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courtingchaos · 8 months

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Nectarine

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Warnings: Talk of body parts in a sexy way. Comparison of the female body to fruit, implied white/light-skinned reader due to analogy/prose. I had this very particular phrase stuck in my head and it comes across as that. Uh, I just really like how it reads so that’s why I’m putting a warning here because I didn’t want to take it out.

A/N: I’ve hung on to this for like two months now because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to post it but I was rereading it tonight and I forgot how much I like writing from Eddie’s perspective. So also have this thing too.

18+ NSFW No Minors

He’s never been jealous of fruit before.

Never had the urge to rip a nectarine out of someone’s hand and huck it right into the pool for making him feel like this. He hasn’t taken his eyes off the spectacle since you bit into it, that first bite crunching through the mottled white and red flesh. You’d come out from the kitchen of Steve’s house with it already wedged between your teeth while you balanced pizzas in your hands and he’d shot right up to help. You’d laughed around the mouthful and when he’d taken the boxes you pulled the fruit away from your lips, the sound of you sucking up the spit that had dribbled against them making him almost burst.

There’s something suggestive in the way the colors meld on the skin. The deep red giving under your teeth to reveal the pale flesh, juices rushing your fingers and down your chin. He watches you laugh and jump when some of it drips down onto your chest and he watches you try to wipe it away while keeping your top in place.

He’d been stock still, leaned over the pizzas and it’s Dustin elbowing him that makes him realize he was for real staring, mouth agape and fingers clenched around greasy cardboard. You’ve been too busy laughing it up with Robin to notice him going absolutely insane.

“Dude get the fuck out of the way.” Dustin says under his breath and Eddie just slaps the back of his head.

“Language, asshole.” The ensuing shove and slap fight makes Eddie forget for a brief moment the erotic fruit imagery happening on one of Steve’s parents matching loungers. He lets Dustin win when he goes for Eddie’s hair and gets to run off with his pizza instead.

Eddie can hear the light edge of your laughter and another crunch when you bite through another not-so-ripe part of the nectarine and it sends him right into the pool. He knows he can hover by the edge and keep his interest hidden but also still remain conversational so he does a soft somersault into the deep end. Swims for the side you’re seated on and breaches the water as you decide to lean forward to dig through your big pool bag. Cleavage stares him down and he furiously rubs at his eyes and bitches about the chlorine content to cover the tears he’s sure are streaming down his face. There’s a rivulet of shine along the top of one breast, dipping right down the middle and he imagines running his tongue along it. Chasing that line of sweetness to the inside of your swim top to make you giggle like Robin does with her dumb jokes.

Another bite, more red disappearing to reveal pale pale pale. He wants to peel back that stupid coverup you have wrapped around your waist to reveal your pale thighs. He could rip it back with his teeth too, pull it clean off your body so he could revel in the softness of them. They’d give under his teeth and he’d be so careful leaving only the most perfect love bites.

“Eddie?”

His attention snaps to Robin where she stares at him with concern on her brow. “What?”

“I asked if you ate?”

“I will!” He whines at her and she catches his quick glance at you. Her mouth falls open slightly and he gives her a death glare, a warning to back off he’ll do it himself.

“Dustin’s gonna eat that whole pizza if you aren’t careful.” Robin sings at him and she gets up, tossing a wink his way.

“Not hungry?” You ask him through another bite and he catches a hint of deep pink under the pale. His thoughts race towards the unreachable, the warm pink hidden between your thighs and he wonders if the color is the same.

“Uh” his toes barely graze the bottom of the pool, his arms keeping him clutched to the side and floating “not for Pizza, no.”

Your giggle makes your nose scrunch under your big sunglasses and you hold your hand out, offending fruit held out at eye level for him. “Want a bite?”

The ever suffering sigh he suppresses rivals the eye roll he stops in its tracks. Of course he wants a bite. He wants to fit his teeth in the grooves you left there, taste your spit with the nectar and-

There’s no recovering from the show he’d give everyone if he got out of the water now so he just pulls himself even closer to the tiles. Squeezes his eyes shut tightly, tilts his head and shakes it quick. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Can I get you anything? Steve’s got a bunch of stuff in the house.” You scoot forward and that wrap inches up your legs and splits open to reveal one long calf.

“Could you get me another beer?” He says it a little too quick.

“Totally!”

He watches your hips sway the thin fabric around when you walk up towards the house and maybe he doesn’t hate it so much when it clings to your clammy skin. The swell of your hip holds the door open for Nancy and Eddie wishes it was his head pressed into your side.

He begins to wonder if it’s possible to be too horny.

There’s a jet of water at the back of his head suddenly and he turns to see Lucas holding a water gun.

“Quit sulking.” He jokes and Robin elbows him like she’s gotten him in on a secret.

You’ve obviously gotten distracted inside and he’s fine with that. Gave him time to calm down and roll his tongue back into his mouth after he obliterated Lucas and Robin in the water gun battle. He floats on his back under the midday sun, arms hooked over a float, positive he’s burning but too comfortable to care. The laughter at the other end of the pool is his white noise to drift off to until he feels a shift in the water and he’s being spun ever so slowly to face the steps in the shallow end.

“Sorry, I was talking to Max.” You come into view slowly, a smirk directed down at him while he blinks under his sunglasses.

“Thought you got lost in the mansion.”

You scoff and hold his beer up so he can see it. He lets out a small ‘oh!’ and holds out a hand for it. “Thank you.” He’s still spinning with lazy momentum so he only catches the tail end of your gaze before he takes a sip and almost gives himself a nosebleed. The rim of the bottle is sweet like a stone fruit and when he thrashes around to stand up in the water you’ve already made your way back to dry land.

The sky is painted in purples and blues and when the lightning bugs come out everyone wants the fire pit lit. Steve obliges, ever the host, and the ‘adults’ are left to yell at the ‘kids’ about not wasting all the marshmallows by throwing them at each other.

This close to fall the nights get cooler and you still haven’t put on anymore clothes. Eddie has been watching from his side of the pool, his safety barrier that Robin commented on.

“You’ll never get her from all the way over here, amigo.”

“I’m trying to not embarrass myself, hombre.”

From his post by the deep end he can see you shiver and try to wrap your thin coverup over your shoulders to no avail. Nancy offers her sweater and you roll your eyes and laugh, an obvious gesture between the two of you where you point out her tiny frame. Steve is in the middle of suggesting a blanket when Eddie jumps up from his lounge and yells about a flannel in his van.

“You don’t have to go all the way out front for me!” You holler after him and he waves you off. When he comes back he’s in his own hoodie, his old button up slung over his arm.

“See? No big deal.” He hands it over to you. “I needed my ho-oodie anyways.” He stutters hard when you stand to push your arms through and he can see your nipples pushing against your frankly too small swim top. The swell of your breast disappear from sight, along with the most important thing he’s seen all day when you tuck the flannel around you.

“Thank you so much, can’t believe I forgot real clothes.” You laugh and Eddie laughs and from behind him he can hear Robin laugh and his sandal covered foot reaches back and connects with her shin. You take the stack of graham crackers that Mike offers you before you pause and bury your nose into the crook of the elbow of his shirt. “Did you wear this recently?”

“M-me? Uh, I don’t-I mean-”

“It smells really good.”

Eddie laughs again and Robin yanks the back of his hoodie until he sits hard next to her in one of the plastic chairs.

“You sound like a moron.” She mimics his laugh while spearing a marshmallow.

“I don’t sound like that at all.” Eddie mirrors her movements. “I told you I didn’t want to embarrass myself.”

“Well you’re doing a stellar job.” She gives him a sarcastic thumbs up and Eddie decides to just sit and listen. He roasts his marshmallow to a crisp, the s’mores he makes turning into a runny mess that he shoves in his mouth too fast. He can see Robin and Steve share a look and before he can reach over to give Robin a shove, your gentle hand is in his face.

“You got a little….” Your index finger runs along the side of his cheek, puffed out with half chewed s’mores, to wipe off the smear of chocolate there. “There you go.” A smile while you hold your finger in front of him and surely you don’t expect him to lick your finger.

His eyes glance nervously between your face and your proffered finger and never once do you waver. Is that a hint of a dare he catches in your look? Could he inch his tongue out to lap at the pad of your finger? One long lick and he could suck the whole thing into his mouth and really cause a scene out here in the encroaching dark.

A yelp makes both of you jump, a tussle breaking out between the boys and Eddie breathes a sigh of relief knowing every eye was not on him taking the longest pause of his life. You wipe your finger off on a towel and he mourns the loss of an opportunity to taste you again. That brief flavor that lingered on his beer still branded into his mind, the idea of you stealing a sip on the way out to him to deliver it making him grin. Payment in the form of a kiss to glass, at least that’s how he was looking at it.

From his side he can feel two pairs of eyes burning into his skull but he refuses to look at the Wonder Twins and their big dopey eyes they’re probably giving him. Instead he grabs another handful of marshmallows and sets to roasting them, loftily avoiding any questions that might get directed his way.

The night ends late and it ends with the only other available ride being asleep on his couch, face smooshed into Robins shoulder.

“You can see if you can squeeze in with Nancy? But she’s got all the kids.” She whispers at you while Eddie lingers by the door. He’s already said his goodbyes but stopped when he heard you ask about a lift home.

“Uh, well…”

“You can see if you can still catch Eddie.” Robin’s voice sparkles with the ‘sudden’ idea. “I didn’t hear his van yet so he’s probably still out front.” There’s a light snore from Steve that you both giggle at and Eddie tries to open the door as quietly possible.

“Do you think he’d mind?”

“Who Eddie? No, he’d love to. Always trying to help out.”

Eddie rolls his eyes when he gets out in the front step. Could she lay it on thicker? He’s grateful for her slight meddling though when he hears the door open again and your quiet “oh!”

“You haven’t left yet!” You jog to his van where he’s just unlocked the door to lean in on his seat so he can act like he didn’t just hear your predicament.

“No, what’s up?”

“Would you mind dropping me off? I’m a little out of the way but I can pay you for gas.” You start to dig around in your big tote bag and he reaches over to still your hand.

“Don’t worry about it, I got you.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” He hops in so he can reach over and unlock your door, and you run around the front of his van.

“I really appreciate it Eddie.” Your movement inside brushes up the smell of woodsmoke off of his borrowed flannel and your sunscreen and he hopes the scent stays in his van long after you leave.

“It’s really not a big deal.” He tries to be smooth with his exit, one hand on the back of your seat while he reverses into the road. “More than happy to help.” He flashes you a smile and his grip almost slips on his steering wheel when he catches the heavy stare aimed at him. He swallows thickly and averts his eyes to the road, the silence settling between you two not uncomfortable but certainly weighted.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you gonna keep ignoring me now that I’m in your car?”

He’s happy there’s a red light he was already stopping for because he almost jams his foot through the firewall. “What?!”

Your laugh glitters in the dark cab and he can’t tear his eyes off you.

“You’ve been avoiding me all day.”

“No I haven’t. I helped you with the pizzas and I was talking to you in the pool.” He shakes his head at you. “You got me a beer!”

“Yeah and when I first showed you made a beeline for the kitchen.”

“I was…busy.”

“I’m sure.” Your smile is conspiratorial and he wishes he knew what you were thinking. “Do you know I went shopping for this bathing suit with Robin?” You tap his knee and point at the now green light before the cars behind him start honking.

“No.”

“Yeah, I went with her because we’d been talking you see.”

“As you girls are wont to do.”

“Hush, I’m not done. Anyways, we went shopping and she told me the funniest little thing. Really a coincidence.” The playful tone of your voice makes him vibrate with anticipation. “I’d already told her about my stupid little crush and she’s not very good a keeping secrets, not like that anyways.” He can see you leaning over to rifle through your bag, a scrap piece of paper and a pen held in your lap a moment later. “Really I thought she’d spill to you first but it seems I caught her on a good day.” You reach over and tuck the now folded piece of paper into his hoodie pocket and stay leaned in, face inches from his own. “But I picked it out for you. Did you like it?”

Did he like it.

Does he breathe? Does he blink? You’ve just uttered the words he’s been longing to hear for weeks now. For you. He wasn’t crazy and all of Robin and Steve’s elbowing was just bullying on their part. He tries to keep his breathing under control and spots your street sign in time to use as a distraction. “Uh, yeah it looks great.” He turns into your neighborhood and dials his music down and still can’t look over at your indulgent grin.

“Is that why you were hiding in the pool?”

“…maybe.”

“Oh that’s cute.” You’ve got a curl of his wrapped around your index finger, slowly spiraling it up till you brush his ear and he’s going to crumble to dust. Somehow he makes the turn onto your street while you’re breath tinted with beer and something sweet sweeps over his cheek. “Eddie?” Sugar could drip off of your words and he’d stick his tongue out for every last drop.

“Yeah?”

“I think you should look in your pocket.”

He jams his hand into his hoodie and pulls out the note now crumpled in his sweaty fist just as he pulls up to the front of your house. You don’t move while he unfolds it, his hair slowly unraveling from your finger. It’s your number and a little heart at the end, an ‘X O’ just under that.

“You wanna ask me out?”

It’s gum he realizes, that sweetness that floods his senses. So fruit and beer and gum and spit is what’ll kill him.

“Yeah I-I really do.” Later he’ll kick himself for how pathetic he sounds here but for now the deep smile you give him is all that matters. You let his hair go and grab your stuff to hop out of his van and he watches you walk around the front like it’s his own personal show.

“How’s Friday night sound? I get off work at 7.” When you lean on his rolled down window he gets a clear shot of cleavage between his flannel (that’s now yours, he’s never taking that back). His mouth waters and his eyes shoot back up to your face that tells him he’s been caught.

“I can do that.” He could also climb out of his window and maul you too if you wanted that.

“Cool.”

“I can pick you up at 8?”

You nod as you walk backwards towards the front steps of your house. “I’ll be ready.” The light flicks from the inside, someone keen to get you in. “You figure out dinner, I’ll just bring the legs again, deal?” You lift one behind you when you cross over the threshold, one last smile shot at him and it’s a bullseye right through his frontal lobe.

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Fic #Eddie Munson Fluff #Eddie Munson Smut #Eddie Munson x Reader #My Work #My Fic

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milkywaydrabbles · 8 months

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Your writing is so good, I love it!! If I may, I'd like to request #16 size difference with Rindou Haitani please. I just love the way you write him ❤️🫶🏾

A/N: Okay so this actually was a little hard for me? Bc Rindou's only 5'8/5'9 and that's not very tall, so I kind of went size difference as in build? With how strong he is I can imagine he's a bit beefier? and the kink really is only on his end, so he's a lil cwazy. Thank you for the request, I hope this is okay and that you like it! Thank you so much for enjoying my work! MWUAH

Size Difference x Haitani Rindou

Rindou’s never thought much about his height. He’s never been the tallest in the room, he’s never been the shortest either. Conversations about height used to come up when he was in middle school, which were shortly crushed after he showed whoever was trying to run their mouth why his height doesn’t matter, not when he has the strength he does. Now, as an adult and Bonten executive it’s never brought up, there’s no reason to. It’s never been disadvantageous. He never cared. Even after he met you, it never really mattered much. Rindou was still a good foot or so taller than you.

What he did start to notice around you though, was his sheer overwhelming build. Rindou was strong, naturally, so thick arms and strong shoulders came with the territory. And you were so small, needing Rindou to pick up heavy boxes for you to open jars here and there. He remembers the look in your eyes the one time you asked him to pick up a corner of the couch so you can clean underneath it (he decided to flex more than he needed to just to see you salivate over him.) It started becoming difficult for Rindou to concentrate the more he thought about how delicate you were, how strong he really was around you, until he couldn’t take it anymore.

After a (particularly irritating--fucking Hanma) meeting with the rest of the execs he came home to the beautiful sight of you casually lounging on the sofa (in his shirt no less). “Hi baby” You chirped, noticing him at the door and bounced over to him for a proper greeting. You didn’t even get to kiss him before he hoisted you up from your knees and slung you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. “Rindou!” He heard you gasp over him, and instead of replying he gave a smack on your ass. “Bad day, help me make it better pretty girl?” You knew it wasn’t a real question.

“F-fuck, Rin, wait--aah,” it was starting to become harder to breathe, Rindou was so overwhelming around you, strong arms tossing you around on the bed like you weighed nothing. Hands splayed on the back of your thighs, fucking up into you so hard you felt the bed shaking. Rindou saw how his hands engulfed your thighs, how small you looked under him--it was driving him crazy. Wild eyes roamed your body underneath him, folded in half and squirming, looking up until he saw how fucked out you looked: eyes rolling back, brows furrowed, mouth open--drooling. You were a fucking sight. It wasn’t enough for him, so he leaned forward more, pressing your knees to the sides of your chest and covered you with his broad body. You couldn’t help the screams you let out, feeling him so deep in your swollen pussy you swore he was in your throat. “Feel me, beautiful? Feel how deep I am?” Rindou practically growled in your ear, he wondered if you could even process the words he was saying. You nodded, barely, whimpering and crying as he humped into you. “S’deep, Rin--fuck fuck fuck, too much--” You cried as your pussy creamed around him again, his thick cock rubbing against your walls so deliciously it had your head spinning.

“Fuck, pussy’s so good baby” Rindou stayed panting in your ear, only thrusting harder when he felt your delicate hands claw at his back. You could barely get your arms around him in this position, he only furthered his ravenous thoughts of how tiny you really were underneath him--how he could break you in half just like this. In an instant he was off you, your juices spilling onto his thighs as he grabbed hold of your hair and pulled you up, relishing in how easy it is to throw you around. Rindou practically dragged you up with him as he sat up against the headboard, turning you around and immediately shoving his cock back into you as he sat you down on his lap, no time to breathe in between. “G’na fuck you good, pretty.” He mumbled against your skin, kissing your shoulder before his arms looped around your thighs, trailing up and clasping behind your neck--fucking you in a full nelson. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move with how forceful and strong he was. If you could see him, you’d know Rindou was so far gone inside your cunt his pupils were dilated, jaw clenched and sweat dripping from his temples.

So small, so weak, so defenseless. Those words kept repeating inside his mind, telling him his sweet baby needed him, because she was so fucking defenseless against everyone, easily in harm’s way. “I got you baby, I got you.” He whispered against you, though you were so fucked out of your mind you couldn’t process anything anymore. All you could focus on was his thick cock, pumping in and out, in and out, abusing that gummy part of your walls that has you creaming and squelching, white ring all frothy around his base. “Fuck, g’na cum baby,” He panted like a dog, feet planted on the mattress and forcing you down to meet his thrusts, pumping into you until he couldn’t help himself and shot his load deep inside your walls, warm and sticky liquid keeping you stuffed full. Slowly, he let go of you, wrapping his arms around your waist and you trembled, still calming down from each orgasm he gave you.

You found enough strength to lift yourself off his softening cock, his cum flowing freely now out of your abused hole. “Sorry, baby--think I overdid it.” He murmured, chuckling to himself as he laid down with you to hold you a bit longer, he’d clean you up later. “S’okay, Rinnie...Just--warn a girl before you throw her into the wrestling ring, jesus christ.” He couldn’t help but belly laugh, forehead against your shoulder as he calmed himself.

“I’ll keep that in mind for the next round.”

#milk writes #rindou tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers rindou #rindou haitani #haitani rindou #rindou x reader #haitani rindou x reader #haitani rindou smut #rindou haitani x reader #rindou haitani smut #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev #tokyo rev #milk kinktober

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nexysworld · 9 months

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Chapter Summary: Waking up after your night in the woods leaves you grappling with emotions and uncertainty. There's only one lifeline you have - Leon. Pairing: Yandere!Leon x Fem!Reader Tags: NSFW, Dead Dove, Dubcon, Kidnapping, Stalking, Smut, Unprotected Sex, Pet Names, violence, gore, MDNI, masturbation, murder, slow burn.

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Everything felt sore and raw the next time you opened your eyes. Sleep had built up crust in the corner of your tear ducts, mouth cottony and dry. Despite feeling physically worse than the first time you woke up, mentally you were a little more there. ‘He has soft sheets. ’ You curled up more under the soft blanket, not yet wanting to acknowledge your own consciousness. The soft blanket that encompassed you had the faintest smell of Leon’s cologne, it was familiar and comforting.

Only when your eyes began to itch did you finally decide to join the waking world. Sitting up felt awkward, one foot was heavy and numb. Tossing the gray blanket to the side you found the culprit, a thick cast hardened around your ankle and foot.

Your brain flashed you images of the darkened forest, the root that had caused you to trip, feeling your ankle crack with a burning pop. The memory made your chest feel heavy.

“Leon?” Your voice was cracked and raspy as you called out for your friend. Vague bits of your previous conversation came back to you. “Leon?” You tried to call again, louder this time. A muffled, “Be right there!” Was heard through the closed door.

To distract yourself, you decided to take in your surroundings more, with it surprisingly having been the first time to see the inside of Leon’s apartment. His room was plain in another way that just seemed so fitting for him. The bedding, a soft and expensive cotton, different shades of gray. The walls plainly wallpapered, no real decor besides a few shelves with some knick knacks. Only the basics were there, a brown dresser and matching nightstand alone with a TV. You noted the carpet looked far more plush and newer than the one in your own apartment – in fact despite the lack of decor it was clear that Leon had made upgrades.

The door opened and Leon entered, a cup of water in his hand. “Sorry, that took a minute, I had to finish a work call. Hope you’re feeling better, you seemed really out of it earlier.” He reached out to hand the cup to you, from his other hand he produced two little red pills. “Ibuprofen, it’s what the hospital recommended.”

You popped the medication into your mouth before greedily gulping down the water, relishing the way the cool liquid felt as it ran down your throat. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He took a seat at the end of the bed, shooting you a weak smile. “So uh, you wanna talk about it? I was really worried, you know.” Handsome features melded into a concerned look as he scooted a little closer to you.

You pondered his question for a moment, more memories of the previous night coming back in short bursts. “Well I–” Something just felt wrong, it was like you were watching someone else’s memories, not your own. Of course your current physical state aligned with them – but the thought of Derek’s face twisting and morphing into that thing felt surreal. ‘No, that couldn’t have happened. It’s not possible.’ Realizing you’d left Leon hanging in silence, you finally looked back to him. “I don’t really know … Do you know where my phone is?”

“Yeah, I think I left it on the coffee table. Hold on.” He stood, exiting the room, returning quickly. “Careful, the screen’s pretty cracked.”

Taking the device from his hand, you tested it to see if it would even work. Luckily the screen lit up, Apple Logo coming to life underneath the cracked and rough glass. Breathing a sigh of relief, you immediately opened your contacts list scrolling to find who you were looking for. “This can’t be right.” You said, mostly to yourself. Derek’s contact was nowhere to be found, your last text thread, completely gone too.

Leon said something, but you didn’t register the words far too engrossed in your phone. Facebook? Relationship status set to single, no sign of Derek’s profile. Snapchat? Nothing. All the couples’ dates and holiday photos were wiped from your Instagram too. Chewing your lip, you checked the gallery of photos on your phone, nothing there either.

Anxiety began to overtake you once more, heart picking up speed. “What the fuck.” Searching through messages with friends, there wasn’t even a mention of your boyfriend. Everything was exactly as it should be, minus one person. “What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck.”

“Is everything ok?”

“No!” You snapped at the blonde, hands shaking. “No I am not o-fucking-kay.” In one last ditch effort you dialed his number from memory, bringing the phone to ear. There was the familiar ringing sound on the other end of the line, before it stopped abruptly. The narrator’s voice picked up, “We're sorry you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”

“No. No, fuck!” You dialed it again. Then a second time. A third time. A fourth time. By the fifth time, tears were staining against your cheeks. Each and every time you tried, the automated voice said the same thing. Derek had that number since highschool, you’d known it by heart there was no way you dialed it wrong. Before you could try again for the sixth time, Leon’s hands came forward to cup your face, forcing you to look at him.

“Hey, look at me.” He cooed gently. His features unblurred as your eyes adjusted through the tears, blue orbs looking back at yours. “Sweetheart, I need you to tell me what’s wrong.”

“He’s gone.”

“Who’s gone?”

“Derek. Derek, he’s gone. He’s not in my phone, he’s gone Leon.” Your hands came up to grip his wrists desperately trying to ground yourself. “How can he be gone, I was just with him and, and –”

“Shhh. Shh.” He shushed you softly, rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks, swiping the wet tears away. “Take a deep breath, in, and out.” Doing his best to follow his instructions you gasped in and out, chest heaving with each one. “Just like that. In, and out.” Soon the breaths evened out and returned to normal. “Good girl, shhh.” He moved his hands from your face, to wrap his thick muscled arms around you in a tight bear hug. “It’s ok, you’re ok.”

Leon held you against him, rubbing your back as you clung to him for dear life trying to calm yourself down. He waited a few moments after you calmed down, not letting you out of his arms as he spoke. “Derek, you said that name earlier when you woke up. Is he someone important?”

Brows knitting together you brought your face out of his chest enough to look up at him in confusion. “Important? How could you even ask me that, you know how important he is.”

It was his turn to return your look of confusion. “I’m sorry, but I don’t even know who that is.”

Astonishment. Absolute astonishment was the only feeling you had, launching backwards out of his arms, hitting your back against the pillows again. “Leon Scott Kennedy, that is not funny. You know damn well that Derek was important to me. I told you I was moving in with him. I texted you –”

Leon’s hands came up defensively. “Look, I know you’re a little out of sorts right now. Whatever happened last night must’ve been scary. But I promise you, I’ve never heard you say anything about a Derek, or a boyfriend for that matter.”

“That’s…that’s not true. It can’t be I was with him last night and –”

“What exactly happened last night. Do you remember?”

“I think so…not entirely…I don’t know.” You admitted honestly, looking down at your hands. “I was supposed to be camping with him. And while we were out in the woods, he was acting really strange…and then…and then…” Trailing off you weren’t even sure what to say.

“Did he hurt you? Is that why you’re cut up all over, your ankle?”

“I guess you could say that – but it’s not what you’re thinking. It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t in the right state of mind.” Leon gave you a knowing look in return. “No, no it’s not like that. Leon, I swear, he looked so ill. Black veins, red eyes and then suddenly he was chasing me and I remember tripping over a root. My ankle popped….and then he exploded….Leon I held his eye ball in my hand….oh god. I know I sound crazy but Leon, I swear to you I’m not. I remember, something blew him a part.”

The concern returned to Leon’s face and you could tell he wasn’t buying your story, despite that he still smiled and nodded. “That is definitely a wild evening.”

“You’re not taking me seriously. You don’t believe me.”

“I am taking you seriously. I think you just had a really rough night, maybe you were drinking, something bad happened in the woods.”

“I wasn’t drinking. I wasn’t on drugs, I was stone cold sober. Leon please .” You pleaded with him.

He sighed, pushing some of his loose fringe out of his face. “Ok, you were sober.” He conceded softly.

“You think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think that either. I think that something happened, something very bad and you are just maybe not remembering things exactly as they happened.”

“I didn’t make him up.” You said firmly.

He reached out again, putting his hand on your shoulder. “Look, I won’t pretend to understand what’s going on, but I’m here. Whatever it is, it’s going to be ok.”

If it had been anyone else, you wouldn’t have trusted them in the slightest. If it had been anyone else, you’d have made an excuse to leave and hide in your apartment to figure things out on your own. But this wasn’t anyone else, this was Leon . “Thank you.”

He nodded in return, pulling his hand back. Leon had convinced you that before anything happened, what you really needed was food and fresh clothes. At least knowing he was on your side gave a boost to your mood, enough for you to temporarily calm down for the time being.

You picked at the plate of pancakes, fork twirling up some of the fluffy food before letting it fall off, repeating the action – lost in thought. Suddenly something warm was against your lips, eyes looking up to see Leon holding his fork to your mouth. “Come on, don’t make me do the Choo Choo Train bit too, eat it.”

Wrapping your mouth around the piece of food, you couldn’t hold back the small laugh that escaped at his words. “Why’d you do that?”

“Because you’re not eating, so I figured I’d help.” He raised a brow, forking another piece of the syrupy breakfast and held it up to your mouth, you accepted it the same as the first.

“If you’re feeding me, who’s feeding you then?” You mimicked his action, taking the piece of pancake onto your own fork and reaching out to him.

A bead of syrup began to pool off of the food, slowly dripping threatening to drop against the table. Leon darted his tongue out to catch it, the pink muscle lingering for just a moment before circling the fork. The action made your face heat up for a second, averting your eyes as he finally pulled the food into his mouth.

“Messy but delicious.” If he noticed the flush on your cheeks, he didn’t say anything.

The moment felt so normal. It brought you back to all the other moments you’d shared with him, the butterflies were working their way back into your stomach. The night at the movies, the way he’d licked the milkshake off his thumb. ‘ Wait– the movies… the argument with Derek. ’ Your head snapped up to look at the man across from you.

“Leon?”

“What’s up?”

“A couple of weeks ago, do you remember picking me up from the movies?”

He tilted his head back for a moment as he thought about the question. “Oh yeah, I remember. I was staying at a friend’s place in town and you needed a lift home.”

“Didn’t I tell you I was with my boyfriend and he left me?”

His brow raised in confusion. “Er, no? You said you got into a fight with your friend and she ditched you there.”

“My friend? No, it was a date with my boyfriend and we got into an argument over you.”

“Over me?” He looked genuinely shocked.

“Yes, you!” You slammed your hand onto the table, frustration bubbling within you again. “We had a fight because he thought we were getting too close, and then I wound up telling you a few days later that we needed to distance because of it! Don’t you remember?”

“I remember that you told me your best friend was starting to get jealous.” He said with a shrug. Tapping your fingers against the table, you brought your phone out again, flipping to your call log from that night. Sure enough, no calls to Derek, but there were the outgoing and incoming calls with Leon. Just above that where Derek’s name should have been, it was your friend’s contact. ‘ That’s not right…’ Back into your messages, you found her contact, and scrolled back to that night. There was no mention of the movies, in fact, there were no messages with her from that day at all.

Something was up, even if you couldn’t put a finger on it. Setting the phone down, you looked over at Leon, not sure what to say, and definitely not wanting to push him into thinking you’re crazy – which despite his kindness, he probably already does. ‘But last night.’ You had to resist the urge to cringe at the memory of the eyeball in your hand, the blood splatter. You swallowed down the growing nausea. It occurred to you, that regardless of your memory one thing was likely true – Derek was dead. It made you want to cry again, a black ball of agony settling in the pit of your stomach. You ignored it long enough to get yourself together.

“I want to search for him…or a sign of him at least.”

“Huh?”

“I want to search for Derek. I can’t have just imagined him. I just… I just want to stop by some familiar places.”

Leon nodded. “Why don’t we go together? You shouldn’t be walking around alone, especially with your leg out of commission.”

“Would you really be ok with that?”

“I told you, I’m here for you. If it makes you feel better, if you feel like it’s what you need to do, then we’ll do it.” His words were casual as he tucked back into the remaining food on his plate. Not a hint of mock or suspicion in his tone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leon had fetched the hospital crutches you needed to use while your ankle healed, and helped you back to your own apartment. You shooed him off for the time being, insisting you were fine enough to get cleaned up on your own.

Stepping back into your own apartment felt so odd. Everything was exactly as you’d left it upon first glance, like the previous night had never even happened. It was so normal, it felt like you didn’t belong in it – like it wasn’t yours anymore.

“Fuck, I look rough.” Your mirrored image was exactly what you expected. Hair a mess, eyes sunken and tired, body littered with bruises and cuts – grateful that your image was soon covered by the fog of the shower heating up.

The hot water against your skin was euphoric, working out some of the soreness. It just felt good to be clean, fresh.

Sitting on the corner of your bed, slipping into some clean clothing, you looked around you. Nothing in your bedroom had been amiss either, all your plushies exactly where they were, even the pumpkin one. A thought occurred to you. ‘ Digital stuff is easy to mess with, but what about… ’ You hobbled over to your closet, flipping the light on. It took some careful effort to balance on your one good leg as you rummaged as far back as you could go. “Got it!”

Successfully, you found the old worn down shoe box, making your way back to your bed. It made sense, anyone could’ve messed with your phone, your social media while you were unconscious. But physical items, those would’ve been a lot harder to tamper with, especially unnoticed.

The box contained your entire life, photos, memories, everything physical that you held dear. A few birthdays ago your friends had gotten you one of those modern-mini polaroid camera, while you weren’t great about remembering to bring it all the time, you knew for a fact there had been pictures of you and Derek taken on it.

Sifting through the contents, you tossed all non relevant images to their own little pile while you looked through them. Childhood photos, baby pictures, some images of you and your friends. It was all there – except any photos of you and Derek. For good measure, you sorted through all of them again three more times just to make sure none were stuck together or were missed. You would’ve gone through them a fourth time if your phone buzzing hadn’t brought you back to the moment.

A text from Leon:

‘ Hey u ready? ’

You were not sure what was happening, but you were desperate to find out what the hell was going on. Replying to Leon, you grabbed your jacket, and headed for the door where he was waiting for you.

“Hey, while I was out, did you notice anyone strange in the apartment building?” He helped support your weight in the rickety and uneven elevator.

“Hmm, not that I know of. But you know I stay inside most of the time if I’m not helping Mrs. Wilson. Why?”

“I think someone may have been in my apartment.” For a brief moment you swear his grip on you tightened.

“Why do you think that?” The tone of his voice sounded off as he asked the question, restrained almost in a way you couldn’t fully put into words.

“Just some things are missing…but honestly I don’t know who’d steal them. They were just photos.” You shrugged, stepping out of the elevator, using the crutches to support you as you made your way through the parking garage over to his Jeep. It was a little odd that Leon was trailing behind you instead of taking the lead but you weren’t in a state of mind to question it.

“Are you sure you didn’t misplace them?”

“I guess I probably could have.” You shrugged, not really wanting to go into further detail or make yourself sound crazier than you already knew you appeared.

“Where to first?”

“Do you know that little cafe in the center of town?”

“The one with the pink cups and the $8 coffee?”

“Yeah that, one. He worked there, I just want to see if anyone knows the last time he was in.”

“You got it.” Turning the key, the jeep roared to life and you were on your way.

The fresh air felt nice, hair drying in the wind. A small part of you wished that the drive had been longer, admittedly nervous about what you’d find. Every time you looked back over to Leon, you felt grounded again.

“Do you want me to come in with you?”

“No, I got it.”

“Alright, just holler if you need me.” He shrugged, leaning back into his seat.

The bell rang as you opened the glass door, with only about 30 minutes to closing there was no one left inside despite a few employees – one being Derek’s direct manager. The smell of coffee and sweets wafting into your nose.

“Hey Mike.” His face warped into a confused look as he gave you an awkward wave.

“Uh..hey? Do I know you?”

The question had thrown you off completely, almost halting you where you stood.

“Dude, she probably got the name from your tag, chill out.” The man next to him said with a laugh. “Shouldn’t have smoked on break man, you’re paranoid.”

“Shut up, don’t say that in front of the customers.” He whispered to the employee before smiling at you again.

“Anyway, how can I help you?”

“I was just wondering the last time Derek was in?”

“Derek? I mean we don’t keep tabs on the customer like Starbucks so I couldn’t tell you.”

“He’s not a customer. He worked here, usually the closing shift. Derek, Derek Shultz?”

Both employees looked at each other then back to you. “We’ve never had anyone who works here by that name. Are you sure it was here and not the Dunkin down the block or the Starbucks the other way?” Their words made your mood shift instantly. “I know he worked here .” You insisted, too many nights were spent waiting for his shift to end, sitting at the cornered table by the window. “His picture is on the wall in the employee room, for crying out loud!” You moved to storm back there – well as much as you could with two crutches and a broken ankle.

��Ma’am, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to show you.”

“Ma’am you can’t go back there.”

“Like hell I can’t.” Frustrated entirely you kept moving forward, back behind the counter towards the slightly ajar door in the back.

“We’re going to have to ask you to leave.” The man said, trying to block your path.

“I’ll leave after I look!” Not taking no for an answer you angled the crutches so you could begin moving around him.

“Please don’t make us have to call the cops.” He pleaded with you, attempting to put a hand on your shoulder. The other employee had moved running into the breakroom, you caught a glimpse of the pictured wall before the door closed, but not enough to confirm what you were looking for.

“Just let me back there, damn it!” Under normal circumstances you would never act this way in public, but you were so desperate and overwhelmed you couldn’t help it. “I said let me in there!” You repeated, wacking the man in the leg with one of your crutches.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He demanded grabbing at his leg in pain. You maneuvered around him as quickly as you could, grasping at the door to the employee room and flinging it open. “Brady, call the fucking cops.”

Your eyes landed on the wall, and just like every other thing you’d checked for – there was nothing. His picture wasn’t there, replaced by some pimply teenager you didn’t recognize. Suddenly a pair of arms was tucked under your own, dragging you backwards. You kicked and flailed against his grasp. “Let me go, I just wanted to look!”

In the background you heard the second employee mentioning something to what sounded like a 911 dispatcher, the man holding you not easing up in his grip. The commotion must’ve been loud enough to have been heard outside, the chime of the bell signaling the door had been opened.

“What the hell is going on?” Leon’s familiar voice rang out. “Hey, just calm down and let her go.” He said attempting to take you from the man.

“No way dude, she’s crazy. She hit me with her crutches, I’m just holding her until the cops get here.”

“Leon!” You shouted his name, tears once again covering your face as you struggled in the man’s grasp.

You heard the blonde sigh before walking closer. “She’s with me, just let her go – she’s been having a rough day. That’s all.” He reached out, putting his hand on her arm. “I’m sorry for all the trouble. I’ll even have her wait here until the cops show up.”

“Fine.” The manager said, releasing you forward into Leon’s grip. “But I’m keeping the crutches back here until the cops decide what to do with her.” Looking up at him, you could see the muscles in his face tense before he smiled. “Understood.”

He opted to lift you up, carrying you back to the jeep. “You wanna tell me what happened in there?”

“I just wanted to see the picture, and they wouldn’t let me back and – I don’t know what came over me. I don’t even know what to tell the police.”

He didn’t question your barely-coherent explanation further. Instead, he patted your back gently. “It’s ok, I’ll handle them. You just relax and catch your breath.”

You wanted to question what he’d meant, but the first cruiser had already pulled into the small parking lot, causing Leon to immediately walk over. Feeling ashamed, you shrunk down in your seat as much as you could, wiping the tears from your cheeks and waited for your turn to speak with the officers.

You watched as Leon spoke with the cops, it looked like he’d pulled something out and showed it to them. Both officers nodded and the whole exchange barely lasted 5 minutes, it was the weirdest thing, and instead of walking to you they got into the car and left.

Leon returned to you a few minutes later, stuffing both crutches in the back of the jeep.

“They don’t want to talk to me?”

“Nah, I explained things and they don’t think it's worth pursuing y’know? I told them I’d get you home and make sure you’re not beating anyone else with your crutches.” He let out a dry laugh, but when he didn’t see you calm down he patted your back again. “Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I know you’re under a lot of stress right now, I’m guessing you didn’t find what you were looking for?”

You shook your head, looking out the side of the jeep at nothing in particular, just not wanting to look at him or the coffee shop anymore.

“Sorry to hear that. Maybe you’ll find something at the next place?”

“Yeah, maybe.” You stayed silent the entire ride back to the apartment building, the sun beginning to set in the sky – Leon stayed quiet too and while odd, it was definitely appreciated. He helped you back to your apartment again before saying goodnight.

You were exhausted still, physically anyway, despite the rest you’d gotten after Leon had found you, but your mind wouldn’t shut off. Nothing was making sense, nothing at all. How everything could be so normal, how the world could keep turning while you lay in confusion and misery you’d never know.

Surely Derek must’ve been real. Who else would you have been in the woods with? The pumpkin plush he’d gifted you was still in your room.

But then, his job claims he was never there. Leon doesn’t remember him. The photos were all gone.

It made your head hurt, and every time you closed your eyes all you could picture was that thing in the woods. Heart racing as if you were being chased again, making it impossible for you to settle. The more you tried, the worse it got too – especially the thought that someone may have been in your apartment.

Every creak, noise, bump in the night was beginning to make you jump and put you further on edge.

Grabbing your crutches and sneaking out of your apartment, you made your way to the outside of Leon’s door. It was late, so you listened closely for any sign of consciousness on the other side. There was some shuffling and the sound of the TV, so you decided to knock on the door gently. The movement stopped and you heard the lock click on the other side of the door before it opened.

Leon stood leaning his arm against the frame looking down at you, only clad in a pair of pajama pants. It took the entire use of your last remaining brain cells to keep your eyes locked with his, not allowing them to travel down his well formed body.

“I can’t sleep.”

He nodded, “Come on in then.” He turned, letting you follow behind him. Your eyes making their way over the expanse of his back, even his shoulders were toned. Smooth pale skin, looked soft against the hardness underneath, and it was a delightful distraction for the time being – not having to avert your eyes or feel shameful since there was no one looking, not even Leon. He stopped to grab two beers from his fridge before plopping down onto the couch.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything”

“I wasn’t doing anything important.”

“I tried sleeping, but every time I close my eyes I just see the woods. And when I’m awake and alone with my thoughts, all I can think about is the coffee shop and those missing photos.”

“That’s rough, I’m sorry.” He patted the seat next to him on his couch. You took the invitation leaning back against the plush cushions. Somehow even it felt expensive and far out of your own paygrade.

“I just wish I could stop thinking about it entirely, just for a little while.” You settled into the spot taking a sip of the beer he offered before looking over at the TV, some documentary was on – he’d muted it though. “This might be something really weird to ask, so feel free to tell me no but… could I stay over here tonight? I don’t think I can be alone right now.”

“Of course. Me casa es su casa. You’re always welcome here.” He grabbed his own beer off the coffee table, taking a sip. “You can have the bed again, wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to make an injured girl sleep on the couch.”

“Mm, that’s true and if I know anything about Mr Leon Kennedy, it’s that he’s nothing but a gentleman.”

“I’m flattered.”

You both laughed, feeling less tense already between being in his presence and the alcohol warming your system up. While you did consider yourself a bit of a lightweight, the exhaustion of everything must’ve been affecting you because halfway through the bottle you were already feeling the tingling of a buzz coming on. It wasn’t unwelcome though.

“You know.” You began, alcohol giving you a small boost of confidence. “You don’t have to sleep on the couch.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, I’d feel like I was putting you out – and besides your bed is pretty big we could both uh…” Not as smooth as you’d hoped, but he at least seemed to get the idea.

“I wouldn’t mind sharing the bed, if that’s what you mean.”

“Are you sure? If I’m being honest, I actually think I’d prefer it to being alone right now.”

“Yeah, besides then I keep all those bad dreams away.”

You finished the rest of your drink, nearly chugging it relishing the warm burn in your stomach. He offered you another, which you nursed between some more light conversation and him flipping through the TV channels, a nice foggy feeling taking over your brain.

It was around 2am when you both finally agreed to go to bed, giggling like crazy as you stumbled towards his room, barely coordinated enough in your inebriated state to use the crutches properly.

“Easy now.” He said, as he sat on the edge of the bed holding his arms out to you, much like a parent goading a toddler to walk.

“I’m fine, I got this.” You said, focusing hard on moving towards him. One crutch caught on the carpet though, making you wobble a bit. Not willing to give up the adventure to the bed, you tried lifting it, only to stumble forward, letting go of both wooden tools. “Woah!” Leon had caught you before you fell completely on top of him.

“What was that about being fine?” He asked, a smirk on his face.

You wanted to reply, but the close proximity to him wasn’t helping the state you were in, eyes locking on his face. You could smell the beer mixed with mint on his breath, his lips looked so plush and soft up close, barely ghosting over your own from the distance. If this had been a movie, it would’ve been the part where you finally gave in to the tension – but it wasn’t and you knew better.

“S-sorry.” You pulled away slightly. “Guess I’m a little tipsier than I thought.”

“European beer will do that to you.” He still held you at the waist for a moment, looking you over.

“We should get some sleep.”

He didn’t reply, instead helping adjust you so you could more easily crawl into your designated spot on the bed, tossing the blanket over you once you were there. He laid himself on the other side of the bed, facing away from you before switching the light on his nightstand off, encompassing the room in darkness.

Silence washed over you both for a few minutes, sleep still not quite coming over you as fast as you had hoped. “Hey Leon?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you hold me?”

The bed shifted against his weight as he rolled towards you, pulling you back against him a little. You could feel his warmth against your back, his heavy arm settling over you, hand resting against the skin of your stomach that was exposed as your night shirt had ridden up a little. The feeling of him against your skin affected you more than expected, heat twinging between your legs slightly – you squirmed slightly before squeezing your thighs together, trying to ignore it.

“Everything ok?”

‘Fuck .’ You groaned inwardly, not having wanted him to notice. “Yeah, just getting comfortable.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, pressing himself closer to you, chin resting atop your head. A few more moments of being wrapped in his warmth and any horniness you felt slowly transformed into sleepiness, eyes heavy. It wasn’t long until you were out like a light, all thoughts of Derek gone for the time being.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Bad news.” Leon said once you were conscious enough to understand words. He had clearly been up well before you – a part of you disappointed that you hadn’t woken to his warmth. “I got called into work.” He was rummaging around the room, a closed suitcase on the bed and a blue suit laid out next to it.

“Oh.”

“We’ll have to postpone our next visit. Just for a day or two though.”

“That’s ok. I appreciate you taking me at all.”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Better than expected – probably thanks to you.”

“There’s that flattery again.” His phone buzzed. “Hold on, I have to take this.” He answered, putting it up to his ear. “Kennedy here…Hunnigan? Yeah….” He walked out of the room to take the call in private.

You eyed the suit on the bed. Strange, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Leon in something so formal, it was hard to even picture him in it. It made you further wonder what his job even was – though you supposed it made sense that someone who worked for the government would need to dress a certain way.

Reaching forward, you pulled the hanger towards you inspecting it a little, the tag inside read ‘Hugo Boss.’ “Damn.” A brand name suit? Their cheapest ones were easily more than half your rent, and this one looked tailored too. Most people you knew who worked for the government weren’t making that kind of money, but you supposed you shouldn’t have been surprised given his affinity for jackets, or the expensive cologne and watches he wore. Hell, he could even apparently afford to update his apartment.

It did pique your curiosity though – and you were glad it did, needing desperately to focus on something else for a little longer.

The door opened and he returned. “Like it?” He asked, noticing you checking the attire out.

“Not sure, I can’t picture you in it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah it just doesn’t seem…Leon, you know?”

He laughed at the comment. “I have to agree with that. It’s not my favorite.”

“You said you worked for the government right?”

“Mhm, why?”

“I was just curious what you did?” It was subtle, but you watched him tense up again at the question. His hands gripped the suitcase lingering there for a moment, his face forcefully becoming neutral. “Only if you’re ok telling me.” You added, not wanting to make him feel pressured.

“No, it’s ok.” He returned to zipping up the suitcase, before, beginning to take the suit off the hanger to wear. “I can’t go into a lot of detail. I guess you could say I’m a federal agent in a way.”

“Like…DEA?”

“No, I don’t really deal with drugs.”

“Secret service?”

“Something like that, yeah. I do miscellaneous work, we’ll say.”

“Oh… dangerous work?”

“What’s with all the questions?” It was the first time you’d ever heard annoyance in his voice and it made you jump a little. He let out a sigh as he finished buttoning the white undershirt. “Look, I'm sorry. I get it, everyone has questions once they find out. Sometimes it can be dangerous. I really can’t say any more than that. So, no more questions, ok?”

“Sure, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s alright.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not that you should have expected any differently, but things were harder without Leon there. While he said only a day or two, he wound up being gone longer and everything felt like it just took so much more out of you. Basic needs like food and water were ignored – returning to your job was something that was simply autopilot for you.

You barely slept the first two nights, the same thoughts and images running through your mind. If it wasn’t that awful horror reel replaying itself over and over, you were thinking about the upcoming trip when Leon got back. What would you even say to Derek’s family? What if the outcome was the same as all your other efforts? The very idea deflated you more than you cared to admit.

The remaining nights you spent in Leon’s apartment, curled up in his bed like a cocoon of safety. He’d left you with the key in case you couldn’t handle your own apartment again – clearly he knew you better than you knew yourself because he’d been spot on.

You missed him more than you expected too – he’d become sort of your lifeline since you’d woken up in his bed that morning. Always so kind, caring, there for you in a way even your closest friends couldn’t be. Of course, being surrounded by him definitely added to those feelings, and if you thought hard enough about it, you had missed him long before this while reconnecting with Derek.

Part of you felt guilty about it too – if Derek was real, you were already cozying back up with the very man he’d been so jealous of. But you couldn’t help it, and justified that Derek was likely not coming back even if you could prove his existence.

That thought brought little comfort as well, so instead you opted to push it to the back of your mind trying to grasp at any other thoughts.

Leon hadn’t really told you when he’d be back, and you probably should’ve checked in with him. You figured he would at least check in with you – but you were wrong – curled up under his blankets, your fingers ran themselves down between your legs, images of the blonde dancing behind your eyes.

This time you were picturing the night before he left, hand on your belly, back pressed to you. You took the image farther, picturing him running that hand down to rub at you gently through your pajamas, the feeling his hardness pressed to your back. Maybe he’d play coy while you squirmed and whimpered against him.

“L-Leon –” Your actions and voice were cut off by the sound of the front door opening. “Oh shit.” Yanking your hand back up, you tried to even your breathing out and flicked the light off. The sound of padded feet down the hallway grew louder before the door opened. Leon quietly made his way in, setting his suitcase down as you pretended to be asleep.

He didn’t say anything, only changing into his pajamas before lying down next to you. Thankful you hadn’t been caught, you closed your eyes, curling into his hold when he wrapped his arm around you – letting sleep overtake you for the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Derek’s parents lived a bit out of the way, but you knew the drive by heart having visited numerous times. They’d never liked you, always considering you not good enough for their son – he came from money. Good money too, which is why he was able to live in the nicer building in a more expensive part of town. His job was primarily for spending money.

This was your last hope for answers, for a sign that you weren’t crazy. You needed this trip to fair well.

Your confidence was rattled severely after the coffee shop incident, and knowing his family wasn’t your biggest fan made it worse. Regardless, you pressed on and opted to go with the ‘fake it until you make it’ approach – not speaking about your nerves and trying to not give any hints of it.

Instead, you treated it like any other car ride with Leon – watching the trees blow past as you went down the winding road in the middle of the woods. Singing along with him as music played, playing dumb car games like I spy.

If your destination hadn’t been such a mood ruiner, you would’ve genuinely had a good time.

As the road forked off into two paths, you told him to take the right one, knowing where it would lead. Only about 10 minutes away, your nerves began to pick up making you feel a little queasy again.

The large home came into view as his jeep wheeled into the massive multi-car driveway. It was just as you remembered it, huge, limestone painted brick covered the exterior of the walls. Hedges were trimmed and shaped, everything about it screamed ‘rich’.

“Do you want me to stay here again?”

“Yes please.”

“Are you sure, after what happened–”

“I’m fine! I will be fine. I won’t beat his mom with my crutch, if that’s what you mean.” You tried to make it sound like a joke, but the wavering of your own voice gave away that you couldn’t really be sure of that. “Look, you’re right here at the end of the driveway this time. I won’t even go inside.”

He gave that knowing look of his, but didn’t push it with you, turning off the ignition letting the vehicle come to a rest. Grabbing your crutches from the backseat, you took in one deep breath before heading to the double french doors.

The lion knocker was the same as you always remembered it, grabbing the bottom end and knocking it against the door several times. A few moments went by, but no one called out or answered. You looked around and you could see the cars were there through the garage window. Not wanting to have made Leon drive all this way for nothing, you rang the doorbell a few times.

“Alright! I’m coming, I’m coming!” The shrill voice of Mrs. Shultz came from somewhere within the house. There was a budding sense of relief beginning to come over you – there’s no way a mother could forget her very own child, surely there must’ve been something you could glean from this visit.

The doors opened, and there she was in her full glory. Hair curled into a teased perm as if it was still the 80’s, red lipstick shrewdly covered her pencil thin aged lips. She was always pursing her lips in judgment, the very stereotype of a rich stay-at-home wife – but you had never been so glad to see her as you were in this moment.

“Mrs. Shultz!” You exclaimed, arms opening in a hug. The woman did not return the gesture, in fact she took a step back as if in offense.

“Excuse me?” Her penciled-on brows came together in a disgusted look. “Who are you ?”

“I’m – you don’t recognize me?”

She eyed you up and down, clearly unimpressed with her findings. “I don’t tend to associate with the…less fortunate.”

“Mrs. Shultz, I’ve been dating Derek for the past few years. I know you never really liked me but –”

“Who?” She looked complete aghast at your words. “Young lady, I don’t know what game you’re playing at, but I have half a mind to call the police and have you removed from my property.”

“What? No, I’m not playing any game. Derek, your son? We’ve been dating–”

“Then you have the wrong house because I don’t have a son!” She snapped, heel clacking against the ground as her annoyance raised.

“Yes you do! Derek, Derek Shultz, he’s your son!” You insisted, your own frustrations growing – though you did your best to keep your promise to Leon, not wanting a repeat of the last incident.

The older woman stared you down, before leaning forward nearly nose to nose in your face.”My husband and I have never been able to have children.” She spat at you. “And I don’t know what sick mind you have to play this kind of prank, but it’s not funny.”

“I’m not trying to prank you! How the hell do you not know your own son, you gave birth to him!”

“You have five seconds to get off my property before I have someone escort you off of it.”

“How dare –”

“One.”

“Listen here you raggedy old bit–”

“Two.”

Anger fueled you this time, far more than desperation. Call it one of the five stages of grief, but she’d hit your button just right. Not wanting to assault her, you stood there, angry tears making your face puff up as your mouth conorted. You felt like a child, wanting nothing more than to scream back at the adult in front of you, but forced to stand in line while you were being berated.

“Three.”

Again you felt someone touch you from behind – this time Leon’s arm wrapped around you. “We’re just going to be leaving now.” He said, trying to move you from the spot.

“No. We. Are. Not!” You said firmly trying your best to yank out of his hold, while remaining upright.

The look he’d given you stopped any further protest you had. You’d seen Leon be annoyed before, with other people. You’ve heard him be irritated with you only once. But this, this was different and you could tell in his eyes this wasn’t a request.

He gave the woman one more nod, apologizing to her on your behalf, before walking you back to the vehicle.

“Do you know how much trouble you could’ve gotten in? Public spaces like a cafe is one thing, but one some rich lady’s private lawn?”

“I–”

“No, you promised me.”

“But I didn’t even try to –” You stopped, the feeling of him being upset with you was somehow worse than even your last failed attempt to prove that Derek existed. Like salt to the wound. “I just don’t understand how you can forget your own child.” You added.

Leon turned to look at you, his mouth opening as if he was going to say something, but instead he went back to looking in front of him as he drove. The rest of the ride home was silent, not even the sound of music was heard.

That meant you were left alone with your own thoughts – dangerous. ‘ Everything is wrong. What the fuck do I do now? ’ You pondered further, trying to piece everything together. Nothing was fitting into place though. ‘ The photos are gone. My phone has no mention of him. His own mother says he isn’t real. ’

You pushed it further, reimagining the night in the woods, forcing yourself to picture every gorey detail – even the sound of his face splitting open again. It made you sick to your stomach, a hot flash came over you. Still, you ignored it, trying to remember anything significant – but it didn’t work.

Looking down at your ankle, and the now yellowing bruises on your skin, you gave up. ‘Are these memories even real? Something clearly happened to me but…monsters don't exist. There’s no sign of him anywhere.’ A deep longing panged in your heart, settling on the idea that maybe Leon was right. Something terrible happened in the woods, something so awful your brain wasn’t working right – a psychotic break, amnesia, false memories – whatever you wanted to call it.

Could you ever even accept such a thing? The last few years of your life, just…gone – rewritten entirely.

So lost in your own thoughts, you hadn’t noticed Leon pull back into your apartment building until the sound of the jeep went silent. He got out without saying a word, only silently offering you a hand and getting the crutches for you. Nothing like your usual walks back to your respective homes, he hadn’t even invited you inside either – closing his door as soon as he entered. Of course you couldn’t relax either – if pacing with crutches had been possible, that’s what you would’ve been doing. Instead you bounced your good leg anxiously on the floor as you sat on your bed, this time clinging to the teddy bear that Leon had gifted you.

Not being able to take in anymore, you made your way over to his door, knocking on it not even caring if he was asleep this time or not. You couldn’t be alone right now, and you couldn’t let him be angry with you.

“I’m sorry.” You looked up at him the second the door opened. “I’m sorry.” You repeated for good measure. “You’ve done nothing but tote me around and take care of me no matter how absolutely insane I’ve sounded – you asked for one thing and you’re right, I didn’t keep my end of it. I’m really sorry.”

“Sweetheart, it’s alright.” His voice was soft, as looked at you. “I know that it’s been hard. I know you’re frustrated.” Despite it not being a common occurrence, the pet name comforted you more than it surprised you.

You nodded in return. “I think you were right.”

“Was I?”

“I think something bad happened to me that night – something I can’t remember, because ever since then, nothing has felt right. There’s no sign of Derek – I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just want to feel ok again Lee.” You wrapped your arms around him, and he returned the gesture, pulling you into his apartment with him and closing the door.

“It’s alright. It’s going to be alright.”

“How do you even know that?”

He tilted your chin to look up at him again. “Because I’m here. Because I say so. It’s going to be alright.”

“I don’t want to think about him anymore. I don’t want to cry anymore.”

“Then don’t think about him.” He leaned his head down, so your foreheads were touching, so his lips just barely grazed over yours as he spoke.

“Make me forget him, please Leon.”

He replied by connecting his lips to yours, his lips plush and soft. His hands moved, one in your hair to hold you in place, the other supporting your lower back. It was soft, sweet, and he pulled away just long enough to look at you again. “I can do that.” The second time your lips connected, it was in a frenzy of heated kisses as he walked you both backwards to his couch, sitting and pulling you down on top of him. He was careful of your bad leg, gently pulling it into place where you were straddling him.

You could feel him filling out beneath you, your own arousal making itself known. This was what you’d been craving for so long. Craving since you and Der– you froze again, looking down at Leon. He mimicked you, halting any movement, looking into your eyes – you could see the concern there.

Guilt.

He wasn’t real.

But the guilt.

You shouldn’t feel guilty over someone who never existed.

And yet, guilt.

“I can’t do this.”

He looked at you confused.

“I’m sorry Leon, I can’t do this. You’re one of my best friends, I – we shouldn’t be doing this.” You backed yourself off of him slowly, using the coffee table and then the wall to support yourself back to the hallway to grab your crutches.

“Wait –” He called out, standing but not immediately following you.

“God, I am so sorry.” You repeated again, opening his door. The look on his face killed you, and you couldn’t even put into words what was wrong. Why you couldn’t handle this right now, or maybe ever. Instead of trying, you left as fast as your crutches would take you back to your own apartment – not even bothering to close his door behind you.

“Fuck!” You shouted once you were inside your living room, slumping to the floor. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Mega FUCK!” You let it out of your system as you banged your head backwards into the wall, not enough to damage anything, but enough to try and work out the unexplainably icky feeling you had.

Logically, there was no way the man you’d fallen in love with was real. Logically . But something inside of you just ate at you – like a small 6th sense telling you not to trust what was before you. And god if you weren’t fucked in the head for using Leon to try and work your emotions out – treat him like a tool, just a distraction after all he did for you.

And if Derek was real, then you’re double fucked for just running off with the man you weren’t even supposed to be friends with, much less anything more.

You screamed into your own hands, until your voice was raw. “I’m so fucking fucked!” Either you were insane, or some cosmic universal event had entirely fucked up your life – and you weren’t sure which was worse.

As always this is inspired by @explorevenus fic Something Permanent as well as @gigabyte-flare, @girldungeon, and @lipglossanon's work. @elfven-blog was so kind as to help find the banner pics. Love them all, go check out their work.

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zaimta · 1 year

Text

彡PAINTING HIS NAILS

parings: laxus, gajeel, bickslow, bacchus x gn!reader

zai's notes: rewatching fairy tail for the 100th time n i remembered bacchus he's so yea <3, n i'm getting back to requests after this one!!

˗ˏˋ«────── « 𓆩♡𓆪 » ──────»

˗ˏˋLAXUS DREAYAR

the hardest to convince, you could ask him over and over but he never gives in, he only gives in because you "annoyed him" which obviously ain't true he's just whipped

doesn't even let you pick the color either, he just tosses you the black nail polish because he's aware it's a neutral color

killjoy!!

the two of you lounged on some couches on the upstairs area of the guild, his arm was around your shoulder as he talked to the thunder legion. while he talked to them your mind was elsewhere, you glanced at his hand. you remained silent while you stared at it you didn’t even notice how focused you were, you didn’t even notice the thunder legion going downstairs for a quick bite to eat.

you held his hand in yours as the two of you sat side by side on the upstairs level of the guild. you noticed how rough his knuckles looked from all the punches he would through, and small scars littering his hands. your gaze game down to his nails and you gazed down at your own painted nails and you got the best idea.

“you should let me paint your nails.”

with in a heartbeat he responded “no.”

you groaned “come on it’ll be fun and it’ll look cute!”

“no.”

“i think you should let me paint them, they’ll look so nice too! besides your hands could use some tlc” you looked down at his hands and rose a single brow, a manicure was clearly needed for him. even if you couldn’t do anything about the scars the nails would at least spruce them up a little.

“i’m good.” he rolled his eyes at you but made no effort to remove his hand from your grasp.

you stared at him and he sighed feeling your eyes on him “tell me why i should let you paint my nails?”

“because i’m your s/o and you love me and you would do anything for me” you flashed him a grin and he rose a single brow in return “pleaseee.”

he sighed finally giving in, he his free hand down his face knowing he was going to regret his decision “fine.”

you led him out of the guild abiding “knowing” glances from some guildmates. you walked back to your house and gladly led him into your bedroom where you were going to paint his nails. you walked over to him with your box of nail polish clearly excited

“we can try any color you want maybe we could-”

he cuts you off tossing the black nail polish at you, you catch it easily and sigh “you’re so boring, i was hoping we could do a blue or something.”

“the second it chips you’re removing it.”

"killjoy."

˗ˏˋGAJEEL REDFOX

another hardheaded one

tell him it’ll make him look likea rockstar and he’ll be willing to hear you out

he’ll only go for black you could talk him into grey to match his metal magic but only if it’s a dark grey

you sat across from where he sat in the guildhall leaning close to him with a grin “i just had the best idea ever, you should let me paint your nails.”

he looked at you annoyed “im still waiting on your ‘best idea ever’.”

you rolled his eyes used to his attitude by now “im serious it would be fun! plusss you’ll look like a rockstar, a real rockin' one with a stage presence.”

he rose a brow "what kind of rockstar wears nail polish?"

"a color-coordinated one. come on don't you wanna look nice for your next performance? if you don't like it we can take it off i promise." you silently begged with your eyes.

he sighed "fine if it gets you to stop your whining."

you cheered and grabbed his hand leading him to where you lived, he got comfortable in your bed while you rummaged around for some nail polish in your bathroom. you debated on shades of black and grey but you ultimately decided to bring all of them so he could have some options.

"okay so i have a few colors here which one are we feeling. maybe this one?" you held up a dark grey nail polish "or maybe this one?" you held up a light grey nail polish resembling the color of iron "or maybe-"

"well do this one" he cut you off and picked up the black nail polish

you took the black nail polish in your hand you couldn't complain much since the color would match his overall vibe, but you can't deny you were hoping to at least use some grey tones to match his iron.

"okay we can do black it'll look cute too." you take his hand in yours and smile at him, you focus intently on his nails. you knew the chances of him letting him do his nails again were low so you made sure to make his nails look perfect for the first and unfortunately the last time you'll be painting them.

he watched as you concentrated on his nails, you took great care in making sure you wouldn't mess up some nails it was honestly cute to him he couldn't help but snicker "you're really putting a lot of focus into some nails doll." he rested his free hand on his cheek and smirked at you.

"well duh, i have to make them look nice who knows when I'll be able to paint your nails again. if this is the first and last time i'm painting your nails they're gonna look cute ya know." you spoke while completely focusing on his nails.

he offered a hum as a response and let you finish working on his nails. once you finished his nails he gave you a kiss as payment.

a few days have passed by since you pained his nails, and once he saw them getting old he immediately walked over to your house and barged in "hey." he walked past you lounging on your couch, ignoring your confused expression, he walked into your bathroom then flopped down onto the couch next to you with nail polish removal and the black nail polish in his hands.

"they're gettin old wanna fix 'em up for me doll?"

˗ˏˋBICKSLOW

he’s down for it the second you suggest it

he mainly prefers colors that would match his whole theme any colors that he thinks would throw it off he won’t mess with em

he asks you to do it again once they start looking old he makes you redo them

the two of you were hanging out at your house, he’s at your house more than yours it was like he lived there at this point. you were lounging on your couch mindlessly talking about everything and anything. you looked down at his hands and a light bulb went off in your head

“you should let me paint your nails, we could make them match your babies too.”

he shrugged "okay let's do it."

you flashed him a smile and gently kissed his lips "I'm gonna get the nail polish i'll be right back." you padded off to your bathroom and went through your nail polish basket, you couldn't decide between purples, greens, and some oranges, although you felt like the orange was a stretch. you shrugged and brought him all the colors you walked back to the couch with various nail polish colors in your arms, and you dumped them on the couch in between the two of you.

"i couldn't decide on one color so i brought multiple! you can pick which one you want though."

he looked down at all the colors you bought and settled on a dark purple "this would match my helmet wouldn't it?" he grins and handed you the purple nail polish.

you took his hand in yours and took care in painting his nails, he watched as you painted his nails his great care "you're really focused there babe."

you snickered "well yeah i don't want your babies making fun of your nails because they're sloppy." he laughed along with you and leaned to gently kissed your forehead.

"i can't focus if you're kissing me bix" you smiled and spoke without taking your eyes off his nails.

he laughed and smiled at you "and what if i don't want you focused?" you looked up at him and sent him a playful glare "do you want your nails to look like a mess or do you want them to look nice?" he leaned in closer to you "whatever gets your attention onto me."

"so needy" you teased while giggling and gave him a soft kiss on the lips "i'm almost done with your nails then I'll be all yours."

˗ˏˋBACCHUS GROH

he was drunk and he was just talkin

he was the one who suggest you even painted his nails when he was playing with your hand and noticed your nail polish and randomly suggested it

he traced along your hands giving them great focus despite his drunken state "let's paint our nails to match it'll wild baby." you giggled at his state "are you sure you want me to paint your nails? you're pretty drunk right now i'd doubt you'd even remember this."

he laughed loudly "do y'a know who you're talking to baby? bein' drunk is my magic." he pulled you off to the stool you were sitting on at the bar and led you home, or he assumed he was the one leading he started wobbling within a few steps so you had to lead him instead.

once you made it to your house you lead him to your bedroom where he could sit on your bed so you could paint his nails "i feel like a nice purple would suit you." you spoke to him from the bathroom raising your voice slightly so he could hear you, he hummed a response.

you hopped onto your bed with the nail polish in hand and took his hand in yours "make em look nice baby i wanna show the guys how wild i am" he emphasized his guilds motto with a small yell and a grin on his face causing you to laugh "hold still so i can do em right."

he grinned at you "come on say it with me baby these nails are gonna be" you playfully rolled your eyes at him but spoke his guilds mantra in unison "wild!"

you laughed and brought your focus back to his nails, while you did his nails he spoke mindlessly. it was becoming obvious that he was just talking so he could stay awake all the drinks he had was catching up to him. once his nails dried he carefully laid down not wanting to ruin your handiwork.

he woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and newly painted nails, he slowly sat up groaning when he noticed you sleeping by his side he froze. you stirred in your sleep and slowly opened your eyes.

he leaned down to kiss your forehead "mornin' baby. did we paint my nails yesterday? i don't remember much after the bar." he squinted in thought "or was it before the bar..."

you giggled "yes i did paint your nails bacchus you asked me to do them."

he looked down at his nails and smirked "they're wild baby."

#fairy tail x reader #laxus x reader #gajeel x reader #bickslow x reader #bacchus x reader #fairy tail x you #fairy tail fluff #fairy tail x y/n #laxus dreyar x reader #laxus dreyar x y/n #laxus dreyar x you #laxus x you #gajeel redfox x reader #gajeel redfox x you #gajeel redfox x y/n #bickslow x you #bickslow x y/n #bacchus x you #bachhus x y/n

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tw1l1te · 2 months

Note

Can I request NSFW with Four?

YES.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, some fluff

Assisting in the Forge wasn't easy work, which you were expecting. Despite traveling with the Chain, you helped out in the shop whenever you were back in Four's Hyrule, as you could both repair any broken weapons faster and get some extra rupees for the Chain.

It was nearing the end of the day, the sun setting over Castle Town steadily. You were exhausted, you burnt your hands at least twice today and spent over three hours separating metals into boxes.

Washing your hands in the sink, you sigh for what felt like the umpteenth time today. You hear the creak of the door, signaling that Four came back from talking to a customer or the head Blacksmith.

Turning around, you smile at him as you dry you hands on the apron, hands still covered in soot, dirt, or whatever other dust that never seemed to leave your skin, no matter how much soap and water you used.

"All good?"

"Yeah. Somebody was just picking up an order they had placed a few weeks ago. All done with work?"

You sigh, "Yeah, uh, just let me put away a few tools and we can head back to the others. We leave tomorrow, so should we bring our supplies back to everyone tomorrow, or...?"

Four shrugs, "Eh, we can just stop by tomorrow morning before we leave, that way we won't have to drag like... fifteen swords and cleavers..."

You laugh, turning back to the table in front of you, taking the cloth hanging from your apron to wipe down the range of tools. It was therapeutic, in a way.

You hear Four's breathing behind you, piquing your interest at his sudden quiet demeanor. Not taking your eyes of your task, you ask, "What's up, baby?"

You feel his hands on your waist, slightly squeezing your plush hips. He's not quite tall enough to place his chin on your shoulder, so he leans his forehead against the top of your back.

"Mm, just miss you."

You chuckle, "I'm right here, I've been with you all day."

"You know that's not what I meant."

You frown in confusion, turning around to face him, "What do you-oh. Oh."

His hands were on either side of your hips, eyes unqavering from yours. They seemed hungry, yet soft, for you.

You bite your lip, averting his gaze, "Why don't we-uh, let me finish up real quick and we can head back to the inn... back to my room."

He just gives you a slow, sensual kiss on your lips.

Alright then.

"G-gah! Four wait-"

"I've been waiting all fuckin' day, Princess."

He pushes you onto the bed, your hair splaying out around you like a halo. Like a goddess, he thinks. He sits on you, kissing under the shell of your ear, nipping the lobe lightly. His hands never leave your form, tugging at your top.

"Even with soot and dirt on you, you look perfect. Like you were made for me, baby."

You keen at his praises. Something about the way he praised your very existence made you more in love with him.

"Four, I need-"

"What, baby? Use your words."

"Mm- more. Please!"

He chuckles darkly, hands coming under your top and slipping it off of you, tossing it behind the two of you. He takes both of your breasts in his hands, squeezing the soft mounds. He brushes his thumb pads over your nipples, the roughness from smithing leaving a delicious texture.

"F-fuck. That feels so good, Four."

"I can tell, Princess. Take of your pants for me, you know I love it when you're bare f'me."

Under his piercing gaze, you slip off your leggings, his hands immediately latching onto your flesh once the pesky fabric was gone. He kisses his way down your body, sucking lightly at your skin every so often.

He noses your clothed heat, eyes locked onto yours. He then licks your heat, eyes watching your face. You try to keep yourself composed, but a whimper escapes your throat.

A dark chuckle leaves his throat, "Aww, that was so cute. Let's see how many more of those you can do for me, Princess."

#twilite answers #linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #linked universe au #linked universe headcanons

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suzukiblu · 7 months

Text

NaNoWriMo day three; obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Still, Kon's been taking care of himself this long, Tim guesses, so maybe . . .

No. No, this is definitely fucked-up and a terrible idea.

But he has no idea what he should do about it. What he even could do about it.

Kon finishes a whole order of cinnamon bread and is eyeing the next one before they even get back to base. Tim doesn't say anything about it because he's apparently been living on laboratory cafeteria food all this time, but does make him carry the highly precarious stack of food in. In his defense, "precarious stacks" are basically what TTK is made for, and also it'll hopefully distract Kon from potentially feeling weird about getting paid for or eating "too much" or just whatever.

Tim is going to burn Cadmus to the ground and stock up on kryptonite and a whole lot of explosives, but he's going to do it in the least Kon-upsetting way possible. Plus his supervillain timeline is a long-term plan too, and Kon should be eating things that aren't cafeteria food right now. And also not working for and living in a shady lab. And also–

"Shit, do we have any cups left?" Kon asks, looking around with a frown.

"Top of the fridge," Tim says, both because it's his job to know as much information as possible and because he's trying to avoid stressing himself out any worse. Stress is not productive. It's not going to fix the problem. Kon doesn't even want him to fix this problem.

"Cool," Kon says, then thumps the stack of pizza boxes down on the table and goes right for the cinnamon bread again, flipping the box open as he heads off to, presumably, retrieve the cups. Tim is entirely unsurprised and has no illusions that he'll be getting any of it himself.

He arranges the pizza boxes and everything else they ordered a little more accessibly on the table, trying not to obsess over the problem of Kon's current lifestyle. He's living in a lab getting by on cafeteria food and not getting properly compensated for doing a dangerous job and doesn't know Superman has a secret identity and is never, ever anything but "Superboy" himself. He doesn't have another identity to hide inside or fall back on or just take a break in. Didn't even have a real name until just recently, and that real name isn't anything he can use outside of still being Superboy.

Tim can't imagine never being able to take off Robin, but Kon probably can't imagine ever having to take off Superboy.

Tim doesn't even know what that would feel like.

Kon comes back with the cups, tosses them on the table, and stuffs another chunk of the already half-gone cinnamon bread into his mouth. Tim is starting to doubt the quality of that cafeteria even more than he reflexively did.

He opens the Zesti and pours them both a cup, and Kon looks oddly–not surprised, exactly? But a little puzzled, almost, watching Tim fill a cup for him.

"I can pour my own drink, Rob, geez," he snorts.

"I had it open already," Tim replies with a carefully dismissive shrug, screwing the lid back on the two-liter. Kon huffs, but picks up a cup and takes a drink.

"Sure, whatever," he says. "This is so much pizza, man. Think we can get through it all or should we call in Imp for backup?"

"If we do that, we're not getting any of it," Tim points out dryly.

"Okay, good point," Kon says. "Guess that's why you're the one in charge here, Wonder Boy."

"I had to get my qualifications from somewhere," Tim says, sparing him a wry smile. Kon sniggers, then rips off another chunk of the cinnamon bread and holds the mostly-empty rest of the box out to him. Tim blinks, a little surprised, but takes the last piece. "Thanks."

Note to self: Kon really likes cinnamon. Or icing, maybe. Or both.

Actually, that thought makes Tim feel a little flustered over Kon giving him the last piece of the cinnamon bread, given how thoroughly he destroyed the rest of it. Which is stupid, since he also hogged the rest of it and could've shared way more than just the last piece, the asshole.

Tim is absolutely still flustered anyway, though.

Yeah, he has it embarrassingly bad.

Ugh.

"Sure, man," Kon says, flashing him a grin. Tim swears to himself that this bastard can never, ever know how cute that grin makes him. If Kon knew he had a crush on him, he would be absolutely insufferable about it. Insufferable and smug.

Or, possibly, uncomfortable and freaked out. Or worse, angry and hateful. But Tim would rather not assume the absolute worst of an ally who almost counts as a friend, to whatever extent he can count anyone who hasn't seen his actual face before as a friend.

Both more and less than the guys at school, probably.

Tim's not sure what that actually says about his life these days.

But Kon . . . Tim doesn't really think Kon would be an asshole about it, if he knew Tim wasn't entirely straight. He's never really said anything to give him that impression.

He'd definitely be unbearable, though, so Tim will be taking the secret of this particular inadvisable crush to his grave, please and thank you.

They both sit down at the table–well, Tim sits, Kon more sprawls, and looks unfortunately attractive doing it–and grab a couple slices apiece and then crack open the wings. Kon eats much faster than Tim, who deliberately takes his time about it. Technically, avoiding getting pizza grease and barbecue sauce on his gloves is reason enough to do that, which is what he's going to point out if Kon comments on it, but obviously he's doing it to make sure Kon gets to eat as much as he wants.

Seriously. Cafeteria food for every meal. And not from a private school or fancy company's cafeteria; from an underground cloning lab with, again, incredibly dubious ethics.

Tim really can't imagine Cadmus is all that committed to food safety and quality, given all the human rights violations they've committed in just their day-to-day operations–to say nothing of any special projects like Kon.

Maybe Tim should release all their classified files onto the internet and just let whatever happens to them as a result happen.

. . . no, no, nobody needs any random weirdos on the dark web reverse-engineering any Kryptonian DNA or anything. Which they definitely would. Hell, just the front page of Reddit and a few YouTube comments would probably be enough to do it, and then somebody'd try to actually go and produce it "just to see".

Though it's still tempting, honestly.

Extremely tempting.

"Are you going to be here next weekend?" Tim says once Kon's mauled his way through a good dozen wings and four slices of pizza with very little sign of slowing down, and Kon stuffs most of another slice into his mouth with an easy shrug. He still looks cute even with terrible table manners, Tim notes resignedly. How is that possible? Why is that even a thing?

Kon is so goddamn annoying that way.

"Probably, yeah," Kon says around a mouthful of pizza before shoving the rest of the slice into his mouth. Tim watches in vague revulsion, wondering how he still finds him cute.

Gross, definitely, but still cute all the same.

"I mean, unless Cadmus needs me for something, anyway," Kon amends as he gets himself another slice. "Sometimes there's emergencies and shit, you know how it is."

"Definitely," Tim agrees, though "and shit" doesn't really cover Gotham-level disasters, as a descriptor. Still gets the point across, so whatever. "I'll be here, barring Gotham."

"You mean barring Batman," Kon snorts, rolling his eyes, and Tim feels a very weird way about the fact that Kon doesn't have a Batman in his life. Well–doesn't have a Bruce in his life, more like.

Or a Jack Drake.

It's kind of a sad thought, to be honest, though it probably makes the vigilante work a lot easier.

"Barring Batman," Tim agrees again, smiling wryly. "You realize you have a boss too now, right?"

"I could still be Superboy if I quit Cadmus, though," Kon says, which is a valid point, if not quite the one Tim was trying to make. "No way Batman wouldn't flip shit if you kept being Robin out from under his big black cape."

"Well, historically that hasn't always gone so well," Tim says, taking a sip of his Zesti. Kon tilts his head, looking curious.

"Wait, you've actually done that before?" he asks. "Seriously?"

"There's been other Robins, you know," Tim reminds him, wry again. Kon blinks.

"More than one?" he asks. "I thought it was just you and that Nightwing dude. Who else?"

It occurs to Tim, very suddenly, that Kon not only wasn't a superhero when Jason was Robin, he didn't even exist when Jason was Robin. He wouldn't have heard anything when it happened, even in rumors, and it's not like many people talk about Jason now, even in the community. At least not anywhere that Tim's ever heard, anyway.

Admittedly, that might be survivorship bias, all things considered.

"My immediate predecessor," Tim says carefully, taking another sip. "After Nightwing and before me. He's–not active anymore."

"Dead or just maimed?" Kon assumes. Tim doesn't bother wondering why "retired" doesn't occur to him as an option.

It's Kon. Of course "retired" wouldn't occur to him.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young justice #young just us #rinfic #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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dbnightingale24 · 4 months

Text

Already Won Me Over Sneak Peak

A Follow Up 'Love Me Or Just Let Me Go'

Sorry for the delay! I meant to post this yesterday, but I got real fuckin' picky about certain things, because I'm ✨annoying✨ ANYWAY, this is just a snippet of what's to come, and I hope you all enjoy it! You all get heartbreaking smut, cause tomorrow is Valentine's Day!! 🙃🙃

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), Swearing, Heartbreak, Arguing, Violence, Angst, Uhh...I think that's it for now.

I do not give permission/consent for my works/stories to be posted elsewhere. I do not condone this kind of behavior or relationship, this is for entertainment purposes only.

“We need to get in and out of your apartment. Only grab what’s important,” he tells you softly as he turns on the car.

“Yeah,” you agree softly.

That was the extent of the conversation you two had.

You’ve never had such a quiet car ride with Jonathan, and you hate it. You hate this. Besides the fact that almost everyone you know and love has been attacked tonight, and you feel like it’s your fault, you also don’t know what the fuck to do about you and Jonathan. After everything that was said tonight, all of the tears and begging, he still can’t just fucking say it. You can’t help but grow tired of all of this shit. Yeah, it sucks that he feels like shit, but you’re not doing this to him.

He’s doing it to the both of you.

“Jonathan,” you sigh as he gets out of the car along with you, “I can go up on my-”

“You can get as far away from me as you want when we get home. For now, I’m coming up with you. I don’t want to argue anymore-”

“Fine, lets just get it over with,” you mutter, quickly making your way inside, Jonathan following behind you with a low groan as he sighs.

Sigh, sigh, sigh. Yeah well, this part isn’t on you.

“Is there anything I shouldn’t bring?” you question, unlocking your door.

“You only need to bring-”

“Welcome home,” a man with a thick accent greets as soon as you open your door, his fist already traveling towards your face, but you duck just in time.

“I haven’t had a bad enough day?!” you growl, head butting the much larger man in the chest, forcing him inside.

“I love a bitch who can fight,” the man laughs darkly, pushing you aside.

“Get out of my HOUSE!” you scream, picking up the vase of flowers Jonathan bought you hours ago and throwing them at the man, missing him by millimeters.

“This is barely a shoe box,” the man laughs, pulling out his revolver.

“Well, that’s not very nice, now is it?” Jonathan growls, grabbing one of the bar stools and smashing the man over the back of his head with it.

That has you freezing on the spot. You’ve never seen Jonathan’s violence, and you’re not sure how you feel about it now that you have.

“You break into her home,” Jonathan continues roughly, still beating the man with stool as it creaks and cracks, “try to hurt her, and then insult her home?! Where are your manners, Ivan?! HUH?!” he roars, slamming the wooden stool against the countertop, breaking off one of its legs. “Who else has been running around Gotham doing Boris’ dirty work?! Y/N’s Mom, her Uncle, her friends?! Who did it?!”

You glance over and see that the door is still open; you run to close it, knowing that it’s bound to get bloodier and more violent.

“I asked you a fucking question!” Jonathan broods, hitting the man with the broken stool leg.

“Boris warned you,” the man coughs out while trying to fend off Jonathan, wildly flailing his arms as he rolls side to side on the floor like a broken metronome.

“And I warned Boris! The fuck ups you all make are on you! It’s not my fucking job to fix it! You go after someone I care about and you think there won’t be any fucking repercussions?! I warned all of you and now look!”

“Dr. Crane-”

“Dr. Crane isn’t in right now!” he snarls, striking the guy across the face again before tossing the the bloody stool leg aside. “Now, apologize to the woman.” The man spits out a tooth, groaning to himself.

“Boris just wants-”

“APOLOGIZE!” Jonathan roars.

“I’m-I’m sorry, Ma’am,” the man sobs at you.

“Good boy,” Jonathan praises as he pulls out his .45. “I think I’ll make you the first casualty in Boris’ army.”

“Dr. Crane-” his words feebly teeter from his bleeding mouth.

You cover your mouth as you yelp at the steely explosive bang from the gun shot and take a step back. This day is really taking a toll on you.

He stands up straight, breathing heavy, before turning to look at you. His hair is wild, half of his face is splattered with blood. His eyes are still and wild. You’re not sure how to feel about it, but you can’t help the arousal pooling between your legs at his feral state in the soft glow of the night.

“Pack while I run through his pockets,” he tells you after a moment, pushing back his messy hair.

“You should shower,” you tell him weakly, looking from him to Ivan’s lifeless body.

“Y/N-”

“You have clothes here. You walking out there covered in his blood is a bad look. You should shower and I’ll call the cops-”

“Don’t. I’ll take care of it,” he interrupts, tone still authoritative as he tries to calm down. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“No, no, I’m fine. I promise,” you answer calmly as a soft tapping on your door has you jumping.

“Y/N? Are you okay dear?” your elderly neighbor, Miss Francine, asks softly, and a soft chuckle leaves your mouth before you can stop it.

Are you okay? That’s laughable right now.

“I’m alright, Miss Francine. You need to get back to your room, it’s not safe in the hallway at this hour.”

“Do you need me to call someone? I’m not afraid of these thugs!” she says defiantly, and you laugh to yourself softly.

You love her so much.

“No no, I have someone here with me. I’m safe, I promise.”

“Alright dear. Good night,” she calls softly and you hear her footsteps retreating, soon followed by her door opening and closing.

“Pack,” Jonathan repeats sternly.

“Shower,” you tell him softly, giving Ivan’s dead body one last look before going into your room.

You look around and you can’t decide where to begin. Your mind can’t and won’t slow down. You’ve just seen Jonathan murder someone, and he murdered that person for you. How the fuck is it easier for him to murder someone than fucking admitting that he loves someone? Even when he was beating the man to death, all he could say was, ‘someone I care about’.

Yeah, that’s the last thing you should be thinking about right now, but if there’s ever a time for an accidental ‘I love you’, that would be it. Damn, maybe there is a part of you that’s a self absorbed little shit, but you’re not about to feel ashamed about it. Not after all that’s happened tonight.

You hear the shower turn on, and your mind is instantly reminded of something else.

No matter what he can or won’t say, he still killed someone. He killed them without hesitation and he did it for you. In that moment, all that mattered was keeping you safe, and he had no thought for his self care at all. His only focus was you and keeping you safe.

Plus, truth be told, him looking so unhinged and wild? A total turn on for you that you weren’t expecting at all.

No, none of this is ideal and you still don’t know what the hell you’re gonna do about the both of you, but you know that you’re lonely and in pain. There’s only one person you want right now, and he’s the last person you should want right now.

God damn him for making you love him so damn much.

You slowly take off your dress and strapless bra, at war with yourself about whether or not you should go through with this, but the part of you that needs a release wins. Sure, you could have a drink or a smoke, but it won’t be enough. Besides, it’s not like you won’t be drinking till you’re numb in the face for the next few weeks anyways. No, it’s not the best solution, but you’re done trying to be smart and logical for the moment. You’ve been at war with yourself since all of this started, and you’re just so damn tired of thinking.

You just want to feel something other than sadness and pain.

“Y/N, you should be...Y/N,” Jonathan trails off as you get in the shower with him.

“I can pack after,” you tell him softly, looking him over, fingers lightly tracing over his faded scars. “You didn’t have to attack that man-”

“I wasn’t gonna let him hurt you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, but I want-need to take care of you.”

“Why?”

“Because I care about you,” he huffs, and you can hear him at war with himself.

Well, fuck it. If he isn’t gonna say it, you will. Again.

“I love you-”

“Sweetheart-”

“I love you, Jonathan. I don’t care if you don’t wanna hear it, I don’t care if you don’t think you deserve it, and I don’t care if you don’t want me to say it. It’s a fucking fact. I love you and I’ve never loved anyone this much, and I know I never will again, no matter what happens. I am so painfully in love with you, Jonathan Crane. You may be afraid of your feelings, but I’m not afraid of mine,” you tell him without fear or trepidation in your heart.

If this is the end of the both of you, you may as well lay all your cards on the table.

“Y/N...,” he sobs, looking away from you, and your heart breaks.

He truly is broken by all of this.

You gently grab his face and turn it towards you, “You tell me you care about me? Then show me. Show me just how much you care,” you beg softly, tears in your eyes.

Just like that, he’s gone for you.

He’s crashing his lips into yours as he presses you against the wet shower tiles, your back squishing against it. It feels like Heaven. Moaning into the kiss, you grind yourself against him while his hands travel down your sides softly; almost as if he’s afraid to touch you, as if he feels like he doesn’t deserve it.

“Show me, Jonathan,” you breathe against his lips, begging him to give you a reason to fight for more. “Show me how much you care. Show me how much I mean to you.”

This time, he grips your thighs and hoists you up, no hesitation present as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist while he trails kisses down your neck, desperate to cover every inch of you in them.

“Dr. Crane,” you whimper, running your fingers through his hair as one of his hands starts massaging one of your breasts.

“No...please don’t...call me by my name, I need to hear you say it,” he cries shamefully.

At least you can believe it’s more than a filthy hook up now.

“Jonathan...Jonathan I need to feel you,” you pant, eyes clenching shut at the feel of his fingers kneading your nipple between his fingertips. “I need you!” “I don’t deserve you,” he groans, slowly sliding you down on him.

“Shit!” you cry, still not used to the way he so easily pulls you apart.

“I’m so sorry,” he husks, slowly moving within you, kissing along your neck, “I ruined everything and I’m sorry!”

“Just wanna be with you right now. Tired...tired of thinking,” you moan, focusing your attention back on him, which was extremely hard since he kept- “OH MY GOD! That’s the...fuck! Right there, don’t stop!”

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he marvels, his grip on you getting tighter as he helps you chase your release.

“I love you,” you sigh, feeling your core tightening.

“Y/N-”

“I love you,” you repeat, not relenting because of his guilt for his past.

It’s not like you ever meant to fall in love, or that you even wanted to you, but you did. For all your planning, and hoping for it to be a one time thing, it hasn’t panned out that way at all.

“God, you’re clenching me so fucking tight, sweetheart,” he grunts, his movements becoming quicker as you dig your nails into his shoulders, “feels so good being inside of you...getting lost in you.”

“Fuck! Jonathan!”

“Never knew someone could ever love me like you do,” he continues with a breathless pant, changing his angle just a bit to hit that spot deep within you.

“Oh fuck!”

“Never knew how much I needed to be loved by you!”

“Jonathan...I can’t...I can’t...oh shit!”

“C’mon baby! Give it to me! I wanna feel your love!”

“YES!” you cry out, your release washing over you as you tighten your legs around Jonathan for fear of falling if you don’t.

The bastard may have broken your heart, but he’s the closest you’ll ever get to Heaven.

“You okay, baby?” he asks softly, tenderly stoking your face .

All you can do is nod.

“Do you need more?”

Once again, all you can do is nod.

He’s quick to turn off the shower, keeping his hold on you tight as gets out of the shower. He walks you both to the bedroom, and your eyes land on Ivan’s dead body. God, of all the ways you thought this night was going to end, this wasn’t at all what you had in mind.

“I want you on your back,” you tell him as he goes to lay you down.

You can tell that you’ve caught him off guard. He does what you want nonetheless, and lays back on the bed, looking at you with eyes that are filled with adoration and guilt. Usually you’re not on top unless he puts you up there. That’s rare because he likes hearing the screams that leave your mouth when he fucks you hard from behind, or watch as the euphoria overtakes you when he gives you an orgasm.

You place your hands on his chest and start to ride him slowly, your hips grinding against him, mouth slightly agape at the feel of the new angle and how deep he is.

“Touch me, Jonathan,” you beg pathetically, starting to pick up your pace once you’ve adjusted to him. “I want to feel you everywhere I can.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Jonathan, please. I just need you right now,” you practically sob.

There’s a dead man laying in your living room. Your best friend may never walk again. Someone tried to kill your Mother. Your ‘Uncle’ is laid up in the hospital and his wife has been killed. The man responsible for turning your life upside down in the best and worst ways during all this can’t even tell you that he loves you.

If all you can have is temporary bliss that only he can provide, then you’ll take it and beg for him to show you the things he’s ashamed to show. Besides, who knows when you two will have each other like this again.

If ever.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful, baby,” he groans, his hands slowly traveling up your torso.

“You think so?” you question, your damp hair falling in front of your face as you look down at him, biting your bottom lip in a weak attempt to quiet your moans as he starts massaging your breasts.

No, having sex on your bed soaking wet probably isn’t the best idea, but it’s not like you’ll be sleeping in it for a while.

“Fuck yeah...GOD!” he groans as you roll your hips against his.

“Shit!”

“Gotta have you on top of me more often,” he husks, sitting up and wrapping his arms around you, “I love watching you take whatever you want from me. You can take whatever you need, baby. You can always take what you need from me,” he promises as he grips your ass.

“Oh fuck!”

“Bring yourself on my cock like the good girl you are, baby. I know you can fucking do it,” he encourages, licking his thumb before bringing it between the two of you, rubbing your most sensitive bud.

“Jonathan!”

“I know you wanna cum for me, baby. I know you wanna make a mess all over me, don’t you, baby?”

“Fuuu-yes!”

“Cause you’re my good girl?” “Jonathan!”

“Say it, baby. Tell me you’re my good girl!”

“Fuck yes!” you cry out, lulling your head back as you squirt hard, floating out of your own body for just a moment.

“My messy little princess,” he praises with a grunt.

In one swift move, you’re on your back and Jonathan is fucking into you relentlessly.

“Shit!”

“You’re always gonna be my girl, baby. I know I’m a mess right now, but I will fix this. I’ll make this right,” he promises, holding himself up as he cradles your face with the other hand.

Your eyes sting as you hold back tears at his words, because you honestly don’t know what the fuck to do. You don’t know what happens after all of this gets settled.

“I don’t fucking deserve you,” he pants as his movements become erratic, “but I need you. I need you so damn much, baby!”

“Too...it’s too much,” you sob as you feel that knot in your core tighten.

“Give it to me, give me everything,” he begs breathlessly, his grip on neck getting tighter.

“JONATHAN!” you scream out, tears spilling over from the pleasure coursing through your body and the pain in your heart as you squirt hard. One hand grips him and the other grips the bed sheets.

“My perfect princess,” he groans as he spills inside of you, his hand almost giving out.

As he rides out both of your highs, the room is filled with nothing but your silent sobs and heavy breathing between the both of you.

Not a word is said as he pulls out and you both start to get dressed. He’s first to exit as soon as he’s dressed, and you can only assume that he instantly goes to search through Ivan’s pockets. You take your time packing up what you deem necessary. You grab all of your photos, wanting to make sure that no one else gets hurt because of your...whatever with Jonathan. You pack up your laptop, Mr. Fin, the hideous ash tray Jonathan got you in Hawaii, a few books, some comfort clothes, and basic hair supplies. You give your room a once over, fighting back more tears, before making your way out to see Jonathan sitting at the kitchen island and drinking bourbon.

“Do you have everything?” he asks, not even looking in your direction as he swirls his drink around in the glass.

“Just have to grab makeup and hair products out of-”

“I can buy you more. It’s not important.”

“Then yes, I guess I have everything,” you snap, voice edging between anger and bitterness. “Do you have everything.” “Everything that I need,” he shrugs, downing the rest of his drink before putting it in the sink. “Lets go.”

You’re quick to grab the photo of your birthday party by the door on your way out, and shut the door behind you, walking past Jonathan in an attempt to get the elevator as fast as you can.

Your mind is racing and you just wanna lay down.

The entire elevator ride down, Jonathan is tapping his foot and fidgeting with his fingers. He’s mad at himself. You know that he thinks he revealed too much of himself to you, and that makes you even madder at him. He’s already broken your heart, what the hell does he think will happen if he’s actually sweet to you during intimacy? That you’ll go off and tell everyone in Gotham that he does, in fact, have a soul and a good heart?

It’s not like anyone would believe you anyway.

The second you two are back inside his house, you’re grabbing the things you left on the floor earlier, and racing up the steps. You’re more than happy to stay locked away in a room, but the only issue is that you don’t know any other room besides Jonathan’s.

“Just take my room,” he encourages softly as he makes his way up the steps.

“I can stay in another-”

“None of the other rooms have been slept in, in years. My room is the only room ready, and the only one I feel comfortable having you in.”

“I don’t want to be around you.”

“Lucky for you, I won’t be sleeping much.”

“When you do-”

“I know my house better than you. I’ll stay far away from you, just take my damn room,” he instructs before turning and racing back down the steps and disappearing around a corner.

You stick your tongue out in the direction he went before turning and making your way into his room, closing the door behind you. As you drop your bags, you look around and let out a deep breath.

Welcome to your new life for the next few weeks.

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ghostmaldo · 3 months

Text

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ RE3 Remake: Taking care of Sick Jill and Carlos (Seperate) with GN!Reader~General head cannons 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

I am barely recovering from being sick from a week long cold and this sort of just manifested into my head and I thought, why not? Less evil in this Resident.

No warning, just natural sickness and fluuuuff

I didn’t really proof read this… my bad

Ask box open 💙

Play list I listened to while writing this—> Best of Resident Evil on Spotify ^^

~Maldo

❀ Jill Valentine ❀

~So, I picture SO and Jill have been living together for sometime in their shared apartment. It started with a slight sneezing fit throughout the day. Nothing a bit of allergy medicine couldn’t fix. However, by the end of the day SO would notice shes doing clearing of her throat more often and ask her about it. She’d simply reply with: “My throats just a little dry.”

~However, by the next morning Jills throat is completely raw, her nose is stuffed up, body aches, chill. Mad suffering. She insists she can walk it off but with some firm convincing from SO she’s politely shoved back into bed while they run to the nearest store to get her some medicine and things that are easy on the stomach. Jill sleeps the entire time their gone and only stirs agains when she hears the front door open. An instinct of hers.

~SO comes back with the best of medicine, sports drinks in her favorite flavor and of course some chicken noodle soup in the shape of stars. Upon seeing the stars printed on the front label she laughs (In a sickly way) “Stars… really?” SO nods and claims it would help her feel better.

~Having a warm bowl of soup and medicine admisintered by SO. Jill melts into the blankets and knocks out for the next several hours. She’s incredibly touched by her SO checking in on her every once and awhile. She’s always slightly aware when they enter their shared bed room, placing their slightly cold hand on her forehead or cheek to check for her temperature. But she keeps her eyes closed and allowed them to make her comfortable. It’s… a nice feeling for her.

~A real swooning moment would be when SO exits the room again. Gently closing the door behind them as to not disturb a resting Jill Valentine.

~When Jills feeling up to it. SO would help them into a warm bubble bath to help with the congestion. Afterwards, SO can suggest rubbing Vix on her chest to further help with the snuffles.

~A repeat of this cycle and after a few days. Jill starts to feel good as new. On the first day shes feeling much better but still a little groggy. Shell crawl out of bed with a blanket and find SO. Who’s currently on the couch doing one of their own activities quietly, though they are happy to see Jill out of bed. Together they take a nap with the sun rays warming them from the window. It’s the final medicine dose Jill needs to be back at 100%.

~Snuggles and forehead kisses with Jill make Maldo’s heart melt

“Thank you for taking care of me for the last few days. Ive been so use to taking care of myself I forgot what it was like to be dotted on.”

~Que a warm embrace and a tender kiss

❀ Carlos Oliveira ❀

~Carlos makes it everyone’s problem that his sick and by everyone I mean his SO. While his groaning and tossing and turning in his bed. SO finally comes to check up on him and his just laying there with these big merciful doe eyes. Before he has a chance to say anything, his body send him into a coughing fit that has him curling back into bed.

~SO: “I told you you were getting sick-“

~Pillow thrown at them from the man baby.

~Anyhow, SO proceeded to find some medicine in their apartments cabinet and a thermometer to take his temperature along with a cold rag. Poor guy did look really pale and clammy. If Carlos does have a fever, SO has to be prepared to wrestle the blankets off of him as his shivering from said fever.

“Carlos you have a fever!”

“I’m coooold!”

~Finding a can of chicken soup with stars in the kitchen. SO leaves Carlos with a movie running in their shared bedroom while they warm up the soup on the stove for him. As they read the medicine has to be taken with food or he’ll be sick and with an upset stomach-

~When he sees the bowl of soup he scowls slightly. “Haha very funny…. Staaars (S/O)” Listen I thought it was funny

~Will not let his SO leave his side. After the medicine starts to make him drowsy he literally pulls SO into bed with him and snuggles against them. And looordy is he a heater even without his blankets. Carlos claims he’ll only get better if he has his beloved next to him the entire time. With a sigh, SO relents, but faces away from him as the little spoon as a precaution to avoid getting sick themselves.

~Only takes about a day or two to recover and is ready to go back out into the world. As a token of his appreciation for dealing with him. Carlos takes SO out for dinner at their favorite restaurant.

“Hey, thanks for the last few days. I was a brat… but I appreciate you for taking care of me.”

~Que forehead kiss and Carlos wrapping an arm around their shoulders and pulling them in closer.

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ageofstarkey · 10 months

Text

untitled snippet: band!marauders x new-to-the-band!reader

summary: You're James Potter's little sister and he asks you to join his band. Remus Lupin, the Marauders’ moody bassist, makes you regret agreeing.

content: bassist remus x singer/guitarist reader, potter!reader, "enemies" to lovers, mature content (alcohol, tobacco, and drug use, swearing, etc…)

note: hi so i've never posted any of my writing on here, but i recently started fleshing out this marauders band au in my free time, so i wanted to post a snippet to see if anyone like...actually would be interested in reading it if i were to write a Proper Fic™️

wc: 0.8k ish

✩✩✩✩✩

On one particularly late night, after a particularly infuriating comment from Remus, you snap. You stand up before he’s even finished speaking, letting your banged up acoustic clatter unceremoniously to the floor. Truth be told – you hardly even processed what he said, so irritated by the goddamn way he said it.

“Y’know what?” You’re overtired and practically seething, a half-smoked cigarette trembling between your fingers. “I’m fucking done. With all of this.” You toss your cigarette into the over-stuffed ashtray on the table, paying no mind to the way it bounces and falls, still smouldering, to the wooden surface below. “And honestly? It’s a real goddamn shame because I think you guys have something special. And I think we’d be really damn good together if he -” You jab a shaking finger towards Remus, who looked rather unmoved. “- wasn’t so fucking self-absorbed.”

James tries to defuse the situation, but you’re storming out of the room before he can finish a sentence, intently ignoring him on your way to the front door. You slam it harder than you mean to, shakily inhaling as you step into the chilly midnight air. With a trembling hand, you reach for the cigarettes in your pocket, sliding one hastily from the box. You feel the familiar sting of tears in your eyes, silently berating yourself for being so sensitive as they roll down your reddened cheeks.

Minutes have passed, and you’re halfway through your second fag when you hear the familiar creak of the front door opening behind you. With a soft sniff, you wipe hastily at the lingering tears on your cheeks. You look quickly over your shoulder, hoping for James and sighing quietly when you see Remus standing just beyond the doorframe. His hands are tucked coolly into the pockets of his jeans, and he stares at you unflinchingly.

You turn back around, taking a long drag from your cigarette before stubbing it out on the damp concrete. “If you’ve come out here to offer your two cents on my lyrics, I’m really not interested.” Your voice is clipped and steady when you speak, despite how badly you want to scream and shout in his stupid arrogant face.

His converse scuff lazily against the ground as he takes a few careful steps towards you. Your eyes remain intently trained on your boots, back firmly facing Remus and the house. “I didn’t come out here to talk about your songs, Y/N.” His voice is soft and your heart pangs strangely in your chest. You don’t say a word. He takes two more steps. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to apologize?”

You scuff the toe of your boot against the ground with a scoff. “Not really.”

“I didn’t think so.” Remus laughs softly, and you swear you can hear the smirk on his face. It’s infuriating how amusing he seems to find the whole situation. He takes another step, and suddenly you can feel his tall figure looming behind you. You want to turn around – you want to say something, but you can’t bring yourself to move a muscle. “Whether you believe me or not, I am sorry. I’ve been a proper arse and…” He trails off, evidently searching for his next words. Your heart thumps anxiously in the silence. “You haven’t done anything to deserve it. So I’m sorry.”

His words are followed by a long stretch of silence where neither of you speak. You open your mouth once, twice, trying to offer a response, but you come up short both times. Remus eventually speaks, his shoes scuffing against the damp ground as he takes a step back. “I’m not trying to change your mind or anything, but for what it’s worth, I think we’d be really damn good together too.” His voice is low, steady, and effortlessly confident. Without another word, he leaves, and you don’t dare breathe until you hear the front door shut behind him.

When you finally find the strength to stand, you walk home with your thoughts racing a million miles a second. Needless to say – you’re back at the Marauders house the very next morning. James – who’d been calling you all night, smiles with wide eyes when you walk into the living room behind Sirius. His shoulders drop in relief, and you almost feel guilty for intently ignoring each and every one of his calls.

Remus, in a surprising turn of events, is the first to speak. He’s sprawled lazily on the couch, a ring clad hand resting on his upper thigh. There’s a cigarette tucked behind his ear, and he wears a knowing smirk that makes you want to cuss him out. “Not giving up on us yet, hm?”

His stare doesn’t falter when your eyes find his, and you hate how quickly you look away with warm pink cheeks. “Don’t make me regret it, Lupin.”

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spinning-stars · 11 months

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👻Billy Loomis smut!🖤

This is who won the poll!

Fem! Reader

SMUT, LEMON 🍋, NSFW, WHATEVER YOU WANNA CALL IT!!!!!!

Warnings⚠️- p in v sex, Bondage, praise, teasing, knife play!!!

Word count: 790 words (not counting authors note)

"Fuck... Billy," those words fell out of your mouth as Billy tightened your restraints. Your arms were tied up above your head, the rope was connected to a hook in the wall. Billy's cold eyes glace at you before grabbing a vibrator off his nightstand. "My sweet y/n, oh what ever will I do with you." His voice was teasing, he tossed the vibrator around before kneeling in front of you. "The safe word is orange ok?" His eyes glance up at you waiting for an answer as he turns on the vibrator. You gently nod your head, "ok, got it." Billy then took the vibrator and put it against your cunt. "Awwwwe wet already, you're so needy, but don't worry I'll fix that real soon." Billy mumbled with a smirk on his face and he turned up the vibrations. You soft moans filled the room, echoing off the black walls. "That's it darling let me hear your noises." His words seemed to only just add to the pleasure of it all. "Billy... Please," you softly moan out. "Please what y/n? You can do it, use your words." His voice was gentle but commanding. "Please... Let me cum," you manage to get out while bucking your hips. His eyes went back down to the vibrator and turned it up the highest it will go as he rubbed it on your cunt until you came. "Good girl," he said with a smirk while scooting back a few inches. Billy then bent down and started to eat you out. He held your thighs apart until he pretty much licked you clean. He then directed his attention to your inner thighs. He leans backward a bit to grab his pocket knife that was clipped into his boxers. He flicks the pocket knife out and lightly holds it against one of your thighs while he leaves bite marks and hickeys on the other. He switches the knife to his other hand before making the other thigh match. After he's done he looks up at you, knife in hand, "can I write my name?" He asks so calmly, you nod and he starts to apply pressure to the knife little by little. He stopped once he saw blood trickling out of the wound he had made. He starts to write his name on your thigh, trying his best to make it small and nice. He saw you wince in pain every time he took the knife out just to cut you with it again. "Shhhh, you're fine, I'm almost done I promise." He said this was such a calming voice, it almost made you forget the slight pain of the knife. When he was done he pulled back to admire his work. "How pretty," he said while leaning down again. He then began to lick the blood that was trickling out of the wound. He was gentle, feeling soft kisses all around your thighs. He then took the knife and threw it to the side. He pulled down his boxes, revealing his hard cock. He positioned himself at your entrance. He made eye contact before sticking it in. He stayed in you for a minute, waiting for you to adjust and tell him that he could move. When you gave the ok he began to pump in and out of you fast and deep. "Fuck y/n your so tight..." Billy's voice was raspy and low. He threw one of your legs over his shoulder to go deeper. He lets out a low groan as he slaps your ass with his one free hand and moves it to your hip. Billy was abusing your sweet spot, every time he thrusted in his hard cock would pierce that spot. "Billy... I need to-" you cut yourself off with your moans. "Hmmm? Come on y/n use your words," he said while going faster. You tried to speak but only moans and fractions of what you wanted to say came out. "Billy... Can-," you tried to continue but failed. "Awe. You poor thing. You wanna cum? Say please and I'll give you what you want." His voice echoed through your head. "Please... Fuck.. Billy please," your voice was strained as he used you like a toy. "Good girl," he said as he continued to hit just that spot. He felt you tighten around him, he leaned over to kiss you deeply before you came. His kiss was soft, a great contrast to what he was doing below. You both finished and he pulled out of you. "You did so well," he said while moving your hair out of your face. "Let's get you untied and make some food" he softly said as he untied you and kissed your forehead.

Authors note🖤- Hiii, requests are open!!! Mini slasher smut fics part 1 and 2 are done and up if y'all want more! Have a lovely day<3

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kodiackwrites · 5 months

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A New Flavour-Wonka X Reader (NSFW?)

Not proofread, we die like real men

It had been a long two months in the basement of Mrs. Scrubitt’s laundry house, All my days had been spent well, scrubbing and cleaning the never ending laundry pile. Life was made a bit easier but the others but, after hearing everyone’s stories and listening to about a million jokes from Chucklesworth, I just couldn’t see any light of the future. That was of course until the light came right through the laundry shoot, Willy Wonka. A young, charming man who, yes had a bit to much enthusiasm but it made things fun. He and Noodle had been off and about most of his time, but he’d spend at least a couple of his days in the basement. But due to his lack of following instructions, he’d found himself with a tear in his coat arm, and a scratch underneath it. “Ow-!” He whined, catching my attention as I stacked a couple folded sheets, “Is everything alright Wil?” He looked up, tears threatening to fall from his eyes, “I caught my sleeve on the edge of the table-“ he responded. I took a few steps over, taking his arm in my hands and looking through the torn material at the wound below, “nothing we can’t fix.” I said with a smile as I found the nearby, dusty, first aid kit. It certainly wasn’t the best but it worked. I dug through it and found gauze, alcohol wipes, and a small roll of medical tape, I helped Will take off his jacket, and rolled up his undershirt. “take a deep breathe, these never feel good.” I said as I brought the wipe to his skin, Quickly and thoroughly cleaning the wound. Before tossing it away, “That was horrible-!” Wil complained, making me smile at his innocent, childlike demeanour. I wrapped his arm tight in gauze and taped it down. “There we go! All patched up,” I said pulling down his sleeve, “What about my jacket?” He asked, a nervous look upon his sweet face, I looked at the coat that lay in his lap, “Just come by my room this evening I’ll get it all fixed,” I paused, rubbing his shoulder, “but for now I do need to get back to cleaning.” I added with a smile,

—

I had just finished threading my needle when wil knocked on my door, “Come in!” I called as I tied the thread. He came in, Putting doen his coat, taking a seat beside me. Making himself quite comfortable, “Thank you for this Y/n, How can I repay you?” He asked as I began passing the needle through the fabric. “Oh Will, it’s very okay! I don’t need repayment.” I said, carefully weaving through the fabric. “But you’ve been so kind, it’s only fair.” He added. I simply shook my head. He sighed before digging in his pocket and placing a small box on the table in front of me, with ‘thank you’ misspelled across it. It made me chuckle as I pushed it aside until I tied off his coat, Handing it back to him, “Thank you Y/n! And please, open the box!” He said warmly, “only if you insist,” I respond, grabbing the small gift once more, pulling off the top to reveal a small bubbly chocolate, with pink and white marble throughout the milky brown colour. “Is chocolate your go to gift?” I asked metaphorically as I brought the sweet to my lips, taking a bite from half of it, the dreamy milk chocolate hit my taste buds, with hints of caramel and marshmallow. It made me feel warm, Safe, no no, it made me feel, I couldn’t even put a name to it if I tried, “do you like it?” Will asked, looking at me with a warm smile, “I love it, it’s perfect, maybe my new favourite.” I responded as I ate the rest, Looking over Wils body, it made me feel warmer, that’s it, that was the feeling. lust. “I have to ask, what kind of chocolate is it?” I asked, making him blush and stutter nervously, “A new recipe I’ve been trying- just a mix of uhm-“ he couldn’t find his words, I slid my hand up his arm, onto his chest, “Mix of perhaps, Want? Lust even?” I asked, my hand sliding down to his abdomen he squirmed, letting out a small breathe, “perhaps- I didn’t mean too I just wanted to- oh~” he let out as my hand slid over his crotch. He was whining and panting like crazy despite barely being touched,

To be continued 🫶

This was totally inspired by someone but I can’t find their @:(

#willy wonka x reader #wonka x reader #willy wonka #wonka 2023 #wonka movie #wonka smut

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sailoryooons · 1 year

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Obsidian | One | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

☾ Summary: You remember everything. The first time you radiated at garnet, feeling the power of the jewel rushing through you. Remember the energy pulsing at your command. And you certainly remember the face of the man who ruined your life. Then there’s Min Yoongi, the Chaotic who is the key to your revenge.

☾ Word Count: 10,012

☾ Genre: Urban fantasy, criminal/syndicate, strangers to lovers, angst, eventual smut

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Graphic depiction of death and body dismemberment, a lot of blood, Yoongi is brutally wounded/gutted, near-death experience, traumatic loss of parents, mention of suicide (not actual, but metaphorical), this is pretty blood and gory but not gratuitous? Death of a koi fish rip Agust the I.

☾ Published: April 22, 2023

☾ A/N: Don’t ask me to explain myself. I have no idea what I’m doing and my Aries moon is in full control of me and working me like a robot. This is a series or something I don’t know. I have no plans and no thoughts, just brain rot. Inspired by Jade City by Fonda Lee, the movie Colombiana, the movie Scarface and by my fuck it we ball attitude about writing what I want when I think of it. Also please note that the order of first and last names will be done in Western fashion in this, as this story does not exist anywhere real-world-adjacent and thus, will be first name > last name.❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

An emerald Radiant walks into the bar and makes a mess. It sounds like a punchline, but you never hear the end of the joke. Only the hook and the line. No sinker.

Before he arrives and messes everything up is important, though.

Market Town is a mess. Each side of the road has storefronts with open doors, neon and holographic signage blinking on and off with the shitty pulse from the electricity grid. In front of them on the side walks and spilling into the street are the stall vendors, ever-changing and ever-moving sales carts, tables, boxes and people hawking their wares, fruits and trinkets at the hundreds of people who writhe through the market.

It smells terrible. You keep to yourself, all the stink of bodies and rotting fruit and the sizzling fat of meat making your head dizzy no matter which way you navigate. Market Town stretches an entire district, street after street of stores and people and things and it feels like it never ends, the stench of humanity clinging to you like a second skin.

Water crashes down on a man selling lab-grade jewels to a wary-looking mother and daughter. They flinch away from the seller as he sputters and screams, soaked in sweat and whatever liquid has been tossed out an apartment window from above. He cranes his neck up to locate whoever tossed the water - or more likely, piss - out of the window, but he has hundreds of options to choose from from the apartment building that towers behind him. You grimace and step further into the middle of the street. Most of the apartments in Market Town have years worth of failing plumbing, and you have no desire to be showered with piss and shit.

It’s too early in the evening for the lights of the neon advertisements glittering in the air above your head to cast a blinding light on your eyes. Their glow is not yet painted on the surge of people coming and going, but you know by sundown Market Town will be a watercolor of holographic and neon advertisements courtesy of Roanoke Insurance, Jend Cosmetics, and Jura Jura Coffee: Best Brew In Diade.

At least Market Town has sensible advertisements. It isn’t the vibrant horror of naked figures bent over, or the bloody holograph of a man having his brains blown out. Crimson District has no shortage of unique and salacious advertising and the money its businesses generate make the lights and the glow much harder to ignore, even in the daylight. It’s part of why you prefer to scrounge around Market Town like a mangrove rat.

Well, and it’s what you can afford.

Namjoon’s work stall floats around Market Town. Usually, you can find him tucked between Margot’s fruit stand and Len’s divination table. Namjoon likes to nibble on Margot’s sweet strawberries in exchange for fixing the till on Margot’s stand, and Len is an okay stall neighbor when he isn’t so drunk that he’s trying to convince you that the end is near and the world will be swallowed in garnet and obsidian.

That sounds lovely, you always tell him.

Prepare for the end, Len always answers.

The sweet smell of tangerines reaches you through the sizzling smell of frying meat a few stalls over. It’s better than the rank stink of flowers wafting from a stall a few carts over, your head dizzy with the fragrance as you approach Namjoon, Margot and Len.

Margot’s fruit always smells better than any other food set out across tables and bins on the street. You’re pretty sure it has to do with the pretty, green citrine jewel that he keeps tucked away and out of sight and away from any wandering eyes.

You can’t blame him. Even though citrine isn’t high on the Jewel Caste, Market Town is primarily made up of Nulls. They certainly can’t radiate with jewels, but they sell them at a high price to those desperate enough to feel the power of a Radiant. Some even promise to sell jewels that make Radiants Caste Drop to a new, darker and more powerful color.

Only an untrained Radiant would think a Caste Drop is possible through a rock. It’s stupid, really. Anyone who wears or buys jewels openly in Market Town is asking to be robbed and gutted. You’ve even seen as light as a diamond caste get murdered here.

A kindly young man stands in front of Namjoon’s stand. It’s really just a wooden table with a bunch of trinkets, clocks with too many dials, little holographic action figures jumping into different poses, and other wares that run on technology or small engineering. Namjoon prides himself on being the best tinkerer, though you’re willing to bet he’s a lot smarter than that.

Namjoon himself isn’t much older than the man at his table, gesturing to a watch as Namjoon leans over it. Namjoon’s brown hair has grown long, shoved back by a black, cotton strip he has tied around his head to keep it out of the way. He’s dressed in a dirty shirt and canvas overalls, a little bit of grease on his arms. His glasses slide down his nose, lenses fogged with the humidity that collects in Market Town and makes it rot.

A fly buzzes toward you from Margot’s stand. He has his back turned to you, placing little white pricing stickers on his green melons. He's a little portly and very short - especially when Namjoon stands and shakes his customer’s hand. Namjoon is taller than most people, and much broader, his shoulders wide and arms thick, suggesting that he did something else before he became a tinkerer in Market Town.

You don’t know what, though. You can sense the peridot he has hidden in the soles of his boots and the fingertips of his work gloves, giving him power to radiate as he works on his little devices and mending broken objects for people. But you’ve never asked.

Asking questions is the first step to murder in these parts.

When his customer leaves, Namjoon turns to you and blinks his brown eyes at you owlishly, magnetized by his prescription lenses. He’s handsome - a little too handsome by Market Town standards - and he smiles at you, a dimple popping up in his cheek.

“I finally fixed this device for you,” Namjoon says by way of greeting. He digs around in his overall pockets and produces a tiny, silver device that looks like a bullet. “The little battery inside was fried. I put in a new one and replaced the copper plating on the starter. Your wires were totally corroded and-”

“How much?” you ask, a little exasperated. Namjoon will go on forever if you let him, and you need to get to Montana. “I only asked for the battery to be looked at, Joon.”

“No cost. It was a fun little device to look at. Kind of dangerous, though, no?”

“You can’t not charge me. I told you to stop giving people their shit for free.”

His cheeks turn cherry as he scratches the back of his neck. “Fine, what about five nil?” You toss the coins on the table and he passes you the device. “It’s a mini shatterwave, right? The high-pitched frequency scatters the frequency of Radiants?”

You give him an annoyed look. “Yes.”

“Who made it? It’s a fascinating device.”

Instead of answering Namjoon’s question, you pocket the little bullet and toss another five nil on the table. “For silence,” you tell him firmly.

He wants to ask another question. You can see it in his face. Namjoon is always asking you questions about the things you bring to him and ask him for. It isn’t his job to ask questions, especially as freely as he asks them. But Namjoon operates like someone who has no idea that he’s tucked away in the most dangerous market in the Crown Cities.

Nothing Namjoon does is that of someone low born. He’s too polite, gives out too many handouts, and lets his curiosity get the best of him. Lets his clients become friends. You’re fond of him as much as someone of your position is allowed to be - maybe even a little more - but Namjoon is a danger to himself, no matter how often you keep steering him back in the right direction.

“You!” Len leans over Namjoon’s table, his glassy green eyes wide, pupils dilated. His hair is white as salt and sticks up in multiple directions, looking as though he may have been electrocuted and never recovered. He points one knobby finger at you. “The world will end in garnet and obsidian.”

“That sounds lovely, Len.”

You predict the next words. Have heard him say it dozens of times. “Obsidian.”

Len surprises you. That has yet to be a response in your little game of prophecy, and you open your mouth to indulge and ask him what he means when something tingles at the back of your neck.

You pause and glance to the side where Margot is dealing with a customer arguing about the price of squash. A soft breeze rustles the canvas topper to Margot’s stand, carrying the scent of tangerine with it. Something is buzzing at the back of your neck, and your gaze slowly drifts from Margot to a man passing by the cart.

This is someone who blends in. His clothes are plain: his pants are ripped at the knees and scuffed at the bottom, his white t-shirt clinging to his chest in places where he’s sweating through. He has a floral shirt pulled over, open and fluttering in the balmy breezy of the market.

Nothing about him is remarkable, except that he’s beautiful. Perhaps not on the first glance, but when you blink and focus, it feels like you’re seeing him for the first time. You have no idea how upon first glance you thought he could ever blend in.

He has a round face, glowing and pale like the moon. Inky hair that is a little bit dirty, a few wavy pieces falling over cat-sharp eyes. He smirks as he walks, and though he isn’t looking at you, he seems smug about something. You’re not sure what, but as he passes you, you feel that tingle again.

Your eyes dart to all of the places you look for jewels first. Hands, ears, neck, and wrists. Nothing, there’s no jewel on him. You can’t sense a frequency about him that makes sense - he doesn’t fit anywhere on the caste that makes sense to you, but it’s definitely a Radiant-adjacent sensation. He’s on the caste, but you don’t know where.

Most Radiants feel like a dull buzz. When they have jewels, it’s more like an itch that you want to scratch. There is always an attraction for a Radiant to use jewels, even if they don’t belong to them. This feeling isn’t that, it’s more invasive and sharp, not like anything you’ve felt from diamond caste to onyx caste.

When he gets a few yards away, the feeling begins to fade. You start to turn away but he tosses something up and the air and catches it. You narrow your eyes and he does it again, realizing he’s tossing a tangerine up and down.

A tangerine that he stole.

“Hey!” you bark at him, making several people turn in your direction, including Namjoon and Margot. The man doesn’t pause, tossing his tangerine in the air again. “Hey motherfucker! You have to pay for that tangerine!”

That catches his attention. He turns and looks at you over his shoulder, eyes round and mouth parted in surprise. A few people turn to look at where you’re shouting, but you mostly go ignored. Thieves are common here and most people don’t bother to yell at them anymore.

The man pauses for a moment. His gaze darts between you, Margot who is coming around his cart behind you with a knife, and the ripe little tangerine in his hand. He looks at you again, dark eyes glittering. For a second, the two of you are connected, strung together by an unlikely moment between strangers. Then he does the damndest thing: he grins.

And then he’s running down the street, floral shirt snapping in the wind as he dashes headfirst into the crowd.

Like the idiot you are, you take off after him. Suddenly, you are the number one security measure of Margot’s fruit stand, a man who has never given you a fucking discount in your life. You have no idea why you’re running after this tangerine thief, but you feel energy surge through you as you do, dodging people and bodies and things as you tear after him.

The tangerine thief is quick on his feet but you’re fast too, the emerald jewel hidden in your boot sending energy through you. You only radiate a little - not enough to draw too much attention, but enough to not lose sight of his red shirt flapping as he takes a corner and leaps over a stall.

He’s a Radiant, you realize. You suspected when you felt him walk behind you, but the ease at which he vaults a market stall much taller than him gives it away. He isn’t worried about hiding his status from you, which can mean a couple of things.

You don’t consider any of them, going around the stall instead of over. The emerald in your shoe is more than enough to send you several meters in the air, but you like to play your cards close. Don’t like to flash power unless you absolutely have to.

In a market full of Nulls, you prefer to blend in. Unjeweled is safer, especially in Market Town full of thieves and cut throats for naive or unsuspecting Radiants.

Just as you catch sight of your thief again, there’s a loud snap in the market. You look up, seeing a two story stall made from dry-rotted driftwood splinter. There’s a single second where you’re watching the top of the stall holding fresh rain water and it’s crashing down onto the market floor.

Screams ring out as alarmed market goers are startled by the sudden deluge. You just barely throw up a shield of concentrated energy. Water splits once it hits you, a river breaking around a boulder. Chaos ensues, the stall owner screaming her head off and wailing about the precious rainwater she collected to bless with her divine spiritual energy and sell, while shoppers and other stall owners alike are furious about their now soaking persons and wares.

Dropping your shield, you shoulder through the crowd. Now the smell of garbage is wet and pungent, clinging to bodies as you shove through the mess, looking for any sign of the pretty boy and his stolen tangerine.

It’s a mass of colors and people, lanes between stalls and the crowd opening and closing. The movement of Market Town flexes like a living thing, shifting and writhing, a hungry serpent sliding through the streets.

“Fuck,” you growl. It was a well placed distraction and perfect aim, using his power to snap the beam of the stand.

With a sigh, you look down at your watch and curse. You’re going to be late to work. Again. All because you chased down a thief for a fruit salesman that doesn’t even like you.

But that tingle. That sense of awareness that pricked the back of your neck, sharp and lethal. You think about it as you speed walk to the outskirts of Market Town where the edge of the Night Sphinx territory borders the loosely carved strip of streets that belong to the Green Dragons.

The lane of pockmarked pavement between the left and right sides of the street is the only place in Diade where two families of the Armory share such close property. Though the Salib and Park families are friendly enough, it still doesn’t do well to mix too much among Armory families outside of official business.

As soon as you hit the corner, you keep your eye on the other side of the street. It’s lined with clubs and bars and gambling dens that belong to the Night Sphinx organization. A few patrons loiter on the street, but it’s mostly members with sphinx tattoos, brooches or emblems stitched to their clothing to state their association.

The sun is sinking toward its final goodbye, rays of gold light cut in half by the towering buildings of Civ just a few miles away. It’s a beautiful sight, a shot straight down to the lower elevation of the giant buildings turned burnish gold by the sunset.

Even from a distance, the commercial district of the city is imposing, its steel teeth biting upward at a colored sky. You wonder what it must be like to live in that world. To work or live in one of the Civ towers. You imagine you’d have your own little office with a desk and a private window to look out at the world. So high up near the clouds, a god of civilization.

A group of Green Dragons pour out of the door of Montana and onto the sidewalk. It draws your attention away from the shining, ever-golden Civ to the flickering neon sign above a banged-up metal door. It looks like the lock is busted again and you make a note to tell Burro. Not that he’ll get it fixed. It’s not worth the nil to fix anything in Montana, including the mangrove rat infestation brought in by one of the liquor shipments from Blows.

Inside the bar is no better. Sticky floors, wobbling tables with chipped wood and scratched lacquer coating, a single bar with broken stools pulled up to the edge. There are a few holoscreens flickering above the colorful bottles that line the bar, sometimes interrupted by Jungkook’s tattooed hand reaching for bottles.

Montana is rarely busy. It’s a new acquisition fronted by the Green Dragons, though the building isn’t new and neither is the bar. It had been closed for almost fifteen years, a rotted hole of a used-to-be-bar until Jimin opened it up again. He doesn’t intend for it to be a popular place to drink as much as he needs it for Green Dragons operations, but he fixed it up a bit.

As you round the bar to throw your shit in the office, a mangrove rat scurries by your feet, making you screech and jump. Jungkook lifts his head, round eyes sweeping back and forth for danger, hands cocked and fists half-clenched. He catches sight of the rat scurrying into one of the holes in the side of the wall and scowls before nodding in greeting.

So maybe Jimin hadn’t fixed up the bar that much.

If Jungkook is irritated by your tardiness, he doesn’t say anything. You’re just as pleased as you are displeased to discover that Burro isn’t in the bar at all. You suspect he’s down the block wasted in the Green Garter. Instead of asking, you immediately get to helping Jungkook maintain the system behind the bar, which is mostly cleaning vigorously at all times to fight the grime that seems to inch up on the place every hour.

Working with Jungkook is your favorite. He’s a quiet kid with a guarded expression and soft eyes. You don’t ask him much about how he got here or why. Jimin seems to show him the same reverence as when he first found you, so it’s safe to assume that Jungkook is a stray like you.

Even without jewels, Jungkook is tall and broad, his arms thick and strong enough to lift kegs one-armed over his shoulder. You’ve seen him go from quiet and unassuming behind the bar to throwing a jeweled Radiant across the street. You know he has your back. Despite the fact that his eyes sometimes drift to where your emerald is hidden. It’s the only evidence that you have that he’s frequency sensitive, like you.

Jungkook’s energy vibrates somewhere on the light colors. Maybe jade or rose, it’s hard to place him because he wears no jewels.

The sound of some sporting event on the holoscreen buzzes behind you. The murmur of voices is soothing as you work, scrubbing a stain on the bartop you don’t remember being there yesterday. A quick sweep tells you that it’s the usual crowd this evening: Daro who is a smoky jewel sitting at a booth with Rollins and Gia, both emeralds; twins Rin and Maki sitting at the bar with their sharp, matching gazes vibrating at amethyst, and Bolero who doesn’t run with the Green Dragons but has become a regular, the only Null in the building.

Bolero signals for another drink, grey eyes following you. He’s dancer-thin and his face is sharp like a hawk, grey eyes even sharper. He’s always in a long, red trench coat no matter how boiling hot it is. You think you’re going to see him keel over and have a heatstroke one day, but he never does. Just strolls in, pushing his long, dark hair out of his face before sitting down wordlessly at the bar.

You pour him a whiskey neat and slide it over to him. He hums a thank you and turns his attention back to the screen flickering behind you. Bolero never talks, but you don’t mind him. The Radiants ignore him, though they hadn’t at first. You still see Rollins sporting a ropey scar on his hand from learning how much bullying Bolero would take.

Apparently, it was very little.

Most places would have had the Null killed and dragged out for the city sanitation to collect in their once-a-week pickups. To Radiants, anyone who doesn’t have power, who can’t radiate on the same frequency as a jewel, is beneath them. Powerless. Ant, meet boot.

Radiants, you’ve learned, are certainly powerful but not quite intelligent.

“Where’s the asshole?” you ask Jungkook as you close the dishwasher with your hip. Three hours in and no Burro in sight. Not that you’re complaining, but as the manager, he’s usually expected to be around in the event that someone important drops by for business.

Jungkook shrugs, dubious. “How should I know?”

“He can’t keep leaving you alone.”

“I’m not a kid.” You give him a look and his cheeks go pink. “I’m twenty-two, you know?”

“A child. A mere infant. Baby.”

“Ugh.”

“Anway,” you clarify, throwing a rag over your shoulder. “It’s not right. If someone comes in here for Green Dragons shit and Burro isn’t around, you’re gonna be fucked.”

“I can service them just fine.”

“Yeah? Where’s the stash?”

Jungkook smirks and leans against the bar. He’s dressed in dirty pants and a t-shirt he’s patched holes on several times already. His arms flex as he crosses them, cocking his head to the side. His hair is so much longer than it used to be - now it’s wavy and falling into his eyes, sticking to the sweaty skin of his forehead. You want to offer him a haircut, but you don’t want to baby him further.

“It’s in the grate underneath the desk in Burro’s office.”

“Great, and then they’ll flay you alive for not answering in their weird little code phrase.” Jungkook’s smirk falls off his face and you shake your head. “Exactly. Just because you know things doesn’t mean you know all of them, Jungkook.”

“Whatever.”

Jungkook pushes off of the counter and distracts himself by sullenly adjusting the bottles on the bar. You snort and turn back to trying to pry the sparking plug of the freezer out from the outlet to move power sources. Eventually, you feel Jungkook’s presence at your side, making you crane your neck up to look at him.

“So what is the code phrase?” he asks, pout prominent. You roll your eyes and straighten just as the door opens to the bar.

The door swings open with such force that it smacks the wall behind it, doorknob cracking. It draws the attention of the bar, everyone turning in their seats to see the man standing at the entrance. He’s mid-size with wild, blue hair and there’s a messy tattoo of a black cat on his arm. Your eyes narrow and the bar stills at the violent entrance of a Night Sphinx member in front of you, panting and staring directly at Bolero, the only person not looking at the door.

“Can I help you?” you ask, looking back and forth between them.

The Night Sphinx is angry and his energy snaps around him, a crackle in the air. You don’t have to sense the emeralds on him to know where he’s at on the Jewel Caste. He has a single ring on his finger and two modest earrings, not polished jewels but still emeralds all the same.

For a second, the man doesn’t say anything. He just stares at Bolero in a red rage, face purpling with the way he’s panting, fists clenched at his sides. You think he might just pass out, but then he’s pointing a finger at the Null sitting at your bar, sipping whiskey.

“You motherfucker!” His voice is garbled and slurred with liquor. “You fucked my wife!”

“Oh for jewels sake,” Maki grunts, turning away and sharing a roll of her eyes with her twin. “Take him outside and kick his ass then. He’s a Null.”

If being sold out by Maki bothers Bolero, he doesn’t show it. He simply sits there in his heavy trench coat, eyes fixed on the game on the holoscreen. This seems to enrage the man at the door even further. He ignores Maki’s advice and storms into the bar, gathering energy as he goes. The chairs and tables he walks by rattle and slide away from him, the pulse of energy flowing through him as he radiates disturbing them.

No one in the bar moves. Jungkook is transfixed and confused, eyes wide. The Green Dragons in the bar watch with mild interest. Bolero isn’t one of them, and the bar isn’t important enough to pick a fight with one of Salib's men over a Null.

But you’re not looking forward to the cleanup, and you don’t want to explain to Jimin how you did nothing while some Night Sphinx came in and fucked up a patron.

As your hand slides to the small, bullet-shaped device Namjoon fixed for you, Bolero moves. It’s almost too fast to follow the fluid way he stands and spins from the chair. His foot slips under the stool, using the toe of his boot to hook it behind the stool’s leg and he kicks.

The stool flies at the Radiant. He’s a little drunk and slow, but he’s still a Radiant and he reacts with enough clarity to pulse with the jewels on his hand and earrings once, sending a shield of energy around him. The stool shatters against the invisible wall, leaving the intruder unharmed.

Bolero is still fast for a Null though, already flipping a round table over to duck behind it as the Night Sphinx sends a green bolt of energy right at Bolero. It hits the table and singes it, cracking it in half. It’s loud as thunder, your yell going ignored as the two of them wreck the left side of the bar.

This is the ignorance of the Radiants. They don’t care about how destructive they are, storming into places and letting others take damage as they make demands and use force when they want.

Grabbing the scatterwave in your pocket. Bolero is dodging and waving blasts of energy from the man who chases him around the bar, blowing tables and chairs to bits. The other members of the Green Dragons have moved out of the warpath, collected near a booth on the far end of the bar, watching and jeering as Bolero doges a slice of concentrated energy that would have taken his head off.

“Fuckers,” you mutter.

Palming the device you press the top of the scatterwave. The device is small but it lets out a high-pitched sound when activated, sharp enough to disrupt frequencies within a small radius. Its target is the darker colors on the caste, its high frequency enough of a distraction and disruption for Radiants that it makes it harder to radiate.

The reaction is instantaneous. You feel nausea roll through your stomach and your world spins. It’s an earth-shattering noise, your ears vibrating with the force of the whistle. Your vision is blurry but you stumble toward where the two men are fighting, the Radiant bent over with his hands on his ears screaming from the force of the shatterwave.

Bolero is unaffected. He has no frequency to scatter and he takes the shot, leaping at the struggling Radiant with a snarl on his face.

“Not in here!” you screech. “He’s a Salib, you cannot kill him in Park territory. Go somewhere else! Bolero, please!”

Bolero looks at you once, grey eyes full of fire. He has the intruder by the shirt collar, fisted tight as the man continues to thrash against the sound of your device. You think for a split second that Bolero is going to drag him out of the bar and do what you ask. He turns to look at the door, considering it.

He decides not to. A knife appears in his hand and you yell as he stabs downward. You can’t hear the fleshy sound as Bolero sinks the blade in over the wailing of the device in your hand. He hits right between the ribs and up, a solid jab directly to the heart. The Radiant jerks in Bolero’s arms, his death twitch violent as he fists Bolero’s shirt, eyes wide, face aghast. Then he goes limp, sagging as a ragged breath leaves him.

No one moves. Bolero holds the dead man in his arms, panting and looking down at him. They are so close, Bolero’s face right over the man’s and if you didn’t know any better, you might think they were lovers. Bolero slowly crouches down, suddenly gentle as he lays the dead body on the ground, hands hovering over him.

You press the top of the shatterwave and it goes silent as it can with the high-pitched ring in your ears as you try to recover. You’re a little unsteady on your feet, pressing your hand against the bartop to keep your balance. A sharp pain behind your eyes signals an oncoming headache.

“What the fuck?” your voice sounds foreign and strained in the ringing quiet. “Are you fucking serious?”

Bolero rises, pulling the bloody knife with him. He wipes it on his pants and flips it in his fingers artfully. Familiar with blades, you note. He half turns to you and glances around the destroyed section of Monatna before he looks back at you and shrugs.

“Maybe you didn’t notice, but he was trying to kill me.”

“I don’t give a fuck. You kill people outside of this bar. You aren’t permitted to kill here.”

“Montana doesn’t protect its patrons?”

“Montana protects Green Dragons,” you clarify with a hiss.

You feel your fingers twitch. The familiar urge to radiate rises. It’s a natural instinct, to want to reach for the power that is right there on the edge of your mind all the time. You feel the emerald in your shoe. You imagine it beckons you, wiggling its fingers, begging to be used.

You ignore it, pointing a finger at Bolero. “You fucked up and you know it. What the fuck am I supposed to do with a dead Night Sphynix?”

“Tell the Salib’s he attacked first.”

“You’re a Null asshole, it doesn’t matter that he attacked you first. You’re not fucking one of us.”

Something passes over Bolero’s face when you say it. Offense, you think. It’s there and gone so fast that you think you imagine it. You only feel a little guilty that he thinks you mean not a Radiant. You really mean not one of the Green Dragons but it doesn’t matter, in the end.

He pulls his phone out. “My boss will pay for the damage and deal with the Salibs.”

“Unless your boss is Jimin fucking Park, that doesn’t really matter.”

Bolero holds the phone up to his ear. You watch as he smirks a bit, shrugging. “Nah, but don’t worry about it.”

“Oh I’m fucking worried about it,” you snarl. Jungkook is watching wordlessly, mouth parted slightly. “Call Jimin,” you bark at him, making him flinch. You immediately soften your voice. “Sorry, just - call Jimin.”

With a bow of his head, Jungkook grabs the phone and dials.

Jungkook starts murmuring quietly when Jimin - or an assistant, more like - answers the phone while you let yourself into the back and lock the backdoor for security before returning to the front. Bolero is sitting at the bar waiting, the dead Night Sphinx behind him. Red is beginning to pool around him, almost black against the dirty floor of the bar.

Heading to the door, you throw Gia a look. “Watch the bar,” you grunt. “Unlike you did when that fuck stick walked in here and ripped the place apart.”

She looks down her nose at you, eyes narrowed. Gia is terrifyingly beautiful, standing nearly a foot taller than you and built with wiry muscle. Her silky, black hair is braided out of her face, elegant and carved like one of the glass angels sold in the art district. Her eyes are the same color as her jewels, a stunning emerald that flashes in annoyance at your command.

Gia nods once instead of arguing. The other Green Dragons behind her have the decency to look ashamed. While they aren’t heavies dedicated to protecting the Park family assets, they are low-level lackeys who could have prevented half the bar from being blown to bits by a Radiant. Especially the two amethyst caste twins who look at the wall blankly realizing what's going to happen now.

Instead of stopping the Night Sphinx, they all stood there with drunk stares and half-tilted grins. Jimin won’t like it and they know it. It doesn’t matter that Montana isn’t an integral operation to the Green Dragons. It’s about pride and respect. The fact that a drunk, emerald caste man under the flag of the Salib family stumbled into Jimin’s bar, destroyed the place and then was killed by a Null is going to set Jimin off.

So you find a target to direct his anger at.

Burro is slouched down on a leather couch at the Green Garter, exactly where you expect him. He doesn’t see you coming, the scattered green and white lights from the stage refracting and splitting into dozens of beams shining in his eyes as he stares at the topless woman on stage. There’s hardly anyone in the club and only a few people look startled when you grab him by the collar and yank him from the booth.

Security at the door and near the strange straighten up. The girl on stage keeps moving, lithe movements carrying her away from where you lift Burro up, fingers digging into his shirt enough to rip. He smells like grain alcohol and sweat, the stubble on his face indicating that he may have slept in the club.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Come on,” you snarl at him, shooting daggers as one of the security guards steps in your direction. You let yourself radiate just a little, enough to give out a steady hum that even the lightest on the Jewel Caste can feel the sensation of an emerald jewel. He backs off immediately despite the fact that you can see and sense the amethyst pieces drilled into his pale knuckles.

But there are two things that stop him: emerald is close enough to amethyst that a good Radiant can fuck up someone who is only a little darker than them on the Caste, and you’re a Radiant under the protection of the Park family, specifically Jimin, who owns the club.

As much as it annoys the man whose job is to protect the dancers and the patrons, if you want to beat the shit out of Burro on the shitty green carpet in front of everyone, he has to allow it. You’re one of Jimin’s favorite little Radiants and everyone knows it, especially on this strip of road.

No one stops you as you drag Burro out of the bar. His feet slide on the stained carpet, trying to find purchase as he yanks at your hand, shouting obscenities at you with his reeking breath. Your grip is iron, and you throw him as hard as you can once you’re back onto the sidewalk. He hits the ground hard, shoulder cracking against the street.

Burro yells and rolls over, curling into himself. You fight the urge to kick him a few times, your wrath waiting like a coiled snake to strike out and punish him for being such a burden to deal with. You leave him in a fetal position, storming back into the bar to throw a couple of nill on the table for the drinks and a heavy sum more on the stage for the girl’s trouble. She winks at you, pretty enough to make you flush and spin on your heel to get back outside where Burro is still laying on the ground.

Most of the time, you don’t bother. Burro is technically your manager and your superior. He’s an asshole and a waste of the Green Dragon's salary, which is why Jimin stuck him behind the bar, a punishment as much as a favor to Burro’s father who is a mid-ranking heavy in the Park family’s retinue. It’s as good as his son is willing to get for an emerald caste who is lazy and spends most of his days gambling, ogling at naked bodies, or wasted in a booth with Rollins.

Even so, most days you let him yell at you. Throw curses your way. Drone about how shitty of a bartender you are - which is true - like a gnat that won’t leave. He’s harmless on good days, annoying on bad days, and he’s too afraid to retaliate in rare moments like this when you shove him into his ill-fitting role.

“Get up,” you spit at him. You have the urge to crush his fingers that are spread out on the sidewalk. You think the loud crunch beneath your boot might be satisfying. You don’t, though. “Bolero just killed a Night Sphinx in the bar.”

“Swhwat?”

You growl as he slurs, slowly pushing himself to his feet. You think he might have been handsome once. He has the making for it, but his days knocking back grain alcohol have weathered him. You see the early signs of Alloy addiction all over his face, scabs picked raw, leaving behind dark scarring, the track marks in his arms when he wears short sleeves.

Raucous noise reaches you from a group of Night Sphinxes watching your exchange. Their laughter and whistles echo across the street, backed by the loud hum of shitty neon and the now very bright and flickering holographic display ads spinning in windows. This is a nice show for them, you’re sure. Everyone on this edge of Market Town has seen Burro get his shit kicked, though usually not by you.

“Get up, you’re embarrassing yourself.” You start marching back to Montana. “You’re needed at the bar. You know, the place you manage.”

He mutters something behind you as he manages to get to his feet, tilted and tripping. You don’t catch what he says, eyes fixed on the sleek car that sits parked right in front of the door at Montana.

The road here isn’t really built for cars. It’s full of cracked faultlines and potholes, but Jimin has opted for a sharp-looking SUV with green LEDs running down the side and a little metal dragon on the grill. Not his personal car, but a business class that is no doubt reinforced with bulletproof windows and shatterwave tech.

There are four men standing around the car, dressed in pressed suits, each with a dragon brooch pinned to the front. They nod when you walk by and you keep your eyes low, feeling the different colors as you pass by: amethyst, sapphire, emerald. They have jewels drilled into their knuckles and some of their teeth, earrings of polished stone, and necklaces set with their respective caste colors.

Walking around with that much power is safe enough for them, but it makes your skin itch. Thinking of all that energy just waiting to be tapped into, waiting for them to radiate. The urge to reach for the power just a few feet away lessens as you walk inside of Montana.

Inside is a vision. Jimin’s loyal group of Green Dragons sit together in a booth, silent and heads down. Maki glances up for a split second as you come through the door, anger twitching on her face before she looks back down at the table in resolute silence, her curtain of black hair hiding her scowl.

Good. She could have used her fucking amethyst to wipe the now dead man from the map and not suffered a consequence under Jimin’s protection. And yet there you are, walking slowly toward the scene of the crime.

Jungkook is standing behind the bar chewing on his lip, hands linked behind his back as he watches the two men in front of him conversing. Bolero smokes a cigarette on the same stool he was on earlier, eyes fixated on the holo once again. The dead man is still very dead, Jimin’s men spread out around the bar to assess the damage.

Jimin is one of the two men speaking at the bar in front of Jungkook. Jimin’s dressed sharply in black dress pants and a matching black, tailored jacket with emerald buttons and a beautiful dragon broach set with emeralds and jade. His arms are crossed as he listens passively, dark hair slicked back. There’s a single dangling earring in one ear, a teardrop diamond at the end.

Jimin Park is one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen. He reminds you of a dangerous jungle cat. His eyes are sharp, shadowed by a full-fan of dark lashes, cheeks round and soft in contrast to his elegant jawline. He smiles at something the man he’s talking to says, full lips rosebud pink.

Your eyes drift to the man talking to Jimin and before you can think twice about interrupting them, you’re yelling, “You!”

Both of the men jerk their heads in your direction. Jimin’s brows shoot up and he shakes his head as if to ask what the fuck? But you’re too distracted by the other man, who grins at you as soon as he realizes who you are, adjusting his floral shirt as he turns to face you head on.

You get a better look at him now and you’re angry to discover that he is still just as stunning as he was in the middle of the Market Town stalls. His hair is pushed back out of his face more, eyes twinkling as they drag up and down your frame. He wiggles his fingers at you in a wave.

“You can’t just steal tangerines!” you bark at him suddenly.

“What?” Jimin asks. He frowns and looks between the two of you. “I’m sorry, do you know one another?” The man says ‘no’ at the exact same time you say ‘sort of’ which makes Jimin’s jaw tick, patience waning. “Well? Which is it?”

“Seen her once,” the man admits. “But I don’t know her. She chased me through the streets of Market Town today like a lunatic. I think she took one look at me and fell in love.”

Your jaw drops. “You stole fruit from Margot’s fruit stand motherfucker! It had nothing to do with your good looks.”

“So you admit I’m good-looking!”

A failed attempt at a response comes sputtering out of you. You stop and start your sentences multiple times, trying to come up with a wicked riposte to his ridiculous insinuation that you think he’s attractive. Which you do, especially when he gives you a full, shit-eating gummy grin.

“Enough,” Jimin snaps in your direction. “Wait with Jungkook, I’ll deal with you later. And don’t interrupt me again, got it?”

You bow deeply at the command. You feel hot all over, an unpleasant mix of shame and something else that you can’t place for “Yes sir. I apologize for my outburst.”

Jimin turns away from you and back to the tangerine thief, leaving you to rush behind the bar to stand next to Jungkook while you stare at the two of them.

You have no idea who this man is. You’ve never seen him in the bar with Bolero, though it’s possible he’s come in when you’re not working. It isn’t likely, since there’s only one additional bartender besides you and Jungkook, but you can’t possibly imagine how this man is important enough to look Jimin in the eye when he speaks.

Jungkook gives you a head tilt and doe eyes. You shake your head, opting instead to study the object of your irritation rather than explaining. He doesn’t ask any questions but you can see the way he shifts back and forth, unsure of where to focus his energy.

As one of the family members in the city’s Armory, Jimin is one of the highest-ranking citizens in Diade. Though the Green Dragons are on the bottom of the totem in the Armory, Jimin ranks higher than most of the city by being the son of his family’s leader.

The man speaking to Jimin looks at him directly in the eyes as an equal. He is a hairsbreadth taller, but his gaze and tone are steady and respectful. There is no air of superiority between the two of them, making you wonder where exactly this smug man falls on the spectrum of city authority.

Each face of the Armory is familiar to you: the Parks, the Manobals, the Salibs, the Achilleos’ and the Kims. This man belongs to none of them and yet Jimin listens to him calmly, nodding his head at whatever the man is saying. Jimin’s arms are looped behind his back and he is poised as ever, even making a joke or two as they exchange words in hushed tones.

In Diade, the ruling family syndicates are the ultimate power. Jimin’s family owns the territory to the southeast, the Salib’s directly to the north, the Manobals to the west. You stick to Park territory only, always mindful of where each Armory boundary lies.

Despite Jimin’s favoritism, you’re not a high-ranking member of the Park family’s Green Dragons. Jimin thinks you’re useful enough though, and has a soft heart for strays. Jungkook is proof enough of that as you are, two little sources of information and loyalty in his personal pocket.

You work for Jimin, not his mother.

The respect that Jimin shows the tangerine thief leads to a few possibilities of who he could be. Under the rule of the Armory, there are other smaller and less organized gangs. The Circles are not particularly powerful and still concede to the Armory, but they range from loose bands of idiots and thieves to highly organized factions. There are dozens of Circles in the city, but only a few are powerful enough to earn a smile from Jimin Park, the prince of the Green Dragons.

Chewing your lip, your mind runs through a list of possible Circles this man could rank high enough in to matter. White Fang has always worked with the Green Dragons well. Their members can sometimes be found hanging out in Montana with tight if not overly polite smiles while they conduct business. While White Fang answers to all of the families of the Armory as a collective governing body, they are particularly fond of the Parks.

There is little chance that the tangerine thief belongs to the Midnight Sun. As the largest and most powerful Circle, they are only allied to the Kim family. Dangerous for any Circle to declare allyship to only a single governing body, but the Kim family sits at the top of the food chain. Being protected by Yujun and his son Seokjin have its strengths.

Your vision blurs when you think of the Kim family. Seokjin’s beautiful smile, the way his inky eyes glitter. He remains the most eternal person you’ve ever laid eyes on, and one of the most charming. Funny, smooth talking, intelligent.

But Seokjin is a snake. A beautiful thing that can fool you into a false sense of security before striking and sinking his fangs in deep.

Nausea unfurls in your stomach at the thought of him. You blink a few times, willing away the memories of him and his high-pitched laughter and anything else to do with him. Jimin shakes the man’s hand in front of you. It draws your attention to where their hands meet. Jimin’s hand is small and delicate in the large hand of the tangerine thief. A man who was raised with privilege and a man you suspect made his own.

“I’ll be back,” Jimin calls. You realize he’s talking to you and you bow. He turns his attention to the group of his gang members sitting at the table, waiting for their punishment. He whistles at them, calling them like dogs. “With me.”

You can’t help but feel a little smug as they jump up, tangled over one another to get out of the booth as fast as possible to follow Jimin toward the front door. None of them look at you or Jungkook, chins tucked to their chest and eyes on the floor. At least they’re good dogs who know when they’re going to be punished.

“Hello again.”

The tangerine thief is leaning on the bar. Up close, he smells like sandalwood and a hint of sea salt. It isn’t unpleasant, but you grimace all the same. There are bracelets on his wrist, but no jewels. The prickling, needle-like sensation comes back, right at the back of your neck.

“Jungkook, can you start cleaning up?” You ask. He nods and dashes away, giving the stranger a single nervous glance as he joins the security members of Jimin’s team cleaning up.

They pick up the body and carry him through the bag on Jungkook’s guidance, dripping blood the entire way. Bolero doesn’t even glance as they pass him, still transfixed by the holoscreen.

“Why did you use a shatterwave?”

Your eyes drift back to the man in front of you. Up close, you notice that his skin is flawless. He has a shine and glow to him of a healthy Radiant, and yet you’re not sure how to place him on the caste. You know he’s a radiant from his escape methods in Market Town, but you’ve never had this much trouble placing someone on the caste. “What?”

“The shatterwave. Had to hurt you too, I imagine.”

“Well no one else was going to do anything,” you answer, skirting his assertion that you’re a Radiant. “It didn’t hurt that bad. I’m a Light Radiant.”

He raises his brows. “Oh, you’re a liar.”

“About some things, sure. I can’t take on an emerald caste, though. So I used a shatterwave.”

“There’s an emerald in your boot.”

You grit your teeth. He doesn’t make sense. The needling feeling only increases as he cocks his head, scanning you from head to toe. His pout turns into a smirk and there’s something heated in his gaze that makes you squirm as you shift back and forth on your feet, trying to place him.

Sensing jewel frequencies outside of the jewel you radiate most with is difficult. Energy is a fickle thing, and though you can feel the buzz of every color of jewel around you, most Radiants can’t. They can only sense what jewel they vibrate on the same frequency as, though trained Radiants can sense their assigned jewel and lighter.

This puts the tangerine thief at emerald or darker. If he can sense the emerald in your shoe, it means he can use it. Unless he is a rare case like you and Jungkook, who are frequency sensitive. But he doesn’t feel like emerald and he doesn’t feel like he sits darker at garnet and onyx.

You shiver remembering what onyx feels like, an oppressive and demanding thing.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I lied,” you offer. You can keep skirting the topic of the emerald in your shoe, but he already knows it's there.

He chuckles. It’s raspy and soft as a whisper. There’s no doubt he’s used to the effect he has on people. It reminds you a little of Seokjin and you feel skittish.

“No, I’m sure you are quite the liar.” He leans in a little bit. “I’m Agust, by the way.”

Schooling your features is hard. Out of all of the Circles that crossed your mind that he could belong to, you never considered Black Lotus. It makes sense, you suppose, that Bolero belongs to the Black Lotus. It’s one of the few Circles in the city that not only accept Nulls in their ranks, but encourage it. A little oasis for Radiants and Nulls alike to claw their way to the top from the bottom of the barrel.

My boss will pay for the damage and deal with the Salibs. You think of Bolero’s comment, realizing why he was so confident. His boss is the leader of the Black Lotus, a chaotic thorn in the Armory’s side who walks around the Crown Cities undermining authority where he can.

Agust smiles, pride bleeding through when you recognize his name. He’s a little notorious for the destruction of three Circles associated with the Kim family and for donating thousands of nil to squatters in Blows. A violent killer with a soft spot for charity. Strange, and not quite as heroic as some seem to think it is.

Instead of saying anything, you busy yourself with folding rags, feeling the way of his gaze. Agust is pretty with a soft edge to his face and a charming grin. There’s a confidence about him that draws the eye, and yet he can blend in just like he did at Margot’s fruit stand. He is both sides of the moon, light and dark, switching whenever it suits him.

Again, he reminds you of Seokjin and your heart squeezes as you take a step away from him.

“Well, I hope you have a great evening, Agust.” It's dismal. Polite, but an end to the conversation nevertheless.

He isn’t swayed. “What, no name?”

“Do you need it?”

“I’d like it. Is it as pretty as you are?”

“Your flattery isn’t welcome here.”

“Then what is?”

You glare. “The money for Margot’s tangerine.”

Agust chuckles again and shrugs. You expect him to walk away or volley back with a riposte but he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the nil that Margot is owed and sets them on the counter, the silver coins clinking against the wood. He leans against the bar again, hand cupping his chin as he looks up at you.

“This cover me?”

You swipe the coins off the bar and sniff. “I suppose.”

“I like you. How about I call you Montana, hmm? Since you won’t give me a name, I’ll make one for you.”

Instead of looking at him directly, you busy yourself with moving around the syrup bottles in their plastic bin. “You don’t have to call me anything.”

“Or Garnet?”

For a second, you stare at your hands before slowly dragging your gaze to him where he watches you, feline-eyes glittering. That pinprick feeling returns sharper than ever. You’re a mouse caught under the watchful gaze of a hungry cat.

There are only a handful of people in the world that knows you sit on the second darkest color of the Jewel Caste. One of them is outside giving his gang members the lashing of a lifetime, one of them is sitting in a luxurious home in Aria and the other is no doubt watching cameras on the casino floor of Kaiju.

Sweat gathers on the back of your neck. You think about the first time you radiated at garnet, the power so raw and rich that you were almost drunk on it. You were just a kid, untrained in how to syphon energy that volatile. You’d become sick right after, taking too much too fast and completely unaware of how to channel all that energy.

The Kim’s had helped you find a way. And then used it to their advantage, a little girl with no one else to count on with all that power just waiting to be directed.

You refused to ever be used for your place on the Jewel Caste ever again.

“Say it again,” you murmur, voice low. Your hands open and close and you feel the emerald surge in your boot. Agust is either onyx or frequency sensitive, but it doesn’t matter. You’ve gone head to head with darker than you before. “I dare you.”

To your surprise, his smile is sad this time. There’s a moment you think you see understanding. Compassion. Something soft. Then it’s gone and he gives you a brief nod before pushing away from the bar, running a hand through his hair. You don’t move, muscles locked and primed to lash out, to grind him to dust if you have to. You don’t have a garnet, but you don’t need it. You can do just as much damage with an emerald, regardless of whatever color he is.

“Put the claws away, your secret is safe with me.” He nods to the pool of blood on the floor. “You have my apologies for the mess. Black Lotus will handle the fallout. Tell Bolero if any of those Night Sphinx fucks give you any trouble. You have my word I’ll pay my debt.”

“What debt?”

He jerks his thumb at Bolero. “You saved his worthless ass.” You don’t disagree but you say nothing. He lingers for a second, looking you up and down. Something passes his face that makes your heart speed up a little. “I mean it. Call if you need.”

“I won't.”

He grins. “Bye, Montana.”

When Agust turns to leave, Bolero gets up and goes with him. When the door shuts, it’s just you and the sound of Jungkook and Jimin’s men putting the bar back together.

No one can hear how loud your heart thunders.

THE JEWEL CASTE (from least to most powerful)

Light Caste

Diamond Citrine Aquamarine Jade Rose

Mid Caste

Peridot Topaz Turquoise Ruby Smokey

Dark Caste

Emerald Amethyst Sapphire Garnet Onyx

THE CHAOTIC CASTE (in general, from least to most powerful)

Opal Quartz Tourmaline Carnelian Obsidian

GLOSSARY

Alloy - A drug that allows radiants to lift frequency for a temporary amount of time and meld with a jewel they cannot normally radiate with. Caste Drop - When someone drops a color on the Jewel Caste and vibrates at a higher frequency Circle - Lower gangs who are not in the Armory Dark Radiant - Those who vibrate at the low-colors and high frequencies Jewel Caste - The order of least to most powerful vibrational jewel frequencies Light Radiant - Those who vibrate at the lighter colors and lower frequencies Mid Radiant - Those who vibrate at the mid-colors and medium frequencies Null - Those who don’t vibrate at the same frequency as the jewels and cannot radiate Radiant - Those who vibrate at the same frequency as the jewels and thus can radiate Shatterwave - A type of device that lets out high-frequency sounds to shatter Radiant frequencies in a certain radius Unjeweled - A radiant who doesn’t have any jewels on them to help radiate

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