#his spine is FUCKED and so is his mental health

[cosmicanakin]

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐁 ⟢ | dean winchester.

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. dean winchester x female reader.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you and dean slip away from sam and bobby for a moment to indulge dean's neediness in the backseat of the impala.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). smut (wrap it up folks), praising, explicit language, semi public sex, pet names, sam teasing both dean & reader.

kari's note ⟢ ݁⋆ i know that i've been slacking with writing nowadays, i'm so sorry. i was—am focusing on myself to better my mental health. but to make up for it, i give you this. so i hope you're taking good care of yourselves & i love you so much. xoxo <3

you couldn't believe this was happening. here you were, bouncing feverishly on dean winchester's cock in the backseat of the impala, his hands gripping your hips as he moaned in pure ecstasy.

the case you were supposed to be working on with sam and bobby was the furthest thing from your mind right now. all that mattered was the delicious friction building between your bodies, the way dean's thick, throbbing length filled you up so perfectly.

"that's it, baby," dean growled, voice gravelly with lust. "ride my dick just like that. you're such a good girl, taking me so well."

you whimpered, your nails digging into the firm muscles of his shoulders as you picked up the pace, your hips rolling and grinding against him in a desperate rhythm. the sounds of your bodies joining together echoed through the confines of the car, only spurring dean on further.

"fuck, you feel so goddamn good," he groaned, his fingers tightening their grip on your hips. "my gorgeous little slut, riding me so fucking good."

the praise sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine, and you felt the familiar coil of tension building deep within you. you were so close, teetering on the edge of ecstasy, and dean could tell.

"go ahead, darlin', come for me," he demanded, his thumb brushing against your sensitive bundle of nerves. "show me how much you love my cock."

with a sharp cry, you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations, your body trembling as wave after wave of mind-blowing pleasure washed over you. dean followed closely behind, his hips snapping up into you as he spilled himself deep inside.

for a moment, the only sounds were the heavy panting of your breaths and the occasional contented hum from dean. then, finally, he pulled you down for a searing kiss, his hands caressing your flushed skin.

"damn, sweetheart, you're fuckin' perfect," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck. "i could do this all day."

you chuckled breathlessly, your fingers tracing the strong lines of his jaw. "as much as i'd love to, we should probably get back to helping sam and bobby," you said, reluctantly lifting yourself off of him.

dean groaned in protest, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs again. "do we have to?" he whined, his eyes pleading. "i'm not done with you yet."

you laughed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "yes, we have to," you said firmly, already starting to redress. "the sooner we get this case wrapped up, the sooner we can come back here and pick up where we left off."

dean pouted, but he knew better than to argue. with a resigned sigh, he began to clean himself up, already mentally planning all the ways he was going to ravish you once this job was done.

⎯⎯BONUS PART . ݁ ⋆

by the time you and dean finally emerged from the impala, faces flushed and clothes slightly disheveled, sam was waiting for you with a knowing smirk on his face.

"well, well, look who decided to join us," he quipped, his eyes flickering between you and his brother. "and just where have you two been, hmm?"

you felt your cheeks burning with embarrassment, your mind racing to come up with a plausible excuse. but one glance at dean's guilty expression told you that sam already knew exactly what you two had been up to.

"we, uh, we were just—" dean began, only to be cut off by the gruff voice of bobby, who came storming out of the motel room.

"where the hell have you two idjits been?" he growled, his brow furrowed in frustration. "we've been waitin' on you for over an hour! sam and i could've used your help, you know."

you cringed, fully prepared for the tongue-lashing you and dean were about to receive. but to your surprise, sam stepped in, his expression far too innocent to be believable.

"oh, i'm sure they were, uh, otherwise occupied," he said, his lips twitching with amusement. "isn't that right, you two?"

dean shot his brother a withering glare, but sam only grinned, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. you wanted nothing more than to disappear into the ground, your mortification notable.

"what the hell are you talkin' about, boy?" bobby demanded, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

sam chuckled, jerking his thumb in your direction. "well, let's just say our dear friend Y/N/N here has been, uh, keeping dean "company" while the rest of us were working."

your mouth fell open in shock, and you could practically feel the heat radiating from dean's body as he shifted uncomfortably beside you. bobby's eyes widened with realization, and a gruff, disapproving grunt escaped his lips.

"oh, for the love of—" he muttered, shaking his head in exasperation. "you two idjits couldn't keep it in your pants for five minutes, could you?"

you felt the embarrassment coursing through you, and you resisted the overwhelming urge to bury your face in your hands. but dean, ever the quick-witted one, managed to find his voice.

"hey, come on, it's not our fault you two were taking forever!" he protested, his tone defensive. "we were just, you know, passing the time."

sam burst out laughing, slapping his knees in amusement. "oh, i'll bet you were," he chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "just try to keep it in your pants from now on, huh? we've got work to do."

with that, he turned and headed back towards the motel room, leaving you and dean to face the wrath of a thoroughly exasperated bobby. as the older hunter launched into a lecture about professionalism and work ethic, you couldn't help but wonder if this was the most embarrassed you'd ever been in your life.

but as you glanced over at dean, the sheepish grin on his face told you that he wouldn't have had it any other way.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Always have but never hold

Next chapter

a/n lingered in my brain for a bit and now it's out here. Be gentle, it's my first time writing for this man. 😳🥺😭✨

warnings: fighting, kitchen accidents, swearing, mental health struggles.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Fuck early Chicago mornings and the freezing temperatures that came with them. And add the people who promised bursts of sunshine and blue skies to the list. Fuck all of them and their predictions. Your grandma made better weather foretellings and landed straight on target with them.

You tightened your jacket closer to your body. Wrapping your hands around yourself. Well, the jacket wasn't yours. It was Carmy's, but you always preferred to wear his stuff. It soothed your anxiety. All the worries Made the early mornings more bearable. You don't remember the last time you two woke up in the same bed. You don't remember how the warmth of the morning, still wrapped up in the sheets, felt. Carmy would be off to the restaurant even before you. You tried to suggest that you just go together an hour or so later, but that only brought out a fight that left you two even further apart as it was. And it had gotten far away. You let his scent flow through your mind, chasing the nagging voice away. Yet already dreading the chaos of the day ahead.

Your phone starts ringing in your pocket. For a moment, you hesitated. Surely, it's too early for something serious to be going on. But then, don't all the scary things happen at the oddest hours? So you reach for it, frowning when you see Sugar's name lighting up the phone. You weren't close to Carmy's family. You had only met them briefly at the funeral. God, they didn't even know who you were. Nor did they care. Or maybe they cared too much.

"Hello", you said, clearing your throat right away. You hadn't spoken any words yet this morning, meaning the first hello sounded way too raspy. "Yeah, hi, it's early, isn't it", Sugar breathed, and you almost wanted to roll your eyes. Yet you couldn't bring yourself to it. Her voice sounded worried. "Did anything happen?", you trailed off. It's not like you two called each other out of the blue. You didn't just chat or go out for coffee. You didn't meet up for lunch or dinner. She had called you once, and it was only to ask if Carmy had wanted to keep any of Mikey's stuff. She was Natalie to you. Someone who might not even stop in the middle of the street to greet you.

"I've just been thinking about Carmy", she muttered quickly. You could hear her shuffling through some papers in the background. "What about him?", you said after a moment of silence. "Did you talk to him about the doctor I suggested? Maybe you two can even go together?", the words just spilled from her mouth, and you halted quickly, "You care for him, right? So take him". A light hint of anger picked up in your chest at that. They had all been pushing down on him. Do that. Do this. Carmy wasn't like them. He operated differently.

"Yeah, yeah, we spoke about it. He just doesn't want to do it now", you said calmly, changing the hand with which you'd been holding the phone so you could warm up your fingers in the jacket pocket. "He will never want to do it", Natalie grumbled back, "Did he even tell you about the times he couldn't breathe? Don't you notice that it's bad? It's scary". A chill ran down your spine. An image of Carmy holding onto his throat filled your brain. Hand gripping the sink as he gasped for air. Panicked eyes searched the room. Two am. Calling the ambulance. Crying in the bathroom before you even went to see him. Fuck, they knew about how scary it was, yet you only mumbled a quiet, "I know, yeah". A sigh leaves her mouth. "And you're not doing anything? He'll end up like...", but you pull your phone away from your ear, press the red button, and swallow quickly. You weren't going to think about it now. No. Not now. Not never. Carmy wasn't going to end up like this. He just wasn't.

You rounded the last corner, quickly pushing your key into the door before letting yourself in. The warmth of the restaurant soothed your cold skin. You thought about giving yourself a moment to compose yourself, but then you were already late. So you quickly undid the jacket. "Where's my fucking knife? Have you seen my knife?", Carmy's voice echoed through the space. You quickly dropped your stuff at the corner of his desk in the office before walking into the kitchen.

"Morning", you smiled up at everyone, and someone grumbled in return. The tension in the kitchen was already brutal. "Your cigarette is on the table, Tina", You turned her way, and she flashed you a smile. "Lord knows, I'll need a whole pack of them today". She had been the only one who hadn't thrown a fit about your being here. She wasn't flowing with joy, but it was by far the best way you've been greeted since moving back to Chicago with Carmy.

"Behind", Carmy shouted again, moving past the rest of the kitchen with a tray of meat in his hands. He didn't even glance your way. He wasn't someone to go lovely dovey in front of the others yet it stung. To your surprise, he turned your way. Eyes softened at the sight of you, and all of the nagging thoughts drained. "Hey", he muttered, reaching for your hand and squeezing it gently. "We prep, then the papers?", he asked, already bearing for the tray with vegetables. You quickly nodded before reaching for the knife yourself.

"They fucked the order? Why the hell do I care that they don't have my shit in stock", Carmy ran his hand through his hair in frustration, "I'll call them again; this is just...", "Why don't you take a break? Breathe for a moment", you said, lowering the order papers onto the desk. Eyes searching his. You've only been in the office for ten minutes, and all that time Carmy had been shouting. A frustrated sigh left his lips as he buried his face in his hands. You stepped closer, your fingers instantly reaching for his hair. Running your fingers through his curls, you let him do what felt best, and Carmen wasted no time in bringing his hands up to rest on your hips, his face buried in your stomach. He let out a frustrated growl, and then the place went silent.

"Talk to me. Say anything", his voice was barely a mutter, but you heard him perfectly. He did this often. Whenever the voices in his head got too loud, he would ask you to speak. Tell him whatever pops into your head. It didn't even have to make sense. He just needed to hear it. The smooth sound of your voice. "We ran out of milk, and I managed to put on a wash before I left", Your fingers dragged down his neck and shoulders. "We'll have clean sheets; can you believe it?", you chuckled softly. The apartment looked like shit if you were being honest, but then you spend so little time there these days.

"We can buy milk on our way back", Carmy said, pulling away slightly. "Yeah, we sure can", you hummed. Just as a knock made you both turn toward the door, A dark-skinned girl with big eyes stood there, looking at Carmy as if she had seen a holy spirit. "I... I... I want to help with the kitchen. To work, I mean", she stuttered, and you instantly turned to her fully. "We talked yesterday, didn't we?", You reached your hand towards her, and she shook it gently. "We sure can use a second set of hands", You smiled at her, yet her eyes didn't leave Carmy. "Sydney and... My resume", she handed the papers to Carmy, who flipped through them straight away.

In a perfect world with a perfect system, you would have loved to give her a rundown of the place. Unfortunately, this wasn't a normal place, nor was the situation normal. So Sydney was left to listen to the constant swearing and bickering of everyone else. It was half-decent until Richie showed up. Shouting at the top of his lungs about all that Carmy was doing wrong. And that fucking pasta of his. You gripped the knife tighter but stayed out of it. This wasn't a fight you wanted to be a part of.

"As if we need another know-it-all in the kitchen. Don't need that fancy shit,", he barked, glaring at the girl. Sydney's head was hung low, but she too said nothing. Doing her thing as she got ready for family. "We don't need this shit; it was fine till Carmy stepped in, fine till you showed up", Richie slurred, and the last straw snapped within you: "Get your head out of your ass and drop it", your glare met him, and you could feel the way all of the anger within him now ran directly to you. Boiled even more because of you.

"And who's talking? One more burden Carmen dragged from New York", he spat, stepping closer to you, no doubt trying to intimidate you, but you didn't back away. "We should have lost you at the airport", he said bitterly. "What will your art degree do for us? Want to paint walls, sweetie?". You were so glad that he had turned away from you after the words left his mouth because you were a moment away from...

"Jesus, Y/N.", Tina's voice made you blink a couple of times. You felt her finger on your palms, and your gaze followed her touch. The chopping board was covered in blood. You must have lost track of your movements and senses. Trying too hard to keep your composure. Or maybe Richie's words hurt worse than the cut palm. "Cover for me, Sydney", you muttered, pulling the towel from your shoulder and pressing it to the wound. "Don't you need...", she tried to interfere. "Just fucking cover for me, please".

Slamming the freezer door shut, you let your back hit the side shelf. God, you were glad Carmy wasn't here. That call from the butcher couldn't have come at a better time. Richie was your headache to carry. Adding that to Carmen's shoulders won't help. He had hated you from the moment you showed up. You always cared too much and too little in his eyes. You tried to reason with him. He was grieving too, but fuck was he an ass when he wanted to be. And he wanted to be most of the time. Angry tears ran down your cheeks. You were just so fucking tired. So tired of it all. Of the shouting. Of the worrying.

"We don't have time. Where the fuck is she? The vegetables won't cook themselves", Carmy's voice ran through the freezer. You pressed your fingers into your eyes, gritting your teeth for a moment before stepping out. "On them, chef", you called out, wrapping the bandage around your hand messily. As long as it stopped the blood, it would have to do. And Carmy was a split second away from shouting again until his eyes fell on your palm.

"What the fuck happened?", he asked, marching forward. Forgetting all the corners, behinds, and whatnot. "Nothing happened", you muttered, turning to Sydney, "I'll take it from here, thanks". But Carmy caught your wrist and said, "Like hell, you will; what the fuck happened?". You knew that this all was coming from a good place, but the tone of his voice didn't soothe you. "We have shit to do, chef", you said, waving your head out of his grip and turning your back to him.

You hoped he would just walk away. Just drop it. Let it be. Let it all sizzle out. "Learn to fucking hold a knife", he grunted, his hand came into contact with your injured palm as he pressed it firmly onto the handle, making you whine in pain. "Hold it for fuck sake", he barked again, only tightening his grip as if he was blind to the blood seeping through the bandage. "I fucking am", You ripped his hand away with your other hand, pushing at his chest to get him away from you.

"Stop being a crybaby and be useful for once", Carmy's words left you defenseless. Your body froze. Cold shivers running down your back. You surely didn't hear it right. Carmy threw the knife across the table and turned his back away from you. Was he about to walk away? Just like that. Like nothing happened. "Fuck you", you threw the same bloody towel his way, "If I'm so fucking useless, feel free to find someone else", Carmy halted in his steps, but he didn't turn around. Clapping filled your ears, and you found smug-looking Richie, beaming like the promised sun today, saying, "Should have been an actress". You bit the inside of your cheek. Quickly undo your apron before storming outside.

[misserabella]

two geniuses (one sacrifice)

spencer reid x reader (enemies to lovers!)

masterlist this is chapter 4! go check out the rest!<3

synopsis;; things have gone sour in between spencer and you after that kiss. but you need to make a decision and accept that everyone… is a sinner. and sinners make pretty sacrifices.

cw;; tobias hankel episodes (E15,16 S2)!!!, ANGST!!!!!, usual reid vs reader behavior, kidnapping (reader), used of y/n (i know i’m sorry but i cannot use nicknames yet), shots being fired, ‘this is calm and it’s doctor’, death of characters, usual criminal minds stuff, weapons, branding (ouch), religion themes, fighting, beating, blood, drowning, pretty much torture, crying, drug use (reader gets drugged), spencer losing it, comfort at the end, mental health disorders (did), a lot more but i can’t remember!!!…

«and i looked, and behold, a pale horse, and his name that sat upon him was death. and hell followed with him…»

after your kiss with spencer, things had taken the wrong turn. you couldn’t stop thinking about it. about how soft his lips had been, the wine on his tongue, his rough hands cradling your body, taking your cheeks as he devoured your mouth like a man starved. couldn’t stop thinking about his heavy breathing, about his needy eyes, his words when you’d told him to slow down… ‘i can’t’. every time you remember the need in his voice, the feeling of his hard cock against your thigh it sent shivers down your spine. but now… now he was acting like a dick.

“you had him in front of you and you still missed?!” he frowned, infuriated, his jaw tightened, teeth grinding.

“he wasn’t in front of me, he was in front of you! if you hadn’t been on the way i could’ve gotten him!!”

the arguments had gotten worse. the hatred had gone up a notch. he was insufferable.

“so you thought the best thing to do was step in front of me and take a bullet?!” you groaned.

“you’re welcome!” you rolled your eyes at him. the paramedics were taking off your perforated fbi vest to look at the damage. by the way it hurt to breathe you were sure one of your ribs had cracked.

“‘you’re welcome’? ‘you’re welcome’?!” he scoffed in disbelief. “do you know that actually the vests aren’t bullet proof? what if the bullet had gone through it? what if it perforated one of your lungs?!”

“well next time don’t make me step in front of a bullet, reid!” you groaned. your head was starting to hurt.

“oh this is my fault now…?!”

“yes! yes it is your fucking fault! you were distracted!” he sighs and you groaned in pain when they took out your vest. under your shirt there was a nasty bruise growing darker by the minute.

“distracted? i wasn’t distracted.” he defended himself, ‘cause if he was distracted then right now he was out of his mind as you unbuttoned your shirt, your simple white bra displayed for his hazel eyes. he gritted his teeth, looking away at the flashing of your memories together in the hotel, the beach… that kiss.

“but you were! you didn’t even notice he was pointing at you until it was too late! in your position he would’ve got you, reid. you were down on your knees and he was pointing at your head!” he looked exasperated once his eyes found yours again.

“so stepping in front of me and getting shot was best?!”

“yes! if it means you get to live then yes!”

“looks like we’ve got a fractured rib.” the paramedic said. “but nothing too serious. you’ll be alright.”

“she’ll be alright? she needs a full body scan, what if it has punctured her lungs? she could be bleeding internally!” he babbled, and the paramedic tried to slow him down.

“there’s no sing of it. her breathing sounds fine, her heart beat is stable, calm down, agent.”

“this is calm. and it’s doctor.” he sternly said back and you sighed.

“reid. y/l/n. enough.” hotch stopped the two of you. he took a glance at spencer and his stern look told him everything he needed to know. spencer stepped away, fuming, his fists clenched. you sighed. “are you alright?” your boss inquired you.

“i’m fine. it’s just discomfort.” he nodded.

“alright. but if you feel faint or just off, tell me.” you nodded and he stepped away to finish talking with the sheriff, leaving you with emily and jj —who had been watching your interaction with the other genius from afar— as the paramedics put on some numbing ointment and wrapped your torso.

“what was that?” emily’s eyebrows were raised, her arms crossed over her chest.

“what was what?” you inquired.

“that. all of this. what’s going on between you and spencer later?” jj clarified, waving his hands around in the air, as if she could physically feel the tension and heaviness in the air even after he was gone.

“he’s just being a dick. nothing new.” you shrugged. “thank you.” you said to the paramedic who welcomed you with a smile and wished you a quick recovery as you buttoned back up your shirt.

“yeah but lately you two have been fighting non-stop.”

“we always have.”you frowned.

“not like this. it’s been worse since you two…” jj trailed off and your eyebrows raised.

“since our last case. since you two kissed.” emily finished up for her and all color left your face.

“what? nonsense.” you spat, but your micro expressions were enough to betray you. goddamn profilers.

“y/n…” emily tried and reason with you, but before she could jj’s phone was pinging.

“we have a new case.”

saved by the bell.

-

tension is tricking down your skin under spencer’s gaze as the team surrounds the table. jj has the remote in hand, ready to give out the information about this last butchery.

“georgia. the kyles, dennis and lacy, were murdered an hour ago in their suburban atlanta home.”

“an hour ago?” hotch frowned.

“the police were on scene unusually fast.” the blonde clarified the doubts that arose inside the room.

“why?” morgan inquired.

“one of the unsubs called them and told them that the other was about to murder the victims.

“you’re kidding.” derek scoffed and jj shook her head.

“from inside the house.” eyebrows rose. “according to the dispatcher, the first male sounded terrified and begged them to get there because the other, who they both identified as raphael was about to kill the ‘sinners’ that live there.”

“sinners?” hotch replied just to make sure and jj nodded.

“the 911 center is going to send garcia a copy of the tape.”

“how fast was the police response time?” spencer inquired and your response eyes smoothed over his curls, his pointy small nose, high cheekbones and perfect jaw as jj answered.

“four minutes, 26 seconds. during which time raphael managed to do this.” images of the crime scene filled the screen and emily whistled with impression. “mr. kyle is a dot-com millionaire. his company is one of the largest employers in the community. there’s gonna be media coverage. also, when they arrived, the police found this displayed prominently on the bed.”

“revelation, chapter 6, verse 8.” you muttered. “they’re killing ‘sinners’. this is a mission.”

“and mission-based killers will not stop killing.” spencer nodded, taking in your words.

“this is a bad one, isn’t it?” emily asked and morgan sighed.

“unsubs with a cause are never good.”

“even less if they’re religious.” you muttered. “violence is perpetrated for a wide variety of ideological reasons, and religion is generally only one of many contributing social and political factors that may foment it.”

penelope perked up with a ping of her computer. “pets? i just got the 911 call from the georgia state police.” she informed as she played it for the whole team.

the voice through the other side was soft, silent, wobbly as he explained that the people at that house had too much stuff, possessions, from raphael’s perspective, who was cutting in with a shape ‘that’s enough’ that rendered the submissive male silent.

“well, unsub one definitely sounds frightened, maybe he’s doing this against his will.” emily pointed out but gideon shook his head.

“i doubt it. he whispered.”

“he could have called out to save them instead of calling 911.” hotch agreed.

“not if he had a gun to his head.” morgan chirped but you rectified him.

“if he had a gun to his head, why would he have dialed 911?”

“the second unsub said raphael was going to kill someone. is there a third?” jj inquired and spencer answered.

“referring to oneself in the third person is not uncommon for an unsub.” you nodded, stepping into his rambling.

“an example of it is ted bundy. he gave detailed accounts of his murders but he never admitted to doing it. he would just say ‘the killer’.” he looked at you with something hidden behind his eyes. fury, proudness? who knew?

“i’ll run the name through our system.” garcia said.

“we have a killing team on a mission in rural georgia. we know what that means.” hotch talked through the silence that came with garcia’s keyboard clacking.

“they’re not going to stop until the mission’s complete.” morgan said as he inspected the photos of the crime scene.

“but is there an ending to the mission? there will always be more ‘sinners’ to be taken care of.” you sighed and spencer chuckled.

“of course not. these unsubs are guided by a misunderstood point of view of a religion with shaky foundations. their reasoning is beyond cure. they’ll kill anyone who doesn’t fit the epitome of pure.” your eyes clashed against his at the condescending of his tone. you wanted to punch his jaw shut.

“then we need to hit the ground running. we need an inside picture of the victims. victimology can be critically important in a mission- based spree.” you talked to the group and spencer clapped his hands.

“you came up with that alone? brilliant deduction.” your eyebrows furrows as his eyes rolled in annoyance.

“what’s your fucking problem?” you gritted through your teeth, tension building in your body and in the air surrounding the two of you as you took a deep inhale of air that had your cracked rib throbbing.

“enough.” hotch cut short your quarrel for the second time around that day. “once we get there, prentiss, go where the bodies are. examine the wounds. they managed to kill two victims in four and a half minutes. we need to know how.” emily answers with a ‘you got it’. “i’m going to the atlanta field office and go over case files. it’d be unusual for a first kill to be this efficient.”

“reid, y/l/n and morgan come with me to the crime scene.” gideon ordered and you could almost feel the migraine that sharing space with the genius would bring you.

“wheels up in 20. we’ll land in less than an hour. so, everybody, try to get some rest.” hotch notified and all of you nodded, getting up from your seats and getting ready for this case.

-

“i’m tired of people using religion to justify the terrible things they do…” you sighed as you took a look at the blood stained carpet of the crime scene.

“you’re saying these killers are on a mission?” one of the officers of georgia asked.

“these unsubs believe they’re either on a mission from god or that the bible is somehow guiding them.” reid stepped up.

“sounded to me like only one of them was into the mission.”

“it’s usually more complicated than even that. in the case of dick hickcock and perry smith, perry was the subservient personality, basically against even entering the clutter home, yet he was the one who almost single-handedly slaughtered the entire family.” he explained in a messy blurb of words.

“huh.” was all that the agent said in response.

“how many times was mr. kyle stabbed?” gideon asked.

“stabbed isn’t exactly the word. they were slashed through the major arteries. they were made pretty much at the same time.”

“like an animal at slaughter…” you muttered.

“exactly like an animal at slaughter. you cut the throat first then sometimes open other major arteries to assist on draining the carcass.” reid added and you looked at him.

“so maybe a hunter?”

“or a farmer.”

gideon and morgan looked at the two of you. and in their eyes there was something you already knew. you could not like spencer, but the truth was that you two made the perfect team. and there was nothing that could change that fact.

“this unsub was good. they didn’t stand a chance.” gideon said and morgan stepped up to the other side of the room.

“okay, i know my partner called 911. the police are on the way, so i don’t have a lot of time. now, assuming unsub one didn’t actively participate, i gotta believe i entered the bedroom from here.” he pointed at the bedroom door to his left. “i see mr. kyle on the other side of the bed. so i approach him.”

“and you cut him first.” you nodded.

“how do you know that?” the agent asked you and you hummed.

“a blitz attacker neutralizes the greatest threat first. in this case, it would be the man.”

“plus, the 911 call, a woman screamed.” gideon added.

“you can’t scream with your throat cut.” spencer pointed out and you rolled your eyes.

“genius.” you whispered, winning a pissed off look from him and his hazel eyes.

“shut it.” he whispered back.

“make me.” your tongue betrays you with your witty come back before you can think it through and his face changes to a one of shock for a second before he relaxes once again into his hatred. but you’ve seen it. that look in his eyes. and you’re sure his mind has drifted back to your kiss. when you had shut him up for good. you almost smirk. ‘cause that little flash has made him gone quiet.

“so mrs. kyle sees her husband murdered, she runs back into the bathroom.” morgan continues with his reading of the room, completely oblivious of your bickering and tension as he enters the bedroom, taking the door with his gloved hands. “she tried to close the door behind her. i force my way in… and i kill mrs. kyle back here in the bathroom.”

“we checked that smudge for prints.” the agent points to the blood on the door beside morgan. “nothing. looks like he wore some gloves. not with any pattern. like latex maybe.” you shook your head.

“that doesn’t make any sense at all.”

“it doesn’t?”

“unsubs suffering from a psychopathy, a delusion like a message from god, are what we would classify as being disorganized. they don’t generally clean up after themselves.” reid explains for you. always meddling into your business, of course.

“maybe unsub one, the frightened one, made sure they did.” you argue with him and his eyes are piecing as he looks at you, but the ringing of morgan’s phone snatched both your attentions away.

“yeah, talk to me, baby girl. yeah.” he looked around the room after garcia inquired him something. “if a settee is a little couch. what? what’s wrong? a viral what?” you frown in curiosity and from derek’s own frowning. “garcia, is there some point to all of this?” he steps forward towards us. “garcia. there’s a video of this murder on the internet?” the three of you are perplexed under his gaze, and then he’s looking from side to side as he ends the call before stepping towards a computer in front of him.

“they’re watching us.”

-

«the armies of satan shall not prevail.»

tobias hankel. it was the first time you heard his name. a witness to an unknown prowler that hotch had asked spencer and you to ask a few questions to help recognized the aforementioned.

tobias. hebrew. meaning ‘god is good’. under his facade. his sweet, nervous eyes you might think lives a good man that resembles the meaning of his name.

and yet, the devil was looming over his shoulder.

“hi. mr. hankel?” i inquired after my knocks and the screeching of his opening door.

“uhmm. yeah?” he looked innocent. pure even. how could you haven known? they say you can sense it. smell the rotten. but this rotten second mind taking over hankel was so well hidden that you couldn’t even sniff it.

“mr. hankel. fbi. i’m agent y/l/n. this is doctor reid.” you two showed him your badges and the man frowned.

“fbi?”

“may we come in?” spencer inquired, and tobias looked over his shoulder into the safety of his home.

“i’m sorry. i don’t let anyone in the house.”

“actually, i really have to, you know, go.” spencer awkwardly said and you gritted your teeth. seriously?

“you do?”

“yeah. for like thirty minutes.”

“why didn’t you say something in the car?”

he completely ignored you and looked at tobias once again.

“do you mind?”

“i’m sorry. my father doesn’t like it.”

“father? you’re like, 30.”you almost elbowed him on the stomach.

“at what age should one start disrespecting the wishes of their parents?” he inquired seriously to the genius behind you and you stepped into the middle of the conversation to fade away the discomfort brewing in between them.

“you witnessed something a few months ago that might be very helpful for us.” you kindly said.

“i did?”

you nodded. “you saw someone go over a wall into a yard. you called the police?” he frowned.

“me?” you copied his gesture.

“you didn’t?”

“sorry.” he shrugged and spencer hummed in thought.

“is there another tobias hankel here?” you inquired.

he shook his head. “just me and my father, charles.”

“there’s a report on file that lists you as calling 911. you were walking a dog…” he cut you off.

“no, that’s wrong. i don’t have a dog.”

“oh.” you muttered. “all right. well, sorry to brother you, sir.”

“sorry. have a good night.” tobias said before closing the door and leaving the two of you alone.

“that’s weird…” you said as you started to walk down the front steps of the porch. “why bother calling the police in the first place if later you’re just going to pretend you didn’t?” spencer seemed to connect something inside his mind then, because he looked at you with widened eyes.

“to gauge the response time.”

“what?”

“if you were going to kill somebody but you wanted to call the police first, what would you need to know?” he inquired you and your eyes widened the same way his had.

“how long it takes them to get there.” you nodded and he quickly ran around the house. “reid!” he looked into one of the windows and found what he was looking for, screens, almost 15 of them over one another showing live feed of people lives. when tobias spotted him, he started to run. spencer called after you. “get back here! he’s the unsub, he’s in the barn, come on!” you took out your weapon and trailed behind him towards the barn. “he’s in here.”

“are you sure?”

“have you ever seen me pull out this thing is i wasn’t?!” he pointed at his gun and you rolled your eyes. always the same. “call hotch.”

“we’re in the middle of nowhere, reid, we have no cell service.” you stated the obvious with a. ‘seriously’ look on your face and he groaned.

“great. of course we have no service.”

“okay. let’s do this. i cover the front you go around back. hotch knows we’re here. he’ll come looking for us, we’ll just wait him out.” you stood up and he shook his head.

“no, no, no, y/l/n.” but you had already gotten into the barn leaving him behind.

“tobias hankel! fbi!” you called out, pointing your gun to your surroundings as your eyes tried to get used to the dim —almost inexistent— lightning. you toon out your flashlight as you stepped further in, taking in the interior of the barn, the chains handing from the ceiling… until something splashed below your feet, and when you looked down… blood.

next you hear? the snarling of three bloodied dogs. yellow eyes under the light of your flashlight as they bared their teeth at you, their fur so black you were sure they were more than dogs. hell hounds. ready to devours you as they already had devoured your last victim.

you gun fired at them just in time to dodge their fangs and avoid the tearing of your skin in a shriek.

your heart is pounding out of your chest as you run out of the barn to scape the third dog, that haunts you down to the back of the barn and plunges at you with hunger in his eyes, you fight, even though the fall against the dirt has left you breathless and your torso hurts due to your fractured rib. the barrel in his mouth as he nips at the metal before you push it aside and end with his fury with a shot to the head. nothing has ever made your heart break more than the whimper of pain that leaves the hound’s mouth as he falls.

you’re panting as you scramble backwards away from the body. that’s until you hear spencer’s scrambled voice.

“wait. wait. wait.”

along with tobias’ and the other unsub’s voice.

you quickly press your feet back onto the ground as you followed the sound.

“i could have stopped him by myself!” tobias shouts.

“okay. okay.”

“i tried to warn everyone.”

“just relax, mister hankel. all right?”

“shoot him!”

and then there was a mess of voices.

“no! i don’t want to!”

“i said. shoot him you weakling, he’s a satan!”

“he didn’t do anything!”

“i won’t tell you another time, boy. shoot him!”

“tobias hankel!” you pointed at him with your gun, your eyebrows furrowing when you only find the two of them, alone, no other unsubs.

spencer’s gaze falls on you. he’s on the ground, hands up.

“another devil! told you to get rid of the first, boy!” the voice of raphael that you’d only heard on the 911 recorded phone calls leaves tobias’ mouth and your frown deepens before you understand what was going on.

“raphael?” you inquired and the man looked at you with an stern despised look.

“how dares a devil call my name?” he grumbled and your whole body froze when the finger he had on the trigger twitched. he was pointing straight at spencer’s head.

your mind quickly tried to find something. anything. anything that could take the man’s attention away from the brunette. he was shaking his head at you but you’d already made up your mind. you knew what to do.

“i need to confess my sins” you looked at the genius, his brown puppy eyes on the unsub, who kept pointing at him. one mere twitch of a finger and he’d be gone.

“talk child” raphael ordered, and you swallowed.

spencer called out your name. “don’t.”

“silence!!” the man yelled, the barbell pointing at his head, to what you quickly yet calmly spoke.

“i’ve been lustful raphael. i’ve let the devil inside of me.” you quickly spoke. “and it felt so good.” the tone on your voice seemed to haunt him, his teeth gritting against the other. you knew what this man, these men, despised, and you were gonna take advantage of it. “i’ve been greedy. so greedy, raphael. i only took this job for the money, for the power. and i’ve killed innocents, i’ve killed believers like you. i fear the devil who has possessed my body has turned me into one.”

“you need saving. dirty devil whores like you need to be expunged!!” he spat. “i can save you child. i can make the forgiving loving god take you in between his arms once again.” you rose up your hands, in a quick motion of your hand throwing your weapon aside, leaving you at his grace.

“i would like that. and i know i don’t deserve it. but as a last undying wish, please, let this man be. take me and save me instead. he’s as pure as they can be.” you looked at spencer, whose eyes only read fear. maybe for his life. maybe for yours. you feared yours didn’t have saving anymore. “let my sinful life lead to the saving of the pure ones.” he looked at you, pondering. you only wished he would fall into your words, that spencer’s blood wouldn’t fall onto the hay.

“thank the lord i’m as forgiving as him, boy.” the unsub said with one last step and look in his direction, before hitting spencer in the head with the gun, making his vision turn blurry as he fell onto the floor. “now come child, let’s make you pure again.” he ordered, and with a flicker or your eyes towards the profiler, who in between merely conscious babbles called out for you with ‘don’t’s’, watched you go by the hand of who could possibly be your ending.

-

you didn’t even strain against the ropes that tightly kept you sat on the wooden chair, your eyes taking in the looking like basement in which who you had recognized as charles had dragged you to. he was messing with metal around a fireplace, and even though you wanted to think that it was all a mistake, that in reality it couldn’t be possible, you deeply knew what would happen next.

he took the bar out of the fire, the iron red in heat. “you know what this is?” he inquired, showing you the cross branded at the end

of it, a cross that will surely burn your skin and brand you for the rest of your life. “it’s god’s will.” you gasped when one of his harsh hands took a hold of the front of your shirt, tugging at it and making the buttons pop, exposing your chest to his dark eyes.

“you don’t have to do this.” you tried, although you knew it would fall on deaf ears.

“i’m just an instrument of god. and you my dear, are a devil i need to eradicate.” your fear coated eyes watched as he slowly approached the cross to your exposed skin, the warmth of the iron making your skin prickle. and even though you fought against the restrains that bounded you to your fatal fate, you could not scape his will.

a scream ripped from your throat at the searing pain of the branding, the smell of your own skin melting away making you feel sick in your lightheaded state.

“stop. please stop.” you cried out, tears falling from your eyes as he pulled away the iron from your skin, throwing it aside.

“i though you wanted this. you came to me, to us! i can see it in your eyes, you want to be saved!” he maniacally talked.

“no…” you shook your head, your vision turning white for a moment at the harsh smack he left on your cheek, making you turn away.

“that’s just the devil inside you talking, dear. don’t worry. i’ll take care of it.”

“i’m not a devil!” you begged. “i’m not a devil, i’m a woman.” but he wouldn’t believe you.

“the devil lies.” he muttered as he undid the ropes tying you to the chair, although you were still immobilized as he dragged you by your hair.

“i’m not lying! i’m not, please!”

“the devil lies.” you watched as he dragged you to a tub filled with water. “and for that i shall baptize you in the father’s holy water.”

“no, no, you don’t have to do this…” you pleaded.

“oh, but i do…” you took a forceful deep breath before cold ice water was hitting your face and head, drenching you down to your chest and new searing brand. you fought against his hold. but he was too strong. you choked on the water, trying to grasp a bit of air with every pull and tug out of the water as he practically tried to drown you, although you were becoming dizzy, on your mind the thought of dying here consuming you. you could catch fragments of his praying as he drowned you, an “amen” falling from his lips as you lost consciousness and let your body plummet into the ground.

maybe this was the end.

and strangely enough, the last thing that went through your mind before you fell onto the darkness was spencer.

-

you woke up with a gasp, back at the chair, the door of the little cabin closing behind the unsub, who carried in between his bloody arms a skinned animal.

he looked at you, and you knew this wasn’t raphael, or charles, what made you slightly sigh.

“you need to eat.” he said, putting the animal aside.

“what’s your name?” you inquired, softly, your throat sore by the cold water you had accidentally swallowed. you needed to make sure this was the man who had greeted you at his door and not the shadow taking over his mind when he wasn’t looking, or another unknown alter.

“tobias.” he answered and you nodded.

“who was here before?”

“it was probably my father.” he said, and then took on your disheveled aspect. your drenched state and the red skin-melted cross on your chest. “i’m sorry he hurt you.” he sincerely said, although you quickly panicked when you saw him walk towards you while taking off his leather belt.

“what are you doing?” oh god, please no, you through as he made quick work of pulling up the sleeve of your shirt and harshly buckling it around your arm. “no. no. please don’t.” you begged.

“it helps.” he promised as he took out a needle and a crystal little bottle. “don’t tell my father. he doesn’t know they’re here.”

you watched in between sobs as he injected the needle on the bottle, getting a shot of whatever drug it was to guide it to your arm.

“please. i don’t want it. i don’t want it. please.”

“trust me. i know.”

“please, don’t.” you whimpered, hissing in pain as the needle breached your skin, your body jolting as the drug filled your veins.

“it helps.” he muttered. “what are you doing boy?” raphael’s voice cut through. the man in front of you was splitting again. “i was just trying to help.” “help a devil?” a smack was given to his own cheek. “you’re weak! they don’t deserve help. they deserve saving. justice!!! and i’m gonna give it to her.”

“you ready, girl?” the man, now charles, tugged on your hair.

“ready for what?” you grunted.

“my weakling son thinks god gave you to him for a reason. let’s see if we’re both right.” he said letting you go to turn around your chair, pulling a camera in front of you.

-

“spencer! we already told you you can’t be here. you should be with the paramedics!” jj said, trying to stop spencer from coming into the house. where the team was trying to find out your location.

“any luck?” he inquired, ignoring the blonde, to what hotch shook his head.

“seems like the kid self-medicated with heroin. we contacted rehab and they told us they have no idea where he could be, but we found out that hankel has a serious drug problem.” prentiss said.

“that could explain the psychotic fracture.” hotch said.

“what are you talking about?” jj inquired.

“tobias is living as at least three different people.”

“himself, his father and raphael…” spencer muttered. “so we have nothing? we’ve seen what this man is capable of and we have nothing?”

“spencer…” gideon tried to stop him.

“no. you… you don’t understand. she saved me. and god knows what she could be going through…”

“we have something.” the police officer entered the house. “this could be bad news. a computer store was robbed in the middle of the night. a suburb outside of atlanta. thief got away with four laptops, external hard drives and a satellite.”

“if its tobias, it puts him right back in business.” hotch said.

and just as he muttered those words morgan was calling out for the whole team.

“guys! guys, get in here!” he yelled, guiding them to the computer’s room.

prentiss gasped at the sight of you on the screens. “she’s been beaten.”

spencer could feel all air leaving his lungs at the sight of you. drenched clothes, bleeding chest, bruised cheek and hazy eyes.

“can’t you track him?” jj inquired in a rush.

“hankel’s only streaming this to his home computer.” garcia said.

“this is for us. he knows we’re here.” gideon said.

“i’m going to put this guy’s head on a stick.” morgan cursed.

“he branded her.” spence couldn’t help but choke on his words. “oh god. this is my fault. if only i had…” his hands were on his hair, his hazel puppy eyes frantic.

“spencer, look at me. look at me!” morgan stopped him, taking his shoulders. “we’ll find her, alright? we’re gonna find her.”

“why can’t you locate him?” hotch asked garcia, to what she started typing.

“he’s rerouting to a different IP address every 30 seconds. i can’t track him.”

“there’s must be something you can do. anything!” spencer begged, while on the other side of the screen, the killer was giving you a choice.

“you really see inside men’s minds?” hankel asked, you didn’t know if you were talking to raphael or his father, charles, walking in front of the monitors. “see this vermin?” you looked at the people on the screens he had pointed at, who unknowingly lived their lives. “choose one to die. i’ll let you choose one to live.”

you shook your head. “no…”

“i thought you wanted to be some kind of savior.” he frowned walking towards you.

“i already saved someone who deserved saving.” the man grunted, tugging at your hair.

“choose.”

“you’re a sadist in a psychotic break. you won’t stop killing. your word is not true.”

he looked at the camera that recorded you.

“the other heathens are watching.” you looked at the camera. so your team was watching you… “choose a sinner to die, and i’ll say the name and address of the person to be saved.”

“i won’t choose who gets slaughtered and have you leave their remains behind like a poacher.” he tugged harder onto your hair, smacking you and making the whole team gasp.

“you really see into my mind, girl? can you see i’m not a liar? choose one to die, save a life. otherwise, they’re all dead.” he pushed you against the chair and you closed your eyes tightly. your cheek was on fire. and surely bruised by how badly it hurt.

“alright.” you swallowed. “i’ll choose who lives.”

“all the same.”

you looked at the screens. pondering. did you have a choice? could you save them all?

“far… far sight screen…” the killer looked at that screen.

“marilyn david. 4913 walnut creek road.”

“you got that?” morgan inquired to garcia and gideon was quick to call the saved woman to warn her about the recording computer.

the screen that was recording her turned black, and when the man turned you recognized that look in his eyes. “raphael?”

“you’ve done your part. now it’s my turn.”

spencer caught on your hand moving by your side, your fingers signing words.

“guys look. she’s trying to say something.”

“what is she saying?”

but before you could finish the camera was turning off, and they lost you on the darkness.

along the lines, he knew what you were tying to say.

‘it’s not your fault.’

-

the next time you woke up a murder had taken place. and you couldn’t help but think it was your fault. you couldn’t save them. they were slaughtered because of you… and he had left you there with the screen on for you to see as he slaughtered them.

“tobias?” you inquired as the man next to you fumbled with your shirt and the leather belt on your arm.

“yeah. sorry i had to leave for awhile.” he muttered.

“you can leave again and you can take me with you.” you offered, watching him prepare another shot of heroin. your mind was still scattered due to the last one.

“my father would be angry.”

“not if he can’t find us.”

“he always finds me.” he sighed. it was as if he had been sentenced to a slow painful death. a fate he couldn’t scape.

“if you tell me where we are, my friends will come and they’ll save us.” you promised.

“we can’t be saved…” he said as he looked at the needle, slightly flicking it with his finger.

“we can. we can, i promise. if you tell me where we are, i’ll save us both.”

“listen to me.” he cut you off. “it’s not worth fighting. tell me it doesn’t make it better.” he said pointing at the needle. you sobbed as he punctured your skin once again, making your consciousness start to slip.

“we can be saved. we can be saved…” you promised yourself as you felt the drug taking effect.

in the unsub’s screens suddenly pops up a red window saying that the video of the last murder he had uploaded was a virus “no!!!” you knew it had to be garcia to try and trace his IP. “they’re trying to silence my message.” gritted raphael.

“i can’t control what they do, i’m not with them. i’m with you.” you slurred.

“really?” he scoffed, clicking on the keyboard to pull out of his video an image of gideon. his voice filled your senses. he was calling out your name.

“if you’re watching, you’re not responsible for this. you understand me? he’s perverting god to justify murder. you’re stronger than him. he cannot break you.”

“you think you can defy me?” he inquired to you after turning of the screens.

“i don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“you’re a liar!” he suddenly took your arm, pulling up your sleeve to show the marks of the multiple needles that had breached your skin and his face changed. it was charles. “you’re pitiful. just like my son.” you sobbed as he turned on the camera back up. “this ends now. confess your sins.” he ordered with a new smack to your face. your team was watching through the other side of the screen.

“we need to find her.” reid said. “we need to find her now!!”

“i haven’t done anything.” you cried, to what he gave you a harsh punch, splitting your lip. “tobias help me!” you begged to the man incarcerated in his own body.

“he can’t help you. he’s weak. confess!”

“tobias…” you whimpered as he slapped you across the face.

“confess your sins…” he ordered as he tugged on your hair, making you look at him.

“no…” you shook your head, all breath leaving your lungs as he pushed you down onto the floor. you started gasping for air, your body convulsing due to the drug intake and the poor oxygen that was getting into your lungs.

“oh my god he’s killing her!”penelope sobbed, the whole team in shock, spencer’s soul withering. it was his fault. your blood was on his hands. and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

he saw your eyes close. your chest stop rising. and he swore his own heart had stopped just at the same time yours had.

“she’s dead. she’s dead.” she muttered, her hands on her hair.

“and that’s the devil vacating your body…” the man said to you as he watched your life leave your body.

spencer could almost feel it himself. your body losing warmth, your limbs becoming stiff.

hankel disappeared from the screen a couple of minutes as morgan took his shoulders.

“i killed her morgan. i let him take her away and now she’s dead. it’s my fault that she’s dead…”

“spencer.”

“i killer her…” his eyes seemed empty. “she sacrificed herself for me. i could have saved her, i could have…”

“guys!!” garcia called for them at the sight of what it seemed to be tobias giving you cpr. spencer clenched his fists on the chair’s back, begging, praying for you to breath again.

oh god, please, please don’t let it be the end…

relief was short for the feeling that succumbed his body when he saw you cough.

in your dizziness you caught a glimpse of what it seemed to be the stone of a grave.

“whoa…” garcia sighed, and spence almost fell on his butt if morgan weren’t holding him.

“wait when was the video of the last murder posted?” prentiss asked, suddenly and urgently remembering something.

“9:23” garcia responded.

“and what was the time of death?”

“the 911 call came in at 9:04 and the murder must have been moments later.” hotch answered.

“that’s only a 19-minute difference.” jj said.

“how long would it take to post the MPEG?” morgan inquired.

“two, three minutes.” garcia said.

“well, let’s call it two. you figure a maximum of 60 miles an hour in a residential area. that means hankel has to be within a 17-mile radius of the crime scene.” morgan realized.

“garcia, can we see it on a map?” hotch asked.

“yeah.” she nodded, circling the area described.

“call farraday. i want that area locked down like it’s martial law.” gideon ordered.

“you came back to life…” raphael talked to you as you took your breath.

“raphael…”

“there can only be one of two reasons.” he wondered.

“i was given cpr.” you weakly tried to joke, more for yourself than anything, but he ignored you.

“there are no accidents. how many members are on your team?” he inquired.

“without me… seven.” you said.

“the seven angels who had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound. the first sounded and there followed hail and fire mixed with blood, and they were thrown to earth.” he recited.

“he thinks it’s revelation. the seven archangels versus the seven angels of death.” hotch muttered.

“tell me who you serve.” raphael ordered.

“i serve you.” you responded, no thoughts in your head. you were playing chess with the devil himself and you had the make him belief he was winning… for now.

“then choose one to die.”

“what?”

“your team members. there must be a real devil in between you disguised as an angel. choose to die.”

“kill me.” you weakly offered, but he shook his head.

“you came back to life. you mustn’t be the devil.”

“i lied.”

“your team has seven other members. tell me who dies.”

“no.” you shook your head, and watched him as he took out of his pocket a gun, turning the cylinder of the gun to later on point at your head.

“choose and prove you’ll do god’s will.”

“no.” the trigger clicks. and you’re still here. the gun cocks again.

second round.

“choose.”

“i won’t do it.” the trigger clicks once again, just as the gun cocks.

“life is a choice.”

“no.”

once again.

“choose.” you hesitate, thinking, until your lips

part and you speak.

“i choose spencer reid.” the team freezes. “he’s a classic narcissist. he thinks he’s better than everyone else on the team. i despise him.” you said. “genesis 23:4. ‘let him not deceive himself and trust in emptiness, vanity, falseness and futility, for this shall be his recompense.’ “

spencer after hearing you quickly left the room, just as raphael cocked the gun and fired the bullet that would have blown your brains out on the wall. you shiver.

“he’s the devil you want.”

you watch him take another bullet and put it in the cylinder. “for god’s will.”

the team follows spencer onto the kitchen’s table. he’s got a bible in between his hands. “i’m not a narcissist.” gideon sighs.

“come on. look, you can’t take anything from that. she’s not on her right mind, reid.”

“that’s not what i’m saying. stop. okay, everybody right now, what’s my worst quality?” they all fell silent. “okay.” his lips tugged in this thin line be always managed to do. “maybe i’m a little bit narcissistic. but i’ve never put myself above the team. cause i don’t. ever. y/n and i argued about the definition of classic narcissism, and she knew that i would remember that. and she also quoted generis 23:4. read it.” he babbled before giving the bible to jj.

“ ‘i am a stranger and a sojourner with you, give me property for a burial place among you that i may bury my dead out of sight.’”

“she wouldn’t get it wrong unless it was on purpose. i know that.” reid said. “she’s a genius.”

“she’s in a cemetery.” morgan said and they quickly went back in their steps.

“i don’t see a cemetery.” prentiss said looking at the screen once the whole team was back with penelope.

“call up the first time we saw her.” gideon asked the blonde, who put on the video of you, in which you said ; ‘i won’t choose who gets slaughtered and have you leave their remains behind like a poacher.’

“check to see if there are any reposts of poaching in the last couple of days.” hotch said.

“okay…” penelope typed. “a farmer reported two sheep being slaughtered on his property.”

“where are we talking?” morgan asked. the screen focused on an even littler portion of map in walton.

“what’s that patch of green there?” jj inquired, and garcia focused on marshall parish.

“marshall parish. i think it’s an old plantation.” hotch wondered.

“wait. tobias wrote in his journals about ‘staying clean’ and ‘keeping away from marshall’” emily pointed out.

“guys. there’s a cemetery on the grounds.” penelope said.

-

you slurped up as much water as you could, your eyes meeting his face.

“tobias? is that you?” you inquired.

“yeah.” he nodded, giving you more to drink, which you gladly took.

“thank you.” you breathlessly said. “you saved my life.”

“i’m sorry.”

“why?”

“he’ll win in the end.” he muttered, putting aside the glass of water.

“tobias, i need to know something. it’s important. are we in a cemetery?”

he nodded. “i used to come here to get high.”

“i was right.” you smiled to yourself as he got you ready for another shot of heroin.

“no one bothers you here. i never told anyone about it.” he said as he buried the needle on your skin and pressed. he let you be as the drug took its effect on your body, his personality shifting once again.

“i’m sorry… i’m so sorry…” you sobbed, your mind dizzy. every time you closed your eyes, there he was. with his brown caramel curls, hazel eyes and pretty smile. you only wish he had given you one before you’d die…

“why are you sorry, girl?” raphael inquired you and you cried.

“i didn’t notice. i couldn’t have. he was right in front of me, and i… i… i pushed him away. i couldn’t help it.”

“is that a confession?”

you nodded, sniffling. “i confess.”

“being sorry won’t save you now, girl.”he walked towards you and took away your bounds. “grab a shovel.”

you followed his orders, and let him lead the way towards a part of the cemetery, where he pushed you to your knees and ordered you to start digging.

“i ought to bury you alive in there. give you time to think about what you’ve done.”

“i know what i’ve done…”

“don’t talk back to me!” he kicked you harsh in your side, and if your rib wasn’t broken before, you were sure that it was now. “dig.” you sobbed in between gasps of air, complying. “dig faster!”

“i’m not strong enough.” you muttered in a frail voice.

“you’re all weak.” he scoffed, taking off his jacket. your eyes caught lights behind him. it was your team. “get out of there.” he looked at where you were looking, and once he had turned, you grabbed the jacket he had tossed onto the ground and took ahold of his gun, pointing it at him. he pointed at you with his knife. “only one bullet in that gun, girl. you better not miss.” he growled as he stepped closer and you fired it. you thanked god as the bullet hit his chest. you crawled towards him once his body had hit the ground, tossing away his knife as he looked at you. “you killed him…” it was no longer his father.

“tobias?”

“there she is!”hotch exclaimed.

“do you think i’ll get to see my mom again?” he inquired you.

“i’m sorry.” you whispered, watching the light leave his eyes.

you heard spencer calling your name, feeling his warm arms caging you against his chest and pulling you away from tobias. “you’re alright. you’re alright…” he muttered, his hand on your messy locks, holding you close. you’d never felt safe in your life. until now.

“i knew you’d understand…” you smiled, your body weak and falling limp against his. “you’re a genius, spencer…” you somehow managed to babble as your eyes started to close.

“hey, come on, stay with me. stay with me y/n, please…”you could muster out his soft voice calling out for you, shaking you. “call the medics! someone please call the medics!!!!”

-

a/n; this took so long to write…😫 but i’m so happy with it! finally some angst!!<33

[alvojake]

The Murder House | Pt. Two

𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕/𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐 | 𝒑𝒕. 𝒐𝒏𝒆 | 𝒑𝒕. 𝒕𝒘𝒐 | 𝒑𝒕. 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 | 𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆

「synopsis」 : with everyone's lives on the line, will luck be on your side? except it seems like whoever trapped you here doesn't plan on letting any of you leave that easy... suspicion is rising, and trust is starting to falter, but can you save everyone and bust whoever put you and your friends through this hell?

「word count」 : 11.3k

「genre」 : horror/thriller, gore, angst, psychological thriller, mystery

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, spiders/bugs, water, blood, mentions of betrayal, arguments, mentions of claustrophobia & arachnophobia/entomophobia, mentions of spider venom, life or death situations, more mind games, mental health disorders (anxiety, panic attacks, breakdowns, etc...), (some tags will be hidden as to not spoil the story!)

Jay groaned as he opened his eyes, his hand instantly going to his head, trying to soothe the dull pounding behind his eyes. Riki, who had just been shaking the older male, looked down at him before moving back, letting him sit up. As the throbbing died down, Jay’s brain swirled with questions once more, how many times had they been drugged at this point? Where had they been taken now? And most importantly, where was everyone else?

“Where are we?” Jay asked, voice hoarse from the lack of any fluid, his eyes scanning the room. “And where’s y/n?” Riki watched him with an unreadable expression but rolled his eyes when he wasn’t looking.

The walls looked as if they were made out of concrete, water stains dripping down from the ceiling. The ground was solid and cold under Jay’s palms, sending a shiver up his spine. If he didn’t know any better he would have thought this was some kind of dungeon. 

“I’m not sure.” Riki’s voice was low as he glanced over his shoulder, “looks like some kind of basement.” 

Jay scrunched his eyebrows at the boy’s calm tone. He knew that Riki had always been exceptional at hiding his emotions. This, however, he would think would warrant at least a tremor in his voice, but there was nothing.

The last thing Jay wanted was to throw any more accusations at anyone, let alone his little brother, so he just brushed it off. Standing on his feet, he dusted his jeans off before he heard what sounded like chains rattling on the other side of the room. Both Riki and Jay’s heads snapped over in that direction, and their eyes grew wide.

There, in a room separated by a glass window, sat Heeseung, hands cuffed to the arms of a chair. Pure fear and panic painted his face, which was only mirrored onto Sunghoon’s as Jay looked over at the taller male. 

Sunghoon stood in front of the window, fear etched into his features as he looked at Heeseung. His heart was beating at what seemed to be a million miles an hour. His eyes never strayed from the older male as Jay and Riki walked up to join him.

Heeseung’s panicked eyes move over to Jay when he comes into view, arms straining against their restraints, “Jay, what’s the fuck is going on?” His voice was higher in pitch as he yanked on the cuffs once more, but just like his last attempts, they proved to be fruitless.

Jay’s words caught in his throat as he started to realize what was going on. This was another game. 

Sunghoon saw movement in the corner of his eye, causing him to look up. He felt his blood run cold. Above Heeseung was a crate of spiders, at least a couple dozen crawling all over each other. Seeing the creatures made his skin crawl, and his mouth went dry as he tried to speak.

“I don’t wanna panic anyone, but…” He spoke quietly, pointing to the tub of spiders, which caused all eyes to follow. Jay’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull while Riki licked his lips. However, Heeseung…

“Guys, get me the fuck outta here! I mean it!” Heeseung started to panic, roughly pulling on his restraints. His heart beating so loudly it was deafening, his body starting to shake as sweat coated his skin. Bile crept up his throat the longer he kept looking at the creatures that hung over his head. Spiders had always, always freaked Heeseung out, going as far as jumping on the couch, nearly falling right on Sunghoon when he found a tiny one on his apartment floor, begging you to kill it.

“Ahhh, everyone is already awake,” A distorted voice cuts through the speakers in the room, causing all four of the boys to jump; Heeseung stopped moving, his hands still trembling. “Hello, gentlemen, and welcome to game number two! Let’s get straight into it, ya? Your last rooms may have been easy peasy lemon squeezy, but that doesn’t quite travel over.” Sunghoon’s eyes flicker all over the room, trying to find the source of the voice, “now you better put on your running shoes because you’ll have to move quickly if you wanna get your friend outta there, otherwise, well, he’ll experience a pain like no other.” Just then a big screen powers on, displaying a timer, the numbers frozen. “Good luck! Oh, and don’t let the bugs bite!” The voice then cut out, and a spotlight clicked on, showing a lockbox on a table that sat right under the screen.

Then the timer started. Jay’s heart dropped, his feet glued to the spot on the ground, his ears ringing loudly. Sunghoon’s horrified face shifts back to Heeseung, who is staring at the ground by his feet. Riki watches Sunghoon from the corner of his eye, studying his expression, his hands stuffed deep in his jacket pockets.

Sunghoon swallowed thickly before looking between Riki and Jay, “how can we be sure that the spiders will actually drop?” His voice shook, hands trembling at his sides, “or if they’re even venomous?” 

Jay couldn’t help but glare at the younger male, “Are you dense or something, dude? They have literally drugged us. Twice! What makes you think they won’t drop those spiders on him, huh?” The tone in Jay’s voice caused Sunghoon to recoil, flinching slightly.

“I’m just saying there’s a possibi-” “Those look like Sydney funnel-web spiders, highly venomous.” Riki cut Sunghoon off, causing both of them to look over at him, “if that many were to bite him at once, he’d die in five minutes tops.” he explained, voice trembling slightly as he looked over, meeting Sunghoon’s eyes, gleam in his pupils. “We’d need an ass ton of anti-venom, and that’s if there is any.”

At the new information, Heeseung felt his blood run cold. His arms violently tugged at his restaurants, and tears started to brim in his eyes. His attention then turned to Sunghoon, who was still looking at Riki.

“This is what you wanted, huh?” Heeseung seethed, sending a deadly glare toward the dark-haired male, “Lock us in some fucking sick and twisted games just to kill us off, just like you did the hacker. Is this what you get off to?”

Sunghoon’s eyes blew wide at Heeseung’s accusations, hurt contorting his face into a glare of his own. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? What fucking hacker?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb; we found your bracelet on the dead guy's body.” Heeseung scoffed, tugging on the restraints once more, “thought you could hide it, huh? Well, news flash, if you’re gonna kill someone, try not to lose any of your belongings on the body!”

“My bracelet? My bracelet is on my…” Sunghoon’s words trailed on as he held his hand up, shocked eyes right on the spot where his bracelet would normally be sitting.

“Oh, cat got your tongue? Yeah, we caught your ass red fucking handed.” Heeseung’s words dripped venom, eyes burning with rage.

Sunghoon glared at the older male, his body starting to shake due to anger and embarrassment. Riki watched the two go at each other, standing just a few feet away while Jay tried to concentrate on finding the pieces of clues they needed.

“Yeah and how do we know that you didn’t plant the bracelet on the body, huh?” Sunghoon turned the accusation around on Heeseung, “How do we know you're not the one behind all of this?” 

Heeseung laughed in disbelief, “Yeah because I would totally cuff myself to a chair under a box of the most venomous spiders IN THE FUCKING WORLD!” He shouted, yanking the cuffs and ignoring the pain that shot up his arm.

“Who knows, maybe this is just another tactic to throw us off your trail!” Sunghoon’s eyes narrowed, and that’s when Jay finally had enough, stepping over to the three.

“Stop. Both of you, this is fucking ridiculous.” Jay interjected a glare of his own, adoring his face, “We don’t have all the time in the world to sit here and argue about who’s behind all of this. You two bickering like a damn pair of street cats is only wasting time.” He shot a glare at Heeseung, too, who just shook his head, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “And you, why the fuck are you just standing there? This isn’t some telnova you can just sit back and watch, we need to find these clues.”

Sunghoon scoffs, nodding his head before looking over at Jay, pointing a finger at his chest, “And what about you?”

Caught off guard, Jay raises an eyebrow, “what about me?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that you seem pretty damn calm considering everything that’s happening,” Sunghoon stated in a matter-of-fact tone, causing Jay’s eyes to narrow into slits.

“One of our closest friends is sitting under a fucking ticking time bomb; I have no other choice than to be calm, Sunghoon.” Jay fumed, pointing a finger in Heeseung’s direction.

“How can you even be sure that they’ll actually drop?” Sunghoon resorted once again.

“Can you guarantee they won’t?” Jay asked, his undertone obviously showing that the trust he held for Sunghoon was starting to dwindle. His eyes were hard as he stared at the younger boy, who suddenly went silent. “Exactly, but if you’re okay with just sitting back and watching as one of your best friends sits on the brink of death, then be my fucking guest, but don’t expect anyone to come to save your sorry ass when it’s you in his position.” 

Sunghoon looks at Jay in complete disbelief, his hands trembling at his sides as heat rushes up his neck. He held eye contact with Jay, waiting to see if he would realize just how messed up what he said was, but when Sunghoon realized that he wasn’t going to, he looked away with a scoff.

“So quick to throw the blame on me, but what about your innocent princess? How do you know she didn’t plant my fucking bracelet on the body?” Sunghoon sneers, causing Jay’s jaw to tighten.

“That’s a pretty low blow, Sunghoon, blaming my sister because you fucked up.” Riki glared at the older male, arms crossed over his chest.

“I don’t kill anyone,” Sunghoon growled, eyes shooting daggers at the boy.

“Oh, and my sister did?” Riki shot back, a look of pure disgust covering his features, “And to think she thinks of you as a friend.” He scoffs, shaking his head and Sunghoon laughs, eyes looking away from Riki.

“Your sister isn’t this princess you see her as Riki. She’s not as innocent as you may want to think she is.” Sunghoon said, a fire burning in his pupils.

Riki could feel a rage bubble up in his gut; however, before he could open his mouth to resort, Jay intervened.

“Knock it the hell off,” Jay exclaims, grabbing Sunghoon’s shoulder. His patience is starting to wear thin.

Sunghoon just shrugged him off, glaring at him, “back off.”

That’s when that last little bit of patience that Jay had broken. Fed up with how Sunghoon was acting, Jay grabbed a hold of the boy's collar, pulling him close. “We are running out of time, so you can either hop off your high horse and help or shut up and get the fuck out of our way.”

Taken aback, Sunghoon shoves Jay off of him before taking a step back, his eyes narrowing. Heeseung sits quietly in his seat. The argument is like background noise as he lets his thoughts run wild.

“Did you do this, Sunghoon?” Heeseung’s voice was flat, with no sign of any emotion, head hung low. Sunghoon’s eyes snap over to him, opening his mouth to say no, but Heeseung cuts him off, “Then why was your bracelet on the body?” Heeseung lifted his head, and Sunghoon’s breath caught in his throat; tears brimmed in the older male’s eyes, threatening to fall at any moment. “If I’m going to die here tonight, I at least want to know why.” Heeseung’s voice cracked, and the tears he fought so hard to hold back broke free, streaming down his cheeks and dripping from his chin.

Sunghoon was at a complete loss for words, the severity of everything finally starting to sink in. Tears of his own filled his eyes as he watched Heeseung break. 

“I didn’t kill anyone, I swear.” Sunghoon nearly choked on his words, “I don’t know why my bracelet was there, but it wasn’t me.” However, his words held very little importance to Heeseung, and Sunghoon could see the trust crumbling into fine dust. Sunghoon then walked closer to the window, placing his palm flat on the glass, “We’re gonna get you out of here, and we’re gonna get out of here alive, I promise.” Sunghoon’s voice shook, tears dripping from his eyelashes.

Heeseung just shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You shouldn’t make promises that you can’t keep, Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon repeats his words once more before wiping the tears from his face and turning towards Jay. Taking a few steps, he called out to the older male, gaining his attention.

Jay turned, a glare still fixed on his face, “If you’re going to say some stupid shit again, I don’t wanna hear it.”

The younger boy just swallowed thickly, shaking his head, “What do you need me to do?”

Jay looked him up and down, scrutinizing him before holding a piece of paper up. " We need to find two more pages with these symbols on them. I already found two, and Riki is over there looking for another.” He explained, pointing over to the younger boy who was rummaging through a filing cabinet.

Sunghoon nodded quickly before turning and making his way over to the cabinets that lined the far wall, tearing them completely apart. His mind was going haywire, thoughts overshadowing themselves as he repeatedly told himself that he would get Heeseung out. He was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed the eyes that were watching him.

Riki peeked over his shoulder, seeing that both Jay and Sunghoon were too immersed in trying to find more of the code to be paying him any mind, and Heeseung’s eyes were trained on the floor by his feet, lost in his mind. Curing his fingers around whatever sat in his palm, he stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets just as Jay turned around.

The silver-haired male nodded at Sunghoon as he handed him the piece of paper that he had found before turning towards the younger boy.

“Have you found anything yet?” Jay asked, and Riki just shook his head, tightening his fist in his pocket. He had to bite his tongue as he listened to Jay grumble out a few curses before telling Sunghoon to keep looking. His head turned back to the timer, watching the seconds tick away.

~

The three of them completely tore the room apart, trying to find the last piece of the code. Sunghoon was starting to grow frustrated because he was sure that they had searched every single nook and cranny of the room but had yet to see any sign of it. Jay chewed on the nail of his thumb, trying to think of any other place they could look, while Riki continued to search through the cabinet on the opposite wall of Jay.

Heeseung lay his head back on the chair, eyes closed, thinking back to his childhood and all of the memories he’d made over the past few years. He was always a quiet kid when he was younger, never really feeling like he fit in anywhere. He was always sitting in the back of the class, staring out the window as music played through his headphones. Then he met Sunghoon in middle school.

Sunghoon was a new transfer student, perceived to be this quiet, cold guy who barely spoke a word to anyone. The only thing that anyone knew was that he could always be found at the ice rink or in the park with his camera. Heeseung saw himself in the boy, and he knew just how lonely it got, so he started to talk to Sunghoon every day regardless if the younger wanted him to or not. One day, Sunghoon stopped fighting him, and they became close friends, then they met Jay in high school. Then his mind went to when he first met you; you and Riki had just moved into his apartment complex, and you were carrying boxes up the stairs and almost fell. Thankfully for you, maybe not so much Heeseung, he was walking right behind you on his phone until you fell back, right into him. He managed to grab both you and the railing in time before either of you could fall; however, his phone didn’t quite make it safely.

“Ya know there’s safer ways to fall for me.” He teased you, watching as your face started turning red. You had apologized and promised to fix his phone, but he just chuckled, telling you that it was fine before helping you lug all of your belongings into your apartment, where Riki was waiting for you. From there, the two of you become inseparable, leading you to introduce him to Jake and Sunoo, and he introduces you to the other guys.

Everything was picture-perfect. Sure, you all have your ups and downs, but what friend group doesn’t? So he was left with the question of why. Why were you guys brought to this point? What had caused this? Where did they do wrong?

Heeseung lifted his head just as Jay walked in front of the window, “Jay.” His voice was hoarse from holding back tears but was still heard by the silver-haired male, causing him to stop and look over at Heeseung, “Do me a favor and tell y/n that I’m sorry for being so mean, ya?”

Jay felt his heart drop when he realized what Heeseung was implying; shaking his head, he told him no, “You can tell her yourself, dumbass, we’re getting you out.”  

However, Heeseung just shook his head softly, a small, sad smile playing on his chapped lips. The light that used to always gleam in his eyes was slowly vanishing. This broke Jay’s heart because he knew that his closest friend was accepting the fact that he may not make it out of there alive.

“There’s only fifteen minutes left, Jay. I’m not getting out of here.” Heeseung’s words stung Jay to the depths of his soul. Tears that he was trying to keep at bay started to spill over, flowing down his flushed cheeks. “Tell my mom that I love her and to make sure to look after herself.”

Jay wiped his face after finally realizing that he was crying, glaring at Heeseung, “Shut up, we’re getting you out of here.” His voice shook, willing himself to keep from breaking down, not even sure who he was really trying to reassure Heeseung or himself.

Sunghoon was rushing around the room, his heart beating in his ears and he tore apart places that he had already looked in multiple times. He knew that the last piece had to be around here somewhere, it couldn’t be gone, it just couldn’t. Turning around, his eyes landed on the younger boy who hadn't moved from that one side of the room.

“Riki, are you sure you haven’t found anything?” His voice came out a lot louder than he had intended, causing Riki to look over at him with wide, shocked eyes.

“Are you saying I was lying? I have been looking this whole time just like the two of you.” Riki sneered, glaring at the dark-haired male.

“Fuck, no, sorry.” Sunghoon curses, running his fingers through his hair, avoiding Riki’s harsh gaze before making his way over to the lockbox.

He grabbed the lock with shaky hands, inspecting the pattern of symbols on the dial. Running his fingers over the grooves, he turned around and found Jay hunched over another table, deep in his thoughts.

“Couldn’t we just try to guess the code?”

Both Riki and Jay looked over at the boy, Jay’s face devoid of any emotion as tears rolled down his cheeks, while Riki’s was stoic almost as if he wasn’t fully there.

“There are way too many possibilities, not to mention we don’t even have the last piece, so it’ll make it ten times harder,” Riki stated, pulling his lips into a thin line when he saw Sunghoon’s face drop.

“We don’t have the time for it anyway.” Jay’s voice cracked, eyes avoiding Sunghoon’s as he looked up at the timer, causing the other two to look over as well.

‘00:10:27’

Sunghoon felt the lump in his throat return, his body growing warm as a thin layer of sweat coated his icy skin. His ears were ringing so loud he couldn’t hear anything other than the high-pitched sound. Turning around, he started trying any combination on the lock that he could think of that involved the three pieces that they already had. Mixtures of curses and cries fell from his lips every time one of them turned out to be wrong.

Jay pushed himself off of the table before rummaging through the cabinets for the nth time, a small inkling of hope that he’d be able to find it. His hands shook so back that he could barely grab onto anything, his vision blurry as the tears fell from his lashes endlessly.

Riki moved from his spot, standing in front of the window to meet Heeseung’s gaze, who offered him a small smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. The younger boy stood there with a solemn look on his face, his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his jacket.

“Hey Riki,” Heeseung’s voice was merely above a whisper, but the boy heard it nonetheless. "Take care of your sister. She’s going to need you after tonight.”

Riki swallows thickly, nodding his head, “always.”

Heeseung nods his head slowly, his smile never leaving his face. His eyes then travel to the other two, Sunghoon’s movements frantic when he realizes just how quickly time is running out. Jay moves over to the cabinet that Riki has been looking through, throwing everything to the ground as he searches it.

“Guys,” Heeseung calls out to them, but neither of them pays him any mind, not wanting to hear anything he has to say. Their hope was hanging on by a thread, but they were going to try their damnedest, even to the very last second. Heeseung bit the inside of his cheek, his heart rate speeding up as he watched the seconds tick by. “Listen to me, dammit!”

‘00:01:25

Sunghoon and Jay reluctantly looked away from what they were doing, tears stinging their eyes as they met the older male’s eyes. Heeseung looked between them with a sorrowful look, his eyes glancing over to Sunghoon, “I’m sorry for accusing you, Hoon; I know you’d never do that.” Tears started to spill from Heeseung’s bloodshot eyes; Sunghoon bit his lip, shaking his head.

‘00:01:02’

“It’s okay, Hee. I’m sorry for lashing out.” Sunghoon’s voice shook, fresh tears brimming his eyes. His heart felt as if someone was stabbing multiple tiny little knives into it before leaving it to bleed out. Was he really going to lose his best friend like this? The first person who actually saw him as a person?

“Water under the bridge, right?” Heeseung’s voice was soft, not a single ounce of malice causing Sunghoon’s heart to lurch, nodding his head too afraid his words would fail him.

‘00:00:54’

Heeseung’s eyes then moved over to Jay, who was standing there, lip trapped between his teeth, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Jay, go and ask y/n out when y’all make it out of here, ya?”

Jay felt dizzy, blinking harshly to try and clear the tears that had built up on his waterline. Licking his chapped lips, he nods, “Yeah…” His voice trails on the first tear, dropping, allowing the others to follow. His whole body shook as he watched his best friend look over at Riki, all the thoughts of their past circulating in his mind. His heart was cracking little by little until it was completely shattered, the shards cutting everything around it. Was this really going to be the end of their friendship? Was it really going to end before they got the chance to be each other's best man at their weddings? Before they could watch their kids grow up together?

‘00:00:42’

Riki refused to meet Heeseung’s eyes, keeping them glued to the ground right by his feet. His mind was swirling with thoughts, but his face remained unchanged even when Heeseung coaxed him to look up.

“You’re a good kid, Riki. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I know your sister may give you a hard time, but she loves you. So much.” Heeseung’s voice then cracked, “I will always be with you guys. Feel free to take any of my games from the apartment. I wouldn't want them to go to waste.” Tears were flowing down Heeseung’s flushed cheeks as he offered the boy a small smile.

Riki didn’t say a word, his jaw clenched tightly. His eyes seemed to have darkened as he altered his gaze, the tips of his ears turning a shade of scarlet red. How was he going to explain all of this to his sister? How was he going to be able to sit there watching as she sobbed over the death of her ‘friends’?

‘00:00:27’

Heeseung closed his eyes, allowing tears to fall from the corner of his eyes. Little snippets of his life flashed behind his eyelids, allowing him to cherish those memories one last time before they were all lost to time. He inhaled, shaky, before opening his eyes to look at his friend once more. 

‘00:00:09’

“Thank you for everything, for dealing with my annoying ass, for allowing me to be your friend, for allowing me to find a place where I belong.” Heeseung smiled weakly, “Thank you for being my family.”

Time felt like it had stopped when the timer buzzed, and the crate opened, allowing the spiders to drop. The creatures scattered all over Heeseung’s body, some biting as soon as they landed. His lip was caught between his teeth, trying his best to muffle any sounds that escaped his lungs, eyes screwed shut as pain erupted all over his body. His jaw fell slack as screams of pure agony echoed all around the room. Each bite he received seemed to be ten times worse than the last, leaving his skin to feel like it was being set ablaze. His arms involuntarily jerked against the restraints in any attempt to get out, but he couldn’t.

Sunghoon felt like he was going to be sick as he watched the insects latch themself onto any exposed skin Heeseung had shown before turning his head, hand covering his mouth. Riki averted his gaze, hands clenching into fists in the pockets of his jacket once more. Jay watched in utter disbelief, tears rolling down his face as he watched and listened to Heeseung start to quiet until they were merely an echo in his brain, and his body lay still, his skin red and irritated as bumps started to show from the multitude of bites.

Then a shutter came down, blocking Heeseung’s mutilated body from their view. Jay was rooted to the same spot, eyes on his reflection that started right back at him. Sunghoon takes a small step back before dropping down to the ground, head in his hands, pure terror and shock etched on his face. Riki continued to stare at the wall just beside the window, his face voice of any emotion, but there was a slight gleam in his eyes, fingers fidgeting with the slip of paper in his pocket.

Jay then shouted out of pure rage and pain, completely clearing the table of the lockbox and papers. Tears continued to stream down his face as he hit the table a few times until his knuckles were bruised and swollen. A string of cusses left his lips until they died down into quiet sobs as his head hung low.

The sound of a beep echoed in the deadly silent room, causing Jay and Riki to look up; Sunghoon stayed crouched down, mumbling incoherently. Jay felt a newfound sense of rage bubble up in his chest as he read the words on the screen.

‘GAME OVER – BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME!!’

Just then, the lock on their door clicks, signaling that they are allowed to leave; being the closest to it, Riki grabs the handle, pulling it open. He looked down the dimly lit hallway seeing no sign of anyone else before looking back at the other two. Sunghoon was unmoving, fingers knotted in his hair as he stared at the window, while Jay’s eyes stayed glued to the TV screen, his mind running a million miles an hour.

Riki swallowed thickly before opening his mouth to speak, “We should probably go find the others.” His voice was quiet as the weight of the room started to set in on him.

Heeseung was gone.

It had been about five minutes since the timer had started, and the water turned on. Five minutes since you and Jungwon scrambled to search the nearest cabinet. Five minutes of Sunoo watching you silently, his brain mulled with thoughts.

You had torn almost every book, decoration, file, paper, or other item out of the cabinet. Mumbling small curses to yourself as your hand slipped, almost causing you to cut your palm on the corner, Jungwon looked over. Hearing your small grunt of pain, worry flickered in his eyes.

“Hey, I found something!” Jake exclaims, holding up a box. "There’s some kind of combination lock on it.” He sets the box down just as you and Jungwon walk over, moving out of the way.

“There’s probably two other boxes like this,” Jungwon states, eyes flickering up to you before moving to Jake.

You quickly nodded, looking between both of the boys, telling them to continue looking for the other boxes. The three of you then split off once more, tearing the room apart for the other objects, knowing they held the key to getting Sunoo out of the box he was in.

Before too long both of the other boxes had been found, you and Jungwon setting them on the table next to the one that Jake had found. You stood there looking at them, thinking about your next course of action despite the shaking of your hands. Jake stood next to you, his hand lightly placed on your lower back, causing a chill to run down your spine.

“Do you think the codes are the same?” Jake asked, bottom lip caught between his teeth, his hand still on you.

Becoming uncomfortable with the way his fingers were curling around the fabric of your shirt, you took a step away, putting a good distance between the two of you. “I doubt it,” you cleared your throat, looking everywhere but the brunette’s eyes. " The codes are probably hidden around the room, too.”

Jake’s jaw clenched as he tried his best to push the annoyance down, nodding his head. You swallowed thickly before returning his nod and turning around to walk away, leaving the boy to watch you with gleaming eyes.

He ran his tongue over his teeth before turning and walking over to another filing cabinet, pulling the drawer open quite roughly. Jungwon watched with furrowed brows, clearly confused by Jake’s reaction and wondering why he started acting so hostile. However, he pushed it to the side, deciding to deal with it later, whenever they all got out.

It had taken about five minutes before you scrambled to your feet, exclaiming that you had found one of the codes, catching both of the boys’ attention. Quickly making your way over to the table where the boxes were sitting you showed Jugwon the page before bending down to start unlocking the lock. However, your hands shook with so much force that it was causing the lock to slip from your fingers. Tears were blurring your vision, which only added to your struggle, causing you to let out a few curses.

Noticing your struggle, Jake walks over and places a soft hand on your shoulder. " Hey, just slow down. You’re rushing too much.”

Scoffing, you shrugged his hand off, turning to glare at him. “Slow down? Jake, he is in there with running water, I don’t have the time to slow down!” You pointed a finger in Sunoo’s direction, “We need to get the keys out so we can unlock that fucking box before he drowns!”

Jake was taken aback by your outburst, but the shock quickly shifted to annoyance, “yeah, we do need to get the keys out, but you seem to be incapable of doing so with all of your shaking.” He rolled his eyes, and you opened your mouth to retort, but he beat you to it, “No one is going to yell at you for not going fast enough; we’re not your parents, for fucks sake, y/n.”

Your jaw fell slack, and all of the words you were going to say died on your tongue as you stared at the male in utter disbelief. Jungwon stood off to the side with a nervous look on his face, unsure of how to defuse the situation.

“Hey guys, let’s not-”

“That's a real fucking low blow, Jake,” Your tone was full of hurt as you glared at him before turning back to the boxes.

Jake just scoffs, rolling his eyes, “god, I forgot how much of a damn drama queen you are.”

Jungwon looked at Jake in surprise while you tried your best to ignore him. Your jaw clenched tightly as you unlocked the box. You pulled the lid open before taking the key that was sitting inside and pocketing it. Sending Jake one last glare, you turned and walked off in pursuit of the other lock combinations.

Sensing the tension in the air, Jungwon walks over and puts his hand on Jake's shoulder. “Let’s just look for the other codes,” the younger boy suggests. However, the only response that he reserved was Jake shoving his hand off and him walking off. Sighing, Jungwon closed his eyes, shaking his head, before walking over to Sunoo, who had been watching the two of them.

Jungwon placed his hand on the glass, looking up at the boy. “Just hang tight. We’re going to get you out of there.”

Sunoo nods with a small smile before watching as Jungwon walks away before looking over at you. You had found another cabinet and were searching through the bottom drawer, but tears kept obstructing your vision, causing you to let out a few curses while wiping them away. Sunoo watched with sorrow as your shoulders shook, his heart hurting seeing you so broken.

“Y/n.” He called out your name, causing you to stop what you were doing, and turned to look at him, wiping some of the tears from your face. Standing to your feet, you made your way over to the blonde, who offered you a sad smile. “Don’t let what he said get to you, okay? Emotions are so high right now I’m sure he didn’t mean it.” 

You knew that he was probably right. All of you were trapped in such a stressful situation that it was not that much of a surprise that someone snapped. You nodded softly, wiping more of the tears off of your cheeks before a small smile pulled on the corner of your lips, which made Sunoo’s heart swell.

However, your smile quickly dropped when you realized that the water had already traveled up to his knees. Panic started to etch itself into your bones once more as you placed your hand on the glass, Sunoo mimicking your movements.

“We’ll get you out soon, I promise.” Your voice cracked slightly, causing Sunoo’s heart to lurch. He smiled, trying his best to reassure you, but the smile didn’t quite meet his eyes.

Deep down Sunoo had a small feeling that this was going to be his last twenty minutes on earth. Something was telling him that they weren’t going to find all of the keys on time, that he was going to end up taking his last breath.  He started to think back to everything that led up to now, how he spent the last year pining over someone who would just be right out of his reach. How he had made plans with Riki and Jungwon to go on a road trip this summer, but now they would have to take the trip without him. He thought back to when he first met Riki, which is funny in itself because he was at the store looking for a game that Jungwon sent him out to get, accidentally running into Riki, literally. The boy was in such a rush to get back home before his favorite show started that he hadn't seen Riki standing there. Riki, who had just as surprised as Sunoo offered him a hand up and teased him for being in such a rush before asking what he was looking for.

“Some new game my roommate sent me to grab,” Sunoo rolled his eyes, “not even sure why I agreed to.” Riki couldn’t help but laugh, but he had helped Sunoo find that game before exchanging numbers because of a show they both liked.

Tears started to prick at Sunoo’s eyes as he wondered what he did to deserve this? What have any of you done to deserve this? It was something that he was sure that he would wonder even after he was laid to rest.

Jake glanced over his shoulder, seeing that everyone else was distracted, his fingers wrapping around the box nearest to him. Sunoo caught him from the corner of his eye, eyebrows furrowed together as he watched the older male stuff something in his pocket and set the box back down just as you turned around.

Eyes narrowing slightly, you looked Jake up and down. "What are you doing?” Your voice caught Jake’s attention, causing him to turn to look at you. "Did you find another code?”

Jake shakes his head, pulling his hand from his pocket to point at the box that he just had in his hand. “I was just checking to see if there was anything on the bottom.” His voice is steady as he meets your gaze. Something about the gleam in his eyes leaves a bad taste in your mouth. However, against your better judgment, you decide not to question him, though you do look at him with a scrutinizing gaze.

“So, was there anything?” Your tone held a bit of sas that caused the male to bite his tongue, trying his best to not lash out once more; more than enough damage had already been done.

So he just shook his head, “No, there’s nothing.”

With a curt nod, you turned back around to continue your search for the missing codes. Sunoo glanced at you for a moment before looking over at Jake, who opened a drawer that he was sure he had already looked through a few times. Alarms started going off in the blonde’s head, something telling him that something was very, very wrong, but he didn’t want to just assume anything.

The feeling of eyes on him caused Jake to turn his head, meeting Sunoo’s gaze. He raised an eyebrow, questioning the blonde silently, who just gave him a tight-lipped smile and turned away, but not before catching a glimpse of what looked to be a knife in the older male’s jacket pocket.

A shiver runs throughout Sunoo’s entire body as he looks elsewhere in the room, unsure if it was due to what he had just seen or if it was the cold water that was soaking his clothes little by little. His heart beat loudly in his ears as he tried to think why Jake would have a knife. Surely, the person behind all of this would have taken any kind of weapon that they had on them, and if he had found it in the room, why hadn’t he said anything? Sunoo had gotten so lost that he hadn’t even noticed Jungwon leap to his feet, holding up a piece of paper.

“I found another one!” He exclaimed before making a beeline for the boxes; you were hot on his heels.

Jungwon grabbed one of the boxes just as you stood by his side, arms brushing against each other as you watched him intently. However, at the sight of you standing so close to the younger boy, Jake's lip twitched, a glare adorning his features, all of which didn’t go unnoticed by Sunoo.

Before he could speak aloud, Jungwon threw the box open, grabbing the key out and showing you with a wide smile on his face. You guys were one step closer to getting Sunoo out of there. But then all of the excitement died down when he looked over to show Sunoo the key and saw that the water was mid-chest on the older male.

Panic starts to cloud your mind, causing you to look around the room frantically, yelling at the other two boys to pick it up and keep looking. Jake walked over to a bookshelf that was off to Sunoo’s right while Jungwon walked over to another cabinet.

Jungwon mumbled something akin to promises of finding the last one, his ears ringing so loudly that it’d be a miracle if he heard anything else. You practically threw out of the shelf that you had been looking through, flipping through the pages of the books. Tears involuntarily brimming in your eyes once more, but you bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from letting them fall.

Jake licked his lips, his eyes flickering over to you before he shoved his hand into the pocket of his jacket. Clearing his throat, he called out to you and Jungwon, a sense of urgency in his tone causing all of your attention to shift over to him. He held up the crinkled paper, causing your eyes to light up before rushing over to him.

You stood next to Jake, staring over his shoulder urging him to open the box already while Jungwon walked over to Sunoo with a bright smile on his lips.

“We’re getting you out of there, Sun.” Jungwon felt tears of relief fill his eyes, but Sunoo would only offer him a smile, a gut feeling telling him that something was wrong.

Jake opens the box with a flourish, but his eyes grow wide at the sight of an empty box. Looking over, he watches as fear and panic morph into your face once more. You snatch the box out of Jake’s hands, causing him to recoil back slightly, his eyes widening.

Your panic-stricken eyes looked into the box, seeing that the key was, in fact, not in there, “Son of a bitch!” You shouted, throwing the box to the ground, the metal crashing into the ground, causing the sound to reverberate all around the room.

With tears streaming down your face, you search the room for anything that could break the last lock. All your attempts proved to be futile; nothing was quite strong enough to even begin to crack the lock. 

“Fuck!” All of the anger and frustration started to bubble in your chest, a stream of tears falling from your eyes. Jungwon looked up from his spot on the ground next to Sunoo, lock in hand trying to see if he could pick it.

In the heat of the moment, she grabbed one of the chairs that sat at the desk before swinging as hard as she could, hitting the glass and causing all three boys to jump at the sudden sound. Jungwon shields his head when you go to swing the chair once more, but Jake grabs your arm, causing you to glare at him.

“There’s no point.” His voice was flat, causing your heart to sink. Had he really already accepted Sunoo’s fate?

“How would you know?” You seethed, yanking your arm free from his grasp just as Jungwon stood from the ground.

“And why are you just standing there doing nothing?” Jungwon pointed at Jake, who just slapped his hand out of the way, a glare of his own covering his face.

“Because there’s nothing we can do; what about that, do you not get?” Jake growled, looking between you and Jungwon.

Before you could open your mouth, Sunoo butts in, “Y/n, he’s right, time’s alm-”

“No, there’s a way. I’ll find a way, dammit.” You hissed through your teeth, tears sticking to your eyelashes. You refused to hear anything else as you continued your search for anything that could get the lock undone.

Sunoo sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them once more to look at you. It pained him so much to see you trying so hard to save him, and it broke his soul to know that he was about to cause a lot of pain—not just to you but to all of your other friends.

“Y/n.” He called out to you, but you shook your head not giving him your attention. Letting out a sigh, he placed his hand against the glass, the water merely inches away from his neck. “Y/n, look at me, please.” This time you look over at him, tears streaming down your flushed face, eyes bloodshot, “there’s no time.” 

A sob tore through your lungs, a sound that Sunoo never wanted to hear, let alone be the cause of. Tears of his own stung at the corner of his eyes as he watched Jungwon grab your frail body, pulling you into his chest. He didn’t want his last few moments alive seeing that heartbreaking expression on your face, so he offered a small smile when you finally looked up to meet his gaze.

“Do you remember that new cafe we wanted to go to?” Sunoo’s voice was soft, only causing your heart to hurt more because you knew what he was starting to get at.

But you still nodded, “yeah, you always talked about the paw print design on the cups.”

Sunoo couldn’t help but chuckle because he knew she was right. Ever since the cafe released their cup designs, Sunoo couldn’t shut up about how cute they were and how he wanted one to use at home.

“Go and try it out for me, ya?” He asked, a teary smile on his lips as he watched you choke back a sob but still nodded, telling him that you would. Your hands balled Jungwon’s shirt into a fist as sobs continued to rack through your body.

Jungwon tightened his grip around your waist, letting you cry into his shoulder as he bit the inside of his cheek to keep his own tears at bay. However, it proved to be a lot harder than he thought when Sunoo looked in his direction.

“Hey, Won.” Sunoo smiled, his bottom lip trembling, “go ahead and do me a favor, ya?”

Jungwon’s hand tightened against your hip, “of course, Sun.”

“Stop being so reckless all of the time; you’re gonna get yourself hurt one day.” Sunoo mused, and Jungwon couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as his tears finally broke free. “Oh, and get that game you’ve been going crazy over, okay?”

The younger boy swallowed thickly, trying to keep from entirely breaking down. “I will, Sun, I promise.” His voice shook, and his vision became blurry as more tears flowed from his eyes.

Sunoo offered Jungwon one last smile before looking over at Jake, his heart feeling heavy. The last thing he needed to do was throw around accusations, but he hoped that a few words of warning to Jungwon would suffice if anything were to happen. However, the questioning look on the older male’s face made his stomach turn. 

Swallowing thickly, he gestured to you and Jungwon, “Make sure they make it out alive, okay?”

Jake poked the inside of his cheek before nodding, reassuring him that he would. Seconds later, the water completely submerged Sunoo. He held his breath as he looked at the three of you once more before fully accepting his fate.

Choked sobs tore through your body as you watched in horror as Sunoo’s body fought to get air, bubbles surrounding his head until they slowly diminished into nothing, and his body sank to the bottom of the container. His eyes closed, and if he hadn’t been in the water, you would have thought he was just sleeping.

Jungwon’s grip slipped from your body, allowing you to drop to the ground, eyes never leaving Sunoo’s body. Sobs no longer fell from your lips, but tears continued to silently fall from your eyes.

The younger boy just stood there, arms hung by his sides as he stared at the body of his best friend, waiting to wake up from this sick and twisted nightmare. Wanting to wake up already to walk into the living room to see the blonde perched on the couch with a bowl of cereal while watching whatever drama show was on that morning. However, no matter how many times he pinches himself he doesn’t seem to be waking up. With every pinch, the reality of everything sank in, and all he could do was cry.

Jake stood off to the side, his eyes staring at the blonde’s body. His expression was unreadable, but his jaw was taught. 

Both boys looked at the TV screen when the buzzer alarmed them. Jake quickly looked away, his hands stuffed deep in his jacket pockets.

“Fuck you, you sick sons of bitches.” Jungwon cursed, wiping the tears from his face with a scoff as he read the words they had displayed with little animated fish swimming around.

‘GAME OVER – BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME!!’

Their attention was then pulled to the door. When the sound of the lock turning was heard, Jake made his way over to it. Pulling his hands from his packets, he reached for the doorknob before pulling it open, peeking out, and then looking back at Jungwon, whose eyes were already on him.

“We better go find the others.” His voice was merely above a whisper, and his eyes shifted away from the boy down to you. The shock had completely rendered your body motionless, but your eyes were still glued to where Sunoo lay at the bottom of the tank.

One of your friends was gone, Sunoo was dead.

Not a word was uttered as Jay, Sunghoon, and Riki walked down the dimly lit hallway. Each in their own world, they were still trying to come to terms with what they had just witnessed. Jay led the way while Sunghoon trailed along in the back, eyes devoid of any emotion save for sorrow. Then, Riki walked between the two.

Jay then sees a door at the end of the hall, light shining through the cracks. He mutters a quick ‘come on’ before walking towards the door. Waiting just a second, he tried to see if he could hear anything, but no sound came through the thick wooden door. Glancing behind him for a second, Riki just gave him a slight nod while Sunghoon remained stoic.

On the other side of the door, Jungwon shot to his feet when he heard the sound of the door knob turning; his nerves completely shot. However, as soon as Jay’s face came into view he could feel his body significantly relax. He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged on his lips, seeing that their other friends were fine, at least he thought they were until he realized that something was severely wrong. Looking around, he noticed that another of their friends was missing, nowhere to be seen, and he could feel his heart drop to the pit of his stomach.

“Where’s Heeseung?” Jungwon’s words caught your attention, causing you to look over before standing to your feet when you didn’t see the older male anywhere. Sunghoon looked away, his lip tucked between his teeth, avoiding your and Jungwon’s gazes. 

With a few quick strides, you walked over to Jay, grabbing his forearms. Jay bit the inside of his cheek at the sight of your bloodshot eyes, knowing that you had already been crying long before they even made it into the room. 

Terror filled your veins as you tried to convince yourself that he was fine, that he was just lagging behind the rest of them, that he would walk through that door any second and tease her for crying over him. However, seeing the heartbreak on Sunghoon’s face left your heart beating in your ears as you swallowed thickly before asking the dreaded question.

“Jay, where’s Heeseung?” Your bottom lip trembled as you fought back tears, shifting your gaze over to your brother, who just closed his eyes and shook his head.

“I’m sorry.” Jay’s voice came out hoarse, and your eyes went wide, your heart shattering, “he’s gone.” 

You shake your head, releasing Jay’s arms before taking a step back, “No, no, no, NO!” You cried out, hands in your hair as you dropped to the ground. Sobs tore through your exhausted lungs, causing them to come out choked as tears flooded from your eyes before dropping to the hardwood floor.

Your cries echoed all over the room, etching itself into each of the boy’s bones. Jay tilted his head up towards the ceiling to keep the tears at bay while Sunghoon bit his lip, wishing he’d never have to hear something as devastating as this ever again.

All of your memories of Heeseung came crashing into you all at once, causing your screams to increase in agony. Your vision was completely obscured by the tears as you covered your ears to try and drown out the ringing, but it was no use. Your breathing then started to hitch, causing alarm amongst the rest.

Jay was the first to move towards you but was quickly intervened by Riki, who pushed him away, a hard look in his eye as he bent down to grab you.

“I’ve got her.” The boy’s tone was harsh, causing Jay to take a small step back, knowing now wouldn’t be the best time for an argument to break out.

So he watched as Riki helped you to your feet before leading you to the couch. Then he looked around the room, seeing that a certain blonde was nowhere to be seen either. Eyebrows scrunched together, he looked over at Jungwon, ready to ask where Sunoo was, but the younger boy just shook his head, a solemn look gracing his features.

“Fucking hell.” Jay cursed, running his fingers through his hair and walking off to the side of the room. How could they lose two people within the span of just an hour? How many more of them were going to have to die before they managed to get out of this hell hole?

~

After a short while, you had finally calmed down a little bit. Now, you were leaning against your brother, silent tears still falling down your cheeks. No one had said a word, not sure what to say or too lost in their own minds to even bother speaking.

Riki moved slightly, lifting his head to look at the others. " We should take this chance to look around, do you think?” His words caught Jay’s attention, causing the older male to look over at him. “I mean, the doors are still unlocked, so shouldn’t we look for a way out or clues at least?”

Jay nods his head before pushing himself to his feet, followed by Jake and Jungwon. However, neither you nor Sunghoon showed any kind of response. Jay lets out a sigh, walking over to the dark-haired male and placing his hand on his shoulder. Sunghoon still shows no response even after Jay tells him to come on, and neither do you, your eyes still glued to the same spot on the ground.

He was trying to be patient with the two of you, but his patience had already been worn to the max, and there wasn’t much left that he could spare before snapping. So he pinches the bridge of his nose before giving the both of you a stern look.

“Do you really think this is what Hee or Sunoo would have wanted?” Jay’s voice was hard, but all you could do was scoff before glaring up at him.

“The last time we snooped around, two of our friends died, so I’m sorry if I don’t wanna run that risk again.” You hissed, standing on your feet. The last thing you wanted to do was witness another one of your friends dying, already experiencing enough heartbreak to last ten lifetimes.

Jay returned your glare with one of his own, “If we stay here, one or even all of us are bound to die.” He gestured to the others around the two of you, “I would much rather die trying to get free rather than sit here and wait for death because, guess what? That would mean that our friends' deaths were in vain.” Jay’s words struck a cord deep within your soul causing you to flinch while Sunghoon inhaled deeply before nodding his head.

“Jay’s right,” He walked over to stand next to Jay, looking down at you, a mixture of emotions swirling in his iris’, “I don’t know about you, y/n, but I’m about to sit around and let Hee’s death be for nothing,”

Your glare shifted from Jay to the taller male next to him, the feeling of uncertainty coming back. How could you trust him after finding his bracelet? After Heeseung died when he was with him? So many emotions were stored away in your body that you weren’t even sure what to feel, but you did know that anger was the strongest. Your hands clenched at your sides before stepping away from the couch and closer to Sunghoon.

“I swear to god, if I find out that you’re the one behind all of this. I will personally kill you myself.” You seethed before making your way towards the door and ripping it open. Riki was hot on your heels when you stormed out of the room.

Jake watched from the back, his eyes darting between everyone who stood in the room with him, a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips when he saw Sunghoon’s face fall. However, the expression didn’t go unnoticed by Jungwon, who just happened to glance at the older boy. Sensing someone’s gaze, Jake looked over, meeting Jungwon’s, a gleam in his eyes daring the younger boy to say something. Swallowing thickly Jungwon tore his gaze away from Jake before making his way towards the door, looking back at the other.

“Come on, let’s find a way outta here.” His voice was full of uncertainty but he just tried his best to ignore the red flags and focus on getting out for right now. Jay’s tongue darted out to wet his lips before he nodded and followed Jungwon out of the door, Sunghoon right behind him. Jake was the last out of the room, walking out with his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his jacket, a smug gleam in his eyes when Jungwon looked back knowing that he had the boy right in the palm of his hand. Jake knew that Jungwon didn’t have the guts to say anything to the rest of the group, not as long as Jake was nearby, and with that information, Jake couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement.

It had felt like the six of you had been walking down the dimly lit hallways for hours, and not a single clue or exit was to be found. However, what you did find were cobwebs and roaches, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Looking around, it wasn’t hard to tell that this was a more run-down part of whatever building you were stuck in, most likely the basement.

The air around you was thick with tension, and it was weighing on each of you. However, no one had the guts to break it—at least not until Jungwon saw a broken clock off to the side.

“I wonder how long we’ve been stuck here…” He questions out loud, not to anyone in particular, but Jake glances around.

“Probably most, if not all, of the night,” Jake murmurs as he cringes when another roach scurries in front of his feet. Everything then goes silent once more, much to Jungwon’s dismay.

Before too long they make it to the end of the hallway, dread filling your senses when you saw that it forked off into two separate directions. All of you stop before turning to face one another to come up with a game plan.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just split up?” Riki suggests from his spot beside you, but you are quick to shake your head, refusing the idea.

“No, we’re not splitting up.” Fear laced your tone causing both Jay and Jungwon to look over at you while Sunghoon nodded his head in agreement.

“I second that; every time we’ve been split up, something bad happens.” Sunghoon explained eyebrows furrowed as he looked between each of you.

Jake, however, steps forward, glancing between you and Sunghoon. " It’ll just take more time if we all stay together.” Riki and Jay nod, knowing that he was right; they would cover more ground if you were to split up.

You start to protest, but Jay turns towards you, cupping your face in his palms, and you look up at him with worry-filled eyes.

“Y/n, love, listen to me.” His voice was soft as he spoke to you, tears involuntarily filling his eyes. “We can split up into two groups and meet back here in thirty minutes. That way, we can cover as much ground as possible in a shorter amount of time.”

You bit your bottom lip to keep the tears that had pooled on your waterline at bay before saying okay. Jay then gives you a soft smile before leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. Neither of you caught the look of anger and disgust that flashed across Jake’s face. However, Jungwon once again caught it, causing a chill to run down his spine, worried about what kind of thoughts were running through the older male’s head.

He opens his mouth to voice his concerns, but Jake once more cuts him off before he can get a single word out, “I’ll go with Sunghoon and Jungwon. You take y/n and Jay.”

Jungwon couldn’t help but feel his heart drop, a sense of dread washing over his body, soaking into his bones. More so when everyone agrees to the teams, blissfully unaware of what was happening. Swallowing the lump in his throat Jungwon makes his way over to you, grabbing your hand in his. 

The feeling of paper on your palm made you open your mouth to question the boy, but the look in his eyes told you not to say a word, so you didn’t. He then offers you a small smile before telling you to be safe. You closed your fingers around the paper when he moved his hand away before returning his sentiment and going to stand next to Jay, who had been watching quietly. 

“Alright, we’ll meet back here in thirty. Be safe, all of you.” Jay spoke, pointing to each of the boys on the opposite side of the hall.

Sunghoon nodded, looking over at Jake, then shifted his gaze to Jungwon before meeting Jay's once more, “We will, but the same goes for the three of you.”

With that, the six of you split up once more, walking down opposite sides of the hall, the promise of meeting back in thirty minutes hanging in the air.

Jay notices you uneasy and reaches down to intertwine his fingers with yours, catching your attention. "We’re gonna get out of here, and we’ll be okay,” he whispers softly before pressing a soft kiss on your knuckles.

~

When the three of you made it to an open door, you peeked inside, seeing zero signs of any kind of life, which you weren’t sure you should feel happy or creeped out by. However, when you got inside, you suggested splitting up to look through the shelves and cabinets, to which both boys agreed.

Once you were off to the side of the room and made sure that neither Jay nor Riki were looking you slipped the paper out of your pocket, unfolding it. Your eyes blew wide open as you read the words that Jungwon had hurriedly scribbled on the page.

‘There’s something up with Jake; he’s acting weird, and Sunoo told me that he had seen a knife in his pocket.’

Quickly covering your mouth to muffle the gasp that fell from your lips, you looked up and over to say something to the guys, but then the lights went out, leaving the room pitch black.

You jumped at the sudden change, panic flooding into your mind. Reaching around you, you tried to find some kind of table to stabilize yourself.

“Jay? Riki? Where are you guys?” You called out, fingers gripping the edge of whatever you had grabbed, sure that your knuckles were a ghostly shade of white.

“Y/n? Where are you?” You heard Jay’s voice, and you felt your shoulders relax a bit. You moved to follow where the sound of his voice came from: “Here, follow my voice.”

Then it dawned on you that you never received a response from your brother, causing your heart to start hammering under your ribs.

“Riki, where are you?” you called out again, using your hands to maneuver the space around you. However, just like before, there was no sign of your brother. “Riki now is not the time for one of your little pranks. Where the hell are you?”

Jay had made his way over to you, grabbing your arm softly and causing your body to jolt. "It’s just me.”

You frantically turned your head, trying to see anything in the pitch-dark room. " Do you know where Riki is?” Fear started to wash over you, and you were scared that something had happened to your little brother.

Before Jay could even get the chance to say anything, the lights flashed back on, momentarily blinding the both of you.

Blinking a few times, you let your eyes adjust to the new lighting before you turned your body in every direction, seeing absolutely no sign of your brother. Not only that but the door had been closed and more than likely locked, causing your breath to hitch in your throat as you looked over at Jay with wide, fear-stricken eyes.

“Where’s Riki?” Your voice shook as you frantically looked around the room for any sign of the younger boy; it felt like all of the air was being stolen from your lungs as you ran your fingers through your hair, “Where the fuck is my brother?”

Riki was gone, and you were trapped in yet another room…

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[softpascalito]

I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 1 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 7k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist

notes: this work has been quite a while in the making and im very excited to finally share the first chapter! a huge thank you to the wonderful josie for being my beta reader and listening to all my rambling <3

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 1 - The Before

‘‘I will be very sad to leave here’, Yves said, suddenly. ‘I have never been happier than I have been in this house.’ ‘I have been very happy too. I wonder if we will ever be so happy again.’’  - Another Country, James Baldwin

You’d been on the run for what felt like weeks but could only have been days when you found the gas station next to an abandoned mall. It had looked promising, the half-rotten advertisements plastered to the walls, reminding your stomach that it had gone far too long without a proper meal, or any meal for that matter.

Maybe if you hadn’t been so starved or so tired, you would’ve heard them coming, the Infected that stormed through the back door practically the moment you slipped into the building. A yell escaped your throat, your hand instinctively reaching for the knife you kept buckled to your leg. You didn't even get the chance to pull it out of its makeshift holster before the creature was on top of you, pinning you to the floor with what felt like inhuman strength.

“Fucking- get off-” you grunted, but even if the thing on top of you had been one that listened to commands, your thin and shaky voice likely wouldn’t have impressed it.

So this was how you were gonna go out. In a town you couldn't even name, somewhere in the snowy mountains of Wyoming, after finally escaping the life you’d been stuck in for so long. You hadn't even made it a month.

For a second, you considered trying to reach for your gun, still tucked into your pants and pressing into your back uncomfortably. You could feel its outline against your skin, a pain shooting through your spine as the Infected seemed to double its effort to reach your neck with its mouth, half-rotten teeth close enough that you could recognize the foul smell of death.

Then, the gun went off. Or you thought it did. The unmistakable sound of a gunshot rang in your ears as the Infected collapsed on top of you. But the feeling of your pistol pressing into your back was still there. It had been a gun. But not yours.

“I got her!” a voice above you bellowed out, an unmistakable southern drawl. “Tommy, give me some cover here, goddammit!”

You hadn't even noticed the second man, who was now aiming his gun at another runner storming towards him. He fired, once, twice, and the Infected let out a howl before its body hit the tiled floor with a thud.

“Hey, you with me?” The man above you leaned down, shoving the Infected that had been on top of you to the side unceremoniously. He was dressed in a worn jacket, jeans and boots, the latter two splattered with blood. His right hand, covered in a weathered leather glove, was stretched out towards you, an invitation to, well, you weren't exactly sure.

“She good?”

The second man approached the pair of you, your eyes flying over to him for a split moment. He was dressed similarly, except that he looked a little younger than his partner. He shouldered his rifle and tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Your gaze flew back to the man in front of you, to the brown eyes that carried an unexpectedly gentle look, not quite matching the gruff way he looked. Shaking slightly, you placed your hand in his, and the next moment, he was pulling you to your feet.

“There you are.”

You nodded, a motion that looked more like your head was jerking on its own accord. But the man seemed to accept it. As the other one stepped towards you, the taller of the two men spoke again.

“You clean?” When no response came, he pressed on, his tone getting a little more impatient. “Did it bite you? Scratch you anywhere?”

The other one gently placed a hand on his chest, forcing your attention onto himself. “Can you walk? Our horses are two houses over, we've got a place where you can rest, get some food-”

“I'm not going anywhere with you,” you blurted out. You'd had your fair share of people, of men offering you ‘help’ and it never stopped there. There was payment, always. In this world, it was stupid to think there wouldn't be, that anyone would help you out of the kindness of their hearts.

“You're not going anywhere else by the looks of it, either,” the man with the gloves muttered, more than loud enough for you to hear. “You won't last a week.”

“I've lasted longer, asshole,” you shot back, suddenly angry at the stranger in front of you. He didn't know you, he didn't know the things you'd gone through to get here. So what if he had saved your life? It didn't give him the right to predict your death.

The other man nudged his ribs, extending his hand to you as well, though it was more of a formality this time. 

“Name’s Tommy. The asshole is my brother Joel.”

He paused for a moment, clearly thinking about how to approach this the right way. “Look, I'm sure you've been traveling for quite some time. We can give you a place to recover. You can leave anytime, I promise.”

You eyed him carefully. It did sound too good to be true. But it also did sound- good. A roof over your head, warm food in your stomach- two things you'd been craving for quite some time.

“Okay.”

The man who had introduced himself as Tommy gave a short nod and led the way to the horses, following tracks in the snow the two men had left while coming to your rescue. Joel pulled up the rear and you had a feeling that his eyes were trained on you, watching carefully, maybe for a twitch or anything else out of the ordinary. Again, you weren't sure why, but it made you angry.

“I told you I wasn't bit,” you repeated in his direction as Tommy began untying the horses. 

Joel raised a brow, clearly surprised by the attitude in your voice. “‘ts what they usually say.”

“Well, I'm not,” you replied, turning your back on him and focusing on his brother instead. Tommy pretended not to have heard either of you but somehow you were certain he had.

“C’mon, you can ride with me. It's not too far.”

Not too far turned out to be a good hour, the crisp autumn air making you shiver, and you were thankful for the warmth of both the horse and Tommy. But what the ride lacked in temperature it made up for in views, the sun coming out just as you passed the first sign that read ‘Jackson County’.

You didn't even mind Joel's occasional glances towards you as much, finding that with the sunlight playing in his brown curls, his look screamed less of danger and more of concern. Whether it was concern for Tommy or you or something entirely different, you weren't sure.

The answer came to you in the form of your housing arrangements. After getting over the first shock of riding up a busy mainstreet in what looked like an actual, functioning town, a thing you hadn't thought possible anymore, you had made use of what must have been the first functioning toilet you'd seen in months. You felt like a child being steered through the crowd at a busy carnival, if the food hall, the functioning plumbing and electricity and the music drifting from one of the smaller shops was any indication.

“You know we ain't got any unoccupied places and Maria and mine’s no good with the baby screaming all night,” Tommy muttered urgently and you frowned a little. The two men were standing a few feet away, clearly unaware that you were already back and you awkwardly shoved your hands in your pockets, considering going back inside for a moment. But then Joel opened his mouth and you couldn't help but listen in on their conversation. The older man seemed as much a mystery as the entire scene around you.

Tommy piped up before Joel even had a chance to argue. “It's just for a couple of nights. I’m sure Ellie and you will manage. You take her in, explain the basics and as soon as we got a place, you can go back to shutting yourself off from every goddamn person in this town-”

“I don’t-” Joel interrupted before shaking his head, a low grunt leaving his throat.

“Fine. Until Thursday, no longe-” He broke off at the look on Tommys face, one that was aimed directly at you. You shyly nodded in his direction and closed the distance between you in a few quick steps. 

The younger man cleared his throat, giving you a reassuring smile. “Find everything okay?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you replied politely. You hated how forced the conversation felt, already regretting listening in on it at all.

“Joel here’s gonna get you settled for the night, you let him know if you need anything else. I'll stop by in the morning and introduce you to Maria, she’s-”

“The boss,” Joel finished for him, earning a small glare from Tommy. 

“One of our elected leaders,” he corrected, another smile playing around his lips at the mention of what you assumed must be his wife. “Well, I'll leave ya two to it.”

Joel took you home. He still gave you that look, and with Tommy gone, you could be sure that it was actually aimed towards you. It was like he was still on guard but whether it was of you or something else, you couldn't tell.

“Here's how this is gonna go,” he started as he fumbled with the front door of the house clad in white. “You get a quick check-up, a shower, some fresh clothes- you get the idea.”

“I get the idea,” you repeated as he led you into the hallway, unable to keep yourself from glancing around for a moment, catching a peek of the dining room. “You live here by yourself?”

“Why?”

His question hit you out of nowhere and you stuttered for a moment, racking your brain for a good response, “Just- I was making conversation. Jesus.”

“Right,” Joel nodded, his gaze softening a bit. He placed his bag onto the floor and tapped his right thigh absent-mindedly. “Come on, follow me.”

He took you into the upstairs bathroom that smelled faintly of soap, reminding you that you hadn't had a proper wash in more days than you cared to count. There were a few small containers, mostly re-used mason jars, that were labeled ‘shampoo’ or ‘body wash’, sitting orderly on the small shelf next to the tub.

You felt more than heard Joel shift behind you and turned to meet his gaze. He was still watching, arms crossed, seemingly waiting for something.

“Do I- shower?” you asked softly and he sighed a little at that. 

“I need to check you for bites.” His voice was low but still carried a small note of sternness in it. 

Oh, right.

“I didn't agree to that.”

You could see his hand twitch, the handle of his revolver still sticking out the back of his jeans. “You're bit.”

It was more of a statement than anything else, like he already knew what was waiting for him under your clothes, maybe a bite on your leg, a scratch on your stomach. Joel had dealt with enough people that had been marked for death like that to know the signs of it. The thing was, he was wrong.

“Is this what it is?” you asked, quietly, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

“Excuse me?”

“Is that why you go outside, save people? So you can bring them back here, get them to take their clothes off for you-”

“Whoa-” Joel held up both hands, shaking his head very slowly. “I think we got off on the wrong foot here. I need to check you for bites, it’s protocol.” His voice was still deep, that southern drawl you heard earlier in the gas station still present but somehow softer. His features had shifted, seeming genuinely surprised by the turn of your conversation.

“Now, if you want someone else to do it, I can get a lady and let her look you over. We just want to be sure we don’t bring Infected in, that's all.”

“That's all?” you asked as he kept his eyes trained on you, his hands still up in the air and his expression soft.

“I swear, that's all. If you can show me you're not bit, I'll get you that shower, some food, you name it.”

You gave a small nod at that, your body deflating a little. It had been an incredibly long day and the man in front of you seemed genuine. If he wasn't, you could still try and bail.

Joel turned slightly under the pretense of grabbing a towel from below the sink but you knew he was attempting to give you a bit of privacy- even though he clearly didn’t trust you enough to fully turn his back on you. With shaky hands, you began to strip, holding back a wince as you forced your bruised body to move. The fabric of your shirt clung to your skin, dry blood forcing another whimper out of your throat.

You felt Joel's head snap towards you at that but ignored him, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of showing quite how uncomfortable you felt about going through this with him next to you.

He was quick and professional, his large hands brushing over your skin as he made sure you were clean.

“All good,” he commented shortly when he was satisfied, his shoulders relaxing a bit as he reached for a stack of folded towels. Then, his gaze rested on your head again, more specifically, on your matted hair.

“You want me to get someone to cut that for you? Might be easier than-”

“No,” you quickly piped up. You knew your body was malnourished and likely had a dozen other things wrong with it. You didn’t want to lose your hair too.

Joel nodded, his hand absent-mindedly trailing over a particularly nasty knot. “I think I got some soap conditioner in the closet. You want to give that a try?” 

“Yeah, that’d be great,” you responded curtly and Joel disappeared from the room for a few moments. He came back, as promised, with a soap smelling of jasmine and cotton. 

He didn’t seem as hesitant, now that he knew you weren’t bit. At least that’s what you assumed had caused the shift in him. It didn’t occur to you that it might be the fact that you were sitting on his bathroom tiles, shivering, assuming the worst in him, in men, hell, in society. That you looked like a wounded deer, ready to take off at the slightest notion of danger, no matter how badly you were already bleeding.

Joel was a lot more gentle than you would have expected a man of his build to be. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, reaching just far enough to cover your entire hair, but never letting any conditioner run down onto your face. It made you wonder if he was a father. Then you remembered his brother had mentioned a girl earlier, Ellie. Still, you knew better than to ask. You’d likely be gone in a few days anyway.

But, there was one question that you couldn’t keep from slipping out of your mouth.

“Why did you think I was bit?”

Joel paused for a moment, his fingers slowing down ever so slightly as he seemed to think about his words.

“You weren’t fighting hard enough. To stay alive, I mean. You were acting like someone who knows that their time is up.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you. You felt his hand brush over the crown of your head, lathering the matted mess that was your hair with soap in small, circular motions.

“I thought it was,” you whispered, honestly. You couldn't bring yourself to lie to him. But you couldn't bring yourself to explain it either.

He didn’t ask.

Neither of you spoke again until you were curled up in his bed, him insisting to take the couch for the night. He’d fed you some soup, relieved when he saw that your stomach could handle that. He’d warned you that it might not, after getting so used to going days without food. You’d gotten some worn but warm clothes to wear after the shower and now your body was sinking into an actual mattress. It was more than you’d dreamed of just that morning.

Joel paused in the doorway, his hand tapping against his jeans, a habit you had already picked up on. It was like he didn’t know what to do with his hands when they weren’t holding a gun.

“You don’t have to leave,” he said quietly. “You know that, right?”

Your mouth went dry as you tried to keep your tone nonchalant. His expression told you that it wasn't exactly working. “Who said I was leaving?”

“You look like you will.”

Again, a quiet fell over you and you shook your head softly. “What, you were a psychologist before or something?”

He smiled weakly. “Contractor.”

After a short pause, he went on. “I know it's hard to- to trust. When ya first get here. I felt the same.” 

You felt a small breath leave your throat at that. “But it gets better?”

“There's hot water, three meals a day, fair working conditions. I don't think it gets much better out there,” he pointed out softly before giving you a small nod.

“I'll be downstairs if you need anything. Good night.”

27 months later

The almost-empty soap sits on your bathroom shelf, the one that’s screwed to the wall just above the worn-out bathtub. You’ve gotten it refilled every few months, sometimes sooner if you wanted to allow yourself a little treat. It still reminds you of your first day in Jackson, of the safety that you so quickly felt in every room of Joel's house.

You still have some time before you have to head to work and the blue sky promises a cold but clear day so you decided to go and check if you’re in luck with any available refills today. Stock always changes throughout the week and while there’s usually something available, you prefer to get your chosen products if possible.

No such luck.

“Sorry, we’re all out. Think patrols cleared out the store that had these a while ago,” the woman behind the counter says apologetically. “We have some others if you’d like to try a new one, there’s-”

“I’m good,” you quickly insist, giving her a small smile when you notice you may have sounded a little harsh. “I’ll just wait and see if some more comes in.”

In one quick motion, you turn around and head towards the door- only to run face-first into a broad chest draped in a thick, brown coat.

“Whoa.” The deep voice above you immediately sends a gentle warmth through your body and you take a small step back to be able to squint up at the man you bumped into.

“Sorry, Texas, didn't see you there.”

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Joel mutters weakly, fumbling with the small bag he is carrying before handing it over to the woman behind the counter. She thanks him and quickly begins to sort the items he has brought back from patrol. He’s wearing the thick coat you see on him whenever it drops below freezing, his dark boots leaving small pieces of wet mud on the floor of the small store. He’s been doing the creek trails then, most likely.

You’ve rarely been on patrol yourself, focusing your energy more on tasks inside the community. If it hadn’t been for Joel, you know you probably would have taken off in the first few days, maybe stolen some food and been on your way. But he’d gotten you to stay. With him, for a few days. Then they had found space for you in a small guesthouse close to the mainstreet, to be shared with a young woman not unlike yourself that had offered up her vacant bedroom.

You’d taken an instant liking to Lane. Joel had dropped you off at your new home, with the few things you owned, and you and her had both stood in the small kitchen in awkward silence, racking your brains for a good conversation starter. Of course, you’d come up with the one she probably heard every other day.

“I like your hair.”

It wasn’t a lie. Her hair was cut short but thick, and most importantly, it was blue. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen colored hair. It seemed to fit her though. The roots were brown and the overall color a little less vibrant than you’d seen in magazines of people before the outbreak. If anything, you liked this more.

“Thanks,” she said lamely, twisting her hand around the small cup she was holding. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m the worst at social shit,” she finally blurted out and it looked like she was half glad to admit it and half afraid of your reaction.

“Don’t worry. Me too,” you admitted, a grin spreading over both your faces, the silence seeming a lot more bearable now. She shrugged towards the counter, half a dozen muffins sitting on it. “You like blueberries? A friend let me nick these.”

She paused for a moment, brushing a strand of blue hair behind her ear. “I mean, technically they’re not real blueberries, the ground here is too dry for those. I think they’re called juneberries, but we never call them that.”

You figured she’d be a solid roommate if she’d just met you and was already sharing her sweets. Half an hour later, when you had vomited the blueberry muffins back up in your shared bathroom, Joel’s warning about solid food still ringing in your ears, when she was standing beside you, holding your hair back and handing you a washcloth when you were finished, you knew she’d be more than a roommate. She’d be your friend.

She had also been the one to get you into teaching. You’d been fascinated when she first told you about her job in town, teaching the children of Jackson practically every subject she could. Neither of you had been in school before the outbreak so it was all the more impressive, the way she managed to control a class without the need to get loud or hand out punishments.

You’d taken a liking to the classrooms of Jackson as well, reminiscing on the last summer before the world had gone to shit and the way you’d looked forward to being in school, learning all the things big girls did. Not getting to sit in a classroom, and you didn’t count those at FEDRA as actual classrooms, had been only one of so many things you felt you had missed out on.

So it felt even more special now when, after you got Maria to assign you as teacher alongside Lane, you spent your days in the colorfully decorated classrooms, teaching a variety of subjects and a variety of ages. It was similar to life in Jackson, not without its fair amount of challenges. But, just as Joel had promised the first night, you learned to trust and the more you did, the easier it was to let yourself be. Above all, to let yourself be happy.

Joel steps outside alongside you, his head jerking back towards the small supply store. “Did ya get everything?”

His voice is soft, and you like to imagine that he sounds a little more gentle when speaking to you compared to the others. Not that you see him talking to a lot of people either way. You're pretty sure it's why he prefers the patrols, less people to bother him and less voices to listen to. Even though you had a feeling, about a year after you arrived in Jackson, that he also preferred being paired up with Esther, a pretty woman who took care of the horses and frequented the patrols. Especially those with Joel.

You had almost hoped for them to end up together, to drive the images of Joel alone at his too large dining table out of your head. But they didn't and the images stayed. You had him over for dinner, every other month. It started as a thank-you for helping you through your first days and quickly developed into a rare but regular thing. Ellie or Lane joined you occasionally, happy to get a nice home-cooked dinner and some of the wine Joel usually brought along.

You didn't see too much of him outside of your little gatherings, only the normal occasions that presented themself around town. But it was nice to know that he was there, that he would bring his wine and compliment your cooking and make small-talk and listen to the new developments of your life.

“It makes sense for you to be a teacher,” he’d agreed after you’d updated him on your new position, causing you to raise a brow. 

“What is that supposed to mean? Think I can’t handle myself out on the group patrols?”

His face slowly changed at that, Joel urgently shaking his head, “I didn't mean-”

You cut him off with a small laugh, no longer able to stay serious at how panicked he looked. “I’m messing with you, old man. I know what you meant. I think it makes sense too. I like it.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly as he leaned back against the kitchen counter, grumbling a little under his breath.

It's Joel's voice that brings you back to the present. “I asked if you got everything?”

You shake your head to get rid of the thoughts, then it turns to shaking your head no. “They’re out of conditioner. But it’s fine, I can stretch mine a bit longer and maybe they’ll get some next week.”

“Ya still using the same one?” Joel asks, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat and you nod. It's sweet that he remembers. It's been over two years, after all.

“Yeah. Liked it, never saw a reason to switch,” you explain lamely. He only gives a short nod, motioning for you to follow as he starts walking. 

You do, though perplexed. “School’s in the other direction.” “Thought your class didn’t start until ten today,” he points out. It never appears to you to ask how or why he knows this. When your steps slow down and your thoughts speed up simultaneously, he nudges you along.

“You want your soap or not?” he grumbles and your face lights up a little at that. 

“You got some?” 

Joel gives another quick nod. “Brought them back a few weeks ago. I would’ve given them to you if I knew ya still used them.”

You trot beside him like a puppy, making your way down Rancher Street and up the flight of stairs that leads to the small house clad in white. The noise of the wind chimes tied to a beam above his front porch drifts over to you, the gentle breeze creating a slow melody.

You haven’t been in his upstairs bathroom for years. It’s odd and it feels too intimate, seeing the place where he brushes his teeth in the morning, where he washes himself after a long day. You don't belong in a space this personal. You don't belong to him.

It felt different when you were curled up on the same white tiles, letting him check your bruised and battered body for signs of Infection. For a split moment, it did feel like you belonged, in a way.

Joel's hand brushes over yours as he hands you the soap, the one smelling of jasmine and cotton and safety. 

The rest of the day is a blur of lessons and grading, but the smell of the soap seems to linger, the comforting feeling in your stomach getting you through the work day. It doesn’t end until seven with you staying behind to tutor some kids for an upcoming exam and then to finish preparing said exam. The smell of food fills the air as you open your front door and you smile as you poke your head into the kitchen, “Smells good.”

Lane is seated at the table, a few papers in front of her. Likely an exam of her own, you think to yourself. Even after the world has ended, finals season still exists.

“My mum made that pasta you like so much today. Figured I'd save you some,” she says, nodding towards the tupperware sitting on the counter.

“You're an angel.” You whistle as you head deeper into the house, putting away your jacket and bag, fishing the soap out of the latter and placing it on the bathroom shelf. It makes you pause for a moment. You give a nod to yourself at the sight of the refilled container and make a silent vow to treat yourself to a nice bath today.

An hour later, your stomach is filled with warm pasta, the bathroom damp with steam and your hair soft, smelling just the way you like it. The clock in the small hallway reminds you that it's already past twelve and the knowledge that tomorrow is another day filled with teaching makes you want to crawl into bed fairly quickly. But you're thirsty.

Lane is still in the kitchen, her blue hair a little messy and crowned with a pair of headphones. The music spills out a bit, enough for you to be able to hear the low, steady humming of a song that seems mildly familiar.

You do remember a few songs from before the Outbreak- mainly the ones they played on the radio. But you know that Lane doesn’t, being a few years younger than you, meaning that she barely has any memories of the before.

You're already in your pajamas, shuffling to the sink to pour yourself a glass of water. Somehow it always tastes better at night. Or maybe your brain is playing tricks on you.

“Hey, you remember Joel is coming over for dinner on Sunday, right?” you ask with your back to your friend. When no response comes, you gulp down the last bit of water and turn around, giving a small wave in the air between you. 

Lane sits up a little more, pushing one side of her headphones back just enough to free her ear. “Hm?”

“Dinner with Joel, Sunday,” you repeat, a yawn escaping you. 

After a moment, she nods. “Right, I remember. We’re out of blueberries again, by the way.”

“I’ll make sure to restock this weekend then,” you agree, already halfway across the room. You give another small wave and finally head to bed. It looks exactly the same way you left it this morning, the blanket tucked into one side, the pillows arranged against the headboard.

“It's so good to be home,” you mutter to yourself as you crawl under the covers, stretching your body a little. Your left hand reaches for your nightstand and finds the book you've been reading, hoping to get just a tiny bit further tonight. With all the work and the winter festival coming up, you’ve barely made progress, the wooden bookmark still sitting near the front. You put it aside, glancing down at the finely carved piece of woodwork for a moment. Joel gave it to you for your first birthday in Jackson. Then you open the book properly, the worn-out spine cracking slightly. Just a couple of minutes.

But your eyes start to droop after just a few pages. After half a chapter, you're in a deep slumber, the book slipping out of your hands and onto the wooden floor below just as the front door slips shut.

if you enjoyed the chapter, please consider reblogging/sharing and commenting <3

[heeliopheelia]

CARLY WHAT ARE HYUNG LINE'S FAV POSITIONS IN BED?? 👁️👄👁️

hiii!! okay i actually had to do some thinking in here but there it is:

HEESEUNG

look i don't make rules but cowgirl with hee just sounds right yk? he just loves when you ride him!! it's perfect bcs he lets you control the pace at the beginning then finishes fucking you however he wants to when your legs finally give out from all the hassle 💯 and when you start clinging to him and press your tits to his chest - consider my man gone

prone bone okay i put this one in here bcs i can SO see him going absolutely feral at the feeling of how tight you are in this position, all sprawled out beneath him and completely left to his mercy 🫠 it's also a lot easier to hit your g-spot this way so you can't complain either ☝️

JAY

he's a giver alright, so even if technically it's not a position, he looooves face sitting a lot!! he just wants you to nearly suffocate him, so even if you try to not put all of your weight on him in concern for his health, he will literally grab your thighs and force you onto his face whether you want it or not... just take what he gives you, silly!! 😠 he's only fully satisfied when his face is completely burried in your pussy and he's DRENCHED in your juices 😽

look he's a simple man so - missionary. it gives him the best view at your face scrunching up or eyes rolling back as he fucks into you so well 🧎 it's also so intimate and jay is a very loving guy so he thrives off of miantaining eye contact with you, always looking for some subtle changes in your expression if you ever feel uncomfortable (mom i love him) 🫶

JAKE

i've already said it once but i'll say it again: jake is an avid doggy enthusiast 🗣️my man can't help it okay? he just loves your ass a little too much to pass the opportunity to get to look at it from a front row seat 😩 also likes to push down on your spine to make you arch more or pull your hair if you're into this kinda stuff 🥴

and another one i've mentioned before - reverse cowgirl!! also has a lot to do with the fact that it gets him the best access to your behind, sorry🤷but what really makes him love this position is how easily he can watch his dick slide in and out of you + he gets to grope your ass as much as he wants to so it's a win win for him really 👀

SUNGHOON

spooning which is often a result of cockwarming. whenever he has a tiring day at work, there's nothing more he loves than chilling with you on a couch and holding your body extremely close to his. it's so relaxing too!! he can go slower and deeper in this position than usually and more times than not it ends up with you milking him dry from all he has 🙆

full nelson - gosh i feel so hot all of sudden 💃 there goes me with my hard dom hoon agenda AND IT'S A PERFECT POSITION TO GO ALONG WITH IT 🗣️ like just imagine those big hands of his holding up your thighs as he bullies his cock into you from under you 🧍 he can also force the filthiest sounds out of you so easily like that!! WILL also choke you if you wanna, i-... i'll stop right here in consideration of my own mental health but you got the picture, right?

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door ~ Part 1

A Constantine x Reader fic based on this imagine.

Summary: John Constantine has a crush on you. He wasn’t going to do anything about it though, until you strong arm him into coming over for dinner. Little do you know, this paints a target on your back for the local vampire coven… (I had to write something sweet for my mental health y'all 😆) Rating: Explicit, NSFW, but no dead doves...😮

You are the very archetype of The Girl Next Door. Well, literally. John Constantine lives in 202, and you in 204. You share a wall, and occasionally, he sort of smiles at you when you meet in the hall.

Like tonight, as your arms are full of groceries, returning home after work. You don’t know what he does exactly, but you assume it’s the same for him, though he is only clutching a brown bag that very poorly disguises a bottle of scotch.

“Hi, John,” you say brightly over a proud sprig of celery sticking out of your bag. It’s almost a running joke between the two of you, your sunny brightness aimed at him like a weapon.

There’s a long pause, like always, before he finally answers reluctantly in his deep monotone, “Hi, y/n. Bye, y/n.”

Before you can engage him any further he disappears into his apartment, closing the door hard behind him, the slam in the air like an exclamation point. You stare for a moment at the space where he’d just been, tall, handsome, his suit rumpled, that tie half undone around his neck. He looked like he’d had a rough day, whatever he does.

He dresses like a professional something, but imagining that man as a door to door salesman with his attitude is laughable, and so is the thought of him working amicably in an office setting.

You go inside and put away your groceries, then spread out what you need to make dinner. It’s Friday night, and you’ve had a long week too. You are making comfort food—it’s kind of a shame to eat it alone.

Half an hour later, while the sauce simmers, you find you just can’t stop thinking about that man next door. He seems lonely, every time you see him. There is something about him that just makes you want to wrap him up in a hug.

He’d probably push you off if you tried, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t need a hug.

The thing is…you have this thing. He pretends like you annoy him, but sometimes in the hall, or down in the lobby when you’re collecting your mail, you catch him looking at you when he thinks you’re not looking. And the look on his face is never exactly lecherous, like you’re used to with most men who eye-fuck you on the street. His look is more…just…lost, and it tugs at your heartstrings.

You’re sure he’ll say no, but your feet seem to carry you of their own accord, when you find yourself at his door, knocking loudly.

Some time passes and you hear him grumbling on the other side before he jerks open the portal just a crack. “Yeah?”

“I’m making my Nonna’s meatballs and marinara for dinner.”

“Good for you?”

“From scratch.”

“Sounds time consuming.”

“Want to join me?”

There is a very long pause, in which he just looks at you. You can tell he’s at least one drink in already; you smell the fumes on his breath. And maybe it’s stupid, and you’re asking for trouble you don’t need, but the thought that that will be this man’s only dinner squeezes your heart.

Finally, he answers with a question. “Why?”

“Why not?”

This, amusingly, seems to actually flummox him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. In the end he narrows his eyes at you, (those lovely brown eyes, you can’t help but notice), like you’re trying to trick him into something truly heinous.

It’s…kind of funny, truth be told, and you can’t stop yourself from grinning. “Come on. I know you can smell it.” Your door is wide open.

“Maybe I don’t like Italian food.”

“Everyone likes Italian food.”

“Maybe you’re a terrible cook.”

“Only one way to find out.”

He actually growls a little, which for some reason gives you a thrill to the base of your spine.  

You really need to get back to stir the sauce. You didn’t anticipate getting this far in the conversation (argument?) with him, honestly.

“Well, door’s open,” you tell him, turning to go. You throw one last little come-hither look over your shoulder, to find he is definitely staring at your ass. Or, glaring, more like.

Maybe you have a screw loose, but you find this adorable.

You go back to your sauce, and lose yourself in the preparation of the other ingredients, watching the pasta to make sure it doesn’t boil over, checking that the meatballs aren’t burning. (Your oven is a dinosaur from the 1970s, and sometimes the temp spikes for no reason).

You are about to drain the pasta, when you find a tall, rumpled man standing beside your rickety thrift store table, looking a bit confused as to how he’d ended up there. He looks so big in your shoebox of an apartment, and if you’re being honest, maybe there’s a little bit of lust tied up with your desire to mother this man.

You offer him a welcoming smile, and for a moment, you swear he looks like he’s drowning.

“Glad you could make it,” you say somewhat teasingly.

“Can I…help?” He says the last word like it’s a completely alien thing to him.

“I’ve pretty much got it under control…” you say, which is mostly true. You peruse the sparse offerings of your 3 slot wine rack, picking a $6 bottle of Chilean red blend. “Want to open this?” The face he makes looking down at the decidedly weaker-than-whiskey beverage is almost comical, but he takes the corkscrew from you as you transfer the meal to serving bowls and put glasses of water on the table.

He removes his suit jacket at the table, rolling his sleeves up over muscular forearms that are, if you’re being honest, totally distracting. After you sit down you fill your plates, and the first few minutes of the meal goes by in semi-awkward silence.

Surprisingly, it’s John who speaks first. “This is really good,” he admits begrudgingly, and you utterly fail to damper your I-told-you-so smile.

“Thanks.”

You make halting small talk. You get the feeling he doesn’t chat much with anyone, of his own free will. When you ask him how his week was, his simple answer is, “Hell.”

You have no idea he’s being literal.

You ask him what he does, and he tells you he’s a sort of private detective, and he can’t really talk about it. He asks what you do, more to get the conversation off of him than anything. You let it go, for now, telling him that you’re a receptionist at an office building for a mega corporation downtown.

“Fitting,” he grumbles, you think because of your innate cheerfulness.

You feel the urge to tell him that half the time it’s just a thing you wear like armor—but you don’t know each other that well yet.

As you loosen up a little with food and more wine, he slowly asks more questions about you, where you’re from, what do you do in your free time, and maybe it’s stupid, but you feel like he’s actually kind of interested in your answers.

You enlist him to help you with the dishes, and as you stand together at the sink you bump him playfully with your hip. He peers down at you, his dark hair in his eyes. He is so tall, and there is a hint of a smile on his lips now. For him, it’s like a full-on toothy grin, and it doesn’t fail to quicken your heart in your chest.

Constantine can’t help but feel…puzzled, by you. Yes, you’re his cute neighbor, who teasingly likes to hail him in the hallway. And maybe he does look forward to the way your eyes sparkle, when he begrudgingly acknowledges you before retreating to the safety of the quiet solitude of his apartment. But you are so…nice. He can just tell, and he has no idea what a girl like you might want with a degenerate demon hunter like him. There are enough assholes in L.A. who would be happy to take you out. Why would you waste your time chasing him down?

And there is that smaller nagging voice in the back of his head. You are damned, and you don’t deserve her.

Fuck if it doesn’t make him want to touch you even more.

Later, he will look back on this as a moment of weakness. You, looking up at him with your big eyes, like you're old friends. You made him feel, for a fleeting moment, like he wasn't some doomed asshole with nothing to live for. Like he was an actual person. A man who could matter, to someone. Maybe even to you.

When you splash him with a flick of dishwater after he insults your favorite TV show he narrows his eyes down at you, and you get the fluttery feeling that he might like to eat you a moment before he cups your cheek in his big hand and catches your lips in a kiss. It’s everything you’d hoped for, even if you never actually expected it to really happen. Maybe the wine helped? Or maybe…he likes you? Luckily you get over your surprise, standing on tiptoe to meet him, looping your arms around his neck.

You yip with surprise when suddenly he lifts you to sit on the sink, pulling you close as the kiss deepens. “Was getting a crick in my neck…”

Your answering laugh is shaky at best. “Sorry.”

“Is this why you invited me over?”

“Sort of?”

He lifts an eyebrow at that, waiting for further explanation. You reach up to toy with his collar, tracing the line of his loosened tie, totally distracted by the shape of his collarbone and what’s bared of his neck. This man has a jawline that looks like it was sculpted from stone. There’s no shortage of beautiful people in L.A., of course, but you’ve never met anyone quite like him. He doesn’t seem vain, an oddity in this town, but underneath his rumpled suit this man definitely has the physique of a movie star. You try not to dwell on how odd it is, that he would choose to spend his Friday night with you.

“I mean, I’m definitely not complaining,” you offer with a sly little smile.

However, his answering expression is nothing less than stern.

“I’m warning you now, sweetheart. I’m not boyfriend material, and I’m not going to be your project.”

Even if both of those things may have crossed your mind, your thoughts are too hazy with lust from his lips on yours. Maybe he’s a grouch…but he’s a great kisser.

“Okay.”

“Good.”

He kisses you again, and you melt even more under his exacting touch. Those mitts for hands make you feel small, and you arch against him as they travel the ladder of your ribcage to your spine.

The wine was good, but you know you are mostly drunk on him.

Then he is lifting you again, like you weigh nothing, carrying you to the couch. You settle down into the worn vintage cushions and make-out like teenagers, all lips and teeth and pawing hands.

You’re the one who actually initiates something further, pulling off your shirt, and John blinks as he takes in the swathes of your bare skin. He glares at your lacy bra like it owes him money, and you can’t help but laugh breathily. You haven’t felt thishappy in a long time, truth be told.

“Something funny?” he asks, nipping at your neck. With a flick of his fingers your bra falls away, and your breasts are in his hands, and you forget how to speak intelligibly. With his lips on your nipples you manage to loosen his tie without strangling him, unbuttoning his shirt with an increasing desperation. You sigh when at last the bare skin of your torsos is pressed together, his weight pressing you down into the couch.

It occurs to you, how small your couch is, and this man is definitely over six feet tall. “Would you prefer…the bed?” you ask between kisses.

“Up to you.”

You nod, but find you can’t really stop kissing him long enough to move. You can feel the impressive length of him through his pants and yours, aligned with your center and you dry grind, thinking even that is wonderful. He, however, lets out a frustrated growl, and pulls you to your feet again.

Dizzy with desire, you lead him by the hand to your bedroom, and you make it there eventually between kisses and shedding the rest of your clothing. His thick fingers between your legs are a marvel. “So fucking wet for me,” he groans, and it’s too embarrassing to admit, but sometimes after seeing him in the hallway you’ve fantasized about something like this going down, and it always leaves you soaked.

“I…like you,” you admit, moaning as a second finger finds its way inside you, his thumb circling your clit.

“I still don’t get that,” he admits, but kisses you hard before you really have a chance to answer. It would be a little too crazy, to tell him right now that you’ve always just felt pulled towards him, like the Universe was giving you a nudge any time you saw him. He’d laugh at you, or he’d leave, and either of those at this point would be unbearable.

You are close already under his masterful touch, and you whine even as you flex your hips, all your muscles tightening in anticipation.

“Don’t make me cum yet,” you beg. “I want you.”

He groans in response to that, desperately pawing through the pockets of his pants on the floor for a condom. You watch with stars in your eyes, propped on your elbows as he rips open the packet and rolls it on that impressive length, your lip between your teeth. You feel empty while looking at him like this, longing to be filled to the brim.

There is a moment of raw eye contact between you that sears your soul, as he pulls you to the edge of the bed with those large hands on your thighs. For a fleeting second he looks almost vulnerable. It’s there and gone like a ripple in a pool, then his thick tip is at your entrance, and he is slowly pushing himself inside you.

It’s better than you ever dreamed, and you arch against him, moaning as he works inside.

“Fuck you are tight,” he pants in your ear, your walls clenching around him, seeming to fight him even as they crave the relief of his big cock stretching you out. You breathe deeply, easing him in. When at last he bottoms out inside you, your head rocks back behind your shoulders, blissed out.

“God, you feel good.”

This man actually snorts at the comment, though his voice is pure gravel, rough with need. “He wouldn't appreciate you saying it about me.”

Your laugh is half moan. 

“What, are you on a first name basis?”

“Yeah, sort of.”

You're not sure what to make of that, and you're too cock drunk to even begin to reason it out.

He can tell you're a nice girl. Or at least, that's his perception of you. So he doesn’t bend you at impossible angles or whisper filthy things in your ear. Really, there's no time for it. Just pure vanilla missionary in your sweet little snatch is more than enough to slake his need tonight. He fucks you on your back, his thumb on your clit as he glides in and out of your tight little pussy, your legs wrapped around his narrow hips.

Your pleasure builds in the cradle of your hips, wound so tight you feel like you'll either die, or fly. Usually...alright, it's never like this for you the first time with someone. There's always fumbling, and awkwardness, and half the time, if you're honest, a faked orgasm because you're too shy or too embarrassed to ask for what you really need from a new partner, afraid he’ll think you’re too much trouble. 

Well, that is not what is happening tonight. Tonight, John is taking care of you, and you can hardly believe your luck. 

“You gonna cum for me, baby?”

“Yeah.” Your reply is breathy, and you almost laugh just for the pure, unexpected joy you feel in that moment. “Oh, John...” Your ability to say real words escapes you as your body erupts with scintillating pleasure spreading through your loins. You actually scream, and the fierce clench of your cunt around him brings him too. He loses himself with a groan, his face buried in the curve of your shoulder as he shudders against you.

Afterwards, you are laying against his broad chest, his heartbeat a steady drum in your ear. You don't know it, but this is not something John Constantine usually does. Snuggling. But you are sweet and soft in his arms, and he can't quite bring himself to vacate the premises just yet. In fact, he's so comfortable that he dozes, and you follow close behind him.

In the middle of the night you wake to kisses on your neck and caresses down your curvy side. You sigh, arching into him. You feel his manhood at the seam of your buttocks, his thick head kissing your hole.

“Fuck. Sorry,” he whispers with a shuddering sigh, rolling over to reach for his pants again. How many condoms did he bring? The fact that he's not careless with you, even in the sleepy haze of the early morning second round, is incredibly endearing to you. How many times have you had to insist, and been made to feel like an uncool bitch for not wanting to risk pregnancy or disease in the heat of the moment?

Maybe it's utterly insane, but you're half in love already as he hauls you on top of him, his cock freshly capped with a new Trojan Magnum.

You are still drenched from earlier, and it's no problem to impale yourself upon him.

In the blue dark of early morning your eyes meet his, and again you sense that fleeting vulnerability before he distracts you with that clever fucking thumb finding your sensitive bud. He works you just right as you ride his beautiful dick with your back arched taut as a bow, his other hand toying with your nipple. It makes you cum in record time, so quickly it's almost embarrassing, though he doesn’t seem to mind. Within a minute he's followed along with you, his big hands digging into your hips hard enough to bruise as he reaches his own release. Your name on his lips raises gooseflesh all over your body, as though your lovemaking has invoked something powerful, something binding.

You collapse against his chest, and the both of you nearly fall asleep again, with him still inside you. 

“Let me get this thing off,” he requests gently, and with a plaintive little groan you roll off of him, curling in at his side. He knots the condom before throwing it in the general direction of the bin. You are both too tired to care if it actually hit home. 

Again, you snuggle close and the two of you doze tangled together until morning light streams through the window. 

You wake to kisses on your forehead this time. It's a miracle you rouse. You're a heavy sleeper—and he worked you out. 

“I have to go, honey.” 

“Want breakfast?” you murmur, half asleep.

“Yeah, but I can’t. Rain check?”

“Okay.”

Through half lidded eyes you watch as he gets dressed, half way, at least. A good portion of his clothes are still strewn around the living room.

My god, what a beautiful specimen of manhood you bagged last night. Nonna would be proud. She was an appreciator of male beauty, and if you told her that her special recipe had gotten you the best sex of your life with the handsome boy next door she would have cackled with delight.

“See you soon?” you dare ask as he buttons his pants. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, after a pause, bending down to kiss you one more time, with tongue this round. 

“Careful mister, or you'll start round three.”

“Jesus, woman,” he teases with that heartbreaking almost-smile. “You've drained me dry.” 

You look him over appraisingly.

“Doubt it.” 

He huffs with laughter, shaking his head. 

“Bye, y/n.”

You sigh. 

“Bye, John.”

With a surprisingly heavy heart, you watch the best lay of your life slip out the door. You really hope you'll get to do this again, and not just go back to awkward acknowledgements in the hallway.

***

Maybe John Constantine had told you he’s not boyfriend material.

But earlier that day, while he was having a smoke out on the sidewalk, he found himself looking over at the wares of a flower vendor and wondering if you would like them. He didn’t buy any, of course.

He wasn’t a total sap.

But it’s possible as he scales the stairs to his apartment, there’s a lightness in his heart as he thinks of you, and the possibility of seeing you in the hallway.

That's when he finds your door ajar, and your apartment ransacked, and a note in red ink on the table addressed to him.

If you want to see your girlfriend alive again, come to this address.

It’s a place in L.A. that’s deep in vampire territory, and something black and heavy weighs like a stone in the pit of John’s stomach. He’d deported a few big players of the local coven not too long ago, and he’d figured the Master would want revenge, but this?

Fucking diabolical—and just their style.

Goddamn vampires.

Without a moment to lose, he goes to his apartment to get his kit, praying he’s not too late to save you.  

[nefellibatta]

 I want go home: Fox TPOF

Content: Dark, adult themes, low mental health and reader's sanity, emotional dependence, Dead dove don't eat, FEM POV

━━━ Fox…..I want to go home

━━━ I know that, my dear, but you're already home, don't you realize?

Fox's fox tail wagged excitedly as he watched everything come crashing down for her, nothing got in and stayed in her little mind, it was so sweet to see you like this, it was so good to hear your screams.

In front of that camera he took her virginity and her dignity along the way and yet he wanted it again, again and again. He didn't want to stop the feeling of your pussy squeezing his cock as he slammed his hips against yours it became addictive like a drug he would love to inject into his veins every day to feel that damn Euphoria, he knew you never did drugs

This was the chance he loved, after dislocating your shoulder and making more marks he drugged you in innocence in an attempt to present you to everyone as his co-star could become more than one of his victims however….When you cut In his abdomen he couldn't feel that pleasure like in the rest of his victims, he felt lost and confused by it. He stopped you and didn't let you continue, he made you stop

Still, he wanted to make that dream come true. As he squeezed your throat as you could only despair and almost choke on drool as you cried and begged for family, friends or better…for him

He got tired of waiting, he got tired of being the savior of empathy, he broke the camera and put that hand squeezing your neck while he squeezed even more and you became more and more agitated.

━━━ STOP, PLEASE STOP!

Screaming for mercy, drool dripped from his lips as he smiled, he felt in power, he could feel their feelings reach his spine and send goosebumps all over his body, he threw his head back and moaned deeply when he felt his tears wet his fingers. his, his tail wagging excitedly as he felt his spine shiver and he went into that mode he loved

Destroy you

His body thrashed in despair as you looked and saw Fox's eyes begin to shine.

━━━ I'm going to tell you a little secret, my eyes start to shine when I get excited…..very excited

Fuck, you knew your existence turned him on, like mating season in the huge dark and cold forest, with snow covering everything, you were the prey and he was the hunter. And he loved it, he let go of your neck making you cough with relief when you could breathe but the sound of a zipper coming undone made your body freeze, you couldn't feel his hands but you could hear him moaning as he bit his lips, his hands removed his hard cock while he masturbated on top of you

He didn't care about her desperation and smiled even more exposing his sharp fangs, he felt… euphoric with this and he wasn't going to stop, placing his thumb opening her mouth he went up a little more and placed the tip of his member in her mouth. your mouth, your hands tried to push him away but it was no use

He lifted your head and forced his member more as he moaned he lowered his hand and started to touch you, introducing his fingers more as your body became excited wanting more and more your body betrayed you and you didn't want that, in the last minute On impulse he pushed his dick into the back of your throat as he made your body cum staining his fingers, his juice ran down your throat and he pinched your nose and took out his dick smearing your face

━━━ See? I can take care of you, and this is your home [name]. puff…hahahaha! Are you going to keep looking at me with that face? Come on, how about a warm bath?

Fox just laughed at your desperate and lost look, he stood up and realized that his dick was still semi-hard, damn you left him breathless. Taking you in his arms, he turned on the tap of the luxurious bathtub, letting the hot water relax your body, he got up and turned on the shower, letting the water completely wet you, he started taking off his own clothes while he was naked and got into the bathtub, closing the shower and rubbed himself against you, you felt his cock behind you. He wanted to eat you again until you lost your sanity and you wanted to go home

[brimbrimbrimbrim]

The Bear and The Baker: Chapter Five - REPEAT (NSFW)

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five

Summary: She’s relatable and willing to help him figure out how to stop spiraling down a dark hole of anxiety, but she’s pretty and sweet and knows what to say and do… and Carmy just can’t help himself.

(big thanks to @novemberbluesky for beta reading this last chapter <3)

Tags: friends to lovers, UST, RST, pining, wet dreams, masturbation, lots of food talk, reader used to be a pastry chef, mental health, panic attacks, anxiety, meditation, oral sex, cunnilingus, premature ejaculation, handjob, desk sex, first times, virginity, mild dom/sub undertones, kitchen sex, love confessions, blowjobs

Words: 4k

TW: panic attacks

"Christ-" you whine, digging one hand into Carmy's greasy curls on the crown of his head, the other gripping the edge of his desk as his tongue swirls around your areola. Short, sandpaper stubble abrades the bottom swell of your breast as his face presses in, lips open and cheeks caving against your nipple. It's agonizingly good. Each suck and insulated lick's all gummy, sweet, and marvelous like he's molding burnt sugar with his tongue or… or something like that… 

It's a little difficult to think when you're tipped backward, seesawing in Carmy's lap, lower spine against the desk's edge, trembling beneath his hungry attention that switches aimlessly between both bare breasts. Somewhere on the floor lays your bra and maybe your sweater… soon to be home to the rest of your clothes because if Carmen Berzatto doesn't fuck you in the next ten minutes, you're gonna do it for him. 

"Carmy," you hiss, lashes tangled shut and fingers yanking at his scalp, "... teeth. T-too sensitive." 

He pulls away with a moist pop. His upper lip hooked over your swollen nipple, throbbing from a single overzealous bite.

"Sorry," he swallows, slick lips worrying over the tender bud, "… sorry, baby." 

His hot breath fans away the ache, and a wet kiss to the peak dribbles dolce pleasure down your belly, straight between your thighs. Beneath you—against your pelvis—his cock is a dense rod that fogs your senses. 

It's a thicker feeling than it had been even in your mouth. 

Carmy isn't small… which, to be honest, surprised you slightly at first. You've never had anything larger than average, and his approach to flirting and intimacy didn't warn you of anything daunting… though, over the years working in the service industry, food and further niche pockets of upper-class culinary gave you an appreciation for how wrong first impressions could be, as well as a few ulcers and a pesky panic disorder…

Carmy stretches his fingers against your naked spine and presses his hips forward, thighs up, forcing you further into his lap, harder against his sucking lips and branding erection.

"F-fuck," you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut, every draw of his lips sending a throb through your middle.

While a little bit of that time-old anxiety resides in your chest as Carmy kisses and licks all across it, the thrill of something a little scary and unknown is, for once, exciting and not terrifying. But, you grow itchy with each reverent caress Carmy bestows upon your breasts; sweet pecks over their tops, beneath the swell of curvy fat, sweeps of hot tongue across your nipples. He closes his lips around the left to suck it like he had the right, adding moisture to the oven broil that is his mouth. It's slow and lazy, not hurried at all, which only builds up the layers of anticipation until you're rocking against his cock, moaning as he moans… and tugging his hair by the roots, whining as he sucks even harder… those teeth returning in delicate nips. More pleasure oozes through you, dense as caramel toffee, and-

"Taste," he murmurs into your nipple, "so…" an easy bite, "excellent."

Carmy's palm slides across your ribs, then sweep the expanse of smooth skin to your other breast, holding its weight with prickly super glued cuts and fabric bandages. His fingers dent, and a thumb flicks your saliva-slick nipple while the other receives a slash of the tongue. 

"Do you-" you swallow a strained noise and gasp, "Do you want to… fuck me now? W-want you to cum inside me this time."

"Already did…" he murmurs, thumbing your lip with care.

You laugh deliriously, ending the sound with a sigh as Carmy returns to his sweet abuse on your nipples. 

"You know what I mn-mean…." you whimper, fisting the desk's edge a little harder as your fingers release his messy hair to move between your bodies, groping blindly until your thumb bumps across the slippery tip of Carmy's cock, quickly grasping its hot girth for an awkwardly angled stroke, "You're already hard again…"

Carmy's lips slacken, moaning hot over well-loved nerves.

"I want it—want you to fuck me with it this time."

"Ffffuck. Fuck-"Silenced by a squeeze to his dick, you only get a string of stutters as a warning before Carmy picks you up, urging your legs to wrap around his waist before he starts sweeping everything off the surface of his desk. 

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

A part of his brain is sullen over the mess of paper he's just swept to the floor. An empty plastic pint container clicks to the tile; some Sharpies and that mug that says 'How about a cup of shut the fuck up' goes to the floor too, shattering. Carmy pays it no more time than it takes him to give his desk another wide sweep, sending his calendar desktop flopping to his feet as he hauls her up on the edge. The old metal creaks, but the sound is swallowed by an ambrosial moan, dripping with a vanilla glaze as it smothers her lips with his. She still has a lick of brine deep inside from his orgasm, a realization that sends a shiver down his spine—a pulse to his cock.

Her teeth pinch his lower lip, and Carmy shudders anew, hips rocking up to press his dick against the seam of her jeans. She's wearing too much—too many layers between his bare dick and her heated core. 

"Your mug-"she starts, lips sliding off his for a second to glance at the floor, but he's pinching her chin between his fingers and drawing her mouth back to his, eyes off the stupid fucking mess and back to him. A whimper. Another wet kiss, then a bite to his lip, the upper one this time, and Carmy's fingers smooth around her hips, shoving his thumbs in between denim and warm, soft skin.

"Take 'em," a kiss and lick and, "off," then another, deeper slant against his mouth has Carmy trembling with desire. Same shakes he gets on the line when everything's fucked, but nothing about this makes him want to hide in the lock-in and heave through panic and palpitations. Everything about this, right here… it's good—great—and he's gonna do his best to make her feel the same. Replace all that shit about beating hearts signaling their ends and all about it triggering the start of everything .  

"Now," she nips his lip hard enough to snap him into motion.

"Shit," he curses, ripping his swollen mouth away to plant wet kisses across her cheek, down her neck, fumbling with the button beneath her navel. A creeping ache of anxiety fills his throat as his heart pounds rhythmically in his chest, worried he's gonna need help to undress her—worried he's gonna fuck this up, but then he gets lucky as the front clasp comes free, and her zipper slides down easy. Her bottom lifts and Carmy shoves four fingers under denim and cotton, gripping hard and yanking it down her ass and thighs off her calves and ankles. Shoes and socks hit the floor, and ankles return to lock around his bare ass, drawing him and his throbbing dick against the softest, wettest promise he's ever been given. 

It doesn't even register that she's pulling his shirt up his stomach until she gives his chin a peck and asks him to take it off. 'Please, Carmy… wanna see you.' And he's tugging it over his head, sweaty curls falling over his forehead, more exposed than he's ever been… with anyone… 

She kisses him over his pounding heart just above the triangle of ink from his youth. The act causes a palpitation, and a swoop in his stomach, watching her lean back against the desk, spread open and smiling. 

"Fuck," Carmy puffs out, taking in the contours of softness—the peaks and sweat-shined skin perfectly imperfect and deliciously real. That decadent swell of emotion sticks in his throat; it's the same one he felt back when he finally felt like he had a purpose, standing in his toque blanche while the Chef de Cuisine praised his braciole. But it's better now. Refined. Pure.

"Don't keep me waiting," she's smiling, awkwardly sensual, but a beckoning finger above her glistening folds makes his cock bounce. Her gaze drops, staring at it, and Carmy's eyes follow, widening as her heels drag him in, pressed flush—wet and hot. 

Carmy whimpers, licking his lips at the golden-lit sheen of his cock pinned to his stomach by her pussy—the unflagging mass denting her soft mons… dripping precum down between them where it catches the light and the little, stiff bud of her fleshy clit, snug and engorged against a winding vein hugging his shaft. He swallows, holds her hips in both hands, and looks back up, finding her lazy, smiling eyes and hot cheeks. 

"You're sure?" He asks, needing reassurance.

"Very sure.” She smiles until her eyes crinkle, and then gives him a kiss as soft as hand-beaten whipped cream, and Carmy smiles back.

They both shift, her fist wrapping warmly around his shaft, wetting his dick by rubbing his leaky head through her folds. Carmy presses his hips forward when it pops across her clit and grinds a little… just a bit until she's making circles with his cockhead over the tender bud. Carmy could easily cum like this… try as he might, this won't last long, and that's no more apparent than right now… right as she slips his dick down and deep, pulling him in by the heels in his ass. He steps forward, wraps his arms around her, and moans into her mouth.

And Jesus Christ… this isn't just popping his cherry, but emulsifying it into rich, hot syrup, sticky and sweet. The feeling that punctures his spine as Carmy gives in and thrusts, bottoming out with a great, shaky exhale, is without definition… just sensation without a name…

"God," he wheezes into her mouth, trying to kiss her through the steady pulsing around his cock—the whooshing of blood in his ears—the exceptional everything he finds buried inside her for the first time.

First, of many times, he hopes, almost prays. 

"Carmy…" she moans, and he can feel the impatience, another decadent whimper translating into 'move' and 'move fast and fucking hard' so he grabs onto her back and shoulder—arms almost crossed behind her—and dents his fingers in before smacking his hips at a relentless depth. 

She yelps and digs her nails into his scalp. It stings, much like when he was eating her out in his kitchen, and that had been good… she loved that, so Carmy figures 'to hell with it' and picks up the pace, pounding her soaked pussy until she's hiccuping against his lips, whining and groaning and…

… and pushing against his chest, telling him to 'hold on' and 'take it easy' and 'stop…'

"What-what'd I do?" For a second, he gets that flutter in his chest, but not butterflies, just a pause and thick beat that throws cold water down his spine. Did he fuck it up already?

"You okay??" 

" Uh-huh, just— fuck , Carmy."

He stills, carding his fingers through her hair, musing her hot cheeks, trying to get a good look at the damage: watery eyes, a pained creased between her brows, pouty… moist lips so kissable and raw it makes him wanna do anything, and everything to make them curl into a smile. 

"… did I… hurt you or— shit, what'd I do? "

"Cool your jets, Chef," and there is a shaky smile, but something else, "G-give me a second… slower—slow down a little. Please... "

He swallows the sudden urge to ignore everything she's just asked and just… fuck her until the desk dents the wall—until he's stuffing cum inside her like some selfish asshole, but Carmy takes a deep breath against her lips and leans in to kiss her sweaty neck. Acidic brine and umami hit his tongue; it's sex and something even better.

Gradually, the urge to rail her passes, and he just listens, basking in the slick vice wrapped around him. After a few long, drawn-out seconds, her fingers tug at the damp curls on his nape.

"O-okay. Keep going," she sighs, "… just not so rough. Just… just for now."

Carmy nods. Yeah, he can do slow and steady. It's all about patience; he's got that; he just needs to use it for this and not only for stirring jalapeno jelly for six hours straight. Ever so gently, his hips begin to rock slowly and shallowly. Just four or so inches, just a little over half his length, rubbing the delicate outer ring of her pussy. 

"So good," he pants, "… so tight. How— fuck —how much longer?" Carmy doesn't wanna sound too eager or presumptuous, all traits he despises in himself and others, but… fuck… so good. His thrusts start going choppy as she shudders against him.

“I mean… is this…” Carmy gulps and tries to word that last bit better, "Is this okay?"

"Little more… you're, uh , a little too… big… and girthy."

Carmy halts with the swollen bulb of his cockhead held thickly inside her as a rush swoops into his balls, pulling them taut to his body, ready to burst. He blinks lazily against the crook of her neck, heart hammering, so fucking close to losing it. A bead of sweat runs from his hairline to the edge of his nose as his joints lock, fending off the rip of a climax by replaying whispered verbal abuse from CDCs in his ear…

'You're worthless.'

"Cah-Carmy?"

'Say you're scum. Tell me you're nothing. You deserve to be dead.'

"… you're okay," she says against his temple, planting a kiss over beads of sweat while his cock twitches meanly. He's okay. He's got this… like everything else, Carmy can white knuckle his way through it. And, after a few breaths, the edging of his orgasm fades away. 

"Yeah," Carmy almost chuckles, almost cries, but her palms flatten across his bare back, fingers eroding stoney knots of anxiety with gentle rubbing motions of love and heat. With a nasal sigh, Carmy lets go of the trauma and the expectations and kisses her thrumming pulse point beneath her ear.

"Almost came," he admits, muffled against her throat as he noses her clammy skin. It's so fucking hot in his office—that his mind briefly lands on installing a fan when and if this happens again.

"... hey," she whispers, squeezing him in a tight embrace, "if you cum, you cum. It's more than okay."

He licks his lips and rubs his damp forehead over her collarbone. He can see down her body, between her heaving breasts, at his glistening cock held halfway inside her. No, he's not ready to cum just yet…

With a swallow that clicks in the tiny room, Carmy starts to move in and out of her slick pussy. No more than the first three inches delves through her gummy, vice-like heat. She's so much tighter than he remembers from finger fucking her on his kitchen counter—so much sweeter and mind-melting.

"... ffffuck ," he sighs, "I wanna… gonna make you cum, baby." And again, she makes him want more than good food, sanity, and loneliness. He wants to make her feel good. So… so fucking good. So Carmy slows his roll even more, leaving behind shallow and rhythmic for lethargic and deep. It's almost worse—better—this way since he can feel everything. Each inner ridge plump around his dick, contouring to his girth… sucking him in until his tip is lodged against her cervix. 

Carmy gasps as her pussy flutters around him. Her breath sweats across his hairline.

"... like that," she sighs, clinging to him with hands, thighs, and softness. 

"Right. Good… just," Carmy nods, swallowing, "tell me if—fuck—if you…"

She shushes him softly and rubs down his spine, "Just like this, baby."

He nods again and kisses her pulse, running wet lips up with each slow drag of cock, finding her slack mouth with a great, heavy swell of heat that spreads from his chest out into the very tips of his fingers, toes, and outward. She's a full-body sensation, and while Carmy's never been a sommelier—not even close—he thinks this is what they mean by rounded. Perfect notes that end in words like ambrosia, mellow and rich. Carmy breathes her in with a hard thrust that's still achingly slow, feeling everything.

Her breathing grows ragged, puffing against his lips between wet kisses, her mouth hanging open on a moan so sweet his stomach tightens, and a bolt of pleasure tugs his balls. 

"... god damnit. Hah-hang on," Carmy grunts, grabbing the upper heft of her ass, trying to still the gentle rocking of her lower body as he fights off another urge to cum. She giggles—a din of noise like cooling glass candy—but it's not mean; it's breathless and awe-struck. He knows 'cause that's how his laugh sounds when she pinches the meat of his own ass, filling his office with heavy, happy breaths and her hot whispers of 'cum inside me, baby… I know you want to.'

"You're mean, you know," he pants out, smirking with loose lips when she hums in agreement, squeezing the tight muscles in his back as he shifts on his feet.

He wants to cum, and he will, but it's the same devotion that got him Chef of the Year, which makes him hold off, wanting to prove he can make her feel the same bliss she brings him. There's always his tongue, he thinks, almost giving into that primal urge, but this is different. Carmy wants to feel her cum around his dick, so he sucks down his pounding heart, stabilizes his feet shoulder-width apart, his posture precise, then swiftly pulls her to the edge of the desk, hands sweeping to the backs of her thighs with a squeeze. He tilts her beneath the cabinets spilling with unfiled paperwork, knees up against her glistening breasts, and fucks forward. 

" Haaah-ah… fuck, " her fist grips the desk's edge, the other shoved flat under the cabinetry, "D-do that again," she hisses, then softer… sweeter, begs, "... please."

Carmy does it again, just as hard and swift, getting a sound out of her that's pornographic. He does it three more times, just until he feels her thighs trembling in his palms, then lets his cock slip completely out.

"Wha… what are you-"

He grabs his wet dick and smears the head through her folds, nudging the plump bulb of her clit, ignoring how good it feels to tap and rub it with his plush cockhead, focusing instead on the quiet puffing moans… the way her hips grind forward, swirling herself against the raw contact.

"Jesus Christ, Carmy. If you… keep doing that," she pauses to whimper, "I'm gonna cum."

"I'm gonna make you—fuck—gonna fuck you until your too fuckin' weak to walk out of here," he promises, giving her clit a final, sticky smack before pressing down and back in with a hard thrust. It's effortless this time. She's so impossibly wet.

He fucks her just like she wants, giving unforgiving, precise thrusts, bottoming out at an angle that combs over her thickened sweet spot. With every slap of his hips, he can feel it firming up. Each meticulous, well-angled motion dials her moans up higher. Her hands are suddenly around his waist, holding on tight. That flutter he felt before becomes a wet, noisy slurp, getting wetter and louder… tighter and hotter. Carmy repeats his method several times: thrusting, pulling out, rubbing and tapping, back inside… fucking… and pounding until his heart's in his throat and sweat running down his temples, stinging his eyes. She's just as wrecked, perspiring under his hands on the backs of her knees, licking it off her upper lip and cheeks, hot and shiny.

"... oh, fuck—I'm… yes," she rips a hand off his side to lay flat on his desk. Her hips start to meet his in a messy, slippery mash. 

Carmy watches, hypnotized. The jiggle of her breasts is only one of many mouth-watering delights like she's some feast prepared just for him, by him… steaming, boiling, cooking him alive. Fuck, he's not gonna last… and she's so close… 

Just a little more—just another minute or more.

“I-I-fuck, fuck… I got this…”

He's chewing on his lower lip, watching the rapid blur of his cock as it pistons and slaps, disappearing and emerging, covered in shiny arousal. Her pussy is raw and swollen, her inner lips hugging him. She's sobbing, tears in her eyes, and, for a second, Carmy thinks he's done something wrong. Maybe he's hurt her… perhaps she's been pretending all along, or maybe he's been too selfish to take her hiccuping moans for what they really are, but then she's pressing up and forward, clawing at his back, leaving red welts through sweaty skin, shivering and trembling. 

She yelps like someone spilled boiling water over her lap, then clenches down on his dick in a way that throws him into the back of his own body. It's all auto-pilot now…

“... fff’uh-fuck!”

Grunts rush between his teeth, his lips pressed into a white, pulsing line as the office fills with the rapid, wet slap of skin meeting skin; it claps with her 'uh' and 'ah's and his hot gushing exhales. He feels a fever wash over him. 

Carmy winces with nails in his back, feeling everything all at once until the pressure in his lower back doubles, gripping his pelvis, balls, and upper thighs… until… it just… snaps…

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

A dim flicker of sapphire catches in his left eye from the lamp light. It glitters and gleams. Melted ice. 

Deep lines grin beneath his eyes, trapped emotions spilling free. It would be odd coming from anyone else, but you think it's beautiful with Carmy. 

Popping your cherry or lancing a wound, you think only partially consciously; sometimes , the difference is slim to none.

His dick twitches inside you, deep and thick, almost parallel to the soft, vulnerable line of his lips, their downward hook on either side and the tremble in the lower plush. Your hand finds his jawline, the scratchy five o'clock grating. His shoulders tense and shake, but he takes a great breath and lets it out as your palm moves upwards, a thumb sweeping away the tear before it can fall. It all feels terribly romantic until his right eye brims with moisture, and a drop escapes, leaving a line of shine behind. 

"Oh, Carmy…" you murmur without thinking, "Should we have laid you out on a feather bed your first time?"

Judging by the silence, your poor attempt at a joke goes over poorly. A sick prick of anxiety settles in your chest as another tear breaches his lashes. Quickly, you shift despite your sore back, midway to wrapping both arms around him when his lips twitch. Carmy smiles—a snort of hot breath and then a smirk.

"I don't know, blowing my load in Mikey's office feels pretty good," Carmy's smile lifts tight on one end, "I mean, I loved the asshole, but this is…" a whistling sigh, "pretty sure he deserves this. Sorta payback."

"Could say it's also a comeback, " you grin, relishing the surprised cough of laughter from Carmy, lashes fluttering when the both of you feel his dick jostling softly inside you.

"Hey," he whispers, the vibe dropping to somber, "you're okay, though? Right?"

"M'hm," you smile, leaning in, fingers teasing the sweaty curls at his nape, "are you… okay? "

Your lips press in, brows up and open to reassure him you won't judge his answer. When he stays mute, you thumb the slick spot behind his ear, "Seriously, I mean… first times should be a bit… nicer than this. Not that it wasn't nice—it was great—the best—I just… I, uh, hope it lived up to your expectations." 

Jesus, you think you sound like an executive apology video. 

Carmy's smile drops for a second, eyes lazy and large, looking into you like he sees each stutter, each heartbeat, and flaw, loving it all. Tentatively, he closes the distance, kissing you as if it's the first time… like, after everything, there's a chance you'll pull away... 

"It's perfect," another kiss, "it's fucking perfect." His voice breaks a bit with a whisper, "Thank you…."

You swipe a cool tear from beneath his soggy lashes and whisper, "What about these?"

Carmy huffs, good-humored, "Just got something in my eyes, is all."

You snort, then blush, about to apologize for your awkwardness, but Carmy just grins, showing some teeth with that love in his eyes again, and gives you another soft kiss. The aftermath of fucking on his desk is not magical—that's not how reality works—but it's relaxed. There's something like butterflies in your tummy when Carmy fails to bite down a whimper as your bodies disconnect, releasing a hot trickle of cum between your crushed globes.

Paper wings flap harder when he excuses himself with a stutter, begging you to 'stay right there' using his hands to coo you into stillness before rushing on weak knees out of the office, black jeans still sagging around his bare ass. He returns with a wet cloth, muttering 'shit' under his breath as he hesitates at the mess dripping off the desk. 

"Bet you wish I made a mad dash to the bathroom now, hm?" He blinks, looking a little hungry. You chuckle, feeling your muscles tighten and cum ooze. Carmy just gulps and finally slips the rag between your splayed thighs.

"Naw," he smirks, nose against yours as the pressure of the damp cloth, his hand, and your swollen folds brings your heat beat south, "it's a good look on you."

"You're filthy."

It might be far more awkward to share this vulnerable moment with him, where his shaky palm wipes away your combined fluids from your sore pussy, your hips tilted out, and his other hand raising one leg. The kiss he presses to the cap of your knee? That should be corny and sickly, but it makes your heart skip happily… happy skipping… as if you'd forgotten it could do that.

"Thanks," you whisper, lower lip between your teeth.

"Sorry-" he winces, trying to dab away a dollop on your inner thigh, "-sorry, there's uh, there's a lot. Jesus. I really made a mess, huh?"

Something about the quiver of awe in his voice makes your pussy contract again, more cum heating out, only for Carmy to wipe it up with a groan of, "Fuck me… kinda looks like a" He stops, but you know exactly what's going through his mind because he thinks in food and sauces like you feel in flour and candied orange peels.

"A creampie? A twinkie? Bavarian Cream Donut?"

Carmy's lower lip droops, his face ruddy red. You think he will flounder for words like a fish for air, but he drops his head, shoulders limp, and shakes with a quiet laugh. He rubs at his nose and smirks, thumb and forefinger pinching the tacky fat of your inner thigh, right where that stray drop of jizz had been a moment ago. Cheeky and happy, you think, liking the look on him so much that you lean forward and plant a peck on his blotchy jaw. 

You both help each other dress in comfortable silence, nothing but the howl of the wind outside the restaurant and distant car horns.

As Carmy tugs the hem of your sweater around your hips, he swallows—the sound of a bomb in the quiet, "Do you… wanna maybe get some coffee?"

"Thought you didn't fuck with caffeine?" You smirk, watching his hooded eyes open up a bit more as his gaze lifts from your chest to your lips, then your eyes. He matches your look, then drops his sweaty face into the crook of your neck and mumbles, "Yeah, but…" followed by three little words. They're a whisper, more like, but they feel loud and real… more real than anything—more real than the sex, panic attacks, or kneading the dough with a head chef screaming in your ear…

"I might…" you pause, sliding your arms around his shoulders, fingers threading over the back of his greasy scalp, "… feel the same way."

His response is a hug hotter than the heat rattling in the walls, tighter than the choke of fear, but soft, sweet, sugared, and spiced. 

"Heard, Chef."

And you love him, fierce and suddenly, yet not so sudden as it suddenly feels.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Carmy doesn't mess with caffeine like she said, and he must have said at some point, but he's sipping on a cup of black because it's midnight, and he's not done just yet. Somehow, against all odds, he made her cum on his cock less than an hour ago, but it's still two to one in his favor, and he wants to study how her brows lift and crease when she orgasms at least once more tonight. 

"You're being pretty quiet for someone who just got laid, ya know?"

He looks up to find the woman he wants to spend the rest of his shitty life with, looking just as flushed as she did when she came.

"We're not having an existential crisis, are we?" She says it with some humor, but it's dusted in insecurities and quickly covered by a sip of tea. Carmy can sniff that shit out faster than she can hide it cause he understands that shit all too well, but it's nothing like she thinks. If anything, he's almost more nervous to admit how wrapped in his thoughts she is—how soaked into his skin she feels. After what they did an hour ago… as if getting his dick wet has made him some fucking horn dog, she's all he wants to do. Kinda like trying to make up for lost time, maybe.

"Another one? Naw. No, I'm just…" he looks around the coffee shop; it's quiet—it's late—but there are still a couple occupied tables, "I was just-did you wanna… I dunno," he shrugs, looking into his coffee, "come back to my place tonight?"

Her cheeks are blushing near swollen when he glances up, but the smile on her face bolsters his confidence. All that fragrant affection and sweetness makes Carmy feel warm despite the chill the old coffee shop's heater just can't shake. 

"Sure. Did you, umm… " her thumbs brush the lip of her cup, "what-what did you wanna do?"

"Fuck you again," it's an exhale laced with self-deprecating humor to mask his nerves.

"Oh," her lips form a puffy little circle, reminding him how it felt to have them wrapped around his cock earlier. The light rush of blood to his groin almost makes him laugh, like his body waking up for the first time. Carmy needs to reign it in… doesn't wanna come across as desperate or greedy, but then again…

"Sorry, that was… I just-just wanna keep doing whatever this is." He tries to emphasize whatever 'this is' with a palm waving against his chest, gesturing between them, "Been awhile since I've felt like…" 

The word escapes him, though a quick glance at her soft smile says she gets it.

"This. Yeah," she whispers, grin growing.

"Yea, this." Carmy agrees and takes a sip of black coffee, bitter and nutty; the roast over-brewed but rich. 

"And, yes, by the way… I'm up for round two if you are."

"Good," he breathes out, a mixture of relief and palpitations.

"Good."

After a minute of comfortable silence, an older Italian man sets a ceramic dish of cheese and raspberry danishes on the table, sparing a fleeting glance between them before dropping a few napkins by the pastries and ambling back behind the counter.

Carmy watches over thin steam trails as she slides the dish between them and breaks off a corner heaped with sweetened mascarpone. She pops it between her lips and sighs, "These things are always better a little stale."

Carmy's brows lift even as his lashes lower, "Didn't think you'd be the type."

She throws him a smart look and takes a sip of tea before snapping the Danish in half and shoving the flaky, sticky thing in her mouth. It's adorable—cute and sweet, and Carmy's heart beats a little faster… or is that the caffeine?

"Don't be such a purist, Carmy," she says after swallowing, brushing away crumbs, and licking her lips clean. He thinks of cum and blowjobs and kisses in the dim office back at the shop and nervous habits in the rain beneath the car park… and his breathing stalls for a second. Then she takes another bite and hums at the look on his face like she knows—fucking knows—exactly what's on his mind. 

Like he's become some fuckin' horn dog overnight. Wild to think about. Cousin would probably bark at the moon knowing his baby bitch got laid.

Thank fuck it's Sunday tomorrow.

Carmy's shoulders laugh, lips twisted, "Look, don't for a second think I've never eaten three-day-old pasta out the fridge in the middle of the night… cause I've done even worse than that. Not even ashamed," a pause, "... well, maybe a bit."

"Ah, so your standards are finally called into question, Chef of the Year, " she jokes and gestures for him to finish the cheese danish while she breaks the raspberry one in half. "Seriously, I could never understand why my old pâtissier wanted these batched fresh every few hours… something about the filling solidifying, gunking up the filo… just tastes better the next day."

Nostalgic patina coats her words, her cheeks, and her eyes. It looks sad but full, and Carmy swallows before sinking back into his chair. They've talked about childhoods and pasts a few times, but it feels different now. Things are different, so Carmy scrubs his palm across his lips and settles in.

"When I was a kid, my brother and… we'd make pizzas on the weekend, right? Just the two of us. Every Monday morning for breakfast, we'd eat the leftovers cold," he says, licking his lips and tasting salt, "but it wasn't just cold pizza, like, it was homemade, so not so bad. But the thing is, we'd end up ladling these huge globs of jelly and peanut butter on them, fold 'em in half, and have these cold pizza peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch."

"That sounds…" pausing, then her nose scrunches with a smile, "super gross."

Carmy laughs silently, "Not as gross as congealed sweet cheeses."

The sadness melts away, and her eyes twinkle with mirth. 

" Mmm, same level of heresy, but… that's the power of nostalgia, yeah? As kids, we eat what's there or easy, and it sticks with us…"

"Guess you could say food's good at that."

"Hm?" It's a mindless sound as she stares intently ahead, right into his own sleepy, dreamy gaze mixed with gap-toothed times of old and love-drunk highs of now.

"Memories," Carmy clarifies, "You know, making us feel shit when we're—fuck, I dunno—when we're struggling… like a stale danish can make us just fucking forget about everything for a while."

"… yeah. Or like, not just forget but feel."

"Yeah." He likes that. Feeling instead of forgetting or reliving bullshit that leaves him full of grief and bitterness. If he squints, looking for those feelings, they're far away, replaced by syrupy sweetness and sex hormones.

"Heh, yeah." She muses with a blush, fingers pitter-pattering against her cup of tea, eyes trained through the dark window pane on her right and then back at him with an even deeper color, "So, umm… think I'm ready to go—go back to yours I mean."

"Bake some fresh danishes, right? Or?" Carmy smirks, feeling oddly confident.

A coy little smile hitches up on one side of her face, "Or, maybe danishes if you're lucky."

"First time… starting to think I might be."

Lucky… yeah.

AO3 Link: HERE

[throneofsapphics]

have your little girlfriend, part 6

poly!Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: “Aren’t I safe with you?” Maybe the words were a bit bitter, a bit manipulative, but right now she didn’t care. Neither of them would do anything to her when she was hurt like this.

Warnings: darkish aelin/rowan, mental health struggles, forced medicating, implied sexual content 

Word Count: ~2.6k 

A/N: a short one but I promise it's not abandoned, there should be about two more parts, and I have them vaguely planned out!

series masterlist

Soft moss caressed her feet as she ran through the woods, into the dark night’s welcoming embrace. The sweet night air welcomed her, the trees whispering in her ear; faster. 

Sharp and icy wind knocked her to the ground, sending her tumbling over and over and over.

Launching forward in bed, her breaths came fast and heavy - pain lancing through her body. Rowan’s hands were warm on her skin, tugging her into his embrace. The same wind, gentler, cooled her neck. 

“You’re safe,” he murmured, arms tightening. Wincing, she tried to wiggle out of his grip. 

He let her go, and snatched a tonic from the bedside table. The color gave away which one it was. 

Ignoring the pain, she rolled away. “I don’t -,” another lash of pain, “need it,” she gritted her teeth. 

“Bullshit,” he sounded tired. Hopefully too tired to fight her. She should’ve known better. 

Footsteps, and a smaller hand pushed hair away from her face. Aelin frowning down at her. “You need it, petal.” 

“I don’t.” Her hand ran over her hair again, and she sighed, melting into the touch.

“Yes you do.” Rowan said from behind her. Fists clenched the sheets. 

“I said I don’t.” 

She was frustrated for several reasons. One, she hadn’t had a minute alone in what felt like years - really it was only a few weeks. Two, those damn tonics numbed her, put her right into a heavy sleep. Three, they hadn’t ‘allowed’ her to do anything that felt worthwhile. No going back down to her workshop, no walking into the forest or through the city - even when the tonics did their job. All she got was brief walks around the private gardens, ushered through secluded passages, and rare contact with anyone beside them. So, she’d made a personal pact with herself. Until she had a promise she could leave the fucking castle, that same day, she wouldn’t take a tonic. At this point, she’d take even an hour away from her new prison. 

That started three days ago, but the pain started to feel good. It reminded her she was still alive, that everything was real. Thank the Gods she’ll only have to settle once. Sure, she’d heard of the physical effects - but nobody mentioned how much it scrambled their emotions. Maybe that was only her, she didn’t want to ask. 

“You know it’s not safe for you to leave,” Aelin said softly. She squeezed her eyes shut again as another pain shot up her spine. It was always worse at night, especially when the nightmares came.

“Aren’t I safe with you?” Maybe the words were a bit bitter, a bit manipulative, but right now she didn’t care. Neither of them would do anything to her when she was hurt like this. Maybe Rowan was making a tally for later, but that was a problem she’d face months from now. Aelin sighed before sitting, pulling her head onto her lap, fingers running through her hair. She could’ve purred. 

-

‘We should just take her,’ Aelin said to him. He glanced down at the figure, body still curled in tightly, even with Aelin’s fingers running through her hair. Every protective instinct roared against it, especially with her so vulnerable in the first few weeks. Somehow, he hadn’t given in during her little three day protest. If they gave in, she’d either be pacified for a while, or start pushing for more. He’s well aware it would be the latter. 

‘We need to wait at least a month.’ It was Aelin’s first time watching someone else go through this, and it’s different than experiencing it. Part of him felt bad, Aelin only had him to deal with during hers, but she had both of them. That part was heavily outweighed by satisfaction that she had two people to protect her. 

Could she go a whole month without giving in? Probably, but there’s no fucking way he’s letting her go that long without one. 

“Take it, and in one month we’ll go out.”

“No deal.” 

Looking at Aelin, they both knew what they needed to do - and she’d probably hate them for it, at least for a little while. 

Easily, Aelin picked her up and shifted her in her lap, arms holding her back flush against her chest, legs crossing her to pin hers. She realized what was happening a few seconds later, and started squirming. 

Rowan had already moved, his hand squeezing her jaw, prying it open and tipping the liquid back down. She spluttered, but his hand was already holding her mouth closed. Cheeks puffed, she refused to swallow. 

He called her name as a warning. She still didn’t. Rolling his eyes, he pinched her nose shut. Eyes widened, and she tried to hold out. Her face reddened, eyes revealing just how furious she was, but the need for air overtook her, and he watched her throat bob. 

All sorts of foul curses, including ones she probably just invented, left her mouth as he released her, still thrashing in Aelin’s arms as his wife held her steady. It was easy enough for Aelin to hold her, and wait until she’d calmed somewhat - until sleep started to overtake her eyes. 

“I hate you both,” she murmured, before her eyes finally closed. It didn’t phase him. Rowan didn’t care if she hated him now, as long as she was safe and free of pain. 

Even after she fell asleep, Aelin continued to hold her - stroking her hair, arms, anywhere that might bring a bit of comfort. 

Everything seemed more extreme for her. Emotions included, she’d been … unstable, and it didn’t help that she had her breakdown directly before this. Settling was different for each person, but Rowan hadn’t seen anything quite like this before. 

-

She woke up pissed, fully aware of what happened right before sleep overtook her. Truth be told, she’d expected something like this, but it didn’t make her any less angry. She felt violated. Was there any line they wouldn’t cross? No, not when it comes to her and her safety. That disturbed her more than she cared to admit. 

In her current state, she couldn’t go anywhere, but once she was well again? Would staying or leaving hurt more? Well, if she left they’d track her down and drag her back here, and then she’d never taste freedom again, unless they allowed it. She winced at her own thoughts, Aelin and Rowan weren’t that bad. 

Blinking her eyes open, Aelin was standing a few feet away - assessing her. Checking if she’d bite, probably. 

“I’m mad at you,” her voice was rough with sleep - and she wasn’t sure why she said it, maybe she wanted the air clear, for them to know exactly where they stood with her right now. 

“I figured,” Aelin seemed to think it was safe to take a few steps towards her, reaching out her hand. Looking at it, she felt the desire to spit, but settled for rolling to her other side instead. The hurt came through the bond, and she ignored it. Good, maybe Aelin could feel a fraction of what she does right now. 

Gods. That doesn’t sound like her. 

Launching up in the bed, she held her head in her hands. 

“Are you hurting?” Aelin asked, ignoring her not-so-subtle request for distance and taking a seat next to her on the bed, close but not touching. 

A shake of her head, and a quiet, “no.” Silence settled over the two of them, and she had the sudden desire to actually speak. Instinctually, she knew she could trust her mate. Maybe she’d regret saying this later. “My mind … it feels wrong, like it doesn’t belong to me.” 

Aelin shifted closer, their shoulders now touching. “Does it feel like someone else is there?” 

Does it? Like someone is messing with her mind. She ran through her body, trying to assess for anything malignant or out of place. Nothing. Another shake of her head. An indistinguishable wave of emotions flooded through her - such a twisted mess she couldn’t pick one from another but only had the desire to get it out, to fend it off by any means necessary. 

Vaguely, she heard Aelin calling Rowan’s name, heard the door open. 

-

She seemed fine one moment, and the next she’d started hitting the side of her head. Aelin grabbed her hands, holding them down but then - she felt her magic. Like an ancient beast writhing inside of her, trapped and trying to find a way out. She yelled for Rowan, and as soon as he entered a shield of flames surrounded the room. Keeping them and her magic inside. 

Was she keeping her safe, or keeping the world safe from her? It didn’t matter, not now. 

Rowan’s hands gripped the sides of her head, forcing her to look at him. “Bring it back in,” he snarled softly. 

He held firm, even as she tried to pry his hands away from her face, nails leaving small red marks behind. Not enough to draw blood, but enough for a slight sting. He was aware how easily he could hurt her, and slid his hands down, gripping her wrists instead, straddling her thighs. 

Her body fought him, but her magic didn’t touch him or Aelin - only wreaking havoc on their surroundings. Rowan tried her name, again and again. When nothing worked, he gave a silent plea for forgiveness. 

The air ripped from her lungs, he watched her face grow red, her body to the brink of unconsciousness, before the magic stopped - abruptly, leaving the room feeling distinctly empty. Forcing air back into her lungs, she hovered on the edge of barely awake. 

“Stay awake for me,” he gently shook her shoulders. He didn’t notice Aelin had crawled up next to them, her hand now brushing the hair away from her face. 

“Come back to us, love,” she murmured. 

Slow and heavy blinks, he watched her eyes focus, taking in her surroundings. His hands were still holding her in a sitting position, and once he was convinced she could sit on her own, he let go, shuffling slowly off her. Rowan wanted to be out of the striking range, just in case. 

-

There really wasn’t any line they wouldn’t cross - not when it came to hers or their safety. Abstractly, she should thank him - he did her a favor, keeping her magic from completely destroying the surroundings. In reality, she didn’t thank them. That would feel dishonest, and she didn’t feel like being a liar today. Did it make her a petulant child? Maybe, but her entire autonomy had been stripped from her over the last few weeks and she was sick of it. They took it in their hands to make all of her decisions, to decide what she could and couldn’t do.

Insane. That’s how she felt. Like she was holding desperately onto the last thread of her sanity, clinging to it like a lifeline. Was it possible for Fae to go completely insane while settling? Maybe. It looked more likely by the day. 

“I didn’t like that.” 

Aelin snorted. “Neither did I.” She shot her a puzzled look. “In Wendlyn,” she explained, “I came close to a … burnout, of sorts, and he did the same thing to me.”

For some stupid reason, it made her feel a bit better. 

“You should get some sleep,” Rowan’s voice was gruff. She shot him a particularly withering look, and his mouth tightened but he didn’t comment. 

Aelin, instead, reached over to a side table and plucked two books, passing one to her. She’d bought two copies of the same book for them, and somehow exercised enough patience to read at the same pace as her. 

“Don’t you have things to do?” Aelin told Rowan. Probably things they both should do. His eyes rolled, but he pressed a kiss to both of their foreheads before heading out the door. 

She let Aelin fuss and arrange the pillows around her, before they both settled into the book. 

Her mind was still scrambled, head still dazed enough it was difficult to focus on the words. Eventually, she - gently - tossed the book aside and leant her head on her mate’s shoulder. “Read to me,” she said, adding a “please.” 

A soft laugh, but Aelin’s comforting voice filled the room, putting inflections in the right places, painting a clear picture in her mind. This, she should ask her to do more often. 

-

Rowan woke to her the sweet scent of her arousal, like the first bloom of spring. His eyes shot open, meeting Aelin’s stare. Turquoise eyes were filled with amusement, she squirmed between them, nightdress ridden up, thighs rubbing together. 

It had been painful, but necessary, keeping themselves from touching her the last several weeks. 

Soft and gentle moans left her lips, laced with frustration. 

‘We really should help her,’ Aelin’s eyes met his. 

‘Wouldn’t want to leave our mate unsatisfied.’ Her eyes gleamed. ‘Be gentle,’ he cautioned, ignoring his wife’s glare and switching his attention back to her. 

-

A month passed, and the days switched between dragging each second out and passing in a semi-aware haze. 

“Do you want to get out of the castle?” Aelin asked, not seeming keen on the idea, but y/n nearly threw herself off of the bed, Aelin moving quick enough to steady her with a soft chuckle.

“Yes,” she repeated, “yes, yes, yes.” 

Begging for basic freedoms? She shut the voice out. 

They took a secluded exit out of the castle. The sun was barely cresting over the horizon, the cool air filling and refreshing her lungs. She was aware of Aelin watching her every reaction, her hand clutched around hers, but she didn’t care at this moment. There would be time to analyze it later, for now she’d take the temporary reprieve. The streets were near empty, but she didn’t mind. After this much time … alone, she figured it might be a bit overwhelming to see several people, and even she could admit her magic was erratic at best. 

The longer she spent trapped in their room, the more time she had to think, and the more dangerous her thoughts grew. Sometimes she thought they underestimated her, maybe thought she wasn’t quite on their level of intelligence, a feisty little creature that would eventually cave to their wishes - even if it took some time. 

They’d quickly proven there were no limits when it came to her, and that idea, that they would keep her locked in a tiny box in name of her safety, started an itch all of her rationalization couldn’t stop. 

The smart choice would be to talk to them, but the last time she tried that everything shattered around her. Instead, she dreamed and planned. After she got through this, she’d be immortal - filled with endless time to wait before she acted.

Her head lay on Aelin’s chest, her fingers running through her hair, a book propped in her mate’s other hand.

Sweet moments and memories fluttered through her mind, but she forced herself to remember the others. Their trust in her was fragile, all she needed was to build it back up again. She didn’t think of the after, only of the freedom. It became her only goal, the one thing occupying her idle mind. 

The door shut gently, and she lifted her head, Rowan’s frame filling it. His mouth curved into the slightest smile seeing the two of them, striding over towards the bed. 

“You’re dirty,” Aelin snapped at him. His eyes rolled before meeting hers. 

‘Did I miss something?’ 

‘Something with the book, she’s been on edge,’ she answered silently. His brows rose, but he knew better than to try to interrupt again, and headed towards the washroom.

She forced the guilt deep, deep down, letting sleep take over instead - exhaustion still filled her, the effects of her settling lessening, but still present. 

-

taglist: @wallacewillow0773638 @inloveallthetime @sstrohma @moonlightttfae

[not34624]

DAZAI X READER – THE ONLY ONE

heavy dead dove, failed su1c1de attempt, NOT BETA READ HEAVY, gender neutral reader, smut, angst and smut, fluff?, OLD FIC, CRINGE OLD FIC + OOC

REQUESTS: OPEN - CLOSED note: this is old…like hellishly old, I found it while working on a request! enjoy… (it’s cringe)

Dazai could remember every detail of that night, the way the air smelt of metal and blood. Everything went flat in that moment of realization of what was happening around him, you laid half-way in the bathtub, the once clear and clean water was now a crimson red like the color of a torn up pomegranate.

Dazai felt his face go a pale like a white ghost , everything went numb for him at that moment of realization, he snapped out of it and jumped into action. The steamy hot tears blurred his vision as he pulled your naked body out of the body, he held you close to his chest. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket

as he dialed ‘911’, the ambulance would be here soon. your once soft skin was tinted by gushes of cuts, he rushed and grabbed bandages from the bathroom cupboard and bandaged your wrists up. was he going to lose you? his beloved boyfriend, the man he’s loved since the dawn of time. He held your face in his hand and stared into your dull eyes.

The next things you could remember was bright lights as your eyes cracked open and your brows frowned, Your eyes darted around be landing on Dazai. nausea filled your stomach as you looked at his tired face, you could only hear the air from the vent and the sound breathing coming from you and your possible still lover? ‘I’m sorry’ is all you could repeat in your head being to tired to even open your mouth.

you sighed softly as you wiggled your finger on your hand. ‘still alive’ and your wrists in white cleaned bandages with a a IV tube connected into your arm. You shifted around on the hospital, causing the brown haired man to wake up. His eyes slowly opened as he let out a low yawn. Your eyes locked before he stood up so quickly he knocked over the chair.

“(Name)” your name softly left his chapped lips as he reached his hand out to touch your face, as if fearing that if he were to touch you, you would disappear into thin air. “Dazai..” you spoke in whisper, you didn’t notice the hot tears coming down from your eyes like fireworks.

He held your face in his hand, and leaned in placing a kiss onto your long ago soft lips, the kiss was gentle as if he were touching a dying rose a afraid that if one wrong move it would crumble in his gentle hands.

Dazai called the nurse in, things were talked such as health and mental-health. The talk of hospitalizing came up but Dazai declined it, weeks past and soon you were allowed to go back home with your Dazai.

“(Name), look, I’m not mad okay? but..” he sighed before continuing as he looked at you will the saddest look you probably have seen in his eyes, “Why?” those words sent a shiver up your spine. you gulped, “Darling, you don’t have to answer. I wont make you” you shook your head, “I wasn’t feeling the best, I felt like.. I wasn’t worthy of everything you were giving me...” Tear pricked your eyes “I love you, so much. More than you could possibly ever undetermined. I felt like I was worth your time,love,touch”

hot tears ran down your, “oh..my love” you heard your eyes sight blurred, but quickly you felt a warm embrace by your beloved. “You’re so fucking dumb, you know that?” he whispered as he held you close and tight just like the night he found you ruined and bloodied, you bawled your eyes out at that moment.

Three days went by after the accident, you and Dazai laid together on the bed as you cuddled, The TV played some cheesy-trash romance movie. your wrists were still bandages and needed to be changed daily, since you (and Dazai) didn’t want the cuts to get infected since they were so deep, Dazai pulled you into a kiss.

The kiss started off slow with passion before Dazai gently bit into your bottom lip causing you to gasp softly allowing his tongue into your warm mouth, what started as a gentle kiss quickly turned heated. his hands roamed your body as he pulled away leaving gentle bite and hickeys on your neck and collar.

You gasped as his teeth sank into your sensitive skin, “Dazai..!” you whined “quit teasin’..” you pouted. Dazai looked into your eyes placing a gentle kiss on your lips , “Okayokay, don’t give me that look, baby” he slowly pulled down your pj pants, “turn around for me,pretty” he asked in tooth rotting tone “imma be gentle..”

as you turned around he kissed the back of your neck and head. he was truthful to his words, he prepped you with such gentleness’s it made you crazy. “p-pleaseee…” you whined as your hole clenched around nothing after he pulled his slick covered fingers out of you. “Be patient” his husk tone whispered into your ear.

He pulled down his kitty covered pj pants that were just like yours,his cock. sprained out and hit your winking hole causing a whine out of your throat, “poor baby, is so needy” he slowly pushed into your small hole, stretching your hole out as he wrapped an arm around your waist slowly going down to your smaller dick.

He gently jerked your member as he began to thrust into your cute hole, “dazi’mfgh…!” you moaned out as you clenched around him. “shit..calm honey..” he groaned as he rolled his palm around your flushed tip. his thrusts were gentle “fasterf-fasterfaster!” a croaked moan escaped your mouth as you begged for Dazai to speed up.

He gentle yanked your head back and gave you a small spank on your plump bottom, “what did I say,hm?” his gentle poundings still making you see stars and drool dripping from your chin onto the bedsheets, his hips snapped his girthy cock hitting your prostate, “mghuh’fuckkk…dazaiii” you felt your cock squirt cum.

he held your hips, he rolled his organ into your puffy hole, tears began to role down yours face from the overwhelming feelings after your high. “sorry baby..shh almost,shit..” he threw his head back as he jerked your tiny cock, teasing the tip. Your flushed face covered in tear and drool. “made such a mess..” he pouted.

His soft fucks made your head feel fuzzy, “mmghahh..comeingcomeing!!” You came once again into your tummy and Dazais hand, “close..just lil more” he kissed the back of your neck before he slowly speed up, his soft thrust quickly thrusted brutal. “Inside or out?” His body sweaty and hands sticky with his baby’s semen.

“inside..insideinside pleaseee..!!” You begged and whined as you shoved your face into the pillow moaning, the bed shook and creaked from his rough thrust, his seed stuffed up your puffy swore hole, “gughhha dazaiii…mm” you felt full and warm, his semen dripping down your thigh. He quickly let go and fell onto you not wanting to pull out form your warmth.

“Sorry, I’ll be gentle next around” your turned your head to side to look at him “next round?!” he gave you a foxy smile, “cmon you can take it right? who’s my good boy,again?” you whined before letting your head fall onto your pillow. “I am..” he kissed your shoulder “yes,you are” he bummed happily before carefully flipping you onto your back “I love you” he whispered into your ear

you quickly tugged his head back, quickly “I love you too,Osamu” pulling him into a passionate kiss

[lixiektty]

angel pussy

word count: 1.3k

warnings/kinks: dom!chan, sub!reader, language, oral (f. receiving), pussy smacking, praise, only a little degradation, pet names, dirty talk, pls feel free to let me know if i missed anything!!

author's note: took a mental health break while i was trying to finish up school before winter break, but i'm back!! and i hope you all enjoy my upcoming works for this month.

» slutmas masterlist «

waking up here would always felt like a dream. all the walls to the room were glass, giving an open view to the snow falling down and landing onto the ground. it was better knowing that you lived in the middle of nowhere and didn't have to worry about anyone watch you.

it'd get really cold at night but with your boyfriend by your side, he kept you company with his body heat, you rested peacefully everytime.

this morning, he woke you up with a shower of kisses along your collarbone and neck. he had been going at it since the moment he woke up, eager for the taste of your skin. you were addicting to him, honestly. he really could not get enough.

chan didn't start moving closer to your jaw until he felt you starting to stir awake. you groan, eyes fluttering open, "chris—" you whine.

"good morning, angel," he mumbled against your skin, "i woke up with a craving."

you sigh, head resting back on the pillows, "what is it?"

"was craving you— the sweet taste of your pussy, can i eat you out?" he asked. he sounded so innocent asking like that, you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on— even just a little bit.

"it's 7 in the morning," you protest.

"that's never stopped us before," he chuckled, leaving a wet peck right under your jaw, "come on baby, it's driving me crazy."

chan was still marking up your neck, hand now creeping under your shirt. his warm fingers sliding against your skin sent chills down your spine. you didn't want to reject his offer, you were just still half asleep and wanted to go back to your slumber.

"you can lay back and relax, i'll do all the work," he added, hoping it'd make you agree.

"ugh, fine," those words leaving your mouth excited chan more than you thought, a bright smile shining on his face as if he didn't ask for such a dirty thing.

"thank you, angel," he thanked, before moving on top of you while still remaining under the covers, placing the most gentle kiss upon your lips.

he was soon moving down, disappearing into the blanket, hot breath on your already bare cunt.

"only put my shirt on last night?" he asked. you heard that smirk he wore on his face so clearly.

you hum in response, hips wiggling as if it was an invite for him to finally shove his face between your legs. his hands rub the smooth skin on your thighs, pushing them up and apart for him to fit comfortably into.

finally, his skilled mouth was on you, gently sucking up your arousal. you let out a sigh in pleasure, relaxing just as chan said you would.

it didn't matter how, what, when or where— chan was going to show you his affection. just like this morning, he only wanted to taste you, not even wanting to fuck you like that wouldn't please him too. no, he just wanted the taste of you melting on his tongue.

"mmh, so sweet," he praised, humming into you.

your clit throbbed from the attention he was giving you, and the words leaving his dirty mouth. he knew exactly how to use it wether that being on you or using it to say the things he knew would have you weak in the knees.

his tongue was moving in slow circles, taking his time and being gentle with you this early in the morning. you appreciated it, but your body needed more. everything was happening too slow.

usually, on any other occasion, chan would be eating you out as if he was starving. lips bright pink and swollen after being done with you. as much as you wanted, you had no idea what was going on in his mind and why he was taking his time. he wanted to savor every taste even though he knew he had you all the himself.

it was difficult to hold yourself back when being expressive with what you desire most. so you didn't, bucking your hips up into his mouth.

"more, chan please—" you beg. his next actions after pulling away surprise you though, considering he had been so gentle not too long ago. a sharp slap was sent against your folds. you jump at the obvious contact.

"i told you to relax and i'd do the work right?" he asked, if only you could see that look on his face, "don't act up."

you stayed quiet after that, other than the uncontrollable moans leaving you. chan became a lot more messy, even after him basically telling you to not tell him what to do. he was doing just as begged for.

"is this want you wanted? my poor little slutty angel just couldn't wait two seconds," he said, burying his face back into you.

you were a moaning mess already. the only thing that'd get you closer to your orgasm was if you could see his face. your lower body was just so cold— the more chan was eating at you like a madman, the more your body actually started to heat up.

it was almost like it was your first instinct to yank the blanket off of him, which is exactly what you did. earning a grin from chan once he looked up and realized he was no longer hiding under the covers, "like seeing me between your thighs?" you nod, lip stuck between your teeth. "you're the prettiest little thing, yunno?"

you couldn't stand how much he was praising you, it was hard to hide that his words effected you— and he knew they did. each swipe of his tongue sent another rush of pleasure through your veins and you already felt so close to your high.

chan knew your body so well, he knew when you on the verge of snapping. he kept his mouth on you, tongue focusing on your bud and sucking hard until he heard a cry from you.

"fuck— chan, i'm close," you moan, fingers in his curly locks and yanking him in closer.

he could smell, taste, and feel all of you— his mind was all over the place. you were so sweet in every way possible, it genuinely drove him nuts.

"you can cum, angel," he said, pulling away after every other word, "put all those sweet angel juices all over my face, go on."

chan was a fucking menace. he made you putty into his hands by just his words and tongue. you wondered how he did it— how he had the power to do such things.

"ah— jesus chan," you cried, body tensing and hips pushing down on your boyfriend's tongue.

chan allowed you to ride his tongue until you stopped moving. he pressed a kiss against you, making you shiver— this caused him to laugh a little, apologizing. "sorry," he said with a grin, "i can do that all day."

"well, we have things to do," you reply instantly, sitting up and closing your legs.

that was a lie. neither of you had to work, or had plans with friends. today was a free day, and all you wanted to do was lay and do absolutely fucking nothing. it wasn't like you could do much anyways considering the amount of snow piling up.

"yeah, like what?" chan asked.

your eyes got big, corners of your mouth curling, "cuddle and watch movies," you suggested, "it's a snow day."

he didn't argue, sitting next to you and pulling the blanket draped over the both of you up. he pulled you close and picked up the remote to begin surfing around for something to watch.

"anything you wanna watch specifically?" he asked, you shake you head, "no, surprise me," chan hummed, kissing your forehead then scrolled through the movies. your head was now rested on his chest, legs ontop of his and taking in all his warmth shared under the blanket.

nothing, honestly, could ever be better than this.

[peachesofteal]

No but hear me out, Simon walks in and immediately knows what's going on and he tries to go the whole "listen to me, I'm gonna take over" route but Darling's well and truly out of his reach and she's about to leave and they just CAN'T have that. She makes a run for the backdoor and the other two are tripping trying to grab her before she can, frightened if she leaves they'll never see her again

I am listening. I am hearing you out. I am loving it. 🖤

18+ MDNI / baby trap au / dark and twisty themes

The tension in the flat is so thick, it clogs the air. Could suffocate him, if he let it. Like cotton, shoving down his throat, blocking his airway, choking him to death.

He can tell something is very, very wrong.

Johnny is staring between him and you, eyes wide and nervous like a newborn fawn. That level of fear, of unease, is enough to string Simon’s spine straight up.

And you… you’re crying, palm clasped over your hand, the other resting over your newly rounded belly, finally starting to show recently in your t shirts and sleep shorts that you’re always wearing. Your belly, where the baby sleeps, and grows. Safe from harm, their baby, their darling. Their whole world.

Except right now, their whole world looks like it’s shattering, holding a death grip on a half packed bag.

“What’s going on?”

“Si.” Johnny croaks.

“What’s going on, is you fucking stealthed me, Simon.” You hiss between a broken sob, stepping away when he shifts forward to stand beside Johnny. “And now he-“ your fingers stabs towards Johnny and he flinches, “won’t let me leave!”

“No, please-“

“Johnny.” Simon swallows everything that’s buzzing in the back of his mind. He shoves it down, away for later. Shoves back the questions of how you found out in the first place, how everything got to this point.

He can fix this. He can take control.

“Darling.” He wants to reach for your neck, wants to gentle you into his grip, soothe you, keep you calm. The doctor’s warnings repeat in his mind; “stress is not good for mum or the baby. Elevated heart rate, lack of hydration and sleep, all of these things can negatively impact mum’s health, and the wee one’s”.

He reaches, moving in one fluid motion, stretching forward to snake his hand around you, but you jerk to the side.

“No!’ You’re backpedaling. Even when you’re so out of reach mentally, if he can touch you, he can get a handle on whatever’s going on with physical touch.

“Let’s talk. Talk to us, darling.” He tries, but you shake your head violently.

“Fuck that. And fuck this. And fuck you! How could you do this? You were supposed to love me… take care of me.”

“We do. We do, darling. We will take care of you-“

“Stop. Just….” You move in a flash, surprisingly fast. It shocks him, jars him. That you’re running. That you’re even trying.

Johnny has a hand around your wrist just as quick, and you scream. It’s full of rage, of pain, and his heart cracks.

“Darling, please!” His heart is pounding in his head, drowning out his good sense. “Listen!”

“Johnny, let GO!” You shout just as loud, and he looks to Simon for guidance.

He takes a deep breath and then-

“We can’t.”

[foreverisntenough]

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestion, SMUT (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, parenting, mental health struggles, eating disorder, self doubt, body image issues, daddy kink, angst, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant/ baby logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Extra Extreme Warning! This chapter focus on mental health struggles and body image issues (depression and ed) It’s a little dark so if that is at all potentially triggering to you please be advised and do not interact.

Chapter 19 - Can't Do It Anymore | ‘Ours’

“I can’t do it anymore!” You screamed with tears running down your face. You were grown but you felt like a little girl. Your mum standing in front of you in your bedroom angry as she's ever been. 

“Stop! Stop it, We’re going.” She demanded. She was stern and not going to back down. It was the summer before you left for university. A fresh 18 year old eager to get away from the exact scene unfolding in front of you. Your mum was forcing you to attend a gala event she had every year. She was intimidatingly kind but often kept her feet firm in her way of tough love. You loved a good party, maybe a little too much but forcing a smile and talking about what your college courses would consist of next year to business men that stood too close and inappropriately inspected every inch of you. It was a secret to everyone but your mum and Winnie and even they pretended they didn’t know. The way the sheath dress hung off your body reflecting back at your mum in the mirror only amplified the skeletal arch of your spine.  

“Fine… you want me to go. I’ll fucking go.” You murmured brushing past her heading straight to the en-suite of your room. You chugged a liter of vodka you'd dashed under the sink and popped one too many of your prescribed xanax in an unprescribed way. You collapsed in the bathroom before you could make it out of the house, ruining your night, your mum's prized annual gala, and probably Winnie’s perception of you forever. She had gone to your bathroom initially to steal some of the new blush you had gotten. She was met with something entirely different; finding you laying on the floor. They rushed you to hospital in an ambulance.  

“She’s extremely malnourished.” The attending doctor spoke calmly to your parents outside the room in the corridor. Your dad’s gaze narrowing at you laying in the harshly lit room. Your mum’s face pulling into disgust and shock, offended the doctor could imply something like that.

“She’s just thin. Please.” She scoffed, taken aback that you could be anything but fabulously waift. She hated the way the doctor infered she had not taken care of you somehow. She had given you everything, look at you, you were gorgeous but the hospital gown wasn't exactly chic.

“Ann Marie… listen to them. She’s killing herself. Enough.” Your dad quipped. They loved you in their own ways; your dad thought of you like little girls, your mum as if you were her little dolls. Things slowed after the incident and there was a much closer eye on you. Your mum still pushed, your dad still pulled, and Winnie sat somewhere in the middle. You got relatively healthy, at least enough to pass on scales and keep the chaos at bay but things bubbled under the surface. Suppressing anything that may rock the boat of familial perfection. You and Lauren had just returned to Manhattan after a weekend out east at your parents when she found you in your own sick. Chase had come over the night you returned from the beach. You and Lauren lived together and she wasn’t keen opening the door to see him but he was handsome and a good fuck so she shrugged it off. It wasn’t really him exactly… it wasn’t him. Chase sucked no shadow of a doubt but you couldn’t blame him. It could’ve been any man.  It really could’ve been anyone but you just happened to fall into his terribly mean arms on one night you blacked out and found yourself waking up in his bed. The tectonic plates of the earth shifted, mentally handcuffing yourself to this awful person.

“Still the same for me?” He’d ask you ahead of coming over. He kept tabs on the size of your clothes, the condition of your skin, the way your hair fell. You didn’t eat all day and he fucked the daylights out of you that night after you confirmed you had kept the circumference of your waist just the same as he liked, anything to get him to like you. He shoved his cock down your throat until you were sobbing, he didn't like you, he liked the high of using you. “You want me to love you, Y/N? That’s all you want? Take my fucking cock and I’ll think about it.” He’d mock you, railing into you from behind. You hated that your body craved him. That’s all you thought about. How? How do you get someone like this to like you? Why did you want it so bad? You did it all for him with zero return except for the brutal fuck he'd deliver. Lauren called Winnie sobbing. She knocked on your door early the next day curious to see how the night went but you were there limp in your bed sick.

“Well she’s breathing right? Jesus Christ! What did you do last night?” Winnie screamed freaking out that Lauren had found you like this and yet simultaneously angry with you. This was the second time someone was finding you like this. 

“I don’t know I… I.. she was with fucking Chase last night… fuck!” Lauren cried. The problem wasn’t Chase, what you ate, or your mum, the problem was you. You did it on purpose but no one mentioned it to you. No one said it. Ignorance was bliss. You were discharged again and everything moved on. Texts from Chase still coming in oblivious to the state he walked out on you in despite Lauren’s barrage of messages to leave you alone. You just threw your phone off the bed feeling just the same as the days prior only now slightly  more weak. You curled on your bed just wanting it all to fade away until morning the broke, the annoyingly bright sun refusing to lend you the peace you so badly craved. Why did you want him to love you so badly? Did you really hate him or yourself for being with him. Either way, you just wanted to be loved, that was abundantly clear. You walked into your parent’s kitchen in an oversized t-shirt sleepily and groggy. They made you move back with them for a few months to rehabilitate. 

“Trent Alexander Arnold has pinned one in for Liverpool!” The echo from the TV in the connecting room blasting in the late morning as you reached up into a cupboard. 

“Get in! Come on” Your dad yelled cheering. His loud booming voice making you jump. He heard you fumble the glass of water you were trying to get yourself so he turned to you mid-celebration. “Y/N, you okay? Come watch with me. The kid I swear... He's amazing” He shook his head in disbelief at the goal just scored by the man who would eventually ask him to marry you. A glint flashed in your eyes. 

“He’s cute…” You mumbled to your dad coming over to sit with him analyzing the camera’s close zoom on Trent’s face. His lips curling into the same dimpled smile your daughter had now ricocheting around in your mind finding its permanent home to replay on a loop. 

“Talented.” Your dad corrected you as he looked on more impressed with the tactical skill than Trent’s looks.

“Sure” You rolled your eyes and pulled your legs up onto the couch. Wrapping your arms around your knees.

“About your age you know?” Your dad informed you. That was interesting. You wondered what Trent’s life was like? This stupidly attractive stranger on the TV. You were the same age crying over a pathetic Manhattan party boy last night. Your mind wandered and you began to wonder if Trent lived a life anything like Chase and all the other boys surrounding you; using looks and status to blow through girls and money on nights out. You cocked your head looking a bit closer at his eyes and you felt your heart involuntarily softening. Imagine if he was really really sweet. “How we feeling today?” Your dad intruded the delusions seeping into your brain. You hummed lost in your own thoughts. “Can’t even conjure up a lie for me today?” He laughed sympathetically and quietly turning to face you. 

“Nah.” You finally gave him half an answer. Your eyes fixated on the game now waiting for the camera to catch glimpses of the boy you might’ve just fallen in love with. What if he was nice?  What if he was nice to you? God, if he was nice to you you'd love him forever, and you did. He had a chock hold grip on your heart. 

“Want a beer?” Your dad cut your thoughts off once more. You furrowed your brow confused what he was asking you. 

“Dad?” You snapped out of your reverie about a person you didn’t know feeling stupid imagining a world you didn’t live in, you didn’t deserve that, and certainly the boy flashing across the tv wasn’t going to be the one to give it to you. 

“It’s 8 pm where I am right now.” Your dad laughed again dreaming he was back at Anfield’s stadium tonight instead of on your family’s couch. You hummed, finally wrapping your head around his sentiment. “Let’s go on your thanksgiving break.” He cooed. 

“To?” You turned your body towards him on the couch for the first time taking your eyes off the screen in minutes. You were interested in anything he was offering that might potentially whisk you out of your current place in the world. 

“To Anfield. You’ll love it” Your dad assured you. Loving anything right now felt like a cruel joke but of course you’d go.  8 pm under the floodlights of Anfield with the beer your dad wanted so desperately you watched admiring the boy who would end up being nicer to you than anyone ever had been. 

You changed for the match and you definitely didn’t look good. Winnie FaceTimed Teddy and Dianne for you as you rushed around your hotel room. You did the best you could to not burst right into tears looking back at the cutest face you’d ever seen in your life. The bright wide eyes gleaming mirroring Trent’s exactly seeing her mummy. It was wrong but you hadn’t even responded to any of Trent’s messages from last night yet this morning. You didn’t tell Winnie that. You couldn’t. You couldn’t answer all the questions he had and you didn’t want to answer any more of hers. Honestly, you didn’t know the answers to them. When you arrived at the stadium you prayed for some sort of invisibility shield. That wasn’t going to happen. You were radiating an energy that just reeked of misfortune, you felt eyes burning into you. Trent scanned the stadium for you before you had arrived. Seats left for you and Winnie empty while he warmed up. Marcel sitting there alone also awaiting your arrival. When the two teams lined up ahead of the anthem he finally clocked you. Trent looked fucking livid. You’d never seen him give that face to you. You started crying. You watched him shut his eyes in slow motion, his heart breaking in real time. Winnie squeezed your shoulder. You batted your eyes to try to clear the tears. Your view of Trent blurring then clearing then blurring again. Your heart aching painfully. Trent played incredible. It maybe was the best half of football you’d seen him play. It made you sick thinking maybe you had potentially been a cause for any dips in his form. That not having you around somehow made him better. The second half began. Only a few minutes passed before Trent rocketed home a shot from outside the box. The stadium erupted celebrating the goal and you never felt more silenced. He ran to the corner flag and swung at it with real fire. He screamed while his teammates engulfed him. Media and the crowd probably perceived the celebration as passion but you knew… Winnie and Marcel knew... Jadon who now walked himself into the middle of a horrible situation knew. You sat on your hands watching the game clock tick on. Jadon looked at Winnie and hinted for her to check her phone. No one was really talking between the four of you. It was so awkward. Winnie picked up her phone and nonchalantly tilted the screen away from you, leaning back in her seat reading Jadon's message.

‘Trent knows this is going on, right? He needs to help her, Win.’

Winnie sighed reading it trying to hold back the wave of emotion crashing over her. Of course, Trent knew. You were getting married. He knew everything, he just had never experienced such a low of yours in real time. It was easy to love someone when you only heard about their past. You can forgive them for something you weren’t even there for. Something you’d never had to have experienced. Trent loved you for all that you are but seeing you wither after the birth of your baby wasn’t on his bingo card. Liverpool won and Trent stood on the pitch hands on his hips staring up into the sky still while the team scattered around the pitch jumping in celebration. They won and yet he felt worse than ever.  Before the trophy presentation he ran down the tunnel. Marcel made you go with him down to meet him. God, there was nothing in the world you wanted to do less than face Trent right now. You made Winnie come with you for moral support. You saw him walk towards you. Full kit, sweaty, perfect, beautiful. You couldn’t believe he was at his very best when you weren’t with him, seeing him in all his glory at the very top and you at your very lowest. Producing a man of the match performance and you producing maybe the biggest fuck up or your life. You were in your own world of thought when his curt words cut you off.

“Where were you?” That was all he said. Cold, keeping his distance from you. 

“T…” you pleaded with your eyes falling into pools. Tears already gathering in your eyes. 

“No, where the fuck were you?” He snapped again. Winnie stood off to the side of the corridor. She didn’t know how to help. She felt horrible like somehow this was her fault. It wasn’t at all but she couldn’t help the guilt she felt having been at the club with you, having drank so much with you. She tried to help.  

“Trent, she was…” Winnie began to try to talk but that was not going to fly. Trent didn’t want to hear from anyone but you. This was for you and him to sort.

“Winnie, let her fucking answer. Where were you? Tell me.” You weren’t sure you’d ever heard this tone of voice. It scared you. You felt your bones shake. It was like you were being reprimanded in a principal's office except you weren’t. You were being reprimanded by your fiancé in front of your sister and friends, somehow making it all the worse. 

“The hotel, the hotel. I swear.” You started to hyperventilate. You were having a panic attack in the tunnels of Wembley. This was a fucking disaster. Trent believed you. He didn’t want to but he knew you. He’d know if you were lying. Your answer flooded out drenched in honesty and fear. You felt your chest start to contract and tighten. He couldn’t look at you anymore. It hurt too much.

“I have to go…” he sighed, running his hands over his head frustrated. He was almost annoyed  that nothing happened. He was wildly relieved you were safe and standing in front of him in one piece but annoyed he couldn’t pick one thing to harp on to decidedly be angry about. All this chaos for what? “I need to go be with my fucking team. Marce is taking you home.” He quipped pulling his jersey over his head revealing his stupidly hot body. You tried to distract yourself but it was hard, he looked really good. 

“What?” You asked utterly confused. What did he mean you were going home? Your mind couldn’t keep up with his. The visual stimulant of his naked torso, your blinding headache, and the noise from a rowdy stadium concocting into a right mess. 

“I don’t want you here.” He shut his eyes saying it. He hated saying it but he meant it. He had a hard time looking at you right now. He was so weak against you and right now he was pissed. He didn’t want to cave, he didn’t want to give himself any more time or opportunity to. The emotions rising in your chest swelled with the bile in your throat. It burned and it hurt. Your brain was completely scrambled. You couldn’t process that he just rejected you, turned you away. To be fair, everyone standing there was surprised.  Trent dapped up Marcel and Jadon and swiftly headed back out onto the pitch. Nothing more said, not even a goodbye. You were completely stunned and frozen in your place. Trent was determined to do anything to get you off his mind but everything reminded him of you. You were ubiquitous. Lifting the trophy was nothing but a burden. It was heavy, he was tired and disinterested. Proud of his team but disinterested. 

Marcel drove you home all the way back up towards Manchester and to say it was awkward was an understatement. You cried about 5 times. He’d just turn the music up a little more each time letting you fall apart. You didn’t want him to acknowledge it. He was doing it for both of you. No one really knew what happened, you included. It was one big blur but everyone knew in a way that you had gone awol last night so Marcel didn’t really have anything to say to you until you finally arrived to your house.

“Do you want me to stay? I don’t want to talk but I also don’t want you alone.” Marcel asked you as he pulled into your drive. It was quintessential Marce. He didn’t really want to deal with any of this but he was way too empathetic to just drop it all, no questions asked. He was still your friend, Trent aside. Although right now he felt more like Trent’s brother than your friend. 

“I’m fine. I promise. Thank you.” You lied blatantly getting out of the car and he knew it. You didn’t expect him to but he got out of his car to help you with your luggage. The bags you had filled with outfits you would no longer get to wear this weekend celebrating with Trent now. 

“It’ll be fine.” He gave you a hug and it was like his reassuring words broke the damn down. You began to sob heavily. He stepped back from you not surprised but he was upset that you were upset. He felt bad but he also was a little annoyed with you so he needed to let go. He dragged his hand over his face and pivoted without looking back at you. He turned around though when he opened the drivers side of his car. “I know whatever happened was a mistake, Y/N, but he does a fucking lot for you, ya know? I’m not saying you don’t but he really moves fucking mountains for you and sometimes… fuck.” He sighed looking at you defeated as you stood awkwardly at your garage door awaiting the dagger he was about to twist into you. “I don’t know, you just expect him to. Like you take it as a given, for granite.” You opened your mouth to respond. “I gotta go.” He shook his head and left before you could say anything. Cut to, Trent had finally returned home. It was tense and it was painfully uncomfortable for the fleeting moments before the highly anticipated fight erupted. The second he walked in the door you shuddered. You two stood a good 3 yards apart yelling in voices you never used in your kitchen. 

“You know what that would fucking look like if someone saw any of this?” Trent spat at you frustrated you didn’t understand the point he was trying to make. You had explained to him the extent of your night that you could remember. He was less than impressed but right now he sounded like your mum and it made you feel horrible. Thoughts of all of the times she scolded you telling you ‘what would people think.’ the image of her sat at the edge of a hospital bed appeared in your head. 

“Why do you care what it fucking would look like?” You snapped back at him more annoyed at the remembrance of your mum than him. The sting felt the same no matter whose mouth it was coming from.

“Because I care about you… Do you see yourself lately?  I know with the wedding and the baby it’s stressful but have you looked in the mirror lately? I know how often you’ve been weighing yourself.” The way he said his last sentence was almost threatening. Trent wasn’t dumb and you weren’t exactly trying to hide either. He saw the scale pulled out on your shared bathroom floor every morning. The measuring tape you kept tucked in your drawer just to make sure everything was ‘on track’ lingering after effects from Chase like scars. 

“I can’t fucking look in the mirror, Trent” You snapped and the flood gates opened. You started balling. It took everything in him not to just grab for you. Hold you. Fix this. Tell you it was fine except this time it wasn’t. Nothing was fine right now. 

“What the fuck honestly, I’m at a fucking boiling point. I can't do it anymore. You have a daughter, Y/N! Do you want her to grow up to be like you?” Trent shouted at you, really starting to lose his temper. 

“Do you? Do you want her to be like me?” You asked him incredibly, even more offended than his words echoing your mother’s. Your tears were blurring your vision entirely. You couldn’t make out the face you knew. The face you loved. The one that brought you so much comfort. Right now, your entire life looked to have a smudged haze over it all.

“Fucking hell, Y/N. Can you please not cry all the time?” He pleaded with you having a hard time keeping his distance from you. He was so angry with you but so conflicted with the affection he wanted to show you. You only stood on opposite sides of the kitchen island at the moment but you felt worlds apart.

“I can’t! I can’t do this anymore. It’s too much. This is all too much.” You were sobbing at this point clinging onto the lip of the marble slab countertop.

“No, I am not letting you do this.” He hated when you cried. Seeing you right now so upset made him sick to his stomach but pushed him past his normal point of concern into a state of rage. “Why do you fucking treat yourself like this!?! I don’t fucking understand it!” He continued to seethe with fury. He looked at you waiting for an answer. An incredibly deafening silence falling over the room. 

“Because I fucking hate everything about me. What don’t you fucking understand about that. You expect me to be this perfect version 24/7 but I’m not. I’m not!” You kept crying. “I’m sorry. Fuck! I’m sorry, I’m trying but I can’t be like you, okay?” You whimpered, feeling defeated and broken. It felt like you could never measure up to the golden boy that was in the room with you. No matter where you went or what you did he was always going to look sparkly and new, fantastical and interesting and you couldn’t feel more opposite. Having a baby completely ransacked you. You were far from new. You had been stripped of a sense of individualisation and identity. You were Teddy’s mum and Trent’s fiance. Y/N didn’t matter, anyone could fill in the blank of your name. The icing on the cake was the image you were trying to uphold all the while.

“Why do you always have to guilt me? I didn’t do anything here, Y/N, you did! You did this.” He snapped at you once more, moving to be a bit more accusatory. In a more mindful state you probably would’ve understood his reasoning but it just felt like a personal attack at the moment. 

“I step out of line once and it…” you tried to rebuttal but he wasn’t having it. He cut you off before you could even think of what your next word was going to be. 

“Out of line? Out of line? No, baby.” You heard him use the pet name out of habit and it sent a shiver running down your spine. That was not the way you liked to hear that word. After that, you had an even harder time keeping up with his words so transfixed on the snippy way he had said ‘baby.’ “You went missing and said fuck all untill I saw you in the stadium… you were in London alone. The mother of my fucking child, my baby.” Trent felt like he was about to start crying so he turned away from you dropping his head in his hands. ”My baby, my beautiful girl just fucking gone and you didn’t care! You didn’t care one bit” He whimpered a bit quieter than you’d heard him talk all day. You couldn’t get a word in fast enough before his anger rushed back. “God fuck… why do you not care!?! You not caring hurts me! It hurts our daughter! You can’t fucking do this!” He cried out. You were shaking. Your one hand pressed onto your sinuses attempting to relieve the pressure you thought was going to make your head explode. Your other hand’s nails were digging so painfully deep into your palm you were sure you were about to break the skin. 

“I’m not trying to hurt you! It’s me okay? I know it’s me. I’m shit. I get it. You’ve made that so fucking clear... that I’m not allowed to make mistakes. That I’m not allowed to falter from the caliber of excellence you live in everyday.” Your words fell into a slightly sassier sarcastic tone that made Trent twitch with anger but  then sadness crashed back over you dripping onto your next words. “I can’t handle the pressure T, I really can't. I know that you deserve more than this. You deserve to have someone so much better fit for you. and it's not me” You sniffled out. Your lip quivering, your mascara running. 

“I am done with this. If you fucking still think that I moved you to another country to be with me, I made a home for us here, had a child with you, that I want to fucking marry you is not enough. That's on you. Honestly, I’m fucking done. Have a good fucking time in New York tomorrow.  Don't stay out too late and maybe fucking try to take care of yourself because I’m done doing it for you.” He quipped storming out of the room.  You ran to the kitchen sink and threw up nausea hitting you instantly. Leaning over the deep farmhouse sink. He heard you and shut his eyes. He couldn’t turn back. If he did, he knew he’d cave.  You had originally planned to fly to New York again tomorrow but right now running the fuck away from all of this never felt like such a perfectly yet equally terrible idea. You already had your packed bags by the door the next day when Trent came down early, Teddy still asleep. You had slept in the guest room. Although ‘sleeping’ was probably a stretch. You just lied awake staring at the ceiling wavering in out of fits of tears. You couldn't say bye to Teddy, you didn’t want to say bye to him. You wanted to disappear and leave them so things would be better for them. It was for them you told yourself. Trent looked at you from a distance with a blank face. You bite your bottom lip trying so hard not to fall apart. He let out a deep sigh. He walked towards you and your whole body tensed. He wrapped one of his arms around your shoulder blades high on your back and pressed his lips to your forehead. The embrace felt so foreign. Tears began streaming down your face. “I hate how much I love you and I hate how much you don’t.” The way his lips felt on your skin almost stung. It was one of the most harrowing out of body experiences. It truly felt like that was going to be the last time he’d ever kiss you. That would be your last memory of his lips on you. He could feel how limp you were to his touch. He pulled away with his eyes shut and just let you walk out the door. His face fell. You couldn’t get any words to come out of your mouth. You couldn’t pick your eyes up to see him. He couldn’t understand but the pain you were in was palpable, thick in the room. It destroyed him to see you walking out of your house, your home. He tried so hard to hold it together. He tried absolutely everything he could but he fell to the ground. Crouching with his head in his hands. He began to cry. He felt weak and stupid but in the same way you felt that that may have been the last time together, he felt just the same. Suddenly it all scared him terribly that he had lost you, he had pushed you too far. You were his whole world but he had told you he didn’t want you around, he told you he didn’t want to take care of you. The feelings were still prevalent but it was like his heart was bleeding. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He told you he hated that he loved you. You couldn’t wrap your head around it. A part of you yearned pathetically for him to try to stop you from leaving for this pointless trip. You felt your heartbeat slow to a point where you weren’t sure it was beating anymore.  Your chest hurt so bad it felt like your body might have begun to shut down entirely and with this emotional feeling you thought that it might be the only way out of it. Everything had drained of its color watching the door close to your home, your family, your baby, the love of your life shutting you out as your uber pulled away. 

Trent didn’t tell anyone how bad things really had gotten between you two. He was always private but he couldn’t talk about this. He didn’t tell anyone that his Hollywood film romance was crumbling before you two had even got to the altar. He knew if he told George, Marcel, Tyler, or Jude they’d try to fix it and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He was so angry. He didn’t love you any less but he just felt helpless. When he went to bed that night he found himself staring at your Van Cleef necklace he’d given you all those years ago. The one. He got so angry seeing it, seeing you left it behind. It felt like a part of you was leaving him, like you had given up. He held it in his hands imagining your warm skin and delicate décolletage it was supposed to be laid over. He was so indignant. Emotionally charged he yanked the necklace apart, splitting it into two pieces. He felt sick. It hit him like a ton of bricks. He couldn't believe he just did that. That necklace was your relationship and he just destroyed it. He sat with the two pieces of chain, one in each hand. You two separated. 

You were terrified about leaving Teddy but you couldn’t do anything but leave. You couldn’t move. She would be better off with the loving stable Alexander-Arnold family not the disaster you felt you were at the moment. Dianne had her, well Trent did, but when he was at training she would make sure she was okay. You got to New York and didn’t tell a soul you were there. Not your parents, Winnie, or Lauren. You wanted to be alone. You laid in your new apartment on the king sized bed you’d never even had a chance to sleep in with Trent yet. It was the most chilling depressing way to be reminded he wasn’t with you and that he didn’t want you with him. Did he want it all to really end? You were replaying your last conversations over and over analyzing every word he said and inflection of his voice when a Daily Mail article notification dropped down from the top of your phone screen. 

‘Trent Alexander-Arnold seen out on a date in Manchester with a mystery women ahead of his previously planned summer wedding. Has the American dream come to an end?’

Your face fell. You were pretty sure all the air had left your lungs, your brain short circuited. You zoomed in on the photo only inflicting more pain on yourself. You’d never seen the women in the photo in your life. She had curves and a full figure but still slender in all the right places. She looked like if Instagram was a person. You looked… not like that. A confirmation published globally echoing every thought you’ve ever had. You were not what he really wanted. This was all too good to be true and you were never going to measure up. The thought of him with someone else made you sick. The thought of another woman making him smile was somehow worse than anything else you could’ve possibly seen. He was holding the door for her, dimples deepened in his cheeks, his glowing smile mocking you. He hadn’t smiled at you in days now but that face from the tv was burned into your memory. You were a mess. You couldn’t cope without him. You felt completely lost. You felt like you were a missing person when you weren’t with him. You thought you were going to be sick the longer you stared at the images. You ran to the bathroom. You slipped on a rug and smacked your face on the porcelain toilet. You leaned over the toilet and vomited but you simultaneously could make out the drops of blood dripping off your face onto the seat through your hazy vision. ‘Fuck’ you cursed under your breath. The tears falling from your face dropping down to join the rest of the releases.

You sank into the warm water filled to the brim of the bathtub in your apartment. For some reason that had become your place of habit during whatever chaotic episode you currently were inhabiting. You slipped down into the water, letting the full bath completely cover and engulf your body. You closed your eyes. You could feel yourself crying but you couldn’t tell submerged in the water. You couldn’t believe what just happened, what you had lost in days time. Bubbles rose to the surface of the bath as you opened your mouth and screamed repeatedly underwater. When you emerged from the bath you were gasping and coughing excessively, somehow getting air to your lungs even more difficult now than when you were under the bath water. The tears returned now racing down your cheeks as you sobbed. You wanted out. This is what was best. Just get out, that's what was on your mind. You slid back under the water once more. A rage filled scream muffled by the water filling your mouth. Words repeating in your brain ‘please just get me out of here’ ‘give my baby a better mum than this’ ‘let Trent find someone perfectly matched for him.’

“Hey, you good? What’s up?” Lauren answered a call from Marcel. It was a little odd for him to call her. Naturally her curiosity peaked. Was he in New York? She felt like you would’ve said something if he was. They were on good terms but he was also well aware that she was with Jude now so she didn’t think he’d try to push to hang out now. Her intrigue only growing. 

“Hey, you’re in Manhattan?” He asked hesitantly, also feeling fairly weird about this call but he needed someone to check on you. His anxiety had been piling up over the last day or so. Lauren didn’t even know you had come to New York. She was shocked to even hear that let alone the next things about to come out of his mouth. Again, you just wanted to get out of Liverpool. You’d told no one. It had been a little over a day since you had arrived. You didn’t reach out and you hadn’t heard from anyone back at home either. Well, maybe from Marcel and Dianne but you had selfishly and unfairly chosen not to respond to either. Really, you were fixated on the fact that most noticeably you hadn’t heard from Trent. You canceled any of the appointments you had planned to attend for wedding planning opting to rot in your bed in hopes of achieving escapism. 

“I need you to go and check on Y/N. Trent said she flew to go over some wedding stuff but she hasn’t responded to me. He hasn’t either to any messages. Something is going on with them. There was this big mess before the match this past weekend.” He rambled on frantically trying to explain best he could but really emphasize that he just needed Lauren to find you and make sure you were fine, why didn’t really matter. She was confused to say the least. Even when you and Trent had stupid bickering fights she’d still hear about it. Yet this? This.. she didn’t hear a peep and this was far different from bickering over who forgot to unload a dishwasher. Lauren agreed, remembering that she had a key to your new apartment in Manhattan in case someone needed to get in when you weren’t there. You might’ve been there physically at the moment, but you were far from being there mentally that’s for sure. Lauren hurried the fastest she possibly could up to your apartment, the urgency in Marcel’s voice making her incredibly nervous. Her worst fears fueling her speed. She unlocked the door and walked inside only adding more confusion and fear to her scrambling brain because your phone's location had said you were there but the apartment was empty. It was quiet until she heard water in the bathroom. You opened your eyes beneath the surface of the water in a moment of desperation trying to stop overthinking what you were doing only for you to find yourself gasping and in taking a ton of water when you saw Lauren’s figure blurred above the water beside the bathtub.You didn’t have a moment of time to even react before Lauren frenziedly reached into the full tub and yanked you out aggressively immediately wrapping you in her arms over the ledge. Your soaking wet naked body drenching her dry clothes. She dragged your very limp body out. 

“Y/N, what the fuck is going on!?!?!” Lauren screamed, starting to uncontrollably cry. It didn’t look good. You felt so young again saved by Lauren once more. You blinked your swollen eyes trying to clear them of the water blurring them. You slumped back onto the cold side of the tub on the bathroom floor. She shook your shoulders trying to get you to come to and answer her. She was absolutely terrified and rightfully so. “Okay, okay. Jesus!” She ran her hands over her head in panic and shock. “You’re gonna be fine. I’ll… erm… I’ll call T.” She rattled off trying to think what to do. She knew that’s what this was about.  

“You can’t!” You attempted to scream at her but you didn’t even have any strength left shaking from the shock and from the cold air hitting your wet skin. 

“Shit…” She cursed. Laurens chest started heaving. She was trying her very hardest not to fall into her own panic attack finding you like this. “Why, Y/N? Why?” She tried to be sensitive but she was angry for finding you like this.

“He ended it. He’s done…” You whimpered out devastated hearing each word fall out of your mouth. You felt like you were going to throw up imagining life without him.

“What do you mean he's done? You’re getting married so soon. Just try to relax here.” Lauren asked, perplexed because Marcel said things were off, not that you and Trent had split. 

“No… we’re not, okay? Just shut up, please!” You wailed. Heartbroken by the reality of what was all setting in now. Not only what was going on between you and Trent but the situation you had just put Lauren in, the way you left your daughter, the state you were currently in. Tears cascading down your face with no sign of stopping any time soon. 

“Hey! Enough. You’re not doing this.” Lauren scolded you demanding you cut this shit out immediately. She stood up stoic as ever just staring at you.

“You sound just fucking like him.” You screamed back at her dropping your head back behind you feeling incredibly dizzy. You wiped at your face, unable to stop the emotions flooding out of you.

“Y/N… no. We’ve done this. You’ve done this over really shitty things. This is and will not be one of them. You’re not doing it. Get up!” She continued to yell at you sternly commanding you with a scowl on her face. You looked at her confused that she was angry at you. Everyone was angry at you and the only thing that could possibly make it better was rewind time to go be back in your bed at home with your daughter and Trent but that was miles and miles away and probably not likely to happen again. Lauren made you stand up with her help on shaky legs, forcing you under freezing cold water for a moment in an effort to practice some sort of distress tolerance. She sat on the edge of the sink as you stood with tears falling at the same rate the water did from the shower head. She didn’t trust you right now to leave the room. You got out and wrapped yourself in a towel and sat yourself on your bed shaking. Yes, you were cold but also just riddled with so much anxiety. You couldn’t believe you had ruined everything. You had everything you could ever want. You sat there for a long while trying to explain the situation to Lauren through several breaks unable to calm your breath. Although your story probably was a little one sided as you really only relayed the more harsh things Trent had said. ‘I don’t want you here,’ ‘I’m done with this,’ ‘I’m done taking care of you.’ And then of course, you had to show her the Daily Mail article that only ignited another panic attack to crash over you. You were having heart palpitations. There was a laundry list of reasons you probably should’ve gone to the hospital but at the moment you couldn’t move your body and sadly, you didn’t want the help. “He’s not done with you…” Lauren whispered softly, helping you lay down in the big bed taking your phone from you, clicking the power button and watching the screen illuminated with the photo of Trent and the women go black. “He’s really upset, Y/N, He’s allowed to be. I’m sure a lot of it was said heat of the moment but you fucked up and he’s concerned but he’s not done. He loves you more than frankly I ever knew people could love each other. I know he isn't done.” She cooed with a sad sympathetic smile. She looked next to your bed on the bedside table and saw your engagement ring in a little jewelry dish. “Please put this back on, please.” She put the ring back on your finger where it belonged for you and kissed the back of your hand before wiping a falling tear. You took it off because it was making you nauseous that he had promised you a life and you accepted it only to destroy it all. “He’s not going anywhere, I am not going anywhere, and Y/N, you…you are not going anywhere. You are here and we want you here.” You could hear a tremor in her voice as she sat next to you rubbing your back. You weren’t sure when the last time you slept was so you passed out finally feeling her warm comforting touch on you. You were fast asleep when Lauren got up and called Jude from another room. She roughly explained the situation, she didn’t speak too much about you and Trent’s kick off because she didn’t think she had the full story yet. She began to cry when she relayed the terrifying situation she had just gone through arriving at your apartment. Jude was shocked, gobsmacked, massively concerned but more so helpless listening to Lauren sob over the phone. He didn’t know how to help from where he was. 

Back in Liverpool, Tyler had come over to your house to talk to Trent about some end of the season things they needed to get squared away. He sat with Teddy bouncing her on his knee as they had a unnecessarily tense conversation. 

“Yo, what’s with you?” Tyler quipped looking at Trent confused. He was being particularly snippy with him and all his brother was trying to do was his job. Trent didn’t need to be such an asshole to him. 

“Ty, I’m losing her.” Trent sighed scrolling on his phone zooming in on your location to make sure he knew you were at the apartment he had gotten for you at least. He didn’t have the courage to text or call you yet but he needed to know where you were. 

“What are you on about mate?” Tyler asked, incredibly confused. Marcel had mentioned a tiff at the game but like everyone else around you two there never were any really big squabbles so this was definitely a bit of a surprise. 

“I can feel it, bro. Since we had Teddy all this stuff she warned me about, things she had dealt with when she was younger all started flooding back. I always knew like from the day I met her, she wasn’t like the most confident person in the world but since she had the baby she’s just not the same. I hear her get up in the middle of the night, I see her not eating as much, she’s sleeping way more and I can’t do anything. There’s nothing to say even. She’s like a shell of herself, bro. I’m terrified.” Trent expatiated at length but vaguely touching on the slow decline you had been on postpartum. 

“I haven’t seen it to be honest.” Tyler responded hesitantly tilting his head slowly trying to rack his brain to think if he had noticed any shifts in your behavior. 

“That’s the fucking problem. She’s fooling everyone. It’s fucked. Like I get it she looks good. She always looks good, she’s perfect but it’s not right. Something's not right and I’m getting worried. I was absolutely fuming after the final and I just didn’t want to talk to her to be honest but then she left for New York… and…” Trent rambled half ass explaining the situation at hand but leaving out the part that you two hadn’t spoken since you walked out of the house. 

“Well you love her, you can’t just dip because it got hard.” Tyler was very quick with his response. He wanted to make sure Trent wasn’t trying to jump ship considering at the very moment he was holding the child you shared.

“I’m not dipping. I’m never fucking leaving her. It’s just such a mess. It felt like it went 0 to 60.” Trent dropped his head back onto the couch cushion in despair so confused and conflicted on what he was supposed to do next.

“Well, first off, good. If you’re gonna marry her, you’re buying into all of it, mate. It’s not your responsibility to heal her of something but it’s your responsibility if you really love her to get her to the people that can if she’s not willing to do it herself. You love her and she’s the mother of your child and if she can’t see that… you need to make sure you do everything you can to show her there’s no other possible feeling there but your support.” He looked at Trent with a lot of sympathy but Tyler really was starting to worry about you. His brain switching gears from the assistance to his younger brother to a growing anxiety about the girl he picked up from the airport and never left all those years ago. He started to remember little things here and there, comments made or small actions that felt like nothing at the time but maybe cumulatively he should’ve caught on. 

The next day after Trent had a big think, he remembered that one of George’s cousins ran a clinic in Liverpool so he figured he could start there. He asked George for her number and she agreed to meet him happily willing to help. He at least wanted to learn what options he even had. He wanted to know a simple answer of what he was supposed to do but he knew that wasn’t the reality.  The photos of their meeting hit you like a ton of bricks. You thought he was seeing someone else, taking your night out and spitting it back at you. Showing you he could disappear just the same and rub it your face simultaneously. That wasn’t the case at all though. He wasn’t thinking about her in that regard in the slightest; the only thing he could think about was you, you 24/7. Unfortunately, he wasn’t aware of what was happening in your apartment at the moment which probably wouldn’t have given him much peace of mind. Ignorance was currently a mild form of bliss until he got home seeing he had a missed call.

After Lauren spoke to Jude she texted Marcel updating him in a fuzzy but still transparent way. She didn’t think she could handle another call after the emotional one she had with Jude. Eventually, Lauren mustered up the courage to call the one person she knew she had to… Trent. Her legs bounced in anxious anticipation but he didn’t answer her call. She felt her stomach drop. Maybe things were that bad. Maybe he really was done. He couldn’t be, she’d kill him, so she told herself she’d call once more but after that if he didn’t pick up, if he didn’t want to talk then she would resort to getting Dianne’s number from Marcel. This couldn’t go on any longer. She didn’t want to press but this needed to be sorted. Trent picked up the second time she rang but didn’t say anything once he answered for a little while so Lauren didn’t say a thing either. The line was silent until Trent's desperation outweighed any anger he had been harboring.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🤍

Next part - Chapter 20 xx

[hyunjilicious]

in human form [bang chan × f!reader]

A/n: this is very, very self indulgent. I always try to make my fics reader inclusive, but since I poured my soul out in this, it's not 100% a self insert. It's not OC either, but some aspects of Y/n past are mentioned - mental health and relationship with her parents. I hope you'll still enjoy it! 🥺

Summary: fresh out of a toxic relationship, you realise your best friend Chan might not be just that, your best friend. Angst (and fluffy and extremely cheesy) best friends to lovers trope. 8.5k (hit me)

Warnings: y/n's ex was toxic, so was her father, mentions of alcoholism (as the source of some of the issues), anxiety, insecurities, past traumatic experiences (not detailed). It's not as sad as I may have made it sound, Chan's a sweetheart and there for you from beginning to end ❤️

For the first time that night, when you felt a hand against your back, you relaxed. "Do you want me to drive you home?" Chan asked, leaning into your side so you could hear him over the loud music at the club.

Aside from the hand that still rested between your shoulder blades, he kept his distance. 

"No, it's fine, thanks" you shook your head but then smiled in appreciation. "I'll take a cab, you don't have to leave"

"Do you want to talk to me?" 

Another offer he didn't have to make - another one you desperately wanted to accept but felt like an asshole doing so.

"I'm annoyed. I don't want to start this right now. We can talk another time"

"I'm here for you" he reminded you, "Please, just let me take you home."

"You don't feel like dancing anymore?"

Chan shook his head. He never felt like dancing in the first place, only came so that he could spend some time with you, but unfortunately the night didn't go as planned. 

"I don't want to ruin your night"

"You're not ruining my night, Y/n" Chan said sternly, "I want to go home too"

"Then why didn't you leave earlier?"

That, he couldn't answer. He knew why, but he couldn't really tell you that the pain you've been struggling to hide has been obvious to him from the very beginning. Instead, he hid his worry behind little acts of kindness, reassuring words and unconditional support, without expecting anything in return. Much like he did now.

"Felt like a party pooper, but you're my ticket out of here. So? Should we go?"

You were unsatisfied with his answer, felt guilty for the way things were going, but you weren't about to make him ask again. "Ok, let's go"

His face lit up hearing your words, it felt like a win which he hoped would be the end of the story, considering that the last time he thought this nightmare was over, this night happened. So, determined to not allow the universe to mess with you again, Chan took a step to the side and motioned for you to lead the way towards the exit. 

And you would've done just that had an overwhelming sense of pain and warmth not washed over you, and instead of moving, you just went in for a hug. Despite being taken aback, Chan wrapped his arms around you instantly, repeatedly kissing the top of your head during the few seconds you spent pressed against one another. 

"Thanks" you mumbled, wiping away a stray tear that fell down your cheek as you pulled away. 

"You don't need to thank-" he began saying but before he could finish the sentence, you felt another hand against your back, one that sent chills down your spine. 

As if burned by the touch, you jumped away and didn't even bother looking at the person before you grabbed Chan's hand and tried to pull him away. 

"Hey, where the fuck do you think you're going?" the menacing tone of your exboyfriend called over the loud music. Even though he wasn't drunk enough to have trouble articulating his sentences, you could still hear the alcohol induced hostility in his tone. 

And as if raising his voice at you wasn't enough, in the blink of an eye he also went to grab you, but even though you were fast enough to step out of his reach, so was Chan as he grabbed the man's wrist and pushed himself between the two of you. 

"Hey, hey, hey! Step back" Chan commanded, not one single hint of uncertainty in his tone. 

"Why?" your ex boyfriend sneered, "Need her?"

Even though a vein was about to burst on his forehead, Chan fought to keep his composure. "Let's not make a scene, ok? Y/n's going home and you're going back to the party. Let's just leave it at that"

"How about this?" he slapped his hands together, "How about you stop sticking your nose in my business and let me have a talk with her?"

"We really don't have anything to talk about, ok?" you tried, but he wasn't having it. 

"Just because we broke up doesn't mean you can go whore around. At least wait a while before you hop on someone else's dick. Or wait! You've done it before, haven't you?" he turned to Chan. "You already fucked her, didn't you? You're the reason she broke up with me?"

"Man, you have no idea what you're saying" Chan rolled his eyes, "But why don't we have this talk another time, huh? This is really not the time and place"

"I agree. So why don't you just step away so I can talk to Y/n?"

"Talk to her?" Chan laughed, "Mate, don't even look at her"

That angered him - you saw it in his eyes and it terrified you. That look of his whenever he had enough to drink so that common sense didn't have a place in his behavior anymore, when limits stopped meaning anything and only his words mattered. 

Under different circumstances, you'd have said this wasn't something you'd ever do, but you felt afraid - viscerally, down to your bones scared, and without thinking, you jumped behind Chan. And while on high alert as he was, even though he might have not seen you, he felt you, the way your hands gripped his shirt and it brought a storm inside his mind. He didn't know what he wanted to do first, break that man's teeth or comfort you, but his adrenaline had kicked in and all that he could focus on was keeping his calm.

"Listen, I've got nothing against you, man. It's her that I need-" and his sentence was cut short by a very calm Seungmin, who with his drink in his hand and the straw between his lips, stepped in between your ex boyfriend and Chan.

"The group's over there" Seungmin addressed the man - fully facing him, and pointed in the direction you just came from, "Why are you all the way over here?"

"Yeah" Felix, who you hadn't noticed until now, nodded along, "We were thinking about going to a different club but we couldn't find you"

They stepped closer to one another, forming a wall between you, Chan and your ex, and bombarded him with questions, pointing in all directions and speaking loudly one over the other. 

There had been maybe one or two attempts from your ex to push past them, but before he managed to escape their pestering, Chan had already grabbed your hand and ushered you towards the exit. 

"Hey, are you ok? What are you doing?" he desperately asked as soon as you stepped on the sidewalk. Seeing you with your nose buried into your phone was the last thing he expected.

"I'm texting Felix and Seungmin" you sniffled, "I hope he didn't start a fight"

"They got this, Y/n, it's ok" Chan said and then tried to get you to move. "Let's go to the car, ok?"

After wiping one more tear from your cheek and pressing the send button on the text you just wrote, you nodded and followed him, "Yeah, ok"

Despite the hurricane of thoughts inside your mind, for most of the drive, you were silent - wanting to say so many things but at the same time, fearing what it would feel like if you yourself were to hear those things being spoken out loud, let alone Chan. 

After your phone buzzed with a new notification, you turned to him, "They got him an uber. He's on his way home"

"Good" Chan nodded and drummed his thumb against the steering wheel. "Fuck him"

"Yeah.. fuck him"

"Are you ok?"

At this hour of the night, the roads were empty enough to allow Chan to steal glances and turn to you, but still you were grateful he was driving - he couldn't fix you with his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine"

"Fine as in fine or fine as in fine?"

You really didn't want to do it, but his question made you giggle. "What? I really am ok, I'm just annoyed"

He looked at you for another second, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what? Complain to you about how big of an asshole he was and about how stupid I am? Where's that gonna get me?"

"First of all, you're not stupid. At all, Y/n. You know that"

"My actions and decisions over the past few months would beg to differ, Chan." you sighed, "It's not his fault he was a piece of shit boyfriend to me, it's my fault I stayed in that relationship for as long as I did"

Too many words, some even a bit aggressive and thoughtless, almost rushed past his lips, but he managed to compose himself with a shake of his head and a deep breath. "I really don't want to be that person, Y/n, but you know traumatic experiences don't necessarily involve heavy and obvious shit. You've never been through something like this before, how were you supposed to know what the right thing to do was? You really did your best with what you had"

"Stop. You're making it sound like I'm some sort of victim or something. There's no trauma. He was never violent, never raised his hand at me or anything, it's not that serious"

"A person doesn't have to be physically violent in order to be abusive"

"He wasn't abusive. Just… toxic. It wasn't that big of a deal"

"If it wasn't that big of a deal, why are you so upset with yourself for being, as you say, stupid about it?"

Ah fuck, a red light. It wasn't like the intersection was that busy anyway, and it got you very close to offering to pay the fine only so that he'd keep driving. But his eyes were already on you, ready to pierce right into your soul the second you met them. 

"What do you want me to say?" you looked down at the bag in your lap. "I don't see where you're going with this"

"I want you to stop being angry at yourself. To stop blaming yourself. To realize you were not the problem. That's all I want"

"If that's really the right way to look at things, it's gonna take me a long fucking while" you chuckled bitterly, tone full of spite and anger. 

But still, Chan's voice was as calm and sweet as ever. "And I'll be here for you until then. And after. Ok?"

You really had no right to be this cold to him. "Look at you being so wise and selfless. Try telling me again that I'm not just a stupid girl who needs looking after"

"Y/n, if the roles were reversed, would you think I was stupid? Would you defend the person that repeatedly hurt me?"

"I'm not defending him"

"That's exactly what you're doing by putting all the blame on your own shoulders. I'm not saying you should crucify him, although I would, all I'm saying is that you shouldn't carry this weight. If he refuses to own up to his shit and try to do better, that's on him, but you shouldn't be the one to take responsibility for this just because he won't do it"

Although the things he was saying made sense from the very beginning, it was getting harder and harder for you to keep up with the conversation. A short period of silence followed where you didn't know what to say, but your ticket out of this tensioned position came at the perfect time.

"Light's green" you said and pointed to the traffic lights after seeing Chan make no effort to start the car.

He blinked for a second, looked in the rear view mirror and then turned to you again, "There's no one behind, it's fine"

"Chan! Drive"

"Y/n, look at me"

There was a very strong reason you avoided his stare during this whole car ride, and it was getting harder and harder to manage your emotions. "I can't"

"Why?" his voice broke a little "It's just me, Y/n, it's ok"

You squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back, "Please, I don't want to start crying right now, just start the car. Just drive"

And he did. He wordlessly followed your request and drove in silence for as long as he could, but when he reached the intersection next to your neighborhood and had to stop at another red light, he couldn't help himself. "Y/n, do you want to be alone right now?"

"I don't want to continue that conversation" 

"It's not what I asked," Chan softly said. "I won't bug you, I promise. But I'm here if you just… don't want to be alone at home"

"Are you sure it's ok?"

"Of course, I wouldn't have offered if it wasn't"

"You totally would've" you weakly laughed, "You always put other people first."

He didn't know how to tell you that it was you who he was putting first - not other people. Sure, he cared about his friends, but he wasn't doing this because he was a caring person, he was doing this because he cared about you. And on top of that, he hoped that this night he was about to spend with you would be the first one on a long, maybe endless, list of things he planned on doing in order to make sure that you finally realized that, even if you hadn't seen it before, to some, to him, you really did come first. 

After that, Chan offered to go to the drive through two blocks away for some food, but the laziness prevailed. You wanted to get home faster and weren't about to let him go by himself, so as he searched for a parking spot behind your building, you tapped in the order on your phone and placed it before entering your apartment.

While the atmosphere was still somewhat tense, you two managed to enjoy the food and down two liters of tea without any upsetting topic being brought up. 

By the time you decided to head to bed, it was already half past 4. And if Chan had to insist on taking the couch, you also insisted on making it as cozy for him as possible, bringing him 3 different blankets, 4 pillows and an army of stuffed animals to keep him company. 

But while fatigue had already crept up your spine and made your eyelids feel heavy, sleep only circled around you and refused to settle. It was your buzzing mind and hurricane of thoughts that kept the sleep at a safe distance, and it was just a matter of time until you had to get out of bed.

This was why you insisted he took your room, so that now, when you wanted to go into the kitchen, you wouldn't have to walk past him. But since there was nothing to be done about it now, you settled for tiptoeing your way to the sink, filling up a glass of water and downing it in the blink of an eye.

Truth be told, you wanted another tea, but the sound of the boiling water would for sure wake Chan up. Maybe a pudding would do, you thought to yourself as you licked the lid before throwing it into the trash. It was good, your favorite - no surprise since you were the one who bought it, but it didn't do much. Chips? Nah, and even if you wanted some, you forgot to get a new bag anyway. Then.. fruit? But after tea and pudding? Also a no. 

It was getting annoying - nothing to keep you busy so you wouldn't have to return to your room. The one obvious option that was left made you cringe. You wouldn't do that, he had been so nice to you all night, it would be very shitty of you to disturb his sleep. Or maybe… he had been so sweet to you all night, he definitely wouldn't mind being sweet a bit more, right?

So without giving yourself the chance to change your mind, you took off towards the couch, your eyes fixed on his sleeping - or not, frame. The way he raised his arm, along with the blanket, almost startled you.

"Come here" he chuckled, before even looking at you.

"Did I wake you?"

"Nope, I wasn't sleeping" he said and then waved his arm in the air, "Come on"

Your first instinct was again to ask if he was sure about it, but you brushed it off and climbed in beside him, cuddling against his chest as he wrapped his arm around your frame, covering you with the blanket all the way up to your cheeks.

"Thank you" you said, all your muscles relaxing under the warmth of his body pressed to yours. "I'm sorry I was mean to you earlier"

"You weren't mean to me" he shook his head. As a small but strong reassuring gesture, his fingers made their way to the back of your neck and lost themselves in your hair. He lightly scratched your scalp as he spoke. "The conversation wasn't pleasant so you just weren't as bubbly as usual, that's normal. You weren't mean to me, Y/n, don't worry"

"I really wasn't the nicest though"

"You don't have to be the nicest with everyone all the time"

"Not with everyone, with you. You have the biggest heart in the world, I don't ever want to upset it"

"That's ok" Chan hummed, kissing the top of your head, "She understands, you didn't upset her."

"Your heart is a she?" you giggled.

He wasn't going to say that his heart was a she because you were his whole heart - that would've been cheesy, but it was late and the love of his life was wrapped around him, so he didn't judge himself for it, just brushed the thought aside. "I don't know why I said she," he lightly chuckled, "It felt right, I guess?"

Without saying anything, you cuddled closer so that you could press your ear against the left side of his chest. He felt calm around you, but his heart drummed against your cheek and it made you feel closer to him and safer than ever, "Thank you"

"Anything for you" Chan hummed, allowing the both of you to finally relax enough to be able to fall asleep. 

The next morning came and went, neither of you showing any signs of planning to wake up any time soon. A little bit past noon however, maybe around 1pm, Chan started stirring in his sleep. When he opened his eyes and checked his phone, the urge to just say fuck it and remain in your soft embrace almost won. But he had another thing on his mind, probably the only thing in the world that could've ever gotten him to leave that couch. 

For a split second he thought it would be rude to rummage through your kitchen so he stopped dead in his tracks and looked at his shoes by the front door. He could go out and buy the ingredients he needed to make breakfast, but what if you heard the door and woke up, that would ruin the surprise. Plus, in the past, he'd been given free access to absolutely everything in your apartment, why would this morning be any different. 

"Jesus, why am I like this, calm down, it's just an omelet" Chan said to himself as he opened your fridge and got to work.

Shortly after, you woke up too. Disappointment hit him a bit when he realized he couldn't surprise you with food anymore, but one thing he didn't know he needed in his life was a cooking session with you. There were so many little things he didn't know about you, so many things that he was so ready to love - the ridiculous amount of kitchen towels you used, the fact that you washed your hands a hundred times while cooking because who wants to touch the cheese with tomato juice on their fingers, the fact that there was a picture of a random dog you thought was cute on one of your cupboard doors and so on. He didn't have to try hard to find something to make him giddy inside, not when he was so close to this genuine, unbothered and honest version of you.

Once the food was done, you both took your seats across from one another at the table, and the topic of discussion you had just started swiftly melted away in favor of comfortable silence and the occasional utensil clatter.

"Hey, um, can I ask you something?" you questioned as you toyed with a piece of bread on your plate. "And please don't be afraid to humble me in case I'm reaching"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Am I the reason you haven't even looked at any type of alcohol whenever we went out during the past few months?"

Even though he wasn't facing you, instead staring down at his food, you still saw his eyes widen in.. embarrassment maybe? "I um… I hoped you wouldn't notice"

His reaction only made you soften further, a very strange warm feeling spreading from the middle of your chest. "You didn't have to do that, Chan"

"I know I didn't" he nodded and only looked at you for a split second before repeating himself, eyes fixed on his plate. "I know I didn't, you didn't even ask me to, but I wanted you to have that"

"Chan…"

He still wasn't meeting your eyes. "You said you didn't feel safe if everyone around you was drunk, and that's totally understandable, especially since our friend group is mostly guys. And like I know, I know none of them would ever do anything to make you feel uncomfortable or anything, but still… I know you asked your ex not to drink too much when you went out together, but he never listened. I saw he never listened and I saw the look in your eyes, so I don't know… I did the next best-" he stopped to shake his head, "I did what I could"

"Channie" you pleaded, extending your hand across the table for him to take, but he didn't. However, he looked up, met your eyes and continued speaking. 

"Like it's not even that big of a fucking deal

you know? We all have needs, we all deserve someone to listen to us and to care for us, what does he do? Partners are supposed to make each other feel safe and heard and him… fuck him! Fuck him for treating you like that. Fuck him for disrespecting you. Fuck him for making you, you out of all people, a literal angel we're all blessed to have in our lives, look into my eyes and tell me you think you're stupid. Fuck him for getting into your head and making you think all those awful things-"

That was it. You couldn't bear it anymore. You dropped everything you had in your hands and rushed around the table to him, all but tackling him off the chair with the way you threw yourself against him. It was the best way you could come up with to help him calm down, to show him that you were there, and you were ok, and that everything was fine. 

"Hey, Chan, it's ok" you cooed, brushing his hair, "It's ok, can you look at me?"

He did. "I'm sorry I got carried away" he shook his head, "I just… I hate him"

"I know…"

"You deserve someone better. I wish you never met him. And what's worse, what's keeping me up at night, is that I don't even know the full story. What I know is from what I've seen, I don't even want to think-"

"Then don't"

That hit him hard. "God, Y/n.. no.. I'm so sorry, I-"

"It's ok" you smiled and pushed some curly strands of hair off his forehead, "It's all over now, it's all in the past"

"Y/n" Chan shook his head and stood up to face you properly, wrapping his fingers around your wrists. "You know I'm always here, right? Whatever happens, or happened or might happen, I'll always be here for you. You have me, always. Ok?"

"Yeah, mhm" you nodded, teary eyes looking directly into his, "I know"

"You can always come to me, talk to me, anything, ok?"

"Yep"

"Always"

"Always" you nodded again and allowed him to bring you into a hug. 

"And I just wanna say that I know it's just a matter of time until you find someone who will make you happy the way you deserve, but until then, let me be the one to do that"

"Make me happy?" you beamed, looking up at him, "You already make me happy"

"Ok, but like-" Chan chuckled, dimples out and all  "Really happy"

"Really happy? What does that mean?"

"It means we've been so busy with work and life, we haven't hung out as much as we used to. We could start doing that again, and even as just your best friend, I know I can treat you so much better"

You probably should've taken him more seriously, "Like the Shawn Mendes song?"

Chan cringed for a second - not at the song, but at the fact that only now did he realize how cheesy he had been. "Yeah.. like the Shawn Mendes song"

"Can you learn it? And then sing it for me?"

"I, uh… yes, I guess I can"

"No, scratch that, I want a better song. I want a serenade"

"You want me to serenade you?" Chan laughed, most likely thinking you were joking.

"Yes. With a guitar and all!"

"Obviously with a guitar. What kind of a dumbass serenades someone without a guitar?"

"I don't know" you shrugged, "Some people use portable speakers and stuff"

Eyes rolled the back of his head, he pretended to shake off the distaste. "And they say romance is dead"

"But romance isn't dead, so you'll use your guitar"

His tone turned sassy and sarcastic, his hip popping to the side. "Ok, guitar. Noted. Anything else you want? Strawberries dipped in chocolate? Roses?"

"Um.. yes!? To both"

For a second he looked surprised but then jumped back into the game. "I'm writing these down, I'm not kidding" he warned, taking his phone off the table and opening the notes app. 

"Good" you moved closer to look at his screen, "And, urgh, I don't know if I want you to wear a suit and tie or a leather jacket"

"Please don't make me wear a suit," he begged.

"Ok, suit and tie. Write it down"

"Write it down" he mocked you while he did as told. "Anything else?"

"Candles!"

"Ok, candles, noted"

"And bring Berry"

"Ok, Berry.." he typed. While you had a few more ideas as to how to keep this charade going, Chan was on a different page. "I'm aware that this is just a joke, but you know I'd actually love to do all of these for you, right?"

"I know" you confessed, your attitude swiftly changing as you melted under his sweet and caring gaze. "I actually do know you'd do this, and a lot more for me. But you really don't have to, not like this, not just because it's something that I'd like but haven't gotten in the past. Maybe someday, under a different context, but please, don't feel responsible for this right now"

"I don't" he wholeheartedly shook his head. "I don't feel responsible for this, and I'm not gonna do it. But if you do wake up one morning and feel like it, just let me know, ok?"

"Yes, ok" you giggled and wrapped your arms around his waist. "Thank you"

With his arm around your shoulders, he pressed his lips to your forehead. "Anything for you"

-

5 weeks later

The dishes were done, the trash had been taken out, your kitchen was spotless and so was your living room. And while never in your life had you ever allowed any of your guests to help you tidy up after a party, tonight had been different. Chan lingered around after everyone else had left and cheerfully helped you clean up the place, despite the clock having already struck 4. 

A small part of you still felt bad for keeping him around at that hour, but a bigger part of you was happy to still have him around.

You didn't mind being alone, but you wanted him around. That was why once you were finally done making your apartment look decent again, the second Chan dared look in the direction of where his jacket and shoes were, you instantly spoke up. 

"Ah, Channie! You're not that tired, are you?"

"Nuh-uh, no. Not really" he lied through his teeth. His eyes were half closed, his shoulders slumped and even standing up felt like a tedious task. But just like you, he didn't want to leave either. "Why?"

"I-um-" you struggled to come up with something, "Could you maybe take a look at my laptop? It's been acting funny"

Just as bad of a liar as he was. But he found it funny and didn't even hesitate before agreeing. 

He sat on the couch and waited for you to bring your laptop, which you placed on the coffee table in front of him. "What's wrong with it?" he questioned, unable to hide his knowing smile.

"I don't know" you grinned too but in pure amusement with your antics, "It's acting… funny"

"Really? Let's see"

And just so as luck had it, the laptop was working perfectly fine. "How did you do that?" you pretended to gasp. "You fixed it!"

"I did?" he chuckled, "Magic hands, I guess"

"Yeah… probably. But I think you should stay for a bit. What if it stops working again?"

"We wouldn't want that, would we?" he hummed and then you noticed his eyes slip to the clock at the corner of the screen. 4:43am. It snapped you out of it in an instant, what the hell were you doing?

"Actually, I don't think I'm gonna use it tonight anyway. If it starts acting up again tomorrow, I'll call you. You can go, Channie. Thanks anyway"

"Can I stay anyway?" he asked and your heart nearly dropped. "Hang out for a bit?"

"Aren't you tired?"

"I am but.. I don't want to leave"

"Ok" you softly said and then fought to look anywhere but directly into his eyes. "There's some ice tea left, would you like some?"

"Mhm, sure"

Part of you expected him to refuse your offer, but you were glad he didn't. It was what most of you had to drink that night, an ice tea - soju combo you found online that turned out to be even better than expected, and now, the last remaining cups of it were on the coffee table as you settled back on the couch next to Chan. 

He sipped his drink in silence, a telltale sign that something was on his mind. It was obvious he was hesitant. "Just say it" you giggled, "There's something on your mind"

"I was just… I wanted to ask, but I don't know if I should"

You knew what he meant, or at least thought you did. "Ask me"

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to"

"You haven't said anything" you reminded him, "I don't know if I want to talk about it or not"

"Y/n…"

"Chan…" you rolled your eyes in the exact same way that he did, which made him playfully nudge your shoulder. 

"Are you ok with me drinking right now?" 

"Yes! Of course! I thought you drank earlier too”

“I did, I did… I just wanted to make sure”

“It’s fine, Chris, don’t worry” you smiled and leaned into his side for a second. “I offered you the drink. And even if I hadn’t, I told you, you don’t have to stay away from alcohol at all times just because of me”

“I know…” he said, his eyes instantly falling down to his hands. “I just don’t know the whole story and I don’t want to do something by mistake and make you feel uncomfortable”

“Channie… stop, no, don’t go there. I don’t want you to feel like walking on eggshells around me. I promise I’ll tell you if there’s ever anything, but you could never make me feel uncomfortable”

“I don’t want to push you if you don’t feel like talking about it but I’ve been dying to ask” he softly said and all you did was blink as a sign for him to continue. “When or like, how did this all start?”

“Um..” you took a deep breath. You knew it would come up, that he’d eventually gather the courage to ask, and you dreaded the fact that you let things get so far before telling him. “It’s not really that big of a deal, I think I make it seem like a way more serious thing than it actually is”

“You can still tell me, you know I always want to listen to you"

“I know” you smiled and met his calm eyes. He was patient, gathered into a ball on the couch, waiting for you to speak. He wasn’t going to pressure you or dismiss your feelings, he looked at you with adoration in his eyes, all the patience in the world, all just for you. “I.. I don’t feel comfortable around drunk people because I feel like they’re unpredictable. And unfiltered, I guess. It’s wrong of me to assume, but I can’t help but fear that everyone is going to act like that when they get drunk. And I’m always afraid that in case they say or do something that bothers me, they won’t listen when I try to talk to them, that they’d keep doing their thing no matter what I say. That was why I wanted my ex boyfriend to stay relatively sober when we went out together, so that I’d have someone to turn to in case I felt overwhelmed. Funny-” you chuckled bitterly, “He was the only one who acted like that whenever there was alcohol around. Everyone else is just more giggly and prone to start dancing out of nowhere”

“I’m very sorry he never listened to you, Y/n”

“That’s ok, it’s all in the past now. I like to think that if I ever find myself in a similar situation again, I’ll at least know to get out faster. I promised myself I’d never allow a person like this in my life, but I did, and that made me feel really bad about myself. So, baby steps, I guess”

“Why did you promise yourself that before?”

You sighed. “It was my dad. He used to drink a lot back when I was younger, always looking to start fights and all that. He’s the reason for a lot of my anxieties, but blaming him is not gonna get me anywhere. I’m just trying to do my own thing”

“And you’re doing a really good job, Y/n” Chan said. 

“You think so?” you giggled, the weight of the topic making you more inclined to show your emotions, no matter how much you’d have liked to keep a strong front.

“I really do” he nodded, “And I love to see it”

“You know it’s thanks to you, right?”

“It’s not thanks to me, Y/n” Chan rolled his eyes and opened his arms for you. “Come here”

After setting your drink down, you crawled closer and cuddled into his chest, your head tucked right under his chin. “It is, because you gave me everything and never expected anything in return. I barely felt comfortable enough to be myself when I was alone, but you made me feel safe enough to realize that maybe there’s nothing wrong with me, that I can accept myself and that maybe other people will accept me too. And at the same time, I realized that I don’t really care what other people see in me or not, because you see me and you like me just the way I am, and that’s a big deal to me.”

When you stopped speaking, you couldn’t see him. You had your cheek pressed against his chest and even though you were able to feel his heart rate quicken, you didn’t think much of it. But when he failed to answer, you quickly turned your head to look at him. His glossy eyes met yours, bottom lip popping out as he struggled to keep himself from letting out more than he considered appropriate.

“I just really, really love you, Channie” you said past the heavy lump that was building in the back of your throat. “And going back to what you asked me earlier, no, you could never make me feel uncomfortable. Not that it matters much, but the last time I saw you drunk, you spent one whole hour reading the truth or dare cards and laughed your heart out by yourself and then you went to sleep. But even so, I think I’m past the point where it’s about what you say or what you do, it’s just… you. I love you” you said again and squeezed him in your hold, arms tightening around his frame until your joints hurt. It made him chuckle and his head fell forward, along with a little, stray tear that landed on your shoulder.

“I love you, Y/n” he tried to whisper, as a pathetic attempt to hide the way his voice trembled. But you heard it, you felt it, and in return, only smiled as you looked up at him.

"You're my person"

"I'll be whatever you want me to be, so then I'll take it, I'll be your person" 

"No, you don't get it" you laughed and cuddled back into the cushions so you could face him as you gathered your knees to your chest. "You are my person. I always considered my roommate to be my best friend, and I always thought my partner should be my half. But it's still always been you, the one person I run to and the one person I always want to talk to. I guess that never sat right with me." as you spoke, your tone got progressively lighter, until a giggle escaped, "I guess I need you out of my life so I can move on"

"Hey!" Chan's face suddenly got serious. He nudged your knee, fixed you with his stare and pointed a finger in your face. "Don't say that"

But you did, you said it, and were ready to say it again. It was a dumb thought, you knew that, but still, you couldn't shake it. It had been in the back of your mind for too long, popping up at the most inopportune moments, but this wasn't one of those. Now you were being honest, getting stuff off of your chest, and if there was a moment to say this out loud, it was now. 

"I'm serious" you leaned your temple against your closed fist and looked down, "I don't want this to sound like a 'reject me so I can move on' type of thing, but I do look for you in other people. And I know I'm not gonna find you there, but I still get disappointed when I don't" 

"But why not me? Why look for me in other people when I'm right here?" 

"Don't say that" you cuddled closer into yourself. "I thought about it, of course I did. And I wanted to make a move, more than once, but we wouldn't work. This isn't right"

While he looked hurt by your words, there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes - in the way he looked at you, as if he was one step away from having it all and was determined to fight for it. "Why do you think that?"

"I already feel like a leech, but it's one thing when you're just my friend. I don't think we'd have a very healthy attachment. You pieced me back together, and I love that - for myself. But it wouldn't be fair to you. You shouldn't have to constantly do that for your partner. At least not when they can't do the same for you"

"Y/n" he said in a serious tone, his eyes fixed on yours. "You can't possibly believe that"

"It's true, though"

"No, it's not. Just because you've been through a difficult time and I've been here for you, doesn't mean you haven't been there for me too!"

"Yeah, but I haven't done anything any of your other friends wouldn't have."

"Well then" he began speaking and struggled to hide his grin. "Why did you do all of those things for me if you knew I had others who could do them?"

"Why?" you frowned. "Why!? Because I wanted to. Because I wanted to be-" but then it hit you. "Oh shut up!" you exclaimed and stood up from the couch, your feet involuntarily leading you towards the kitchen. "I'm not having this conversation with you!"

"Y/n! Come back here!" Chan laughed out loud and jumped to follow you, all a giggle as he caught up with you. He placed his chin on your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you from behind, his chuckles even more uncontrollable now that he had seen the flustered look on your face. "You're my person too!"

"Chan, stop it" you giggled and hid your face behind your palms.

"Who let's me sleep over because they know that if I'm alone I'll spend the entire night working? Who's the first one that gets to hear my songs? Who do I call crying when I miss home? Is it you?" he chuckled, "Is it? The way you come over every single time I tell you I miss my family. Remember that one time you had some work to do, but you still came over and we haven't talked for hours because you were busy, but just the fact that you were there, with me, put me back on my feet? Y/n, look at me"

You shook your head, overwhelmed and completely confused by the hurricane of emotions swirling around your chest. 

"You're my home, you dumb ass" he kissed the side of your head. "It's funny to me that you didn't know"

Itchy on the inside and too fired up to stay still, you wiggled your way out of his hold and turned to face him. "How was I supposed to know?" you threw your arms up in frustration, eyes glossy as you giggled your way through the sentence, "You never told me, you idiot"

"Was it really that effortless for you? To be everything I ever needed?"

"Oh, shut up!" you scoffed, the tears now threatening to spill down your cheeks. Again, you tried to hide from him, but Chan wasn't having it.

"Come here" he hugged you again, "I love you"

"Leave me alone" you cried, face hidden in the crook of his neck. 

It might have looked like he found it amusing, but he too was overwhelmed. His little chuckles were nothing else other than a sign of all the admiration and awe he felt inside when he looked at you, of the warmth around his heart as you clung to his hoodie like your life depended on it. 

But eventually you pulled away. "Ok, I'm done. I love you" you wiped your tears and turned to leave, "But I'm also done with this conversation"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Chan exclaimed, not missing a beat before caging you in between his arms and the counter behind you. "All these years I thought my feelings were one sided, today I find out they aren't, that you feel the same way, but then you tell me you don't want to do anything about it?"

"Basically"

"Y/n!" he laughed in despair, "Come on. Give me one good reason we shouldn't be together. Just one"

"I- I don't have one. I'm just scared"

"Of what?" Chan asked softly, "It's just me. You know me"

"I don't know" you lied. "It's scary. You make it scary"

"I make it scary?" he gasped. 

"What if I fuck up?"

"What if I fuck up?"

You scoffed. "Yeah, right"

"Love, at this point, you're just being delusional. I have no idea what's going on inside that head of yours, but I'd love to find out. Tomorrow. Now it's the buttcrack of morning, I've been dying to kiss you for god knows how long and you're just standing here, spewing nonsense as if you're not the most amazing person I've ever met."

"I'm sorry" you looked down.

Chan tiled your chin back up so you'd look at him, "Don't be sorry, just trust me"

"I trust you" 

"Then, can I kiss you?"

And a little nod was enough. And no matter how nervous you might have been, his hold, like so many times before, drained the worries right out of your mind. And the awkwardness - ever present whenever you kissed someone for the first time, especially someone you cared about, barely managed to make its presence felt. Because at the end of the day, nothing was new. You may have never kissed him before, but the intimacy was familiar. You knew his touch, how he felt, how gentle he was and how much he cared. Only now, you got to experience that through a kiss shared in your kitchen, while the sun was rising, after you opened your heart for him and he still craved you as much as ever. 

And while in a way it felt cathartic - the release of so much pent up emotion, it was still frustrating. You couldn't get as close as you wanted no matter how hard you pressed yourself against him, and you couldn't get enough of his taste despite going at it until dizziness took over. 

It was hard to pull away for air when the kiss itself felt like breathing. 

The sun was already up and at the top of the sky by the time you opened your eyes. You had probably gotten around 5 or 6 hours of sleep when something stirred you awake. 

Excited to wake up for the first time in ages, you didn't care what interrupted your sleep, you just stretched over to the other side of the bed, and frowned when you found it empty. 

But then there it was again, the sound that woke you up. The neighbors, you thought, climbing out of bed. 

The reasonable thing to do was head to the bathroom, fix your hair a little, maybe brush your teeth, but there was something else on your mind and you went to look for it. 

"Chan?" you stopped dead in your tracks in the middle of the hallway, one hand rubbing your squinted eyes. "What are you-"

"Ah, fuck" he looked up at you, like a child caught red-handed. He didn't move, just sat there in his spot on his knees by the door, unable to come up with a way to word an explanation. He hoped you'd understand it yourself.

It took you a second but the details started coming one by one - the suit, the tie, the guitar against the wall. There were rose petals on the floor. And under Chan's arm - the source of the sounds that woke you up - Berry fidgeting and yelping, desperately trying to wiggle his way out Chan's grip and over to you. 

"Chan, what is this?" you scrunched your face at the itchiness in your nose and furiously blinked at the way your eyes suddenly started stinging. 

"You, uh… weren't supposed to wake up yet"

"Chan, what the fuck is this"

Wordlessly, he put Berry down and stood up. 

The dog sprinted at you, tail wagging as his little paws clawed at your legs. All you could do was pick him up and squeeze him to your chest, sinking your nose in his soft fur as a way to ignore everything else. 

"You don't like it," Chan simply said. It probably should have been a question, but the insecurity inside his chest made it sound like a statement. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

"Don't like it?" you mumbled, walking towards him as Berry still worked on greeting you with some well deserved and hungry licks all over your chin, cheek and jaw. "Chan, I-"

"I also got candles," he pointed to the kitchen table, "And strawberries. And there's chocolate too"

You walked over and spotted the bowl, full of chocolate dipping cream, covered with a plastic wrap. "Did you make this!?"

"No, no… I would've- I really wanted to, but there wasn't time. I asked Felix"

"You asked Felix?"

He responded with a shameful nod but then jumped to clarify. "I didn't tell him what I needed it for, I- I said it was just for fruit in general. I didn't want to tell anyone anything until I talked to you first, especially because I was a little bit pushy last night, so if you want me to leave, I'll leave-"

"Leave!? Pushy? No, you weren't pushy, stop it"

He breathed out relieved. "Ok, good, because I could barely sleep last night, I- I felt like I forced you to kiss me and I felt so bad, but you were already asleep and I didn't know-"

"Oh my god, no" you shook your head and launched yourself at him, a tight hug with Berry squeezed in the middle. "You didn't pressure me to do anything, relax"

And while the embrace felt good and homey for you, Chan didn't mirror your emtions. He was still on edge, only half of his grand plan having played out yet. "There's still the song, I promised I'd serenade you"

"You learned a song for me" you melted, "What song?"

"You haven't heard it before"

"I haven't?"

"No, because I wrote it. It's about you. For you. I wrote it when you first joked about all of this, I wrote it all that night, and I've been dying to play it for you ever since then, but now I'm so nervous, I think-" he tugged at the collar of his shirt, "I think I'll combust"

While in awe with everything happening, you weren't quite happy. "But I don't like this, Chan. You put so much effort into this and I haven't even washed my face. Can you give me a second? So I don't look like-" you gestured up and down your body, "this"

"You know… I feel like I've been so cheesy and over the top this morning, that I don't think one more cliche is going to make that big of a difference."

As you switched Berry from one side to the other due to your arms growing tired, you raised one eyebrow in confusion.

With nothing but admiration in his eyes, Chan smiled, "You have never looked more beautiful to me"

Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!! 🥺 feedback makes my day so I'd love to hear what you thought!!! ❤️❤️

[kokoch4n3l]

DEAD GIRL'S BEACH࿐ྂ KUROKAWA IZANA x f!oc x SANO MANJIRO

ELEVEN — what was i made for?

"There's a chilling sense of control in Mr.Kurokawa's demeanour, as if he's always one step ahead, anticipating the reactions of those around him. It's as if he views the world as his own personal chessboard, with everyone else merely playing their roles." —MAYA'S ROUGH NOTES ON K.I

chapter summary: Izana gets carried away and Kakucho and Maya do damage control, bringing them right back to the start.

warnings: dark content 18+, character death, depiction of corpses, corruption, slight religious themes, suicide mention, suicide attempt, suicide ideation, self-loathing, slight hanagaki takemichi slander, scarring, bite marks, implied relapse, drug use/misuse, mentioned drug addiction, withdrawal symptoms for unnamed drug, possibly unrealistic/inaccurate withdrawal care, possessive!izana, betrayal, mentions of past torture methods(noncon drugging, waterboarding, noncon, noncon waxplay, first degree burns), emotional manipulation, mental health issues, MAJOR dubcon, unprotected sex, no prep, piv, making out, nipple play, hair pulling(m), multiple orgasms, tummy bulge, creampie, implied cockwarming, implied dissociation, aftercare, possessive!manjiro, noncon, mirror sex, coercion, forced orgasms, hair pulling(f)

word count: 13774

masterlist | previous | chapter 12

Naoto often thinks about Maya. When he starts thinking about her, he doesn't stop. He thinks about her death, goes through the evidence over and over and doesn't stop till Hinata tells him that it was enough. But just how was he to explain to his sister that things didn't add up with Maya's death when the only answer he'll get from Hinata is: "You're looking too deep into it... I know you liked her but you're feeling guilty... that's all"

His poor sweet sister. Hinata had no idea she was hanging out with people that are affiliated with the gang that caused her death in 5 other timelines. Naoto is frustrated and there is no one he can confide in. Alone with his thoughts, Naoto finds himself consumed by a sense of helplessness, a gnawing frustration at his inability to uncover the truth and protect those he cares about. Maya's memory haunts him, her death a stark reminder of the dangers lurking beneath the surface of their seemingly ordinary lives.

As Naoto meticulously pores over the evidence from the scene of Maya's supposed suicide, his keen eyes catch a crucial detail that sends a chill down his spine. In the photographs of Maya's charred remains, one glaring absence stands out—a distinct lack of the necklaces she always wore. Furrowing his brow, Naoto zooms in on the images, scrutinizing every pixel for any sign of the delicate chains that adorned Maya's neck without fail. But no matter how closely he looks, there's no trace of it, not even a glimmer in the ashes.

It's a discrepancy that can't be ignored. Maya cherished those necklaces— they were real gold. She wore it every day, never once removing it so why wouldn't it be here or in the evidence or among her stuff recovered from the apartment she booked? Maya fucking loved those necklaces so there was no way she wouldn't be wearing them.

The realization hits Naoto like a ton of bricks. This isn't just an oversight—it's a deliberate omission, a glaring inconsistency that casts doubt on the official narrative surrounding Maya's death. With a sinking feeling in his gut, Naoto realizes the implications of this omission. If Maya's necklace isn't among the evidence, then it's possible that her death wasn't a suicide at all—it could have been staged.

As he sifts through the photos once more, Naoto's mind races with possibilities. Was Maya's death orchestrated to look like a suicide? And if so, who would go to such lengths to cover up the truth? The pieces of the puzzle start to come together in Naoto's mind. Kurokawa Izana was discharged the same day the hospital director of Sunshine Grove reigned and disappeared off the face of the earth, the other employees resigning and disappearing as well and that day being the last Maya is seen. But who would benefit from Maya's death, and why?

Could Kurokawa Izana be connected to Maya's disappearance? And if so, what role did he play in her supposed death?

But as Naoto considers the pieces of the puzzle, a new, daring possibility takes root in his mind. What if Maya isn't actually dead? What if she's still out there, waiting to be found?

The idea ignites a spark of hope within Naoto, driving him to redouble his efforts in unravelling the truth behind Maya's disappearance. With determination burning in his heart, he sets out to follow this new lead, determined to uncover the fate of the woman who has captured his thoughts and haunted his dreams.

(At this point, no one could be trusted. Not even Matsuno Chifuyu and Hanemiya Kazutora. Anyone wit affiliations with the Tokyo Manji gang, whether present or past, was now a threat.)

Maya's mother was a surgeon and her father was a mechanical engineer. They weren't exactly religious either. Maya wonders if they were, would she be going through this?  As Maya ponders her parents' professions and lack of religious affiliation, a wave of nostalgia washes over her. Memories of her childhood flood back, painting vivid scenes of her family's home and the moments they shared together. Her father, with his tinkering tools and inventive mind, would regale her with tales of his latest engineering projects, sparking her curiosity and igniting her imagination. Their home was a sanctuary—a place of warmth, love, and acceptance. Maya was free to explore her interests, pursue her dreams, and chart her own course in life. It was a far cry from the dark and twisted world she finds herself trapped in now. But as Maya reflects on her upbringing, a sense of longing creeps into her heart. She yearns for the safety and security of her parents' embrace, for the comfort of their words and the strength of their presence.

She feels worse as she realizes she no longer remembers what their faces looked like or how their voices sounded. It had been so long since her father's passing and her mother's suicide. She was 13 then and now she's 22. As Maya grapples with the weight of her memories, a profound sense of loss settles over her like a heavy blanket. The passage of time has blurred the lines between reality and remembrance, erasing the sharp edges of her parents' faces and the cadence of their voices from her mind. She closes her eyes, trying in vain to conjure up their images, to recall the sound of their laughter and the warmth of their embraces. But all she finds is an empty void— a void filled with echoes of the past, faint whispers of a time long gone. At this point, she might as well have been an orphan all her life.

But her parents loved her of course.

Her father loved her.

Her mother loved her.

But her mother didn't love her enough to stay alive after the passing of her husband.

Maya had never been enough for anyone— not even her own parents. Part of her hates Chifuyu. Just why did he have to be at the park the evening she was going to kill herself? Dying would have saved her from a whole bunch of pain. She wouldn't have lost her virginity to Chifuyu and been rejected, she wouldn't have been drugged, and she wouldn't have been kidnapped out of her fucking workplace, waterboarded, tortured, burned, and then betrayed by a false saviour.

No one in this stupid beach house had made anything easier for her. Not Izana, not Mikey, not even Kakucho.

Kakucho had seemed like a healer at first— reviving her after Izana drowned her, constantly patching her back together, helping her with the burns on her back. But at the end of the day, he was still a gangster, he was still Izana's closest aid, and he was still the dark knight. Not her knight in shining armour but Izana's dark knight with dented and bloody armour.

Kakucho is not a friend and might as well be someone involved in Izana's ploys of breaking down her spirit and betraying her. Maya could care less about who Kakucho thinks she's like. She isn't that guy. She's her own person. She refuses to let Kakucho's nostalgia for whatever childhood friend he lost shape her future or how and why she runs from Mikey and Izana. That other guy that ran just seemed like a damn coward. Running because he didn't like where Tokyo Manji Gang was headed, running even though he had so much influence over Sano "Mikey" Manjiro, running when there was no actual threat to his life.

Maya hates him.

She hates him, Kakucho, Izana and Mikey.

Fuck all of them.

Fuck that motherfucker, fuck Kakucho, fuck Izana, fuck Mikey, fuck Chifuyu, fuck Kazutora, fuck the Tokyo Fucking Manji Gang. She hates all of them and hopes they all go to hell. She hates them all for making them feel this way.

She always had so much love but nowhere to put it. It's as if she's been searching for something or someone to share her love with, but each time she reaches out, she's met with rejection or betrayal. Whenever there is someone to love, they suck it out of her greedily. Just keeping taking and taking and taking till there's nothing left to take. Maybe it's her own fault. She wore her heart out on her sleeve and just gave love to everyone that wanted it. Why did being kind and loving only give her pain in return? Why did everyone like to only take from her?

Why is it that she never learned her lesson after getting he heart torn out over and over.

"Maya..." Kakucho is at the door of the master bedroom

It's early in the morning, about 9:30 am, she feels like actual shit even after showering. The bite mark on her shoulder from Izana has healed but it will scar. "Yes?" She asks

Mikey was still out with Sanzu for some business thing. Apparently, he'd be returning either today or tomorrow. "Uh well..." Kakucho looks nervous and stressed

His hair is a mess and he's wearing his glasses. He wasn't even dressed yet. "So uh... Izana is having withdrawals..."

Maya's eye twitches in annoyance, her inner doctor coming back after so long. "and who's amazing idea was it to give drugs to a recently recovered addict?"

Kakucho just shifts uncomfortablely. "please can you just... can you come help me? You're a psychiatrist and you helped him before at the other hospital... You can do it now too"

Maya's muscles tense as Kakucho's words sink in, her frustration bubbling to the surface. Dealing with Izana's withdrawals is the last thing she wants to do, especially after the ordeal she's been through herself. But she knows she can't ignore Kakucho's plea, no matter how inconvenient it may be. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Maya meets Kakucho's gaze with a resigned expression. "Fine," she concedes reluctantly. "I'll help."

As they make their way towards Izana's room, Maya can't shake the feeling of dread settling in her stomach. Dealing with Izana in this state is bound to be challenging, to say the least. But Maya knows she has to do whatever it takes to prevent the situation from worsening. Maybe she doesn't like him but as a doctor, she has an obligation. As she steps out of the master bedroom she realizes this was the first time she had been out of the room. The house was decorated similarly to Mikey's bedroom with huge windows displaying the beach outside and just an overall homey feel. She never thought a place like this would be her prison. Kakucho leads her to Izana's room and Maya hesitates. She could run now. She really could. There was no one else here but her poor weak heart would just feel too much guilt.

stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid she keeps thinking as she enters Izana's room. The blinds and curtains were drawn and the lights were off. There is a lump under the covers and if she looked close enough Maya could see it trembling. She hadn't been present for the start of when Izana was admitted into Sunshine Grove. She didn't know what his withdrawal symptoms were or how he was doing through it. She was only there during the detox. This right here, was new territory. "what are his symptoms?" Maya asks quietly to Kakucho

"um... similar to yours but no hot flashes. Just cold and he's got really bad mood swings" Kakucho says looking really nervous "Headaches, he threw up earlier... Uh... He was hungry..."

Maya nods and reluctantly walks over to Izana and kneels on the bed next to the lump under the comforter he is under. She feels a knot form in her stomach as she realizes the weight of the situation she's stepping into. This isn't just about providing medical care; it's about navigating the delicate balance of emotions and power dynamics that exist between her and Izana. Gathering her resolve, Maya gently pulled back the covers to reveal Izana curled up beneath them. His breathing is shallow and uneven, his face drawn with discomfort. Despite her own reservations, Maya can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him in this vulnerable state.

Oh god did she feel so stupid.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Maya reaches out to brush a lock of white hair away from Izana's forehead. His skin feels clammy to the touch, and she can sense the tension radiating from his body. "Hey," Maya murmurs softly, her voice barely above a whisper

Izana's response is a low, guttural groan as he shifts restlessly beneath the covers. Maya sighs inwardly, steeling herself for the challenges that lie ahead. This won't be easy. She flinches when he suddenly grabs her hand and presses it to his cheek. He shudders and mumbles something unintelligible under his breath. Maya watches as he curls into himself, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Had she been like Izana, she would have made him beg like he did to her. But she isn't like Izana so instead she asks "Does your head hurt?"

As Maya waits for a response, she can see the struggle playing out on Izana's face. His brows furrow in discomfort, his teeth chattering slightly as he curls tighter under the covers. She senses his agitation, the chill seeping into his bones and exacerbating his withdrawal symptoms. Finally, Izana manages a hoarse denial, his voice strained. "N-No," he stammers, his breath coming out in shaky puffs. "I'm f-feeling really f-fucking c-cold."

Maya's heart aches at his words, her empathy for him warring with the lingering resentment she harbours. Before Maya could say anything, Izana suddenly sat up and pulled off his hoodie, throwing it to the floor and leaving him in just a white undershirt. "Izana what are you—"

Before Kakucho can even finish his sentence, Izana is pulling Maya down onto the bed, laying on top of her. "H-Hey—" she tries to say

"Shut up" Izana mutters, his face buried into the crook of her neck "You're warm"

Maya's initial instinct is to push him away, to resist his sudden closeness, but she finds herself frozen in place as Izana's weight presses down on her. His warmth envelops her, a stark contrast to the coldness that had gripped him moments ago."Izana, this isn't—" Maya tries, but her protest is cut short by another one of Izana's hushed commands.

His words send a shiver down her spine, but she can't deny the underlying vulnerability in his tone. For a moment, Maya hesitates, unsure of how to respond to Izana's unexpected gesture. A big part of her wants to push him away, belittle and humiliate him the same way he did to her but... Maya was too weak. She couldn't get herself to do that to him and Maya hated herself for it. Instead, she avoids Kakucho's gaze and pulls the blanket further up Izana's shoulders, covering his bare arms and his exposed shoulders. "Do you... Need anything?" Kakucho asks slowly

"No..." Is all Maya says

Kakucho nods and leaves. A shudder goes through Izana as he clings to Maya tight. She goes stiff when his hands slide under her shirt and rest on her ribs. His skin is cold to the touch. Maya wants to belittle him. She wants to make him beg. She wants to humiliate him. But she can't get herself to and it's probably the worst feeling ever. She was never an eye for an eye person. She wasn't like that. Maya was too nice for her own good, even at her own expense. So instead of doing all the horrible things she wishes to do, Maya wraps her arms around Izana's shoulders, running the nails of one hand up and down the back of his neck. Izana sighs and just rests all his weight on her.

In the quiet of the room, Maya finds herself grappling with conflicting emotions. She's torn between the desire to protect herself and the innate compassion that compels her to offer comfort to Izana in his time of need. It's a battle she's fought countless times before, and yet, each time, it leaves her feeling conflicted and uncertain. But as she feels Izana's breath steady against her skin, his grip loosening ever so slightly as he starts to fall asleep on top of her, Maya finds herself relenting to the quiet intimacy of the moment. With a heavy heart, Maya resigns herself to the role of reluctant caretaker, knowing that she's bound by duty to tend to Izana's needs, even as she struggles to reconcile her conflicting emotions. And as they lie entwined in the darkness, Maya can't help but wonder how they ended up here, bound together by threads of fate and circumstance, their destinies intertwined in ways they never could have imagined.

She's just there, in his bed, crushed under all his body weight, pinned between him and the mattress with his cold hands under her shirt looking for warmth and face in the crook on her neck. She shifts slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position beneath him, but his grip remains firm, holding her in place against the mattress. The intimacy of the moment hangs heavy in the air, the warmth of their bodies mingling in the confined space of the bed. Maya can feel the steady rhythm of Izana's breath against her skin, the soft brush of his lips against the curve of her neck sending shivers down her spine.

Despite the tangled mess of emotions swirling within her, Maya finds herself instinctively running her fingers through Izana's hair, the strands soft against her touch. With each gentle stroke, she feels a strange sense of calm wash over her, a fleeting moment of peace amidst the chaos that surrounds them. Izana lets out a low, contented sigh at her touch, his grip on her softening ever so slightly. His breath tickles the sensitive skin of her neck as he nuzzles closer, seeking solace in her warmth. It isn't long till the shivering stops and he has fallen asleep, completely lax on top of her and crushing her with his weight. He's pressing down on her ribs and it's hard to breathe but Maya doesn't dare complain.

They come back a full circle.

Izana as the patient and Maya as the doctor.

This time, there was no pristine white doctor's coat, secure rooms with magnetic locks, CCTV cameras or security guards— only this time, she knew what was wrong with him.

There was just Maya and Izana and her all-too-soft heart.

"Why did you cut your hair?" Izana asks, lazily twirling a short curly strand of Maya's hair between his fingers

Hours later he was awake and was making no move to get off her. Maya hesitates for a moment, caught off guard by the unexpected question. She shifts slightly beneath Izana's weight, the pressure of his body against hers a constant reminder of their closeness. "I... I needed a change" she replies softly, her fingers still idly tracing patterns on the back of his neck.

Izana hums in response, his grip on her tightening ever so slightly. His other hand is still under her shirt, no longer cold thanks to her body heat. "Is it 'cause Matsuno broke your heart?" He asks casually "I heard girls cut their hair when they get their heart broken"

Maya's breath catches in her throat at the mention of Chifuyu. She hadn't expected Izana to bring him up, especially not in this vulnerable moment. How is it that Izana is still vying for control even while he's so vulnerable? She closes her eyes briefly, gathering her thoughts before responding. "Yes..." there was no point in lying to him when he already knew the truth— having forced it out of her weeks ago "I wanted to forget everything Chifuyu said about me so I cut my hair... Someone once told me hair holds memory so I cut it and then I felt better..."

Maya's admission hangs heavy in the air, the weight of her words settling between them like an unspoken truth. Izana's fingers pause in their gentle exploration of her hair, his gaze searching hers with a mixture of curiosity and something else she can't quite decipher. "I see," he murmurs, his tone neutral but his eyes betraying a hint of something deeper "But I have to admit, I liked your hair long much better. It suited you. I was pretty disappointed when I saw you cut it so short"

Maya's heart flutters nervously at Izana's unexpected confession, his words stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within her. She hadn't anticipated him expressing any sentiment about her appearance, let alone disappointment over her haircut she did herself weeks ago. It's a strange sensation, hearing him speak so candidly about something as trivial as her hair when there are far weightier matters hanging between them. "Sorry to disappoint," Maya murmurs, a faint hint of sarcasm lacing her words as she avoids meeting his gaze or just looking down at him in general while he's lying on her chest

She's acutely aware of the warmth of his body pressed against hers, the way his fingers linger in her hair, and it's all she can do to keep her composure in the face of such unexpected intimacy. Izana chuckles softly, the sound sending a shiver down Maya's spine. "No need to apologize," he replies, his tone light but tinged with something that feels uncomfortably like possessiveness "but don't cut it again, alright? I want you to grow it out long"

That wasn't a suggestion but a demand. Maya's heart sinks as she recalls the promise she made to Izana, the weight of it settling heavily on her shoulders. She had vowed to be his, to submit to his desires, and in that moment, it felt like there was no escaping the hold he had over her. With a resigned sigh, she nods slowly, her voice barely above a whisper as she agrees to grow her hair out. "Okay," she murmurs, her tone heavy with defeat as she concedes to Izana's demand. "I'll grow it out."

Izana's grip on her hair loosens slightly, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he leans back, his gaze lingering on her with a possessive gleam. "Good girl" he purrs, his words sending a shiver down Maya's spine

She wonders just how absolutely shameless this guy could be. Just hours before he was shivering and trembling, desperately curling into her arms for warmth and now he was being a little shit again as if none of it happened. Izana shifts himself more so he's fully on top of her again, crushing her ribs, knocking the breath out of her lungs, his thigh pressed between her legs. "You're so sweet to me, y'know that bunny" Izana murmurs, his face in Maya's neck again, lips brushing against her skin "Came here to take care of me... So sweet"

Maya's breath catches in her throat as Izana's weight presses down on her, his closeness suffocating yet strangely comforting. She can feel the heat radiating off his body, the tension in his muscles palpable against her skin. Despite the discomfort of his position, Maya finds herself unable to push him away, her resolve weakening under the weight of his words. "I... I just want to help," she stammers, her voice barely above a whisper as she struggles to maintain her composure.

The intimacy of the moment leaves her feeling exposed and vulnerable, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and uncertainty. Izana's lips brush against the sensitive skin of her neck, sending shivers down Maya's spine as she tries to suppress a gasp. His touch is both electrifying and terrifying, a potent reminder of the power he holds over her. "You're so good to me, bunny," he murmurs, his voice low and husky against her skin. "So sweet."

He goes still again after that. His lips just rest against the curve of her neck. They're both silent again and if it wasn't for Izana's fingers rubbing circles into her ribs, Maya would have thought he was asleep. Izana's hands ignite a firestorm inside her. Had this situation been any different, she would have craved it— craved him. But it's not an ideal situation, this danger. "Hey bunny..." Izana murmurs

"Yeah?"

"How did you feel when Matsuno broke your heart?"

It's an odd question, something she didn't expect him to ask her. "I was sad"

"Yeah fuckin' obviously. But what did you feel?" Izana moves himself, his hands on either side of her head as he's now hovering over her face

She's staring up at him. He isn't his usual golden-tanned colour due to the utter shit he was going through due to the withdrawal. His breath is hitting her lips. He isn't so close to her face but it feels like he is. "I felt like shit... I didn't wanna come to work that day but they wouldn't give me a day off" Maya says quietly

Izana brushes a curly strand away from her forehead. "hm... So you came late that day 'cause you got your heartbroken...?"

"Would you want to come to work if the person you liked for years broke your heart?" Maya counters back

Izana's gaze softens, his fingers tracing a gentle path along Maya's jawline as he considers her question. "No, I suppose not," he admits, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice. "But I don't have the luxury of letting my emotions dictate my actions. I have responsibilities."

Maya can sense the weight of Izana's words, the burden of his role as the number 3 of the Tokyo Manji Gang weighing heavily on his shoulders. She knows all too well the pressure he faces, the constant need to maintain control and uphold his image of strength and authority. Even being in a gang is hard work she supposes. "I understand," she replies softly, reaching her hands up, her fingers threading through the strands of his hair as she tries to offer him comfort.

Despite everything, she can't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for him, a glimpse of the vulnerability beneath his tough exterior. Izana leans into her touch, his eyes closing briefly as he savors the warmth of her embrace. "Thank you, bunny," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "For being here."

Her eyes widen at his words, not at all having expected him to say that. He's saying that as if she choose to be in this damn beach house. No wait. Izana mean thanks for taking care of him. It's odd. Seeing him suddenly be so vulnerable. Just what did he want from her this time? What stupid trick was he playing on her? But she doesn't ask, and instead says "how are you feeling now?"

His skin isn't that cold anymore but he's still very clearly feeling like shit. "I've been better"

She isn't too sure what else to say, going stiff when his thigh presses against her crotch. "D-Do you want me to make you something to eat?"

Izana presses his forehead against her's and sighs quietly. He takes one of Maya's hands and laces their fingers together, pinning it down beside her head. He's acting sweet. Izana has been acting this way ever since he revealed that Mikey was lying to her— since the day Maya promised to be his. Maya's heart pounds in her chest as Izana's actions send a jolt of unease through her. She can't shake the feeling that there's something more to his sudden change in demeanor, something lurking beneath the surface that she can't quite grasp. She watches as Izana's eyes search hers, a hint of vulnerability shining in their depths. "Izana..." Maya begins, her voice barely above a whisper as she struggles to find the right words.

But before she can say anything else, he leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from hers. "Stay with me," he murmurs, his breath warm against her skin as his forehead stays against hers. "Just for a little while longer."

With a silent sigh, Maya relents, allowing herself to be drawn into the web of Izana's embrace once more. He's being sweet, somewhat, he won't be like this for long. Maya can't help but wonder— if Izana had played the long game with her the same way Mikey did, would she have felt just as betrayed as she did when finding out what Mikey had done? Would Maya have felt her heart shatter the same way? She isn't able to look away from his orchid eyes as she brings her free hand up to his hair, tangling in the white strands. After a while Izana moved his head back away from her so he could look at her face properly then said "You're gorgeous. Have I ever told you that?"

That was unexpected. Her fingers stay tangled in his hair. "Well... You call me a lot of things"

"I feel a lot of things for you too" Izana admits

She's silent for a moment, her nails gently scratching against his scalp. "Is that why you won't let me go?"

"Yes... I'm greedy... I want you for myself"

"I know" Her voice comes out as a small, breathless whisper before she says "Would you like something to eat? You need something to be eating properly while recovering"

Izana takes the hand he's holding and kisses the back of it. Maya isn't too sure how to react. These were the things Mikey did to her, not Izana. Izana was calculated words, control, the need for dominance and control, he was fear and terror and uncertainty. Maya didn't know Izana could be like this and she isn't sure if she likes it better, especially after Mikey. Oh god, Mikey didn't even know that she knew yet. He hadn't been back home since Izana revealed the truth to her. "Yes... I'd like that" Izana says then moves off her

Izana is no longer crushing her ribs but it still feels like she can't breathe.

The sun is shining through the large windows of the beach house. Maya is cooking, stirring the pot of soup. Kakucho is sitting on the bar stool in front of the kitchen island with an unknown expression on his face. Izana on the other hand, is standing behind her, arms around her waist and his chin hooked over her shoulder. He's holding her like he's her lover and Maya really isn't sure how to feel. Maya can feel Izana's warmth enveloping her, his presence both comforting and suffocating at the same time. She tries to focus on the task at hand, stirring the soup with more force than necessary, trying to ignore the way his arms tighten around her waist. Kakucho's gaze flickers between Maya and Izana, a mixture of concern and uncertainty evident in his expression. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but then closes it again, seemingly unable to find the right words to say. As the silence stretches between them, Maya can't help but feel a sense of unease settling over her. This domestic scene feels foreign and surreal, a far cry from the chaos and violence that usually surrounds her. She wonders if this is just another one of Izana's games, another way to exert his control over her. "I fuckin' hate vegetables so this better be good" Izana mutters, his hands slipping under her shirt to rest on her bare lower stomach

She can feel the heat of his hands against her skin, his fingers tracing idle patterns on her stomach, sending a shiver down her spine. His skin is no longer cold but it might as well be with the way he's making her feel. "It will be... You can take my word for it" Maya replies quietly

Kakucho shifts uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Uh, maybe I should help with something else," he suggests, looking for an excuse to leave and not be a third-wheel

But before Kakucho can make a move, Izana tightens his grip on Maya's waist, his touch bordering on possessive. "No, you stay right there," he says, his tone laced with a hint of warning.

Maya's heart sinks at the possessive edge in Izana's voice. With a heavy sigh, Maya focuses on stirring the soup. "U-Uh Kakucho you can take out the bowls" she says, in hopes of making the situation a little lighter

Kakucho nods, grateful for the chance to escape the palpable tension in the kitchen. He quickly stands up, grabbing a few bowls from the cupboard and setting them out on the counter. "Sure thing," he says, his voice a bit strained as he busies himself with the task.

Meanwhile, Izana's grip on Maya tightens slightly, his fingers digging into her waist possessively. "You're mine, aren't you?" he murmurs, his breath warm against her ear.

Maya's heart skips a beat at his words, a mixture of fear and uncertainty swirling inside her. She doesn't know how to respond, torn between the promise she made to Izana and the lingering doubts in her mind. "I... I don't know," she admits quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Izana's hold softens slightly, his touch gentler as he leans back to look at her. "You said you are," he says, his gaze intense as he searches her eyes for any sign of resistance "You told me you'd be mine so are you still mine?"

Maya's heart pounds with conflicting emotions as Izana's grip tightens around her waist. She felt the weight of her promise pressing down on her, the words she uttered in a moment of weakness now binding her to him. Despite the uncertainty swirling in her mind, she knows that she can't go back on her word. "I... I am," Maya whispers, her voice barely audible above the sound of her own racing heartbeat

The admission feels like a betrayal to herself, but she knows that denying Izana now would only lead to more pain and turmoil. Izana's expression softens slightly, a hint of satisfaction flickering in his eyes as he leans in closer. "Good girl," he murmurs, his breath warm against her ear. "You belong to me, bunny. Don't ever forget that."

Maya just hums, not knowing what else to say. Izana presses a kiss to her ear and she resists the urge to shiver. "Uh... Sanzu texted. Said he and Mikey will be here tomorrow morning" Kakucho says

Maya's heart sinks at the mention of Mikey's impending return, a mixture of apprehension and uncertainty swirling inside her. She knows that his presence will only complicate things further, adding another layer of tension to the already fragile dynamic between her and Izana. "Great," Izana mutters, his tone laced with irritation, burying his face in Maya's hair "Just what we need..."

Maya's stomach churns at the thought of facing Mikey again, her mind flooded with memories of their complicated history together. She knows that their reunion will inevitably bring up painful emotions and unresolved issues, and she's not sure if she's ready to confront them. She doesn't know if she'll be able to pretend that she doesn't know he was lying to her. Oh god, Maya thinks she'll be sick.

Soup was soon ready and Maya finished eating first. She excuses herself and goes back to the master bedroom— Mikey's room. Alone in Mikey's room, Maya sinks onto the edge of the bed, her thoughts swirling with a tangled mess of emotions. The familiar surroundings offer little solace as she wrestles with the conflicting feelings that weigh heavily on her heart. She stares at the view of the beach in front of her and stands up. She stands in front of the double doors, staring at the beach past the deck. The waves crash against the shore. Unconsciously, her hand comes up to the doorknob. She knows it's probably locked but just as she's about to twist it, the door swings open, revealing Kakucho standing there, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he steps into the room, closing the door behind him. Standing beside Maya, he joins her in staring out at the beach, the rhythmic sound of the waves filling the room. "you okay?" Kakucho asks as Maya lets go of the doorknob

Maya nods stiffly. "Yeah... 'm fine"

A moment of silence washes over them but only for a moment. "Maya about what I said to you..." Kakucho starts "About running..."

She looks at him. "yeah?"

"Stay."

She furrows her brows in confusion. "W-What?"

Kakucho rubs the back of his neck, a look of guilt in his eyes. "Stay with Izana. Stop trying to run"

Maya's heart sank as Kakucho's words hit her like a heavy blow. The sense of betrayal wells up inside her, mingling with frustration and confusion. Just a few days ago he told her he believed in her that she could get away just like that guy that did years ago. So why did he change his mind? "Why?" she asks, her voice trembling with emotion.

Kakucho meets her gaze with a solemn expression, his eyes reflecting a mixture of regret and concern. "Izana wants you and... and you're good for him"

"But what about me?" she demands, her voice cracking with emotion. "What about what I want?"

This wasn't fair. This wasn't fucking fair. Why was this happening to her? It felt like she was being robbed of her agency, forced to sacrifice her own desires for the sake of someone else's happiness. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. Kakucho's expression softens, his gaze filled with empathy as he reaches out a hand to gently touch Maya's shoulder. "I know it's hard, Maya. But sometimes, we have to make sacrifices for the greater good" he says softly, his voice tinged with sadness.

Maya pulls away from his touch, her fists clenched in frustration. "And what about my happiness? What about what I need?" she challenges, her voice trembling with emotion "There is no greater good in this situation, just a fucking sociopath that wants a pet and that pet happens to be me"

Kakucho's eyes widened, a conflict evident in his expression as Maya's words pierced through him. He took a deep breath, mustering the courage to speak. "Maya, I... I can't let you leave," he admitted, his voice wavering with uncertainty. "I care more for Izana than I do for my own morality."

Maya's heart sank at his confession, feeling the weight of his words bearing down on her. She struggled to comprehend how someone she trusted could prioritize the well-being of another over her own autonomy. "So, what? I'm just supposed to sacrifice my happiness for yours and Izana's?" she retorted, her voice tinged with bitterness.

Kakucho's gaze faltered, guilt flickering across his features. "I know it's not fair to ask this of you," he began, his tone heavy with remorse. "But Izana... he's not in a good place right now. He needs you, Maya. And I... I need to protect him, even if it means making difficult choices."

Maya's fists clenched at her sides, frustration boiling inside her. She felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of Kakucho's expectations. "That's not fair... That's not fucking fair" Maya says angrily "I got drugged and kidnapped right out of my workplace, drugged again, waterboarded and drowned—"

"Maya" Kakucho tries cutting her off but she just keeps going

"—drugged till I was addicted, went through withdrawals, taken against my will multiple times"

"Maya"

"got hot wax poured down my back, had first-degree burns on my back all while I was going through withdrawals," She says, her eyes teary now "Just why should I stay for him, when all he's done is hurt me?"

Kakucho's expression softened, his gaze filled with sorrow as he listened to Maya's anguished cries. He reached out a hand to gently touch her shoulder, offering what little comfort he could in the face of her pain. "I'm sorry, Maya," he murmured, his voice heavy with remorse. "I know it's not fair, but Izana... he's not well. He needs help, and you're the only one who can give it to him."

Maya shook her head, her heart heavy with the weight of her suffering. "But what about me?" she whispered, her voice barely above a sob. "What about my pain? Who's going to help me heal?"

There was a moment of agonizing silence as Kakucho struggled to find the words to comfort her. He knew there were no easy answers, no simple solutions to the pain she had endured. All he could do was offer his support and hope that Maya would find the strength to persevere. "I wish I had an answer, Maya," he admitted softly. "But all I can offer you is my support. I'll be here for you, no matter what."

"no, you won't Kakucho..." She whispers

He doesn't answer after that and only sighs. Maya watches Kakucho reach into his pocket and pull out a key. Maya watches in silence as he puts it into the keyhole and she hears it... lock? Her heart drops at the realization that the door has been unlocked this whole time. "W-What?" she whispers

Her freedom was right there. It was right there and now it was... gone. Her freedom was right there. It was within reach, tantalizingly close, and now it was slipping through her fingers, lost to the cruel whims of fate. The realization hit her like a wave crashing against the shore, overwhelming her with a sense of helplessness and despair. "It was unlocked this whole time?" she choked out, her voice trembling with emotion.

Kakucho's gaze remained fixed on the door, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry, Maya," he murmured, his voice heavy with regret. "I can't let you leave. Not now."

Maya's heart pounded in her chest, panic clawing at the edges of her consciousness. She felt trapped, suffocated by the confines of the room, with no escape in sight. Tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled to contain the flood of emotions threatening to consume her. "Please," she pleaded, her voice barely audible. "Let me go."

But Kakucho remained silent, his gaze fixed on the locked door, his decision final as he left the room. And as Maya sank to the floor, her spirit broken and her hope extinguished, she knew that her fight for freedom had come to an agonizing end.

"what cha' thinkin' 'bout?" Izana asks

He's lying on top of her again, his weight pressing down on her ribs, not letting her breathe properly. Maya's heart skipped a beat as Izana's voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the suffocating reality of the present moment. She swallowed hard, her throat feeling dry as she struggled to find the right words to respond. "Nothing," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes fixed on the ceiling above.

But Izana wasn't one to accept evasive answers. He shifted slightly, his weight bearing down on her even more as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. "You're lying," he accused softly, his tone tinged with amusement.

Maya tensed beneath him, the weight of his body pressing down on her making it difficult to think. "I... I was just... thinking about everything," she admitted reluctantly, her voice barely audible. "About... about how we got here, I guess."

Izana hummed in response, his fingers idly tracing patterns on her stomach. "You're mine now, Maya," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down her spine. "And I'm not letting you go."

Maya's heart sank as she heard Izana's possessive declaration, his words a stark reminder of the chains that bound her to him. She closed her eyes, a heavy weight settling in the pit of her stomach as she whispered softly "I know."

A short silence washes over them, Izana's face resting in the crook of her neck again. He had a headache earlier which made him pretty fucking irritable but now it was gone. "Izana..." she says quietly

"hm?" his lips created a slight vibration against the curve of her neck

"What if I didn't come to work that day? What if I just stayed home that day and didn't show up to the hospital?" Maya asks him, her fingers tangled in his white hair

Izana's response is a low, contemplative hum as he shifts slightly, his breath warm against Maya's skin. "If you hadn't shown up that day..." he begins, his voice trailing off for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. "Well, things would've been different, wouldn't they?"

Maya's heart clenches at his vague response, a flood of uncertainty washing over her. She had expected him to offer some reassurance or clarity, but his words only served to deepen the sense of unease gnawing at her conscience. "Different how?" she presses, her voice tinged with apprehension.

Izana's grip on her tightens slightly, his fingers tracing idle patterns on her back as he considers his response. "I suppose we'll never know, bunny," he murmurs cryptically, his tone betraying a hint of amusement. "But even if you didn't show up, I would've brought you here anyway... Would've dragged you out of your little house."

Maya's breath catches in her throat at Izana's words, a chill creeping down her spine at the realization of just how little control she had over her own fate. She had always suspected that Izana's intentions toward her were far from benign, but hearing him admit it so casually sent a shiver of fear coursing through her veins.

"You would've... dragged me here?" she echoes, her voice barely above a whisper, her mind reeling with the implications of his words.

Izana's grip on her tightens even more, his touch bordering on possessive as he presses his lips against the sensitive skin of her neck. "Of course, bunny," he purrs, his breath hot against her skin "It wouldn't have been as fun as chasing you through the hospital but you would've been here with me"

Maya doesn't know why she expected a different answer from Izana when she already well knows how this crazy bitch thinks. After all, she's seen firsthand the lengths he's willing to go to get what he wants. But knowing doesn't make it any easier to accept the reality of her situation. "It was cruel of you to do that all that the same day I got my heart broken" Maya mumbles, trying to lighten the situation

Izana chuckles softly, the sound sending a shiver down Maya's spine. "Cruelty is my specialty, bunny," he replies, his voice dripping with amusement. "Besides, it's not like I planned for Matsuno to break your heart that day. It just happened to work out in my favour."

Maya forces a weak smile, trying to play along with Izana's twisted sense of humour. "Lucky me" she mutters under her breath, her attempt at levity falling flat in the oppressive atmosphere

A thought passes through her head and then she asks "What about Mikey?"

"Manjiro? What about him?" he replies, fingers tracing circles on her ribs again

"What will he think about all this?" Maya clarifies 

Izana's fingers pause their motion, his expression turning slightly contemplative at Maya's question. "He's got his own world to worry about," he replies nonchalantly, his touch resuming its gentle circles on Maya's ribs. "Trust me, he won't mind."

Maya's brow furrows in concern, uncertainty gnawing at her. "why won't he mind?"

Mikey seemed like the possessive type— even more than Izana was. So just why wouldn't he mind? Izana chuckles softly, the sound carrying a hint of amusement as he meets Maya's gaze with an enigmatic smile. "Because, bunny, you're mine and Manjiro is mine too"

Maya's brow furrows further, confusion evident in her expression as she tries to decipher Izana's cryptic words. "What do you mean, we're both yours?" she asks, her voice tinged with uncertainty

But that's when it hit her. Izana saw her as a pet, a possession. Something to own. She was a toy for him to play with. Izana saw Mikey the exact same way. Mikey was a toy for Izana to play with, the same way Maya was a pet for him. As the pieces of the puzzle fall into place, Maya's heart sinks with the weight of understanding. Izana's twisted game becomes clearer, his manipulation extending beyond just her. She recalls faint memories, fragments of conversations heard through the haze of drugs and confusion. Izana's whispers poisoning Mikey's mind, turning him into a pawn in his cruel game. The realization hits her like a punch to the gut. Izana saw them both as objects to manipulate, to control, to possess. Mikey, his own brother, is reduced to nothing more than a pawn in his relentless pursuit of power and dominance. Anger simmers beneath the surface of Maya's composure, fueled by betrayal and indignation. How could Izana be so callous, so cold-blooded, to toy with the lives of those closest to him? And how could Mikey, blinded by loyalty or perhaps ignorance, allow himself to become ensnared in his brother's web of deceit? Mikey may have lied to her but what if she wasn't looking deeper into it? What if there was more to Mikey's lies that Izana hadn't told her about? But she holds back these thoughts, feeling even more sick as she keeps thinking and decides to change the subject. "Why did you take drugs again?" She asks looking at the back of his head "You recovered didn't you?"

Izana hums into the curve of her neck, seemingly accepting the topic change. "yeah... I dunno... I felt like I needed it and I got carried away without Kakucho noticing and then this happened"

Maya listens to Izana's response, a mixture of frustration and concern bubbling inside her. "But you were doing so well," she murmurs, her voice gentle, not wanting him to think she was in any way disappointed because she wasn't— Maya knows and has seen how hard it is recovering from addiction "Why would you risk everything by taking drugs again?"

Izana's grip on her tightens slightly, his breath warm against her skin as he shifts his weight. "I don't know, bunny," he admits quietly. "Sometimes, it's just hard to resist the temptation."

Maya's heart aches at his words, the complexity of Izana's struggles weighing heavily on her mind. Despite everything, she can't shake the feeling of empathy towards him, even as she grapples with her own conflicting emotions. "You know you can talk to me about these things... I'm still technically a psychiatrist..." she says softly, her fingers gently stroking his hair

Izana chuckles softly, a wry smile playing on his lips as he turns to face her. "You're a persistent one, aren't you?" he teases, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of amusement and affection. "But I suppose that's part of why I keep you around."

Maya feels a little stupid for being this way with Izana after all he's done. Maybe it was because not once he had lied to her. Because he had been truthful the entire time. She feels stupid for unconsciously looking for affection in such a violent place and from such a violent person. Yet, there's a raw honesty to Izana that she can't ignore. He may be brutal and ruthless, but he's also authentic in a way that few others are. In a world filled with lies and deceit, his transparency is both refreshing and unsettling. But Maya knows she can't continue to delude herself. She's playing a dangerous game, dancing on the edge of a cliff with Izana as her partner. Maya is about to say something until she feels one of Izana's hands start to trail up higher on her ribs, the tips of his fingers grazing against the band of her bra. "lace?" He murmurs "lemme see"

Maya's breath catches in her throat as Izana's fingers linger on the edge of her bra, sending a shiver down her spine. The gentle touch of Izana's fingers against her skin ignited a firestorm of conflicting desires. "I-Izana" she mumbles nervously as he lifts himself off her, hovering over her body

Izana's lips curve into a knowing smile as he leans in closer, his breath warm against her skin. "Don't worry, bunny," he murmurs, his voice low and seductive. "Just wanna take a look"

But Maya can't shake the feeling of vulnerability that grips her, the sense of being caught in a web of desire and deceit. She knows that she should resist, that she should push him away and reclaim control over her own desires. But as Izana's lips brush against her neck, igniting a spark of desire deep within her, she finds herself unable to resist the pull of his magnetic presence. With a trembling sigh, Maya surrenders to the intoxicating allure of the moment, allowing herself to be consumed by the passion that burns between them. At that moment, she knows that she's playing with fire, dancing on the edge of oblivion with Izana as her partner. But for now, she chooses to embrace the flames, surrendering to the tumultuous whirlwind of desire that threatens to consume them both. "Arch your back" he mumbles

Maya's heart races as she complies, arching her back in response to Izana's whispered command. Every nerve in her body tingles with anticipation, her senses heightened by the intoxicating proximity of his touch. She can feel the heat of his breath against her skin, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through her veins. As she arches her back, Izana's hands slide gently along her sides, tracing the contours of her body with a feather-light touch. His fingers dance over her skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, as he explores the curves of her body with a tender reverence. Izana slides his hands under her back and with one movement lifts her off the bed like she was a child. She's now in his lap, straddling his thighs, chest pressed against his. Maya gasps as Izana effortlessly lifts her off the bed, her body instinctively wrapping around him. She looks into his eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation or doubt, but finds only a smouldering intensity that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through her veins. "can I?" Izana whispers softly, a look of vulnerability in his eyes "Will you let me this time?"

With trembling hands, Maya reaches up to trace the contours of Izana's face, her touch gentle yet filled with fierce longing. She feels a surge of electricity shoots through her body at the contact, every nerve ending alight with sensation. Izana's hands roam freely over her body, igniting a firestorm of desire that threatens to consume them both. Their breath mingles in the air, hot and ragged, as they lose themselves in the dizzying ecstasy of the moment. "Is that a yes then?" He murmurs, a small smile playing on his lips

With a soft exhale, Maya nods slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes," she breathes, her fingers still tracing the contours of Izana's face, her touch a silent affirmation of her consent

Oh god did she hate herself for this. But maybe she was too tired. Too tired after fighting, too tired after realizing there was no one on her side. Izana's smile widens, a glimmer of satisfaction dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from hers. "Good"

Maya's heart races as Izana's lips draw closer, anticipation mingling with trepidation in her chest. She feels a surge of conflicting emotions—desire warring with self-loathing, longing battling against resignation. Their lips meet in a searing kiss, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through Maya's veins. It's a whirlwind of sensation, overwhelming and all-consuming, as they lose themselves in each other's embrace. In that fleeting moment, there is no past, no future, only the raw intensity of their connection, binding them together in a fiery passion that defies reason and logic. "now lemme get a look" Izana says, pulling away from the kiss

Izana pulls her shirt off with ease, throwing it to the side, and falling onto the floor. He sighs softly, his thumb brushing over the baby pink lacy strap on her shoulder. Maya's cheeks flush with heat as Izana's gaze roams over her exposed skin, his eyes tracing every curve and contour with a hunger that sends shivers down her spine. She feels exposed under his intense scrutiny, vulnerable yet strangely exhilarated by the raw intensity of his desire. "Beautiful," Izana murmurs, his voice low and husky as he reaches out to caress her cheek with gentle fingers

She leans into his touch, her own fingers trailing lightly down his clothed chest, tracing the lines of his muscles with a reverence born of awe and longing. Izana's gaze shifts to her shoulder to the scar from where he had accidentally bitten her too hard. Maya feels a surge of mixed emotions flood her being as she watches him study the mark with a mixture of regret and a weird look of fascination. "I'm sorry," Izana murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he traces the scar with gentle fingertips

Maya isn't too sure if he actually means it though. But she doesn't feel like doubting it right now. Maya doesn't want to feel like shit anymore. She's tired of feeling that way. "It's fine" she mumbles, thumb tracing over his jaw "It'll fade"

Izana sighs, leaning down to press a kiss to her scarred shoulder. "I've hurt you so much, hm..." She knows he's not just referring to the physical scars but also the emotional wounds he's inflicted upon her. "I'll make it up to you, bunny... Promise"

And so Izana kissed her again, all tongue, licking desperately into her mouth like he was starved. Maya's mind swirls with conflicting emotions as Izana's lips meet hers once more, his kiss desperate and hungry, as if trying to erase the pain of the past with the intensity of the present. She can feel the raw desire coursing through him, his touch igniting a firestorm of longing within her. Izana is being oddly sweet for someone who waterboarded and burned her. 

Oh well.

He unclips her bra with ease, throwing it in the same place he threw her shirt. She's soon lowered back onto the bed. He's kissing down her throat, ending at her sternum, sucking love bites into her skin while her fingers tangle into the thick white strands of his hair. Izana sighs against Maya's skin and she shivers then he shivers too. "Fuck... I'm cold again" he groans, his fingers digging into her waist

She forgot he was still going through withdrawals. Izana is going through another cold flush like earlier. She can feel the chill emanating from his skin, a stark contrast to the fire burning within her own veins. With a mixture of concern and tenderness, she reaches out to caress his cheek, her touch gentle yet filled with an unspoken promise of comfort. "It's okay, Izana," she murmurs soothingly, her voice a soft whisper against his ear. "I'm here. I'll keep you warm."

Izana's grip on her tightens, his fingers digging into her waist with a mixture of desperation and longing. "I need you, Maya," he confesses, his voice raw with emotion, using her name for the first time in a long time 

At that moment, Maya knows that she can't deny him what he seeks, no matter how temporary or fleeting the relief may be or how much she hates him. With a silent nod, she pulls him closer, enveloping him in the warmth of her embrace, determined to offer him solace in the midst of his torment. So their clothes scatter and Izana pushes in, slowly, inch by inch, knocking the air out of her lungs. "f-fuck" a whimper leaves Izana and Maya lets out a shuddery breathe, squeezing her eyes shut

Her nails dig into his shoulders and her legs go around his waist, not sure if she wanted him closer or further. Maya is breathing heavily and shaky, her head up in clouds from the stretch caused by the lack of preparation from both herself and Izana. "god, you're so warm" Izana moans, his face pressed into the crook of her neck

He hasn't moved his hips yet, probably being nice for once and trying to let Maya adjust to him first. She wraps her arms around his neck and sighs, fingers tangling in his hair. "I can be on top" She offers, voice shaky

Izana's teeth graze against her throat. "as much as I'd love the view bunny, I wanna be on top... I'm trying to make it up to you remember" He hisses a little, mumbling how tight she was 

Maya's heart flutters at the intimacy of their exchange, a mixture of desire and uncertainty coursing through her veins. She hesitates for a moment, torn between her own desires and Izana's request. But ultimately, she nods in silent agreement, trusting him to lead them in this dance of passion and a twisted kind of redemption. "Okay," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back. "I trust you, Izana."

Honestly speaking, no she didn't. Just because Izana was truthful to her didn't mean she had to be truthful to him. She could lie to him as much as she wanted. She had no reason to be honest. So as Izana start to thurst she whimpers out his name over and over. It felt good. So fucking good. The drag of his cock against her walls and each time his pelvis brushed against her clit. It felt so fucking good. "I-Izana" she whines as he thrusts in slow and lazy

His lips meet hers in a just as lazy but desperate kiss. Maya didn't know Izana had the capability to kiss like that— soft, full of passion, desperation and eagerness. Fuck it felt good. Being treated that way by someone who's only ever treated you violently felt so good. She whimpers into his mouth as his fingers find her nipples, lightly rubbing against them before pinching. Her legs tighten around his waist and her fingers tug at his white locks. Izana begins kissing down towards her jaw now, till her throat, collarbones, and sternum and then Maya feels him smile against her skin before he takes one of her nipples in his mouth. A shuddery breath leaves her lips at the feeling. He sucks at it, soft, but his teeth graze against it almost threateningly. Maya feels like she's having an out-of-body experience when he tugs at her other nipple and his free hand goes down to rub at her clit. There's so much going on at once that she already feels so overstimulated and comes from the sheer feeling of all of it. Izana chuckles as she comes down from her high. He stops thrusting momentarily as he presses his forehead against hers. "so sensitive, hm bunny..." Izana sighs softly "Wish I took your first..."

He doesn't give her a chance to respond as he starts thrusting again, this time rougher, harder. Her eyes roll back as he pulls his head away from her. "oh fuck..." Izana mutters as he slows down but keeps going just as hard "Look at that"

Izana is looking down at her stomach, right at the small bulge on her lower tummy every time he thrusts into her cunt. He fucking giggles, like it's something cute, like he's not practically fucking her guts. Oh god, she should be horrified but it just turns her on even more. A sob-like moan leaves her when Izana speeds up and presses down on her lower stomach. She feels good. Everything feels good and even if it's only momentary, Maya wants it so badly to last. No matter how overwhelming, no matter how sensitive. Because it seems that only during sex is when the pain truly stops. "please" Maya whimpers desperately, pulling him in as close as possible when he pounds into her cunt 

"Please what, hm?" He asks, the tips of his fingers pressing bruises into her waist "wh-what-f-fuck... what do you want bunny?"

Izana's voice is shaky as he speeds up even more, feeling himself getting closer. "a-ah~ want more" Her moan sounded more like a sob 

Izana smiles, his eyes dark with lust as he leans down, capturing her lips in a rough messy kiss. It's all teeth and tongue and eventually, they're both just breathing heavily into the other's mouths as they come at the same time. Izana doesn't pull out after that though. He simply shifts their positions so they're both lying on their side and keeps his cock buried in her using the excuse that he was still cold. That was probably his first lie but Maya was too tired to say or do anything so she just complies. She's tucked away in his arms. Izana is holding her tight and close like he's afraid she'll slip away at any moment. Maya on the other hand can't focus on anything other than the feeling of him still inside. "One thing I adore about girls like you is how prettily you suffer." Izana whispers as his fingers trace along her spine "How could anyone want to comfort you when you look this fuckin' pretty when you're miserable?"

Mayas closes her eyes and just falls slack in his arms. It's dark out now. "You're gorgeous, you know that my pretty bunny? Everything about you is breathtakingly beautiful" He whispers and she opens her eyes to look at him

Maya doesn't say anything to Izana. Everything just felt too good for her to really even try to speak or move. "You're so pretty... The way you suffer is so pretty too so I just can't help but hurt you..." Izana murmurs and presses a kiss to her cheekbone

After a while, he pulls out with a small hiss, leading her silently to the shower. As the water cascades over them, washing away the physical remnants of their encounter, Maya's mind drifts into a haze of numbness. The weight of their tangled emotions hangs heavy in the air, suffocating her as she struggles to make sense of it all. Izana's words echo hollowly in her ears, his attempts at reconciliation falling on deaf ears as she retreats into the depths of her own thoughts. In the midst of the steam and the warmth of the water, Maya feels a profound sense of emptiness, a hollow ache that gnaws at the edges of her soul. She can't shake the feeling of being adrift, lost in a sea of uncertainty and despair. Each drop of water that falls against her skin feels like a reminder of the tears she's shed, the pain she's endured, and the scars that mar her body and soul alike.

As they step out of the shower, Izana gives her a pill, his voice a distant echo in the recesses of her mind. Maya accepts it mechanically, her movements robotic as she goes through the motions of getting cleaned up. She doesn't bother listening to Izana's words anymore, the pretty lies and empty promises ringing hollow in her ears. Wrapped in a towel, Maya allows herself to be led back to the bedroom, the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders. She lets Izana hold her naked body against his chest, but the embrace offers little comfort, a fleeting illusion of solace in a world devoid of warmth and light.

As he kisses her forehead and murmurs empty reassurances into her ears, Maya can't help but feel a sense of profound sadness wash over her. This moment of tenderness feels like a cruel mockery of the pain and suffering that has brought them to this point. She knows that no amount of physical closeness can erase the scars that mar their relationship, nor can it mend the broken pieces of her shattered heart.

One can only dream, she figures.

Mikey is back the next morning. She ignores him as best as she can. Maya didn't want to even look at him after knowing he had been lying to her this whole time— giving her false hope that he'd convince Izana to let her go when Mikey might as well be an accomplice. The air in the beach house feels heavy with tension as Mikey's presence looms over Maya like a dark cloud. But despite her efforts to ignore him, Mikey's presence is an ever-present reminder of the lies and deceit that have plagued their relationship or whatever twisted relationship they had in the first place. 

She doesn't know how to face Mikey, how to confront the betrayal that cuts to the core of her being. All she can do is bury her pain deep within her heart, shielding herself from the raw vulnerability of her shattered trust. But even as she tries to push him away, a part of Maya longs for answers, for closure to the questions that have haunted her since the truth came to light. She knows that confronting Mikey won't undo the damage that has been done, but she can't help but yearn for some semblance of understanding in the midst of the chaos that surrounds her. "Thanks again, Maya" Kakucho says with a smile "Really."

Izana had fallen back to sleep after breakfast, still needing a lot of rest. Thankfully this time the detox process shouldn't take too long since he wasn't in that damn shitty hospital with shitty care. "It's nothing" Maya mumbles dismissively

She was still mad at Kakucho. Almost as much as she was mad at Mikey. Maya had the right to be mad after all. She resents his gratitude, feeling as though it's a hollow gesture in the wake of his betrayal. But beneath her anger lies a deep well of hurt and confusion, emotions that threaten to consume her if she lets them. The lies, the deceit, the manipulation—all of it weighs heavily on her heart, dragging her down into a pit of despair. She can't shake the feeling of betrayal that gnaws at her from within, leaving her feeling lost and alone in a sea of uncertainty. "really though... thanks for helping him" Mikey says with a soft smile

Maya resists the urge to sneer at him the same way she would at Izana when she was first brought here. Mikey had been lying to her, giving her false hope. That was probably worse than Kakucho going back on his word. "Sure" Maya replies tersely, her voice lacking the warmth that once coloured their conversations

She can't bring herself to meet Mikey's gaze, her eyes fixed on some distant point in the room as she struggles to contain the storm of emotions raging inside her. Mikey's smile falters slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his features. "Hey, is everything okay?" he asks, his voice laced with genuine worry.

Maya's jaw clenches as she fights to keep her composure, the urge to lash out at Mikey almost overwhelming. But she knows that giving in to her anger won't solve anything, and won't change the past. So she forces herself to take a deep breath, to push aside her hurt and frustration, if only for a moment. "Yeah, everything's fine" Maya replies, her tone flat and devoid of emotion

She retreats to the master bedroom. Bad idea honestly speaking. It wasn't her own room, it was Mikey's. Stupid idea for her to try and hide from him in there because he just followed her inside. "no... everything's not fine. What's wrong?" Mikey asks with a frown, his black hair tied back in a messy ponytail

Maya's heart skips a beat as Mikey enters the room, his concerned voice cutting through the heavy silence that hangs between them like a suffocating fog. She can feel the weight of his gaze on her, a silent plea for her to open up and share her burden. But Maya remains silent, her emotions roiling beneath the surface as she struggles to find the words to articulate the storm raging inside her. "It's nothing, Mikey," Maya finally murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I need some time alone."

Mikey's frown deepens, his brows furrowing in concern. "You can talk to me, Maya," he insists, taking a step closer to her. "Whatever it is, we can work through it together. I told you I'm here for you"

Maya shakes her head, heading for the bathroom to get inside and lock the door so she can get some alone time but Mikey gets inside before she can even get the door closed. "don't avoid me" He speaks more demandingly this time "You haven't even been looking at me since I got back! Didn't you miss me, baby?"

The petname which used to make her heart flutter is now making her stomach churn. "Mikey, I really don't wanna do this right now" Maya says, digging her nails into her palms, feeling a mixture of panic and anger fill her

"Maya, please," Mikey pleads, his voice tinged with desperation as he reaches out to gently grasp her arm. "I just want to understand what's going on. You've been avoiding me ever since I got back, and I can't shake this feeling that something's not right."

Maya's heart pounds in her chest as she feels the weight of Mikey's gaze on her, his eyes searching hers for answers she's not ready to give. "I really don't want to talk to you right now"

But Mikey's grip tightens on her arm, his expression filled with determination as he refuses to let her pull away. "No, Maya," he says firmly, his voice tinged with frustration. "We need to talk about this. Whatever it is, we'll face it together."

With a heavy sigh, she meets Mikey's gaze with a sense of resignation, steeling herself for the difficult conversation that lies ahead. "Okay," Maya whispers, her voice barely above a whisper as she takes a deep breath, preparing herself for the storm that is about to come. "Let's talk."

Mikey nods and gestures for her to continue. "You're lying to me" she says

He furrows his brows. "what?"

"you were lying to me" Maya repeats trying to sound more angry than sad "You told you asked Izana to let me go when you really didn't. You want to keep me here too"

Mikey's expression shifts from confusion to determination, his features contorted with earnestness at Maya's accusation. "Maya, you've got it all wrong," he protests, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation. "I know it may seem that way, but I was only trying to keep you safe. I asked Izana to let you go, but he's unpredictable. I was worried about what might happen to you if you left."

Maya meets his gaze with a mixture of skepticism and sorrow, wrestling with the conflicting emotions swirling inside her. "Keeping me safe?" she echoes, her voice heavy with disbelief. "By keeping me prisoner with you and your sociopath brother? How is that supposed to make me feel safe?"

Mikey steps closer, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I know it's hard to see it now, Maya, but believe me, I was only trying to protect you," he insists, his voice tinged with genuine concern. "I didn't want you to get hurt. I thought I was doing what was best for you."

Tears well up in Maya's eyes as she grapples with the painful realization of Mikey's deception. She had put her faith in him, believing that he had her best interests at heart. But now, as she stands before him, the truth laid bare, she can't help but feel a profound sense of betrayal. Mikey takes her face in his hands as she's standing with her back against the counter. "Baby, it's not just all that, hm... I wanted you and there was no other way to make you stay" he completely shifts his point now "It's so dangerous out there for you and I wanted you anyway so making you stay was the best option"

Tears start to run down her cheeks. "You watched what I went through... This isn't fair" Maya whimpers sadly

Mikey's expression softens, his features contorted with a feigned sympathy as he steps closer to Maya, reaching out to gently wipe away her tears. "I know, baby, I know," he murmurs, his voice dripping with false sincerity. "But you have to understand, I did it because I care about you. I couldn't bear to see you in danger out there, not when I knew I could keep you safe here with me."

Maya's heart aches at his words, torn between the desire to believe him and the nagging doubts that linger in the back of her mind. "But you didn't have the right to make that decision for me," she whispers, her voice tinged with a mixture of sadness and anger. "You took away my freedom, Mikey. How can you expect me to forgive you for that?"

Mikey's gaze hardens, a flicker of frustration crossing his features as he takes a step closer, his hand tightening around Maya's arm. "Because I did it out of love, Maya," he insists, his voice tinged with possessiveness. "I did it because I love you and I can't bear the thought of losing you. Can't you see that?"

She sniffles, trembling a little now after his sudden love confession. "Why couldn't you have just told me the truth?"

"Would you have stayed if I did?" Mikey asks lowly

Maya's breath catches in her throat, her heart pounding with the weight of Mikey's question. His words hang heavy in the air, suffocating her with their implication. "I don't know," she whispers, her voice quivering with uncertainty. "But I deserved to know the truth."

Mikey's expression hardens, a glint of possessiveness flashing in his eyes as he takes a step closer to Maya, his hand reaching out to grasp her arm firmly. "You would have run, Maya," he says, his voice low and commanding. "And I couldn't let you go. You're mine."

Maya recoils at his touch, her eyes widening with a mixture of fear and disbelief. "Mikey, please..." she pleads, her voice trembling with emotion. "This isn't right. You can't keep me here against my will."

But Mikey's grip tightens, his fingers digging into her skin with a painful intensity. "I'm doing this for your own good, Maya," he insists, his tone tinged with desperation. "You're safer here with me. You belong with me."

Tears well up in Maya's eyes as she struggles against Mikey's hold, feeling trapped and powerless. "Let me go, Mikey," she begs, her voice choked with emotion. "Please, just let me go."

But Mikey's expression hardens further, his resolve unyielding as he stares down at Maya with a possessive gleam in his eyes. "You're not going anywhere," he declares, his voice dripping with determination. "You're mine, Maya. And you're staying right here where you belong."

It was weird. Just weeks ago she had the same conversation with Izana and now she was having it with Mikey. Just like then, she's weak. Weak as Mikey turns her around to face the mirror in front of the bathroom sink, weak as takes her right there in front of it. "so fuckin' pretty" He moans as he watches her through the mirror "Takin' me so we-well, baby"

There's a thin coat of sweat on her forehead and her hair is sticking to her skin. Mikey keeps running a hand up and down her spine, seemingly enjoying the way it arches as he thrusts into her. He's being rough, moaning, mumbling praises. All Maya can do is take it, grasping desperately at the counter, her moans breathless and whimpers pitiful. Once again she hates how good it felt. One of the things that wasn't fair was how good Mikey knew how to make her feel. She almost regrets letting him take the time to get to know her body, to let him know all those other nights what she liked and what she didn't because now it was her downfall. "You're mine, hm?" He grunts "Yeah baby?"

She's gasping, trembling as he's forcing a second orgasm out of her while rubbing on her clit. "I-I... 'm yours" 

It's too much. Way too much as he just keeps going. "say it. say my name"

"Mikey"

"again"

"M-Mikey"

He forces the third out of her. Mikey grabs Maya by her hair and pulls her till her back is pressed to his chest while he fucks her. "look at you" He murmurs shakily into her ear "so fuckin' pretty..."

Had this situation been any other, she would have agreed. God, she looked so damn hot being fucked by him like this. Mikey is holding her so tight against him. Her eyes are glazed over and her hair sticking to her skin. She's trembling, biting at her already red, bruised lips, her fucked out expression looking so damn pretty. "Who do you belong to?"

"Mikey..." She gasps breathlessly

He finishes inside her finally. Her head is a mess when Mikey turns her back around to face him. He's hugging her tight, right up against his chest as if to try and keep her together. Maya can feel his cum dripping down her inner thighs. The feeling is odd. She shivers and just lets him remove all her clothes so they can shower together. She feels boneless and exhausted. He's whispering apologies into her ear for being too rough, asking her where the scar on her shoulder had come from then tells her he'd tell Izana to be more gentle with her. Maya answers each, quietly and shaky. She's so tired and it's only 12 pm. "I love you... okay?" Mikey murmurs as they stand beneath the shower

"I love you too" she murmurs, her voice barely audible over the sound of the running water

There isn't much she can really do about it now. All the roads to freedom have been blocked off and there was no longer a way out. Maya is exhausted and now she just wants to stop fighting. 

But the question remains:

Just when will Mikey and Izana be done taking from her?

notes: oh my god we have 2 more chapters left for the main story. The next chapter explores Maya's forgotten memories and a means to an end. lol good luck everyone, all of us will need it.

Idk if the smut with either Izana or Mikey is even good but yeah, that's there.

link to character analysis and headcanons

likes, asks and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

special thanks to: @highpri3stess @mysouleaten @yaya4thawin @piroporopo @reiners-milkbiddies @bontensbabygirl @tenjikusstuff4 @fairey555 @haikyuusboringassmanager @firstdivisiongirl