wrap around your wrist. "Try anyway."

The tenderness of the action coupled with his words—blunt as always, but reassuring in a way you've never known from him, never known from anyone—is enough to cause tears to prickle at the corners of your eyes again.

This time, Hongjoong notices, moving his free hand up your cheek to gently brush them away before they ever have a chance to cascade past your lashes. You see him sniff once, then look back up at you—realization dawning on his face.

"Salt," Hongjoong whispers in awe. "There's a piece of the sea in you, too."

That dam inside you breaks.

You meet his eyes, dark as the bottom of the ocean—feel the cool grip of his hand wrapped around your wrist and his fingers resting gently on your cheek, and you feel the pull towards him like the magnetism of the Earth's core.

When your lips land on his, it doesn't surprise either of you. It's a chaste, careful kiss at first. Hongjoong takes only a moment to breathe, forehead touching yours so lightly you almost wouldn't know he was there, before pulling you back to him and pressing his lips against yours again.

You've never experienced anything like it before—the tenderness of his hands on your skin, the softness of his lips on yours, his warm breath skating across your jaw. It's like he's everywhere, taking over every sensation—but not at all like that first time he had met you and influenced your thoughts. You feel fully in control right now. You're the one who's let him in.

If this is what drowning feels like, you think, you'd never complain.

You taste salt on your lips when you wake in the morning, and the sensation immediately sends a flurry of butterflies through your chest. A smile tugs at your mouth before you can even think to hide it from yourself.

Had last night even been real? Hongjoong reassuring you, kissing you so gently that you thought you might melt right into the water below the two of you—God, how could it not have been real? You could never have dreamed something like it.

If your uncle and cousins notice your uncharacteristically chipper mood at breakfast, a stark contrast to your melancholy behavior at dinner the night before, they don't say anything—but your uncle does look surprised when you offer to help load the cooler and towels onto the boat for the day.

"I've enjoyed having you here for the summer," your uncle tells you later that afternoon, when you've dropped anchor on a nearby island and your cousins are eating their lunches peacefully—the only time of the day you find that they're quiet. "Reminded me of the old days, with your brothers. It's been good to have you here."

You smile at him. "I've enjoyed being here," you admit, even if he doesn't know all the reasons why. "Thank you for letting me stay the summer. I really, um...really appreciate knowing there's someone who has my back."

His eyes crinkle in a soft smile. "Listen, Y/N. I know it's hasn't been easy after what happened with your mother—I don't know the whole story, but I'm not old and senile enough yet to not know something's up. But you'll always have a place to stay here. I want you to know that."

Your heart jumps. "Thank you, Uncle," you say. "You've always gone out of your way to make this feel like home for me, and you did the same when my brothers were here too. I can never thank you enough for that. And I—"

He just waves your words away. "That's what family does, you know? I've always felt like a bit of a black sheep living out here—compared to my sister, anyway. She always had big plans for all of you. But I've wanted this to feel like a good place for you, and your brothers, and now your cousins too—no matter what. Even when you all would sneak out for late-night gas station runs back in the day...or whatever it is you're doing now," your uncle adds, pointedly.

Your stomach twists. "I've...been taking moonlit strolls. It's helped me relax, with everything going on."

He doesn't seem convinced, however. "Honey...you know, you can always—"

But he's interrupted by one of your cousins shouting. "Jay won't give me the binoculars back!"

Your uncle frowns. "Jay, let your sister have a turn. Only fair, you know."

Jay crosses his arms, tucking the binoculars under one elbow. "No way! Every time Bianca uses these, she keeps telling me she sees somebody staring at her in the water."

Bianca scowls, lunging for him. "And I did! Just because you didn't see him doesn't mean I didn't."

Him.

After what your uncle had just said about your moonlit strolls, you restrain yourself from running over to the edge of the boat immediately like the other day—but your eyes still scan over the water ahead of you hurriedly.

You can see your uncle's gaze flicker back to you out of the corner of your eye, hesitating for a moment too long, before turning his attention back to the twins. "You guys have seen more stuff on the horizon in the past month than I saw in twenty years on the sea," he quips, forcing a tight laugh. "Might need to get you kids back to living in the city soon if you're seeing this many things in the water—not everyone's made for the sea life," he adds.

The knot of worry tightens itself a little tighter in your gut, and not for the last time this summer.

You still smuggle your sketchbook down to the pier once night falls, slipping out the back door with it tucked securely under your arm.

Hongjoong, of course, is waiting expectantly for you, peering up at you from the edge of the dock. "Is that for drawing?" he asks, and you can hear the twinge of excitement in his voice.

Your heart does a little backflip in your chest. "Yes," you admit, a little more sheepishly than you'd meant to. "Do you know how you want to pose for it?"

He thinks for a moment. "Can I sit up here with you? I want to be close to you for it."

Oh—now there are serious acrobatics going on within your chest. "Sure," you say, grinning as you sit on the far edge and watch him scoot up to sit beside you, leaning on the support beam at the very edge of the dock.

You gaze at him for a moment after flipping open your sketchbook and finding an empty page. His tail practically shines in the darkness around the two of you, moonlight reflecting off of each dark blue scale. His torso looks practically sculpted by the gods—arms and chest full of just as much unearthly beauty as his face, jawline sharper than the tip of the pencil you're sketching him with.

Not for the first time, you think to yourself how beautiful he is.

Hongjoong's cheeks turn the fairest shade of pink as you continue to stare at him, but he doesn't say a word as you begin your initial sketch. You find it slightly difficult to get the right shape of the tail flicking against the edge of the water beneath you. "Can I ask you a question?" you say instead, putting down your pencil for a moment.

Hongjoong blinks. "You've asked me questions for weeks, now."

You laugh. "This is a different one. I...I think one of my cousins saw something in the water today. When we were on my uncle's pontoon boat. Any chance you might know something about that?"

His cheeks turn pinker than before, but he doesn't flinch. "I suppose I might."

You can't bite back a grin. "Are you...following me, Hongjoong?"

Hongjoong frowns a little. "I wouldn't call it that. I've...just been in the area. Keeping an eye on things. Not just you."

"Just at the same time as me."

"Right," he says, clearly relieved. "Exactly."

Your grin widens.

Hongjoong points at your sketchpad. "Are you finished with the drawing?"

You laugh a little, picking your pencil back up from beside you on the dock. "No, not even close. I've never drawn anything like you before—but I love a good challenge."

He seems somewhat pleased with this admission. "Will you show it to me once it's done?"

“Of course," you tell him, and he beams. That smile—God. You only hope you can put even a fraction of the way it makes you feel back onto the paper in your palms.

Your uncle corners you in the kitchen after breakfast the next morning. You feel yourself panicking inwardly at first, thinking he's going to continue pressing you on your "moonlit strolls" conversation from yesterday—but he just informs you that he's planning on a big seafood broil for dinner tomorrow night, as a send-off for the summer. And more importantly, he wants you to pick up a few pounds of shrimp from the seafood store in town today.

It's been a while since you ventured that far back into town—God, probably since the very first week of summer. And now your uncle is preparing a feast for the end of the season. You've never known time could pass you by this quickly.

That thought lingers as you ride your uncle's bike down the boardwalk and across the bridge, gradually making your way onto the mainland. You've put off thinking about what will happen once the summer comes to a close since that night you called your mother—but it's an inevitable fact that you'll have to leave, obviously sooner than you think. How can you even begin to bring that up to Hongjoong? Does he know, already, somehow? Will he be disappointed that he can't obtain any more knowledge from you and dip back into the sea, never to be seen again?

Your racing mind quiets somewhat when you realize you've made it to the seafood store—or shack, as it's always been affectionately known. You gaze for a moment at the neon sign outside, realizing that "THE CRAB SHACK" only has a few lights that actually work. "T E CR B S H  C K" is what the sign displays now. 

You remember that the lights didn't work when you were here years ago, either. The whole bottom row of neon was always out, meaning that the sign only read "T E CRB." You wonder if there's a meaning in that—that the sign was broken then and broken now, just showing it in different ways.

Or maybe it's just a neon sign for a seafood shack, and your suddenly gloomy mind is searching for meaning where there is none.

You roll your eyes at your own thoughts, park your bike, and make your way inside. The smell of seafood is nearly overpowering the minute you step through the door and doesn't fade for an instant, even after you've collected your pounds of shrimp in bags and make your way to the register in the very back. You wonder if the employee behind the counter even smells the seafood anymore, or if he's completely accustomed to it now.

He clears his throat awkwardly. Oh, God—how long have you been standing here? "Are you ready to check out?"

"Yes! Yes," you say hurriedly, laughing at yourself. "Sorry. In my own head this morning."

The cashier laughs good-naturedly in reply. "It happens." He looks down at the bags of shrimp after weighing and typing them in. "You visiting a friend here or something? That's quite a few pounds of shrimp—and I don't think I've seen you in here before."

You nod. "I'm staying with some family on the other side of the bridge. We're doing an end-of-summer broil tomorrow night."

He grins at you. "Can I come by if I only charge you for one of these?"

"If there's any leftovers," you reply coolly. "My cousins are pretty ravenous."

The cashier just laughs again, handing you the bags. "Fair enough. You have a good day, now."

"Same to you," you tell him absentmindedly—because you've noticed something in the open door behind the cashier. It's probably not meant to always be open, as it leads to a boardwalk out to the sea. Another Crab Shack employee is lining up a few crates of stock not yet loaded into the store. A couple canisters of fruit, three or four crates of sodas—and at the very end of the boardwalk, you think you might just see a head of blue hair peeking out of the water.

Shit.

You wonder as you quickly make your way out of the store, as you duck under the Sea You Later! sign at the exit, as you pedal the whole ride back over the bridge and back onto your uncle's property—a trick of the light, maybe? (When has that ever been the case this summer?) Will Hongjoong even say anything about it tonight, if it was him?

He does, of course. When evening falls and you make your way down to the dock, you haven't even taken your pencils out of your drawing bag before Hongjoong is pulling himself up beside you, gazing at you intently.

"What was so funny?" he asks, in a tone so innocent you almost think he's being genuine. "I want to know."

You make an exasperated face. "I don't know what you're talking about, Hongjoong."

"The man in the store today," he answers plainly. "In the apron. You laughed at something he said."

"Nothing," you say. "I was being polite—I promise. He was the one trying to make jokes about inviting himself over. Not nearly as funny as he thought he was."

He isn't quite satisfied with that. "Did you know him before?"

"No," you tell him. "I was just in there getting shrimp for my uncle to cook tomorrow."

Hongjoong frowns. "I could've gotten you shrimp. There's plenty around that cove near the bridge."

You laugh. "I appreciate the offer—but where would I have told my uncle several pounds of live shrimp came from?"

He frowns, thinking for a moment. "The apron man wasn't too bright, I think," Hongjoong says. "I saw him come out onto the boardwalk not too long after you left—almost fell over trying to help the other apron man pick up those boxes."

His words hang in the air for a beat. Then two. "What would you have done if he had?" you ask, partially teasing and partially serious. "Drown him?"

Hongjoong ponders that. "I'm not sure. Maybe."

"For what? Talking to me?" you ask, somewhat incredulously. "What were you doing watching me in the middle of the day, anyway? Just 'in the area' again?"

He crosses his arms indignantly. "I didn't plan to. I heard your laugh when I came up for air, so I wanted to know what was funny." He seems to pause on that for a moment. "You're almost a siren yourself, in that way."

Now that makes your heart stop—maybe more than he had intended it to. You have to hide the smile that threatens to creep up the edges of your mouth. "So you really aren't going to drown that poor cashier? Or me, for talking to him?" you ask,  still only partially teasingly.

Hongjoong's face softens slightly at that. "I don't think I ever really intended to. Not from the moment I saw you."

You wonder, for a split second, if he can hear your heart thundering in your chest—if he has any idea what kind of effect he has on you, siren abilities or not.

He seems to have an idea of your thoughts, either way—because he reaches for your hand, intertwining it with his. "I want to show you something."

You stare at him for an instant too long. "Where?" you ask, nervous laughter accidentally escaping you. "In the water?"

He nods, as if that should have been obvious. "Of course."

You give him a look. "Hongjoong—I don't know how far this is, but you know I'm not nearly as good at holding my breath as you are."

Hongjoong laughs a little at that—that bright, airy, musical laugh that almost instantly sets you at ease, reminding whatever sane parts of you are left that he's still a siren. "Don't worry," he says plainly. "I'll make sure you can breathe."

Just as always, there's no malice in his tone, no hint of a hidden plot behind his eyes, although you wonder if you would even know if there was, skillful siren that he is. Regardless, you squeeze his hand in yours and let him lead you off the dock and beneath the waves, taking one last gasping breath before your head slips underneath.

Hongjoong keeps your hand in his, tail swishing as he leads the two of you further beneath the surface—the scales across it continue to reflect moonlight as brightly as if you were still above the water, giving you just as much visibility in the dark water as if you had a flashlight with you.

What's a flashlight?

You nearly let out a yelp before you remember the two of you are underwater. That was Hongjoong's voice, no doubt about it—and it was in your head.

You can talk to me this way too, you know.

It's like he's invaded your head—his thoughts are suddenly yours. Can you always hear my thoughts? you wonder. If that's been the case all along—

But you can just barely see Hongjoong shake his head in front of you through the darkness. No, you hear him say. Only when we're here, like this. Do you need air?

God, you definitely, definitely do—the shock of Hongjoong's voice in your mind had completely distracted you for a brief moment from the lack of air in your lungs. It's nothing at all, though, compared to the shock you feel when Hongjoong cups your cheeks between his hands and presses his mouth to yours.

He's kissing you.

No—he's not, you realize suddenly. He's breathing into you, pushing air down your lungs and filling them up until you feel like you can breathe again, despite being completely submerged beneath the water.

Hongjoong pulls away after a moment. Good? he asks.

You nod—you're slightly embarrassed now, especially now that you know he could hear your confusion in your head.

And especially considering the smirk you can see on his lips right before he turns back around to push the two of you further through the water. He's well aware of the confusion he's caused.

Hongjoong only has to give you air two more times before you finally arrive at what he had wanted to show you—and it nearly takes your breath away once more.

It's a shipwreck. A massive one, sitting completely undisturbed at the bottom of the bay. The ship has three broken masts, some of the sails slightly submerged in the sand with several of the cannon openings peeking out at you, which you know can mean only one thing.

This ship is hundreds of years old. One that had clearly gone down in a fight.

Hongjoong beams at you taking in the scene. My cousins did this, you hear him say, and you nearly laugh at the clear pride in that declaration.

You think about your own cousins, playing pirates on the beach while they throw buckets of water at each other, stomping over sandcastles and leaving childlike destruction in their wake. Yeah? you finally ask. Sounds like something my cousins would do.

Hongjoong stares at you thoughtfully for a long time after that—you wonder, for a brief moment, if you shouldn't have compared your family to his in this way. You're just about to formulate a thought to apologize when you feel his lips on yours again, one hand on the back of your head while the other cups your cheek gently.

You stare at him, confused once more when he pulls back. I didn't need air, you tell him, eyebrows knit together in confusion.

He stares right back. I know.

Hongjoong waits to see the realization on your face before he touches you again, clasping your chin between two fingers gingerly. He's giving you a chance to push him away, if that's what you want.

It isn't.

You hold his face in your hands when you press your lips to his this time, and you can practically feel the relief emanating from him in your own mind. He wraps one arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as he can. Everything else—all your fearful thoughts about the end of the summer from today, your suspicions about your uncle, your constant stress about your mother—all fades away past the point of existence, and in that moment, there is nothing but you and Hongjoong at the bottom of the ocean.

"Sure you don't want to go out on the boat today?" your uncle asks the next morning. "It's your last chance for this summer."

But you shake your head again. "I got pretty sunburned across my back yesterday," you fib. "I'll watch the house here until you all get back. Do you need me to run any errands for you while you're gone?"

He doesn't quite stop himself from narrowing his eyes at you. You've been out in the sun enough times this summer that the half hour you spent in the backyard watching your cousins' impromptu performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream yesterday shouldn't have burned you at all. And you know he's fully aware of this. "...Don't know how many times I've told you kids to wear sunscreen," he says after a moment. "And reapply."

"I know," you wince. "I'm sorry. I'll put some lotion on it after breakfast."

"There's some in the closet upstairs with aloe," he informs you. "That usually speeds up the healing process for me."

"Good to know," you tell him. In truth, the only thing you plan to do while everyone is out of the house is work on your drawing of Hongjoong. You've solidified the outline, gone over it with an ink pen, but you're still trying to decide how to place the shading. You want to show the finished product to Hongjoong tonight—your last night of summer. You've put off that dreaded conversation with him until the very last minute—but you know you two will have to talk about what happens two nights from now when you're across the country, moving into your dorm room for your first night at college.

At least—you think you will be. There's a mad fantasy, of course, of staying here, of sneaking out to see Hongjoong every night for as long as you can, of running away with him somehow to some island where no one will ever bother the two of you—but it's just that, a fantasy, and you know it. Even if the entire summer has felt like a fantasy in its own way.

You don't know how that conversation will go tonight. But you want to at least be able to give this piece to him, regardless of what happens.

You're hunched over your sketchpad for hours, messing with the combination of paints for your watercolors until they're just right (or at least as satisfactory as you can get them). The scales on his tail are the hardest—you want so badly to show how ethereal they look with the moonlight reflecting off them, making him look like he's glowing from the waist down. You lay down a base color first and paint over it with different shades of blue and green, creating several different layers until you're pleased with the color's result.

Your work on the contours of his face and torso comes much easier, and the full painting is almost completely dry by the time you're heading back outside, moon high in the sky to greet you as you step onto the dock.

Hongjoong is waiting for you too, forearms resting at the edge of the pier. You roll the painting into a cylinder shape as you walk down to meet him, but you know he knows exactly what it is.

He grins. "I've been thinking about this all day," he admits, immediately, and you feel an entire enclosure of butterflies fluttering through your chest at the statement.

But you steel yourself. Take a breath. "Before I show it to you," you say, "I want to talk."

Hongjoong nods. "The end of the summer. Right?"

You raise one eyebrow at him. "How'd you know?"

"I heard you talking about it. With your uncle, that first time that your cousin spotted me from the boat." He grins a little at the recollection. "I heard him say there wasn't long until the end of summer, when you'd be leaving, so—I imagined this conversation would happen soon."

You exhale, slightly relieved. At least you wouldn't have to break the news of your sudden departure to him. "And how did you imagine this conversation?"

He takes a breath now. "I know I can't ask you to stay here. That's not fair to what you want—to the choices you've made with your own family for being able to make your own life. But I was thinking—"

"Y/N!" You hear a voice cry out from behind you.

You'd recognize the sound of your uncle anywhere—and you feel your blood practically freeze over in your veins. "Get back here. Now!"

You turn around quickly, trying to block the view of Hongjoong from your uncle—but it's too late. And as you turn to face him, you see that he's come prepared for this exact situation—a shotgun raised to his shoulder now, eyes peering down the barrel pointed at you, and a long fishing spear beside him on the dock.

"Uncle," you say, as calmly as you can. "Put that down. Please."

"Get back here, Y/N," he says, voice trembling with barely contained rage. "Get away from that thing right this minute and get out of my way."

You take a shaky breath. "Uncle, please let me explain. He's—"

"I know exactly what that is!" your uncle spits, pulling back the safety on the shotgun with a loud click. "A goddamn monster. You have no idea what those things do," he says, voice cracking. "I've seen men—good men, my friends taken from me, by its kind. Yanked right off our ship's railing and into their waiting mouths. It's nothing but a bloodthirsty animal that—"

"Stop!" you interrupt him with a shout, surprising yourself with the tenacity in your voice. You feel Hongjoong's hand wrap around your ankle, probably trying to tell you to stop—but you can't. You won't. "He's not a single thing like that. His name is Hongjoong. He's never even drowned anyone, let anyone killed and eaten anyone, Uncle. You have—"

"It's got you under it's spell," your uncle says, horrified. "Oh, my poor Y/N. I'll kill this nasty beast and free you from this trap."

You practically scream the next time you open your mouth. "No! You can't!" There's tears streaming down your face now, and the intensity of your emotions must be a surprise to your uncle, if the look of shock on his face is anything to go by. "Uncle—I'm begging you," you plead, sobbing. "I'll do anything. Please, please don't hurt him. He's my friend."

Something strange flickers over your uncle's features. He drops the barrel ever so slightly from being pointed at you. "Your friend, huh?"

You nod as you choke back another sob. "I love him." It's the first time you've admitted it—to yourself, let alone out loud—but you know it's the truth. Has been for longer than you've been aware, most likely.

That admission causes your uncle to drop the barrel entirely, holding the shotgun down in one hand and letting his other arm rest at his side. "My Y/N," he says, after a moment with a sigh.

"I've always wanted the best for you. I lived with your mother for eighteen years growing up, up until she met your father and had you and your brothers. I know how...how demanding she can be," he says with a laugh, one you don't reciprocate. "I know her tendencies all too well. She's my sister, and she'll always be my sister—but that doesn't mean I think she's a good person. I've tried to show you that there's a different path in life. That you don't have to do things her way. This...isn't what I thought you'd do," he says, laughing emptily again. "But I would never want to do anything that would hurt you on any level close to what I know she's caused you."

Your uncle swallows. Takes a breath. "I swore an oath," he says, steadier now. "In the navy. When I see anything like this, when any of us do—I'm honor-bound to report it. The local unit will be over here in under half an hour. Maybe even sooner."

You feel yourself holding your breath.

"So," he says, sighing as he meets your gaze down the dock. "You two...had just better not be here by the time they show up."

Before you can say anything in response—or perhaps before he can change his mind, your uncle turns on his heel and walks back towards the house.

You turn back around to face Hongjoong, sinking to your knees—and the minute you do, you feel tears streaming back down your face again.

He immediately pushes himself up onto the dock, grabbing hold of your face and brushing away the tears the instant they fall. "Y/N," he whispers. "You didn't have to do that. I...I love you. I would've gladly taken a bullet from your uncle if it meant you'd be safe."

Your eyes well with tears again, a shaky laugh leaving you. "Shit," you whisper back. "I don't—I don't know what to do, I just...just wanted to show you this stupid drawing," you say, laughing shakily. "And now I've ruined both of our lives. I'll never see you again."

"No. You haven't," Hongjoong says firmly, squeezing your cheeks in his hands.

You grab hold of his wrists. "Hongjoong—you have to get out of here. You...you said you have family everywhere, right? Go anywhere else. Please."

"No," Hongjoong says suddenly, straightening up the instant your hands wrap around his wrists.  "Where did you say that school you were going to for your art was?"

You tell him. "It's on the coast, but it's not nearly as close to the sea as we are here, I—"

He interrupts you again. "I'll find you."

You let out an unbelieving laugh. "Hongjoong, there's no way—"

"I'll find you," he repeats, hands still cupping your face firmly. "On the name of the full moon that night you found me—on that stupid apple that led me to you. I'll find you. And then, you can let me see that drawing."

He leans forward, his lips pressing against yours in a messy kiss—all teeth and salty tears and hands squeezing too tight, or maybe not tight enough—before he lets go of you, pushing himself off the dock and into the water. You see one flick of his tail before he descends deep beneath the surface, and it's not long at all as you sit there, chest heaving and cheeks stained, before the waves are gone and the sea stills, and it's like Hongjoong was never there at all.

Fall semester has left you busier than you could have ever dreamed. You've never done this many sketches in a week, never tried this many different techniques at once, never spent this many all-nighters on a single project—but you'd be lying if you said you weren't still enjoying every second of it.

Your job keeps you plenty busy, too—your roommate had been kind enough to put in a good word at the campus library and gotten you a job in the coffee shop on the first floor. You're taking as many shifts as you can, but the pay isn't bad, all things considered. You may not have to take a semester off after all.

But the diving club keeps you almost busier than both your work and assignments combined. You've already logged more hours than any of the other freshman, and some of the upperclassmen, too. If the club captain has noticed how you're always late packing up after a dive, she hasn't reprimanded you. Maybe she's noticed the unique shells you seem to always come back with, or the skip in your step as you pack up your scuba gear, rolling a shiny bracelet over your wrist—or maybe she's noticed something else, entirely.

After all—last summer, you had been so sure that there was nothing like Hongjoong living below the water's surface. Of course, that didn't mean other people didn't already believe otherwise.

a/n: happy holidays !! i hope everyone is staying warm and healthy and having a lovely week so far <3

and finally…this title escapes my wip list 😭 y’all. i have been working on this on and off since late 2021—sometimes you can have an idea, have absolutely no inspo to write past halfway through, and then write 5k in one night. 💀 no such thing as a perfect project ofc but i do hope you enjoyed this oneshot! feedback is always welcome through reblogs, comments, and messages 🫶🫶 thank you sm for reading!

taglist: @petrichor-han @kangroo-chan @ot7lonelylover @lilacdreams-00 @mainexiii @awkwardnesshabitat @lotus-dly @elizabeth11moreno @nerdysl-t @seung-scrittore @fireheaurt

©️ noramoons 2021-2023. do not translate or reupload my writing.

[enluv]

The Wedding Date

PAIRING! - jay park x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! - When invited to her younger sisters wedding in two weeks, Y/N L/N faces traveling alone back to Korea for the ceremony. While this seems bad enough, Heeseung, the man who left her with no explanation after four years of dating, happens to be the groom's best man. Determined to show everyone - most of all Heeseung - that her romantic life is as full and thrilling as ever, Y/N hires the ever so charming Jay Park as her date.

word count: 7.4K+!

warnings: angst, suggestive content - it’s implied and mentioned that reader & jay did the devils tango so please note this fic is16+ BUT it’s nothing crazy so just be warned, profanity, cheating, heeseung is super duper not cool in this tbh, lmk if I missed anything !!

genre(s): 16+!! - there are no descriptions of sexual acts but it is stated briefly so read at your own risk, rom-com, fluff, angst, strangers to lovers, rent-a-boyfriend, & also slow burn romance but fast paced story

coco’s love note: this story is based on and inspired by the movie “the wedding date” some parts will be similar and depict similar instances while some will be different to fit the characters and the plots I’m writing for them! thank you so much & enjoy! (remember feedback & reblogs are always appreciated <3)

"You are cordially invited to the wedding of Park Sunghoon and L/N Soohee to celebrate their marriage this June 30th at three o'clock.”

The words on the wedding invitation make your eyes roll, it’s laughable. Knowing neither of you had talked in almost two years it was a wonder why Soohee had chosen to invite you to her wedding. Perhaps it was your mother, she'd always wanted her two girls to get along at some point, but that was easier said then done. Or maybe it was your stepfather? He'd always said you were his favorite, maybe he'd somehow convinced her to invite you. Attending the wedding wasn't what worried you the most though, it was the thought of showing up alone.

Sure you could show up flying solo and hope no one would bat an eye, but did you really want to put yourself through that? The millions of whispers thrown at you as you walk by with no one on your arm? Absolutely not.

That's what brings you here, on a hot summers day as you read the morning paper from the patio of your home. The ads all consist of different services, some are posted for models, some plumbers, even things like babysitting, but you're on the hunt for one thing and soon enough an ad catches your eye. It’s perfect. The ad reads -

"Rent-A-Boyfriend: Are you in need of a date? Want to keep your parents off your back? Need to brag to your friends? Have to keep the relatives at bay? Well look no further! Hire me, Jay Park, profesional boyfriend. I can be anything you need me to be for any occasion! Shoot me a text at XXX-XXX-XXXX or email me at jay.park@gmail.com! Business inquiries only. Excited to date you soon!”

The ad had done its job and quickly enough you'd left Jay exactly seven different voice messages.

— YOU HAVE SEVEN VOICE MESSAGES, TO LISTEN: PLEASE PRESS NUMBER ONE.

VOICE MESSAGE #1 (9:17 PM):

"Errmmm...oh! It’s recording haha. Hello! This is Y/N L/N, umm so basically...oh um sorry I am so nervous haha. Okay so basically my name is Y/N and I need a date for my sisters wedding this month. Normally I'd have a date by now but I don't have the time to go out and date someone for two weeks and then force them to go to Korea with me ya know? So that's where I was hoping you'd come in! Oh shoot my time is running out...ummm okay give me a seco-"

VOICE MESSAGE #2 (9:23 PM):

"OH! HI! Sorry it cut me off last time haha oopsie! Anyways so basically the reason I need a date is because well basically I have this ex boyfriend his name is Heeseung and he kinda sorta dumped me like out of nowhere about two years ago. It was super sad but I was just like eh whatever dude. Then I came here to America haha not a good idea, anyways so yeah and he's gonna also be at that wedding because his best friend is actually the groom which makes him the best man and I can't-"

VOICE MESSAGE #3 (9:34 PM)

"Sorry cut off again but I can't show up alone it would be so embarrassing and we were engaged too by the way I don't know if I mentioned that already but yeah we dated for almost four years and he proposed to me and then boom just ended it so that's why I cannot by any means show up alone. Plus this is my baby sister that’s even more embarrassing, my younger sister getting married before me? Total loser moment."

VOICE MESSAGE #4 (10:45 PM):

"Sorry I forgot to give you details about the wedding lolz. It'll be in Korea, the countryside to be specific. It's on June 30th at 3pm at a wedding Chapel in the town we grew up in. We have to be there a week before. No worries though, l'II pay for our plane tickets. Since I'm the sister of the bride I have to do a lot of things with the bridal party and since you'll be my boyfriend you'd be doing things with the groomsmen. Sorry if that's too soon for you or if it doesn't work with your schedule, I'll pay you double I swear! I just really need this, need your help Jay."

VOICE MESSAGE #5 (11:38 PM):

"Um hi again, this'll be quick I promise. I just wanted you to know that if you can't do this it's okay! Thank you for your time. I really appreciate you.”

VOICE MESSAGE #6 (12:49 AM):

"Oh shit sorry this was an accidental dial. Have a good night haha! Sorry again!”

VOICE MESSAGE #7 (1:23 AM):

"Just give me a call back at XXX-XXX-XXXX if you do want to take the job and if not, no worries! I completely understand how last minute this may be. Have a good night Jay, sweet dreams."

— YOU HAVE ONE NEW VOICE MESSAGE: TO LISTEN PLEASE PRESS NUMBER ONE.

VOICE MESSAGE #1 (3:45 PM):

"Hey Y/N, this is Jay. I got your messages...all seven of them. No worries, I'd be happy to play your boyfriend at your sisters wedding, and about your ex, don’t even worry about him, we'll make sure he regrets his decision to ever leave you. You said we leave next week? Just send me the plane ticket and I'll be on that flight. See you soon Y/N, and don't worry too much, you've got this."

“Woah! Hottie in aisle three am I right?!”

“What are you talking about Sunoo, stop staring at the people riding our planes. It’s a long way back to Korea they don’t need you ogling them for all ten hours.”

“Excuse me but did you not say you’re waiting for your rent-a-boyfriend? Babes I think that’s him.” Sunoo points his perfectly manicured finger towards aisle three where a man dressed in black slacks and a white button up sits comfortably flipping through a book. His head turns up as he feels your eyes on him and a smile flashes across his face.

“Alright, go meet your hunk and sit down, we’re taking off soon anyway.”

You begrudgingly take a seat in front of him, if you’d known he’d be this attractive you’d definitely not have hired him.

“Are you Y/N L/N? Or am I completely wrong and making a fool out of myself?”

His voice is sweet, soft and husky, you turn slightly to face him and meet his soft eyes. No judgement is seen on his face.

“Hi! Yes I am Y/N, I’m assuming you’re Jay? Well you probably are haha, because I got you the seat behind me…okay so anyways hello!”

He laughs softly and nods his head, “Get some rest Y/N, we have a long week ahead of us. When we land let’s go find you a dress and talk business, that okay with you?” Your nod of confirmation has you both relaxed as you turn back around to do just as he said.

“How does this one look?”

“I think you look great in it, remember you’re beautiful and you’ve got a lot going for you. He’s gonna regret ever breaking up with you.”

“Ugh I can’t do it, I need to look good so no one asks me any kinds of questions!”

“Y/N I think you’re overthinking this a bit, just go with whichever dress makes you feel the most beautiful.”

“I think you look the best in the red one, uh personally speaking.” Jay eyes the boy cleaning the other dressing rooms and nods with a tight lipped smile.

“Hmm thanks kids, I’ll keep that in mind.” Pushing back in your eyes fall onto the hanging red dress.

“Alright so let’s talk business, we need a story. You’re the new temp at my job and we just started dating, let’s just say four months ago. You’re crazy about me and I asked you out because surprise surprise I’m also crazy about you too.”

He nods and gets up to leave the room but right as his hand reaches the doorknob you pull him back, closing the dressing room door.

“Here,” you shove an envelope into his hands, “count it. It’s six thousand even.”

Jay takes the envelope and begins putting it into his pocket but you insist he counts the money, he does so with an amused smile flashing across his face.

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll pay for the expenses but if you ever want a piece of this,” he gestures to himself playfully, “we gotta talk money before anything happens.” Your scoff makes him chuckle, he’d only been kidding, he’d most definitely let you have him for free if you asked.

Jay takes in the venue of your sisters engagement party. It’s big enough to host more than fifty people, and it’s doing the job pretty well. He can tell you have a big family. From what you’d mentioned, your mom was Korean but moved to America for school and originally met your dad their but when he was out the picture she met your stepfather and the rest was history. Now your little sister, presumably the petite brunette eyeing you both now, was getting married to someone you’d both grown up with and his best man was you ex. Jay thinks your ex is a dumbass but he’s held his tongue on that thought knowing you’d probably get upset with him.

While he’d only known you for a few hours tops (not including your plane ride) he knew you were a kind person. You’d rambled to him about how you and your sister hadn’t spoke in two years yet here you were back at home to spend her wedding with her. He found it odd how you said yes to joining her bridal party activities but chose not to question you. He never understood sibling love much.

He watches as your sister runs towards you pulling you into a big hug, her smile never quite reaching her eyes but you’d never pick up on it if you weren’t paying close attention. He takes a note to ask you later why you two haven’t spoken in so long, but before he can gather his thoughts her voice breaks him out of it.

“So Y/N, who’s this? He’s cute…” her voice trails off and makes Jay internally cringe, it’s obvious she wants a reaction out of you.

He watches as you calmly turn towards him, resting an arm on his as you say, “This is Jay, he’s my boyfriend of four months. I decided I would take you up on that plus one offer!”

Momentarily your sisters eyes flash with what seems to be jealousy or maybe sadness, Jay can’t tell but he knows she looks anything but happy which is odd for someone about to marry the love of their life.

“Wow that’s great! How’d you two meet?”

“We met at work. I thought she was the most gorgeous girl I’d ever seen in my life so I told her. She asked me out right after and the rest is history.” He pulls you closer and pecks your temple once he’s done answering. He knows just how to push buttons, especially with people like your sister.

At that very moment Park Sunghoon, your childhood best friend and sisters fiancé walks over pulling Soohee into a sloppy kiss, Jay notes he seems tipsy and excited about something. He watches your sisters demeanor change in an instant the minute Sunghoon walks over.

“Woah Y/N it’s been too long, I’ve missed my best friend, you have to visit more often seriously.”

“Oh I’m Park Sunghoon, Soohee’s fiancé and Y/N’s friend, we haven’t met before but I’m happy to see Y/N has someone to put a smile on her face.” His smile is captivating and contagious. Sunghoon seems like a nice enough guy in Jay’s eyes.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” Jay leans over and offers a hand. “I’m Jay, Y/N’s boyfriend. She told me you invited me to join in on the groomsmen activities, thanks a lot I’m excited.”

“Of course! Any friend of hers is a friend of mine. Let me get your number and I’ll add you to the groupchat, we start soon so just be ready.” With the promise to text soon Sunghoon and Soohee are quickly whisked away leaving Jay with Y/N.

“Your sister seems…nice…”

Y/N can’t hide her laugh as she straightens her dress out, “Mhm love her to death but she can be a lot, now if you’ll excuse me I need to pee, I’ve had way too many drinks! Wait for me here.”

When exiting the bathroom you never thought you’d run into Lee Heeseung here of all places. It seemed as if lady luck was anywhere but on your side, as you watch him emerge from the door next to the same one you’d just came out of, his eyes grow wide as he spots you, quickly making his way towards you.

“Holy shit, Y/N! I was hoping I would see you here! You look beautiful as always.”

Your hearts beats as you look up towards him. It’d been almost a year since you’d last saw Lee Heeseung. He’d broken your heart in all of five minutes over the phone after spending a week in America with you. It was heart wrenching and soul crushing but you’d healed…or so you thought. Seeing Heeseung again was like ripping off a bandaid on a newly fresh wound. Heart begging to be held by him once more you knew immediately you had to find a way away from him and fast.

Thankfully just as you’d pulled away from his arms up ran your old friend Karina. She’d been someone you’d hung out with in high school and always called you up whenever you visited Seoul. Her squeals of excitement and hands pulling you into a hug helped with the longing to be next to Heeseung again. She looked towards him with hostility and popped the question right there in front of him.

“Y/N I’ve missed you so much! AH! Who’s the hottie you brought with you? Rumor has it he’s your new boyfriend…you tell me though, wanna hear it straight from the source herself.”

At this Heeseung’s head perks up from his previous gaze at the floor. He’s expecting to hear an answer, it’s obvious in the way his eyes stay on you.

“Oh. Um yeah. He’s actually my boyfriend. His name is Jay and we met at work. He’s the sweetest, you have to meet him! I’ll introduce you two soon.” Once again Karina’s squeals fill the air and Heeseung waves goodbye as she tugs you towards where Jay stands surrounded by your aunties. They seem to be enjoying the compliments he throws at them and you laugh quietly as you listen in on his conversations with them.

Jay watches as you stop to talk to someone by the doors of the bathroom, he contemplates walking over to you but decides to stop himself. He isn’t here to protect you, you can do that all on your own, he’s just here to provide some comfort in a stressful situation. His peaceful time of watching you is quickly interrupted when your aunties come over and preoccupy him. He’s done this before and is quick to play the best boyfriend he can be.

As soon as you walk over you’re pulled away by your aunties (much to his dismay) so Jay sets off to find something to keep himself busy. He soon spots the same man you were talking to earlier out on the balcony alone and decides to talk to him, he seems upset, might as well do something while you’re gone.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jay asks walking over swiftly to the man and smiling down at him.

“Oh. Uh. I guess it can’t get any worse than this. There’s this girl who I care about a lot,” he pauses to look back inside and Jay follows his gazes to where you sit with your sister and friend from before and his mind begins to turn, “I guess you could say I love her but of course with my luck, she’s here with some other guy.”

Jay lets out a low whistle and begins to talk but before he can process the situation you’re asking him if he’s okay and giving him a kiss on the lips, it leaves him dazed.

“Hey Y/N.” Heeseung says once quietly.

“Hey Y/N.” He repeats, this time louder than before.

Jay has a sudden realization as he looks back up at Heeseung, this is your ex, the same ex who broke your heart and the reason you hired him to be here.

“Oh hey Hee! Jay, this is Heeseung, he’s my ex.”

“Ah that’s why you looked a bit familiar.”

“What were you two talking about?”

“We were just-” Heeseung begins to talk but Jay cuts him off.

“I was telling him how we met.”

Heeseung nods frantically and stands tall again, he nervously grabs his cup and smiles, “I should head back inside, I’ll see you two later.”

“Did you see his face? Omg he looked so freaked out!”

“Mhm, and he told me he’s still head over heels in love with a girl he cares about a lot.”

Y/N’s bright smile bubbled up a feeling in Jay’s chest, but he shook it off as quickly as it came.

“Let’s get going pretty girl, I still need to meet your parents.”

Your house is huge, and yeah sure Jay is used to big houses, he grew up comfortably so houses around him were on the bigger side, but this house - your house is massive. He’s in awe as you stumble threw the front door hand in hand. A woman who looks just like you approaches speaking so quickly that Jay misses her question, but thankfully you’re quick to answer it.

“Hi mom. This is Jay,” a silent pause ensues after you reveal who he is to her.

“Well it’s nice to meet you Jay, sorry we don’t have a spare room for you. We weren’t exactly expecting you, Y/N has never really brought you up.” Jay can tell immediately who your sister takes after.

“No worries ma’am, I can just stay with Y/N.”

“Oh sorry my mom has this thing against boys sleeping with girl-”

Your mothers scoff cuts you off, her head shaking slowly, “Nonsense Y/N, you’re an adult. I know you two sleep together it’s normal, he’ll stay with you.”

You nod back at her wide eyed, and just as you’re about to speak a man pops up next to your mother, this time Jay does know who he is. Your lock-screen holds a picture of you two at a concert and you’d pointed out exactly who your stepfather was to him immediately. He waves a quick hello at Jay and pecks your temple, but he’s quick to whisks your mother away sending you a wink. Once you’ve made it to your room it’s almost midnight and both of you are exhausted from traveling and the party.

“Y/N, I’m gonna go ahead and shower, could you hand me my shampoo? I forgot to grab it and I’m already in.”

“Huh? Oh! Shampoo right…yeah of course I’ll get it right now.” Trudging over to Jay was easy, avoiding looking at the almost see-through shower curtain covering him was completely different. He smiles once you hand over the shampoo and goes back to humming along to a song stuck in his head.

“Hey Jay, what’s your story, like how did you get into rent-a-boyfriend?” You ask him taking a seat on the lid of the toilet.

“Well I’m an only child and my parents where always busy, grew up with very little friends and I was very protected at that. I like to think I was the weird kid who ate glue…anyways once I got my much needed glow up I didn’t know what to do with myself so I just started messing around. Clubbing, drinking, sex, all of that you know. Anyways my friend Jake found rent-a-boyfriend,” he steps out of the shower and stands directly in front of you, towel loosely wrapped around his waist, “and the rest is history.” He sends you a smirk before reaching for his phone sitting next to you on the counter, giving you the perfect view of his toned chest.

“Whatever, so what you just agreed to be a fake boyfriend like that?”

“Mhm, I trust Jake with my life he’s my best friend, dude would never sign me up for something that he knew I’d hate. Now come on it’s time for bed.”

The next day wedding activities start quickly, your sister has a day planned full for the groomsmen and bridesmaids. Things ranging from kickball (which Jay seems to be very good at and just so happens to beat Heeseung’s team in) to separate bachelor and bachelorette parties.

Both parties go great, with both you and Jay enjoying yourselves equally, but if you’d asked the other you’d both say all you wanted to do was go back home and see each other. It was an odd realization knowing you’d feel better at home with Jay, a mere stranger in your eyes.

“Y/N! Ugh I’ve been looking all over for you! I missed you so much, you really suck for not visiting more. I know we’re half sisters but I love you!! I missed you so freaking much,” Soohee slurs her words into your ear as she pulls you into a suffocating hug. You nod uncomfortably and hug her back, patting her on the back as she signals the bartender for more drinks. Just from the way she stares at you, you know the night is going to be long.

On Jay’s end of things he’s forced to take home a very drunk Sunghoon, who now seems more like a friend then a stranger. Earlier he’d over heard Heeseung telling Sunghoon about how he didn’t trust him, and while normally Jay didn’t care much for how people saw him, Heeseung really irked him. Yet here he was now, helping his best friend stumble home after their night out.

“Don’t tell Heeseung I said this, but Y/N looks way more happy with you then she ever did with him. I mean don’t get me wrong he’s my best friend and I’d literally die for him but the way she smiles at you is so different from any way she’s ever looked at him. I heard you the other day, telling her she was strong and could face everyone again. I was standing next to the door you two were by, anyways yeah Heeseung would have never done that. I love that idiot to death but the second he decided to break things off with her was the second he lost a really great person. You’re lucky Jay, can you just please keep her happy?”

Jay nods at him and Sunghoon sends him a grin, he walks up the steps to his house and waves a final goodbye back to him. Sunghoon’s words play in Jay’s head like a turntable, were you really happy with him? Did he seriously make you happy? Giddiness spread through him as he made his way back to your home only a couple doors down, ready to see you for the night.

Walking back into your bedroom and seeing Jay laid out reading a book half naked was a sight you’d never get tired of. He looked up at you taking in your figure and smiled.

“How was your night pretty?” The low gruffness of his voice sent shivers down your spine as you walked closer, watching as he sat up to meet your eyes.

“Something on your mind?” He asks quietly taking your hands in his.

“I’m going to do something, and if you don’t want it just tell me no, okay?” Jay nods with curiosity in his eyes.

His eyes widen as you straddle his lap, kissing him softly. He wasn’t expecting that, but he’s not complaining, soon enough he’s kissing back and you’re both rushing to undress one another, Jay more than you.

The night ended far too quickly and as you wake up with a snug arm wrapped around you, the memories of last night come flooding back in. You’d had sex with Jay, your rented boyfriend for the week, but it seemed neither of you minded it much, both eager to be together last night. A smile forms across your face as you move to stand only to be stopped by his arm tightening around your waist.

You both stumble downstairs hand in hand, running into both your parents. Your father stares at you two and wishes you a good morning, but your mother seems to sense something is different with you both. She sets down her coffee mug and calls for your cook to make breakfast. Jay is quick to make you your morning tea. He remembers how much you hate coffee.

After the dance class your sister plans for both parties, you’re left walking around a park with Jay. He can sense something is off as you slip your hand away from his grasp.

“Y/N are you okay?”

“Do you regret last night?”

You both speak at the same time, laughing awkwardly as you gesture for one another to speak first.

“I don’t regret last night Y/N,” he pauses to grab your hand, “I actually enjoyed it very much.” His laugh fills the tension filled air between you two.

“Are you sure? I can seriously pay you if that’s what you want I mean-” a tug at your wrist stops you from finishing, Jay shakes his head at you.

“Y/N you’re a beautiful idiot,” he sighs pulling you closer, “I was joking about paying me, and if you must know I’ve never slept with a client, ever.”

“Then why did you sleep with me? Oh god did I take advantage of you in a drunken state? Oh my god Jay.”

“No you idiot, I did it because I’m attracted to you, and you’re attracted to me, we’re two consenting adults who find one another attractive so we acted on it, that’s all.”

You nod at his words, still not fully agreeing with him but there wasn’t any other explanation, you were attracted to him so just as he said, you’d acted on it, that was all.

You two spend the day getting to know one another even more, Jay tells you his likes and dislikes, mother and fathers name, how he met Jake, and more. You spend hours talking before falling asleep cuddled up on your bed, tomorrow you both had to be up early for Soohee’s final days of wedding activities, starting with a nice family get together at your parents lake house.

What happens the next day is not something Jay ever wanted to deal with. As he watches you twirl around with your friends and run through the field chasing Sunghoon surrounding the lake behind your parents house, his insides churn at the thought of what he just witnessed. Not even an hour before Jay had actually gotten your fathers approval, he sat him down and they talked for an hour, he’d told Jay the story of his first time being introduced to you as his wife’s daughter and immediately knowing you’d be someone special in his life. He recounted how not a day went by where he didn’t worry about you alone in America but when you had showed up with him, Jay, on your arm his worries dwindled at the loving looks Jay sent your way.

This was not fun anymore, the angel and devil perched on his shoulders were fighting over what to do with the information he’d learned. Either he tell you and hurt you, or he could keep it to himself and just pretend he never knew a thing. The latter sounded perfect in his mind.

“And well sometimes we find the best thing for us and you know that’s not the best thing for others, so you have to do what’s best for you as a person you know and so that’s why we as humans always pick what’s best for us, we’re pretty selfish if you think about it really.”

Looking anywhere but Heeseung you’d spotted Jay, he smiled and waved you over, quickly bidding Heeseung and his odd dialogue a goodbye you’d ran straight towards an awaiting Jay.

“You seem to be very popular today Mr.Park. First my dad and just now my mom? Something tells me they like you.”

His chuckle sends butterflies through your stomach, “Yeah they said they’re excited to welcome me to the family, something about you having a terrible ex who wasted your time for four years? Your moms words, not mine.”

“She hates his guts, glad she likes you though.”

He smiles leaning in to peck your lips, “Yeah I’m glad she likes me too, kinda plan on staying for a bit.”

“Hey lovebirds, we’re taking pictures, come here!”

The next day, is the day before the wedding and it’s just as packed as all the other days but this time it’s filled with anxiety, Soohee and Sunghoon are buzzing with anxious excitement, your parents are terrified for tomorrow and everyone is sitting anxiously awaiting to give their toast.

Soohee wanted a closed family rehearsal dinner so they’d decided today would be the day to do it.

Jay sits next to you with his left hand rubbing your thigh, he listens as your mother recounts how you and Soohee fought over a boy when you were in both in grade school, she theorizes that’s why you two have a hard time getting along. Everyone laughs at the stories spewing from both your parents, the atmosphere is almost perfect. Perfect however, does not exist within this realm of people.

“Hey babe, I’m gonna go get more wine, don’t miss me too much.” You whisper to Jay standing and walking off towards the wine cellar.

A pair of footsteps catches your attention and when you turn around you spot Heeseung.

“I feel like I owe you an explanation.”

“Heeseung, relax. It’s fine. I promise.”

“I just feel like I should tell you that, god this is so fucking hard.”

“Did you know, I actually brought Jay to make you jealous, to torture you for the week, but then I don’t know, something happened and now I’m just so freaking happy with him. He makes me so happy honestly, and if we’re being honest Hee, I am so tired of this, of me and you. I’m ready to move on for good so let’s just go back upstairs and enjoy the rest of the evening.”

The weight on your shoulders feels lifted, you’d been wanting to finally feel free from Heeseung for months now and finally you were able to do it. Finally you could be happy and be with-

“I slept with Soohee, Y/n. I slept with your sister and I think I’m in love with her. It was two years ago, I just couldn’t hold it in anymore, that’s why I broke up with you, and then after we broke up we keep sleeping with each other for a few months. We stopped because of you, we knew it was wrong.”

“Can you please say something Y/N. Please just say anything please.” His pleas pierced your ears.

The wine cellar had begun to spin, the second he’d first told you, the room went dark and you couldn’t breathe properly. What the fuck just happened. Heeseung and Soohee slept together? He had cheated on you with your sister? He was in love with her.

Walking out the cellar Heeseung followed quickly behind, soon enough you’d made it back outside to the dinning area, Karina spotted you two and smiled wide but it soon dropped at your demeanor.

“Oh my god he told you didn’t he.”

“You knew?”

“Y/N I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry Y/N.”

“You sound just like him.”

“I promise it’s not like that Y/N-“

“Y/N?” Soohee’s voice pierces through the air around you and you know she knows what’s happening.

“Y/N please listen to me,” she tries resting her hand on your shoulder but you push her off, “Y/N please don’t say anything to Sunghoon. Please, I’m begging you.”

Strong arms pull you into them and you’re quick to hug him back. Jay feels like a breath of fresh air in the seemingly smog filled venue.

“I can’t believe you told her!” Soohee shouts as Jay stills in your arms and your world crashes all over again.

Jay watches as you take a step away from him, pushing him towards the others who’d betrayed your trust. His heart aches at the look you send him, he knows he’s fucked up, he’s fucked up really bad.

He chases after you as you walk away from the venue, he needs to make things right.

After the talk with your dad, Jay realized he’d forgotten the sun hat you’d asked him to bring outside for you so he trudged back inside to grab it but loud arguing distracted him. Being the gentleman he was, Jake liked to call him that at least, he walked over to the room to see what was happening and standing before him he saw Soohee and Heeseung. The arguing continued as he stepped into view of them.

“I love you Soohee, I miss us, I miss you.”

“Heeseung no. I love Sunghoon, we slept together for a few months but that is all it ever was. I am getting married to Sunghoon, your best friend.”

“You don’t think I know that? It kills me to see you with him!”

Jay is left speechless, your ex Heeseung and your very own sister, had slept together. He had to get away from them both, now.

“Jay? How long have you been standing there.” Soohee’s voice broke him out his thoughts and when he looked back up Heeseung was gone.

“I don’t know what you heard but it’s in the past Jay, it’s not important anymore, please just stay out of it, it doesn’t involve you.” She pushes past him out the door he’s standing next to. Jay is left wondering what to do with the information he’s just been presented..

“You knew and you didn’t tell me? How could you do that to me Jay?”

“What did you want me to say? It’s harder than it seems Y/N.”

“You lied to me. But I guess I should have expected that since that’s what you do. That’s who you are Jay, you’re a liar.”

“Really Y/N? Should I remind you that you hired me. You hired me to be your boyfriend, you’re paying me.”

“You’re right. I paid six thousand dollars for a lie and in the end I’m the only one coming out a fucking fool.”

“Hate me all you want Y/N, but it’s time you get over this Heeseung thing, you’re dragging it out, maybe now though, once you move on from Heeseung, you can cry over our relationship long enough and let it ruin your next one too.”

“Y/N? I came to say thank you for not outing me to Sunghoon today. I’m going to tell him, I just don’t want to tell him the night before our wedding.”

“You’re smart Soohee, telling him after the wedding allows you to trap him, because you know the minute he finds out you fucked his best friend repeatedly behind his back he’ll want to leave, but he won’t be able to because he’s married to you.”

“Don’t worry Soohee, your wedding tomorrow will be perfect. I’ll smile for the camera and keep my mouth shut but after tomorrow I never want to see or speak to you again. I hope you have a happy marriage built on the lies you created. Sunghoon deserves better then you’ll ever be able to give him.” Soohee’s quiet sobs lessen as she leaves the room. Finally you had some peace.

The day of the wedding felt like a blur, you’d woken up early to get your hair and makeup done, smiling when needed and laughing at whatever the bridal party said. It felt like you were a shell of nothing in your own body. Soohee tossed glance after glance at you, looking away quickly when you’d catch her. She’d never been one to like when people were upset with her and you knew it was driving her crazy to not know what you were thinking. Truth be told at any moment you could call up Sunghoon and tell him the truth, but a voice of reason seemed to still be lingering in your mind and it made you hope she’d do the right thing, tell him before the wedding continued, yet so far it didn’t seem like she’d be doing that.

Everyone rushed around the wedding chapel to get things in order, photographers and other vendors Soohee had hired ran around finding their places to make sure the day went as planned but the nerves in her stomach just wouldn’t go away. The echo of your words rattled in her mind, would she really be trapping Sunghoon? She knew if it were her, she’d want an out. She cursed you in her head as she made the decision to do the right thing, he deserved to know at least. Hopefully he’d be able to forgive her, hopefully he still wanted her.

Jay thinks whatever god is looking down on him right now is probably laughing his ass off at his suffering. He knows he shouldn’t have snapped back at you, especially not with the state of mind you had been in. It fucking broke him to hear your sobs as he turned away from you. On top of all that, now he was just going to up and leave you. He’d bought a plane ticket back home last night after talking to Sunghoon. He didn’t spill any descriptive details, and had told him a less intense version of your fight. Sunghoon laughed in his face and told him he was just in love. Jay told him to fuck off and shut up.

As he drove down the roads of the rural Korean countryside, thoughts filled his mind. He brought the car to a stop and contemplated what to do. On one hand, he had a plane ticket and his suitcases packed to go back home right now but on the other, all he had to do was turn around, pray you’d forgive him, apologize, and admit that Sunghoon was right.

Pulling him from his thoughts was the man himself, speak of the devil and he shall appear apparently. Jay looked up to find Sunghoon chasing after a very scared looking Heeseung. Someone had finally told him then, that was good. He watched as Sunghoon tackled Heeseung and they rolled down a hill. Heeseung escaped and continued running, never looking back. Sunghoon on the other hand stopped to catch his breath, catching sight of Jay in his car. He waved him down and hopped into the seat next to him.

“I love Soohee, I really do. I’m going to forgive her, she said they slept together before we officially got together and it stopped once I asked her out. I just wanted to beat his ass because he hurt Y/N.”

Jay nodded as Sunghoon rambled on about how insane Heeseung was for ever doing what he did to you. He blamed them both but he could only poor his anger out on Heeseung right now.

“Do you think I’m crazy for taking her back? For still wanting to marry her?”

“No, you love her, anyone can see. I think she’s obviously sorry, she could have not told you and just made you marry her but she gave you a choice and came clean. When you love someone you have that kind of courage, and you let others dictate your life for you even if one of the outcomes could ruin you forever.” As Jay spoke aloud to Sunghoon reality set in, he needed to go back to you, to apologize for his mistakes, to show you he loved you and accepted you and anything you decided he was worthy of having.

“Looks like we’ve got a wedding to go back to then, and I’m out a best man so what do ya say?”

Jay smiled and nodded at Sunghoon.

“Hell yeah man, let’s go.”

Seeing you again felt surreal, it made Jay’s heart beat a million times per minute. You looked gorgeous in the bridesmaids dress Soohee had picked for you, your hair beautifully styled to perfectly match you. Jay had never felt this happy, he’d never felt so excited to do something.

As Sunghoon had ran past you, Jay jogged up to you, pulling you into a kiss, he’d been wanting to kiss you again for so long, he melted within the first second of it.

“God Y/N, you have no idea how fucking sorry I am, I love you and I should have told you about Heeseung and Soohee, I just couldn’t bring myself to break your heart. I never want to be the one to hurt you, I love you so damn much, I’d rather give you up then hurt you. I know it hasn’t been long but I feel like we’ve known each other for years. I want to take you on a date, a real one, and I want to be your boyfriend, your real boyfriend, not one you rented for a week, and I need you to know that I’ll take anything you want to give me, I didn’t mean what I said yesterday, you didn’t ruin anything. Hell I’m the one ruining things. I just need you to know I care about you.”

“I realized today that I could never do what I did without you this past week. You are quite literally the best fake boyfriend anyone could ask for. I want to have you to myself Jay, don’t want to share you with anyone else, I’m done sharing. I want you to be mine, but really mine, not for a week, for a lifetime.”

“Glad we’re on the same page beautiful. We can talk more when we have the time but right now we have to head inside, I’m sorta the best man.”

Epilogue

Jay has you pressed against his kitchen counter attacking your neck when banging on his apartment door brings you both out of the lovestruck trance you’re currently in.

“Open up you fucker!”

Jay rolls his eyes at the voice clearly recognizing it immediately, but as he goes to open the door it flies open, hitting the back wall.

“Why’d you quit rent-a-boyfriend? Bro you were literally number one! I know I said I wanted to steal it from you but I didn’t mean that way idiot.”

“You can ask her why I deleted it.” He replies, pointing towards your direction.

Now standing and properly dressed, you wave at the man before you, he seems just as confused as you are.

“Pretty girl, this is my best friend Jake, and Jake this is my girlfriend Y/N.” A smile spreads across Jake’s face and he’s quick to pull you into a hug.

“Oh dude! You should have just said that! I see why now, what a dog! She’s way to pretty for you by the way.”

“Thanks Jake, I know I am but he’s a good kisser so I keep him around.”

“I like her already! Wanna go get some lunch? On me of course to celebrate you finding a girl who actually likes you and isn’t paying you to date her.”

“Deal, but just so you know, I did pay him to date me. Not anymore though.”

Jake’s mouth hangs open as you walk past him to grab your shoes, he’s astonished that someone as gorgeous as you needed to pay for a date. Jay sends him a look and promises to explain at lunch as he chases after you.

Jake would never admit it out loud but he’s happy Jay’s finally found someone to make him happy and the smile on your faces just shows him how right you are for one another.

Three years later he’s proven right as he opens up the envelope addressed to him. It’s an invitation that reads –

“You are happily invited to the wedding of Jay Park and Y/N L/N on the 31st of October, at three o’clock. Please join them for this amazing celebration!”

coco’s love note: ahhh and that’s a wrap on the wedding date! I really hope you all enjoyed it, honestly it was really fun to write especially coming up with things to fit the characters I chose for this fic in specific :) it was hard making heeseung the bad ex but he was the perfect fit 😭 and i love jay being the ml like he’s perfect for rom-coms!! anyways, I hope you enjoyed this fic and as always, feedback & reblogs are always appreciated <3

[ashleyfilm]

Seeing Clearly - Chapter 4. The Wolf

Please leave comments, I'd love to know your thoughts. And if you feel inclined to reblog, that would be so nice.

Chapter Warnings: cursing, smut (masterbation) - Minors - DNI

Characters: Jackson!Joel Miller x F!Reader Plus Size. F!OC was recommended to me since there's a lot of description of her but I'm writing her as You (Reader) so hopefully you can still imagine yourself. Black hair, glasses, tattoos, big body, wears dark clothes, won't stop talking. Joel is tv show Jackson Joel.

Story Summary: Joel just saved your life, begrudgingly. He doesn't know exactly why but he brings you back to Jackson and you ingratiate yourself into his very small circle and his life. This takes place after season 1 of TLOU and season 2 doesn't exist in my brain because no.

Chapter Summary: You are Joel talk a bit more and you figure out what your job is going to be. 1.3K

Thank you to @saradika-graphics for the book line divider. :)

Chapter 1 Here Chapter 2 Here Chapter 3 Here

Chapter 4. The Wolf

It’s been three days since you got to Jackson, and it’s starting to finally feel real. No longer like a fever dream at the end of your life. Tonight is movie night, Jurassic Park, one of your favorite movies, and you’re going with Joel. You wake up on that Friday like a kid on Christmas morning, bouncing down the stairs to the kitchen, but Joel and Ellie are nowhere to be seen. You notice a plate covered in a cloth napkin the color of the sky on a spring day, under it, eggs, bacon and even toast, still relatively warm. You smile to yourself thinking maybe Joel did this, but you think better of yourself and decide it must have been Ellie, it still warms your heart. You’ve only known these people three days and they’ve woven into your soul already. Then, by the coffee pot, you see a mug with a wolf painted on it, one with an owl is washed and sat to dry by the sink. This gesture, you know, is Joels.

One of the few times you two have spoken since you arrived was the other night when you couldn’t sleep. You find Joel downstairs by the fireplace carving another animal for his wooden menagerie, you suppose. You pick up the carving of the light-colored wolf you noticed your first time in the house and say, “Wolves have always been my favorite.” Joel grunts and you take that as a sign to keep going. “They have a pack, they take care of each other, and they howl at the fucking moon, they’re cool.” You put the sculpture back on the mantle and when your eyes find Joel’s he’s looking right at you, no longer cutting into the wood in his hands. The light from the fire dances in his eyes and it feels like a spark igniting something in the quiet. After what feels like an eternity, you say, “Well, I guess I’ll try and get some sleep. Night, Joel.” And you scurry up the steps, while Joel watches the fire, never again to resume his carving that night.

But as you return to your room, you still can’t sleep. Every time you close your eyes you see his face, his eyes, his mouth, his hands. Before you can stop yourself, your unburned hand finds its way into your sleep shorts, grazing the wet material of your underwear. Causing you to moan out loud. Shit. You have to be quiet! You bite your lip to keep your whimpering contained as you push your underwear to the side and truly feel the slick between your legs. You haven’t felt this way in so long. Actually, turned on. Maybe a constant fear of death messes with your libido. You bet there are studies on that from before. But now, oh you are so wet, and it feels so good. You use two fingers to bring your wetness up to your clit and swirl it around. Your head and shoulders lurch forward as the pressure to your nub almost makes you cry out. You bring your other hand up to your mouth and bite into the back of it to keep from making noise as you slip those same two fingers down to your entrance. You’re so soaked that your fingers just slip right into your tight hole. Fuck, did this always feel so good? You close your eyes again and with two fingers deep inside and your thumb rubbing against your clit, you picture him. You picture him pushing you against a wall. Hovering over you. Standing over you while you’re on your knees. You imagine what his thick fingers could do instead of your small ones. And then you imagine his voice, telling you to come for him and that’s all it takes. Your sex squeezes down on your fingers and you bite so hard into the back of your hand you taste blood. As you start to come down and regulate your breathing you hear the door of Joel’s bedroom close loudly. Even though you’re terrified he heard all your whimpers and moans, you’re so relaxed you end up falling asleep with a smile on your face. You almost kind of hope he listened.  

You come back to yourself in the kitchen holding the wolf mug thinking about the night before and what it could mean moving forward. If he heard you, maybe he liked it, maybe he’ll want more? You know it’s probably wishful thinking, but you let your mind go there anyway. Today is your first day of work at the library. Joel suggested that since you like books and movies so much, that might be the place best suited for you. Except for the quiet part, since you have such a, quote, “Loud Mouth”. But Jackson’s library didn’t really follow the old rules, you’d come to find out. You get dressed in the clothes Maria gave you and look at yourself in the mirror. A disgusted look on your face as you take in the bright pink polo collared shirt you’re wearing.

There’s a knock on the door and after you answer, Joel opens it but stays standing in the doorway. He gives you a once over in your new clothes and then takes in the look on your face. “You gotta get to work soon, I walked Ellie to school and thought I’d come back for you. What’s with the face?” He asks, his hands on his hips, one knee jutted out. “It’s nothing, it’s fine. Let’s go.” You turn to face him, and he rolls his eyes, what is his deal, ugh. He stops you by putting a hand up, palm facing you, “No, none of that, what is it? Spit it out.” You look down at your shoes knowing this is going to end in you getting told you’re a spoiled brat, but he asked so you explain, “Look, I am really thankful for the clothes, mine were gross and falling apart and it’s really no big deal but,” you pause, “I don’t wear pink. Okay, I wear like black if I can find it or other dark colors, this just makes me feel weird and off. I know it’s stupid and it doesn’t matter in the scheme of things but, yeah so, that’s what’s wrong.”

You’re still looking at your shoes when you hear a snort. Looking up at Joel who’s smiling and trying to keep from laughing. “You asshole, don’t laugh at me,” you pout. Trying to regain his composure Joel says with a chuckle, “I’m sorry, Ash, ha, it’s just, oh god, now that you say it, you do look a little outta place in that pink.” You can’t help it; you start laughing to. And you swat at his arms and chest, and he puts his hands up in defense. “Well, don’t just laugh at me, help me, old man,” you say. Joel, still laughing slightly, responds, “Oh, not you too with the old man thing.” You smile, “Ah, you’re not that old, you’re what 50? I’m 40 so I guess I’m old too.” He finally starts to calm his laughter and catch his breath. “40, huh? I wouldn’t have thought that. I woulda thought 60 maybe,” he says completely deadpan. You squint angrily at him and start to brush past him when he huffs another laugh and grabs your upper arm to stop you next to him in the door frame. You’re so close, and he’s towering over you and his hand on your arm feels like fire. “Stop, there’s a place in town, we’ll go see what we can find for you to wear that isn’t,” he grabs at the hem of your hot pink shirt touching the skin of your belly with his calloused fingers and you think you might melt into a puddle on the floor right in front of him, “this.” His eyes trace from where his finger touches you up your chest to your lips that just happen to be parted and then to your eyes that are wild. He looks at you like he might think you’re beautiful. Before you can think to move or say something or breathe, he’s walking down the stairs and yelling back at you, “Let’s go, you’re gonna be late!”

[lovemyromance]

I will always find it funny when people try to say "Azriel wasn't showing interest in Elain, he was just doing his job"

Aside from the fact that other than being "Spymaster of the Night Court", we don't really know what Azriel's responsibilities entail. It's not like we got a job description and his resume handed to us 🤡🤡

All we can do is infer based upon what his duties in canon text have been thus far:

Spying on the human queens

Fighting in ACOWAR with the NC

Keeping an eye on a few people across different courts / helping their allies

Gather information through his "spy network" / shadows

Dealing with threats to the NC (ex: Bryce, Briyallyn)

Interrogating for information (? Not even sure if this was actually stated in the books, or if we all just assumed)

Training priestesses with Cassian

That's all we know! His job is somewhat related to spying, and gathering information to keep the NC safe.

Nowhere in that limited set of responsibilities do we see:

Spend time with Elain

Buy Elain a solstice gift

Protect Elain, specifically

Rescue Elain from Hybern

Kiss Elain

Lose sleep over Elain

Beg on his knees for a taste of Elain

Wait for Elain to be seated before allowing everyone to eat dinner

Give Elain his most prized possession (TT) to defend herself with

So, unless we are categorizing all those things under "Gather intel on Elain" because he thinks she's some kind of threat to the NC (lmaooo), then he's not just interacting with Elain because it's his "job". He is Spymaster of the Night Court. Not Elain's personal air tag, or therapist, or primary caretaker.

In fact, even though his job DOES include spying on others, he blatantly refuses to do it in ACOFAS when Azriel tells Rhys that he does not want to watch Lucien.

Why doesn't he want to watch over Lucien?

Rhys literally tells us: "To know when and if Lucien sought her out. What they did together."

Can someone please just tell me why Azriel would shirk his job of intel gathering to avoid learning what Elain & Lucien do together? Why would he care unless he had feelings for Elain? He has no problem spying on anyone else, even other members of the IC.

At the end of the day, we don't have much info on what exactly his responsibilities include, other than what we have seen. And I don't believe anything Elain-related falls under the NC Spymaster's job description 🤷🏻‍♀️

[tartigglez]

"i'm here now, aren't i?

diluc x gn!reader

genre: fluff/hurt-comfort??

word count: 1.6k (i got carried away)

tags: diluc is our mr darknight hero, soft hours, diluc gets wounded :( but its fine u can take care of him, many kiss, such cuddle, shy diluc at the end bc i have brainrot gonna be honest

tw/cw: descripton of blades (swords), brief description of cuts/wounds + treating them, scars, reader is alone at night (idk if this is worth mentioning but better safe than sorry), diluc carries reader in some positions that would be considered sorta feminine????, insomnia (?), lmk if i missed any

a/n: FINALLY DILUC! gotta say, i love the graphics for this sm, i feel like i did a rlly good job (giving myself credit bc they're pretty). i love soft boi diluc and intend to write for him more ngl, anyways, enjoy!

a wet, stormy night at dawn winery proved to be the reason for your lack of sleep. the sounds of the thunder and lightning clattering outside, accompanied by the drumming of the rain on the window were so loud that they tried to take priority in your mind. however, the only thing you could bring yourself to think about was your lover, all alone, in the cold. 

the empty space in the bed next to you, the lack of his presence, the ominously daunting weather outside. these things all worried you. 

what if he got hurt? 

what if something was wrong? 

what if…?

don't think about it. don’t. 

you knew that you wouldn’t be getting sleep anytime soon, so you got out of bed, putting on the bathrobe which was hanging on the wardrobe door, and brought yourself to the sitting room, perhaps to distract yourself with a book? but in reality you were just going down there to wait for him. 

so you waited

first 10 minutes

then 30 minutes

then an hour

then decided that enough was enough

you could defend yourself in combat, you could wield a weapon, and you would do anything to know that diluc was okay. 

and so you found yourself back in your bedroom, in the wardrobe, looking for the longsword he told you he had left in there for emergencies. 

the blade was sharp, and glinted silver in the light. the handle was encrusted with what you could only assume were rubies, and so you concluded that this sword must have costed diluc a significant amount of money. 

you lifted the sword from its case, sheathed it, and then you realised the weight of the weapon, which wasn’t exactly the lightest, to say the least. 

you left the winery, still in pyjamas, your bathrobe having been replaced with a jacket, quietly closing the front door to your home as to not awaken any of the staff who also lived there. 

if you were going to be quite honest with yourself you weren't sure where exactly you were going, but you just began walking down the path…

the night was eerie. the cold, windy air hit your cheeks as you moved slowly away from the winery. it wasn't shortly after you began your walk that you heard a sound. an immediate response of adrenaline came to you, and so you drew your sword, ready to face whatever was coming near you. 

after about ten seconds of standing still and hearing the sound get closer to you, you saw a red light glowing about ten metres away. with your sword still drawn you moved closer to the light, preparing for combat, and the light moved closer to you as well.

within a split second, you realised that the light was that of a pyro vision, the light of his pyro vision. you dropped your weapon on the ground, and he did the same as you ran to him. as if by natural instinct, you jumped into his arms as he wrapped once of them around your waist, and used the other to hold you up. neither of you said anything for a bit, simply holding each other and allowing yourselves, and your heart rates, seemingly, to calm down. after all, you must have startled the man, appearing out of nowhere like that. 

he placed you gently down, back onto your feet as he held your waist with one hand, and placed the other on your cheek. 

the man had a face of pure concern as he looked into your eyes, why would you possibly be out here at this time of night?

his hair was tousled, and his lip had been cut, presumably in some sort of rough battle. not only that, but his shirt had been slightly ripped as well, presumably by some sort of sword, or in this case, a mitachurl axe.  

“have you been injured? are you well? why are you out here?”

these were all things you ought to be saying to him, so why was he so concerned about you? 

“i was worried about you, you were supposed to be home and i-”

“do not worry, all is well, i am here, love”

“you’re hurt”

“surface level injuries dear, please, settle. I’m here now, arent i?” 

“yeah, yeah”

he pulls you into his arms, placing a kiss upon your head. 

“let’s go home, you’re cold.”

and so, without dwelling upon it, you walk hand in hand back in the direction of the winery, coming across the sword you had previously dropped on the ground. you sheathed it once again, and picked it up. diluc let out a light chuckle. 

“you were really that worried about me?”

“what do you mean, of course i was!”

“my dear, a weapon of this size is far too heavy for you to carry, allow me”

“you can’t, you’ve already got your own sword, its too much and you’re injured an-”

he cut you off…

with his lips…

“i'm fine. trust me. i'm more than capable of carrying this sword, its only half the weight of mine”

“hmph, fine. but don't come crying to me later when your back hurts, mister high-and-mighty!”

“very well, sweetheart”

you grabbed his large, calloused hand to lead him back to the winery, and although you wouldn’t see it in the moonlight, a rosy blush dusted itself over his cheeks. archons, he loves you. 

as the pair of you entered the winery once again, diluc placed both his weapon and yours down beside the front door, smiling to himself at the fact that you cared about him this much. it also seems to him that you didn’t notice, the longsword you had gotten out of the closet matched his greatsword, it was simply a smaller version. 

you both enter the sitting room, which is still dimly lit. diluc gestures towards the fire, which immediately relights, due to the skilled use of his pyro vision. 

“you are cold, dearest. i shall move the sofa closer to the fire, and we will sit for a while, yes?”

“luc’, at least let me tend to your wounds first, you're hurt”

the look of concern on your face caused a veil of guilt to loom over him. but he brushed it off, as to not make you feel bad about caring for him so much. 

“fine, but be gentle”

“i will”

and so, you both sat on the soft plush of the sofa, diluc with his shirt off, and you gently caring for the shallow wound slightly above his left pectoral, dabbing it with a damp towel. his skin was covered in battle scars, but it was beautiful, in some way. these were the lengths your lover would go to for the sake of other people, an admirable trait to say the least. 

diluc admired your concentration whilst caring for his wounds, and was slightly surprised when you manoeuvred your body to straddle his lap, only so you could get a better angle to analyse his injuries, of course (definitely not to look at his muscular arms or anything like that). he placed one of his large hands on your thigh, and the other on your waist, as you gently cared for any other wounds on his body. your skin made contact with his as you put your hand on the warm skin of his shoulder to balance yourself. 

“you’re freezing, dear, your hand is so cold”

“hm, i guess i just didn’t warm much since being outside”

“that won’t do”

a gentle heat began to spread through you, from your heart around the rest of you, warming every inch of your body. he had used his vision on you.

“tsk, pyro users”

“i know, right?”

the man was surprisingly chipper, considering the injuries he had sustained. you both laughed, for some unknown reason, at a joke which wasn’t really all that funny, but that’s love for you. and as the light of the fire began to dim, and the pair of you began to tire, he placed a gentle kiss upon your lips.

“shall we go to bed, dear?”

“yes, please! archons- i’m tired”

“i'm sorry, i feel that this is my fault”

“oh it is entirely your fault, mister darknight hero”

“i told you not to call me that”

“and i told you not to stay out too late, no?”

he let out a chuckle, lifting you from your position on the sofa, and carrying you to your shared bedroom, whilst holding you close to his chest. he removed you from his grasp momentarily, placing you on the bed and telling you to get under the covers, just so he could remove the necessary garments to be comfortable for bed.

yawning, he pulled back the duvet and placed his weary body next to yours, quickly moving to bury his head in your chest and wrap his arms and legs around you. your hands moved to his hair out of natural response, gently massaging his scalp as you fiddled with his vermillion locks. 

"i love you, y/n”

“i love you more, luc’” 

you placed a sly kiss to the crown of his head, and he only hid his face from you further out of shyness, whining into the fabric of your pyjamas.

“you’re so cute”

“don't call me that”

“night, cutie”

and so, you both drifted off into slumber, held in each others arms, held in love. 

[running-with-kn1ves]

Too Close For Comfort

Male! Co-worker X GN! Reader

A/N: Turns out you can write so much when you have free time :0 Anyway I spent way too damn long on this so… here we are! I hope yall enjoy :’) (There are so many things wrong with this piece which is EXACTLY why you do not procrastinate, kids.)

TW: christmas/holiday themes, sour mood on the holidays, drugging, forced kissing/ touching, yandere themes, alcohol/ intoxicated characters

Synopsis: Feeling like an odd one out at your office’s christmas party, you find an overly eager co-worker to spend your time with-- who seems to prove that no company may be better than bad company.

Word Count: 3300

When most thought of the winter holidays, great cheer and comforting cold weather took priority. Whether it was staying inside from the bitter cold with a cup of warm tea, or decorating with shining lights and pine tree scents, there was always fun to be had. Even the music was jolly, no holiday song consisting of a sorrowful melody when it came to the season.

However, you unfortunately did not share the same holiday spirit as most during December. Those who had fun on Christmas or their yearly holidays usually had someone to spend it with, a person or people to keep them company from the windy chill and the loneliness of solitude. You had no such company; your family was unable to make it this year for the holidays, and you had yet to find a spouse that could enjoy the Christmas spirit with you.

You tried not to bring your disheartened attitude in with you today at work, but it was a real struggle when it came to watching your co-workers mingle with one another. You had yet to make any stable friendships since you started your job, which your huddling form in the corner showed quite obviously. 

With eggnog in your hand and an ugly sweater covering your chest, you couldn’t help but frown at the floor as you listened to the sound of jingle bells and Michael Bublé for the 100th time this month. You desperately wanted to go home, to cry to a hallmark movie and down 3 cups of hot chocolate before passing out on your couch. But your boss insisted that everyone in your office stay for the christmas party else they’ll have to stay late on new years. 

You didn’t have any particular plan for new years other than your yearly ritual of drinking your sorrows away while the clock strikes twelve, but it would be nice not to spend it in the office with a bunch of people you hardly knew. So, you stayed. You listened to the bad karaoke and watched as your co-workers got slammed on spiked eggnog.

A particular person who displayed such a description was your boss: a man in his 40s, currently ‘busting it down’ on the makeshift dancefloor to some holiday rap. 

“He’s having a bit too much fun, wouldn’t you think?” A voice said next to your ear. 

You turned to find one of your co-workers faces right next to yours, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as he grinned. You jumped at seeing him so close to you out of nowhere. 

“Sorry, I just thought you wouldn’t be able to hear me over the music.” He apologized.

The man’s flurry of bright blonde hair and fair skin seemed to appear out of nowhere, his face flushed with a slight pink that must’ve been from the cold.  

“No its alright. Klaus, right?” You asked. 

“Yeah,” He laughed and rubbed the back of his head. “I’ve actually been standing behind you for a while now.”

You raised an eyebrow at his words, not expecting his choice of words.

“I mean-- I’ve seen you around the office quite a bit, but haven’t gotten the courage to talk to you ‘til now.”

You almost flushed at the sound of that. Someone had noticed you, and was really that afraid of talking to you? You had thought no one batted an eye at you after the first day of your arrival. 

You remembered seeing Klaus around the office a few times-- he always seemed to be nearby, never doing anything important but never so visibly available that you felt confident enough to talk to him. He seemed very popular with your other co-workers, always chatting it up with someone and getting a giggle out of them. Sometimes you’d make eye contact with him, but you turned away too quickly out of embarrassment to let it linger any longer. 

“Actually I’ve been standing here for 10 minutes hoping you’d notice me.” He bashfully admitted. 

Oh. 

“What really? I’m so sorry--” You tried to apologize, feeling yourself grow hot at how oblivious you were. 

“No don’t worry. I’m just glad I’ve finally caught your attention.” He gave you a small wink, leaning in closer to make himself more hearable. 

You widened your eyes at that, surprised at his forwardness-- you couldn’t remember the last time someone came onto you so obviously. Or rather, at all. You had been sort of avoiding the dating- slash- hookup scene ever since you moved for your job. 

“O-oh.” You weren’t exactly sure how to respond, taking another large gulp of your drink. 

“In fact, I thought you were looking rather lonely over here.” Klaus said, moving forward closer to you. You stepped backwards in time with his movements, afraid of getting too close to him. He didn’t seem to mind, keeping eye contact with you as he licked his lips and smiled. 

“Oh, really? Well… I’m, alright. Don’t worry about me.” You laughed awkwardly, caught completely off guard. 

He placed a hand on the wall behind you, standing beside and yet in front of you, in a non-threatening but trapping manner. Taking a sip out of his own drink, he watched as you fumbled to fill the silence he seemed so comfortable with. 

“Hey everybody! A shrill voice called. “Guess who’s under the mistletoe!”  

One of your female coworkers pointed towards you and Klaus in a drunken stupor, her dark skin flushed from the alcohol and showing mischevious excitement. 

You looked up to see a hanging green plant, ripe red berries intertwined in its leaves with a red bow holding it from the ceiling. Klaus didn’t bother looking up, continuing to stare at you as you admired the greenery. 

It wasn’t until a chant brought you out of your thoughts did you feel your stomach drop. 

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Your female coworker started, shaking her fist in time with her intoxicated slurs. She stumbled and clapped her hands, the rest of the office following suit. Your boss even chimed in, becoming the loudest with his tie tied around his forehead and his shirt unbuttoned. You hadn’t realized how unraveled the party had become until all the attention was on you. The chant got louder as more joined in, Klaus looking at you for your reaction. 

You looked back at him and to the crowd, unsure of what you should do. Klaus looked prepared, trying to appear casual yet undeniably eager. 

“Should we give the people what they want?” He asked, though you could tell what he was hoping for. 

Yet, you hardly knew him! This was your first time talking to the man, and he was your co-worker-- someone who you’d have to see day in and day out 5 days a week. The world of problems this one kiss could bring, was a risk you weren’t sure would be worth it.

Despite knowing that, you began to lean towards him. Maybe it was the eggnog or the fear of disappointing the party attendees, but you kept moving forward as he grinned a bit too excitedly. 

Immediately Klaus’s hand shot to your back, pulling you so the inside of his thigh warmed your knee. His hand on your back pressed against your sweater and gently moved to support you, the other coming up to cup your cheek. You expected the kiss to be a short peck-- enough to satisfy the drunken herd, but Klaus’s movements read romance. 

His hands were warm, likely from holding his hot drink of choice all evening. He smelled faintly of snow and hot chocolate, his breath hitting your nose as he stood over you, waiting to get closer. His fingers fell to your chin as his pointer and thumb gripped to pull your face towards his softly. You let him take the lead, holding onto his cold jacket as he pushed you up to meet his height. 

You could feel the burn of a hundred eyes on you, all staring; watching, anticipating. 

Klaus’ lips touched yours, his mouth parting just slightly for yours to fit in like a puzzle piece. He didn’t dare shove his tongue down your throat or slime you with saliva like you bet half of the drunks here would have, instead squeezing his lips around yours with a hand on the back of your head, deepening the act of affection as if he waited a millennium to give it to you. 

 Thankfully, cheering commenced from the boisterous crowd, though you couldn’t hear it from the blood rushing in your ears. Neither you or Klaus wanted to let go-- though for vastly different reasons. Hands rushed to pat you and your male counterpart on the back once you forced yourself to break away. Klaus still held onto you, moving his hands to hold your waist as the crowd trickled closer to congratulate. The music got louder, a shout of more drinks being poured gaining another cheer from the crowd.

They all shouted words of praise and excitement, some more inebriated than others, but nonetheless all happy and excited with a holiday glow in their eyes and cheeks. 

Once the drinks were poured and called to be given out, the attention on you and Klaus was gone. The crowd moved away, diminishing all to go back to partying and their own groups of familiarity. Though Klaus still hadn’t let go of you. You looked at him, awkwardly shuffling backward as he let go reluctantly. 

The music had somehow gotten louder, though the attention was now pulled back to your tipsy boss making decisions he’d surely regret in the morning, and everyone else focusing back on their own groups. You felt out of place again-- though now with a partner instead of alone. You weren’t sure if that as any better though, since now it was two all alone rather than one. 

“Do you want to go somewhere more quiet?” Klaus asked, leaning once again uncomfortably close to your face. “Somewhere with less, you know, people?” He put a hand to the small of your back, hoping to gently push your decision.

“That’d be great.” You sighed with a smile, glad to be escaping in some way, even if it meant spending time with an awkward acquaintance. 

Klaus grabbed your hand with his, bringing a comforting warmth to your chilled fingers. He slid by the twinkling christmas tree, pushing past people with an urgency that would’ve concerned you if you weren’t so eager to leave yourself. You almost tripped over the small presents meant for white elephant underneath the tree if you hadn’t watched your step, trying to move carefully as Klaus lifted your hand to make it easier.

“Thanks,” You said, though you doubted it could be heard over the loud chatter and high note from Mariah Carey on the radio.

 You realized Klaus had been leading you back towards your desks, into a small hallway that only held your bosses office and a small janitor’s closet. People still paraded around the office everywhere you went, a few couples making out in their cubicles with the only light source coming from strung up christmas lights on the walls. You squinted your eyes, unable to see in the dark except for Klaus’ shoes in front of you. 

You bumped into his back as he suddenly stopped in front of the closet, letting out a small ‘oomph’ into his thick jacket. 

“Sorry..” You mumbled, though he only seemed to let out a small, teasing laugh. 

Opening the door, he led you into the closet. You gulped, thinking this was a strange place to gain privacy. You thought perhaps the two of you would go outside, or maybe head back to one of your cubicles, even if it wasn’t the best way to be alone. Yet, you still followed him into the closet, hoping maybe you could take a breather without hearing incessant jovial laughing or wet drunken kisses from your co-workers who couldn’t keep themselves off each other. Hoping in, Klaus shut the door with a ‘click.’

There was no light in the closet, and no switch to turn on even a hanging light bulb.

“Well, here we are.” You said, hoping to lighten the thick air. 

“Yes.” Klaus said, his body in front of you though you couldn’t see it. You shuffled around, trying to get comfortable despite unknown items at your feet and on the shelves next to you. You stood in silence, soaking up the fact that there was no distractions to remind you of your loneliness. And, well, you weren’t alone. Atleast, not right now. 

Klaus’ breathing got heavier, loud enough to fill the silence of the closet. 

“I can’t believe…. We’re alone together.” He exhales. 

“Yeah….?” You say, unsure of what he means. 

Though the hands on your shoulders seem to put forth his meaning more clearly. 

“I thought we’d never be able to get away from them.” He chuckles, pressing his chest against yours this time, pulling you into a hug. “Though, I didn’t think the mistletoe would go that smoothly.” 

Klaus rubbed your back with a sensuality you didn’t expect, humming into your ear as he embraced you moreso than co-workers-- or even friends should. 

“I can’t say I expected you to kiss me so easily..”

He let go of the unreciprocated hug to cup your face with his soft hands. 

“So, does this mean you have feelings for me…. too?”

“W-what?” You back away from his hands into the supply shelf. “Klaus, uh,” You chuckle for a moment, trying to come up with an answer. “We’ve only talked once, and that was 5 minutes ago!” 

You tried to keep your tone light, giving a small laugh to hide your nervousness.

“But our kiss,” He argued. “Our kiss. Didn’t you feel something from that?”

He huffed and brought his hands down to your shoulders. 

“Not only that--didn’t you feel any sparks when we made eye contact last tuesday? When you brushed by me in the break room? Come on.” He spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, shaking your shoulders and pressing the toe of his shoe against yours. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t even remember that--” You tried to find his eyes in the dark, but could only make out vague shapes of his face. “I thought that kiss was just-- peer pressure.” 

Klaus went silent. His hands limp against your shoulders, the male hung his head in defeat. 

“....Nothing? You haven’t… noticed me at all?” He sounded pitiful, voice cracking ever so slightly. “And our kiss, was just an act to you?” 

Klaus bit his lip to stop himself from letting out a sob, his worst fears commencing together to build a crushing momentum. 

“I’m sorry… I didn’t know, it meant that much to you. I don’t know you that well, so I really don’t have any room to say I share the same feelings.” You sighed, patting his hands sympathetically. 

Well, that was certainly a turn of events from what you expected. 

Yet, Klaus perked up at hearing you.

“But that doesn’t entirely rule out the possibility, right? You could still… find yourself falling for me-- potentially.”

“Klaus, I don’t really think--” 

“It’s possible, with enough time, with enough-- convincing.” He interrupted. 

You were about to refute his rationalization, trying to let him down gently. That was until the feeling of familiar lips crashing onto yours came, devouring you faster than the first kiss had. Klaus shoved you against the supply shelf, forcing your head back with his as his nose bumped into yours. Tight lips wrapped around your mouth as the man desperately tried to convince you. 

“Klauth--!” You tried to muffle out, feeling your struggling hands forcefully pushed against the shelf.

“No--! Just let me--” He huffed between kisses. “Give me the chance to convince you--! I’m worth it!-- I promise--” 

Thumps could be heard outside the closet, cleaning and old office supplies falling off the shelves as the two of you danced in a struggling fashion. 

You let out a series of noises against his mouth, mostly poor attempts at trying to tell him to stop, to get off of you, all of which were futile compared to how overpowering Klaus’s desperation was. He was determined, and there was little that could stop him. 

Though with a rightly timed shove and a bite of his lip, you managed to push the man into the door. It let out an echoing clatter, Klaus being unable to catch himself beforehand. 

“What is the matter with you!” You managed to huff out, balling your fists up. 

Klaus ignores your upset expression, wiping his lips. 

“I’m really not a bad guy, you know. I don’t use things like chloroform or handcuffs.” Your heart dropped, panic beginning to set in. “I didn’t even really plan on bringing this with me tonight…. It was just a precaution. So I hope, you won’t think different of me.” Klaus frowned, coming closer to you with heavy footsteps.

“What are you even on about!” You tried to back away, about to tell him to stop once more. The more he came closer, the more worried you became. Clearly, there was something wrong with him on a level that you couldn’t understand, and you weren’t waiting to find out what it was. 

But before you could react, a pinching feeling was running down your thigh. Something stabbed into your leg, unwavering as Klaus’ hand covered it. His other arm moved up to shove against your mouth, your teeth biting into his arm as you tried to struggle away. He spun around, pushing you against the closet door as you tried to frantically get free. Klaus thumbed the end of the syringe, making sure the entirety of the sedative entered your system. Once he felt it hit the bottom, Klaus pulled the needle out of your leg and threw the syringe to the floor. He used the rest of his weight to keep you steady and silent. 

You tried to scream against his arm once you realized what he had done. You didn’t know what he had just injected you with, but it certainly was not something benign. Your arms tried to flail but could only wiggle within Klaus’s grasp as he held them down. 

Only a mere few seconds passed before you felt something strange occur within you, a limpness in your limbs beginning as your eyelids lowered. It was small at first-- just a nagging tiredness in your body. But it soon grew to a point that you could no longer counsciously comprehend, your mind flatlining.

“You’re so much work,” Klaus said with a struggled laugh, trying to keep you down while brushing a stray hair away from your slowly relaxing face. “But worth it. I promise, I’ll prove myself to you. I’ll make you beg for me.” 

You could feel your spit drool down your chin from Klaus’ sleeve, your attempts at biting and removing his arm leaving you a mess. It didn’t take long for the tranquilizer to work its effects, your eyes having gone hazy and body nearly falling to the floor. If it wasn’t for Klaus’s reaction time you would’ve slammed against the door, which would’ve been preferable when it came to Klaus’s intentions. Instead, he caught you with his arms, fighting to keep you upwards. 

“You’ll be convinced before new years, sweetheart.” Klaus planted a small kiss to the side of your mouth, cleaning the drool from your face. “Merry Christmas, my little present.”

[sitp-recs]

hi liv!! <3 recently ive been very into harry/george, i was wondering if you had any recs for that? thank you so much, i hope you have a great day xoxoxo

I got you, anon! Writcraft sold me on this ship back in 2020 and I’ve been slowly making my way through their tag since then. Such a great rare pair! Here are some recs for you, enjoy :)

Stepping Out by Alisanne (T, 900 words)

Harry is sent to talk to George.

After Hours by torino10154 (E, 1k)

Harry stayed behind with George to help tidy up the shop and, after a bottle of Wicked Witch of Western Wales Wine, well, one thing led to another.

Highland Fling by sliebman10 (E, 1.5k)

While on holiday, Harry and George decide to try on kilts. They are very taken with the different look, and one thing leads to another.

Maybe by Vorabiza (T, 5k)

George and Harry need some time alone to heal, but being alone together opens up new possibilities.

See You Next Week by TwoAces (NR, 5k)

George is struggling to cope with the death of his twin, and Harry just wants to get through to him. He doesn't realize quite how torn up he is, himself, though, and through their attempts to heal each other they discover they are very much in love.

Tell Me (We Belong Together) by Maggs0607 (M, 6k)

Harry isn't sure when or how it happened, but one day he looks around the Burrow table and realises that in the three years after War, George Weasley has become his best friend.

Just Like You by @wynnefic (E, 9k)

Of friendship, grief, and getting it on with a polyjuice version of your deceased loved ones. (Polyjuice: Fred/George and Harry/Sirius). Cw: incest

Hopelessly Devoted To You by @writcraft (E, 10k)

Harry and George watch a lot of musicals and accidentally fall in love.

Two out of Three by @wynnefic (T, 15k)

A few years after the war, Harry thinks he has the ideal life. He's working his way up to his ideal job, he's still together with his Hogwarts sweetheart, he's got a couple of great friends, and he's love potioned to the gills.

Evergreen by @thecouchsofa (T, 23k)

Harry asks George to the Yule Ball because it’ll be a laugh and he’s in dire need of one of those. If George can continue to keep his crush under wraps it should all go swimmingly.

May Contain Nuts by scoradh (E, 32k)

After Voldemort is defeated, the script for Harry's life comes to an end. Unsure of what to do with his life, he does nothing. Only one person is on hand to show Harry that a hero is not the sum of his vanquished enemies, but he's got problems of his own. Cw: major character death

Sunshine on Leith by GobletOfCider (M, 78k) - Muggle AU

After years of running from his problems, avoiding family and anything that resembles stability, George finds himself a little bit smitten with single dad, Harry. Settling down in Edinburgh was never part of the plan, but it just might be everything he didn't know he needed.

Bonus: minor Harry/George

A Season in Amber by Thevina (T, 8k) - Dron

Nowhere in Draco's job description does it state that because he's an Unspeakable, he's skilled enough to retrieve Ronald Weasley (or anyone) from beyond the Veil. But when Potter gives him no other options but to join him in this literal death-defying endeavour, Draco does exactly that. If only finding Ron had been the hardest task.

Inevitably Everything by CheekyTorah (M, 8k) - Dron

Ron didn’t need help finding a date.

Sad Girl Fall by yrfrndfrnkly (M, 20k) - Pansy/Luna

Pansy's been watching Luna follow her autumn vibes wherever they take her for six years. This year, she follows along.