#it's just the one singular thing i still wished for and will give me a reason to make it to 2026. no big deal.

[demonic0angel]

Celestial Bodies AU (5/?)

(Part one, part two, part three, part four. Also on AO3)

Robin sighed as he sat in the passenger seat beside Batman. Another night of patrol had ended semi-peacefully with thankfully no injuries, but Batman still didn't look happy. He was still in the process of accepting Robin as his partner again, and it tired him out trying to mediate and smooth sharp edges. Everything was just exhausting.

The both of them began turning into the cave, where Nightwing was already standing next to the computers when both Batman and Robin entered. He seemed to have just finished his own patrol, but was still in his uniform.

Robin paused when he saw him.

He looked angry.

That was what usually happened between Nightwing and Batman. The two of them fought like dogs and cats over Robin’s presence and training. When one suggested one thing, the other would argue like their lives depended on it.

(In a way, it did. Robin’s life depended on it.

… or at least, Robin’s life had depended on it.)

Sometimes, he understood why Nightwing was so angry.

If he was disobedient, he could get injured. He didn’t know how many times Nightwing had pushed that idea into his head.

(And although Tim wished he was, he was not Jason. That Robin would never come back, no matter how much Batman tried to pretend he did.)

Both Batman and Robin exited the car and Robin went straight towards Nightwing.

“Hey,” Nightwing called out, his grimace switching out to a small smile, just like a performer would, “how was patrol?”

“It’s been an easy night tonight,” Robin said, peeling off his mask to give Nightwing a smile. “How was yours?”

Nightwing gave a singular nod and then a shrug.

So probably nothing worth noting either.

Batman was silent, taking off his gloves and cape on the other side of the cave.

Robin studied Nightwing’s face.

He was a pretty boy through and through, with long hair in a mullet style and a light smile on his face that made him shine like the sun. To Robin, Nightwing was his goal and his idol. He wanted more than anything to show him that his decision to allow and help him become Robin was not a mistake.

He looked right back at Robin, his eyes considering.

“Nightwing,” Robin began carefully, “did you want to tell me something?”

There was a beat of silence.

Nightwing paused. Then he nodded slowly, “Actually, yes. I wanted to ask you if you wanted to meet the cluster.”

Robin's eyes widened.

The Phantom Cluster was an important part of the Justice League’s history and the survival of the planet. Every time something apocalyptic was about to occur, the King of the cluster would warn the Justice League. On occasion, they would also communicate with their hosts through dreams and visions, and prevent even more disasters.

The hosts of the Phantom clusters were only Robins. No matter how much any other hero tried to appeal to them, the stars only favored the wards under Batman.

Though they also seemed to like the younger heroes a lot, having no problem helping them. Tim had heard that Dick’s star had given his personal approval for Starfire and had actually watched out for the Teen Titans before.

The cluster had always loved the Robins.

(Nightwing had called his bonded star, "mine," and his star had responded back in kind. Jason's nickname for his own star was supposedly "Princess." She had called him "dearest" and from what Nightwing would say, their bond was very strong.

It made something inside of Tim ache.)

Essentially, this was possibly an invitation for Tim to get his own star, if it was true that the cluster bonded to all Robins.

Batman, however, whipped his head around and snarled. “Absolutely not! You are forbidden from seeing the cluster!”

Nightwing’s attitude immediately changed as well. He rolled his eyes and snapped, “Who are you to decide that? You don’t have a damn leg to stand on!”

Robin eyed him. He suddenly felt his heart twinge at the thought that it was his fault that he made them start arguing again. The two of them continued arguing and it wasn’t until Alfred came down into the cave that he spoke up.

“Okay, okay. It was just a suggestion. All of the previous Robins met the cluster, so what's the big deal?" He said, trying to defuse the situation.

“Yes,” Batman spat, “all of the previous Robins met the cluster, and one of them died.”

Robin winced.

“Don’t you dare blame them for Jason,” Nightwing snarled. “If I can’t blame you, you can’t blame them either. They lost a sibling too!”

Robin did not speak again as he thought about the situation.

He wanted to meet them. All of the files on the Batcomputer about the Phantom Cluster had him locked out. All he knew was that it was a cluster made of sentient stars and planets and two of them had chosen an individual Robin to keep as a “host”. When Jason had died, his star had died with him. Everything else were anecdotes from Dick, who clearly loved them and his star very much.

But in order to be Robin, he also needed to meet them. The cluster made deals with all of the previous Robins. Now that there was a new one, would things be easier if he also became a host with a star?

(And maybe, just maybe, Bruce will accept him if he had a star of his own too.)

Robin started to speak again, "I—"

“No. That cluster has been nothing but trouble. Robin, I forbid you to go!” Bruce roared.

Robin gulped and shivered. The pure rage in Batman’s tone suddenly made him worried for what he was going to do. Nightwing wrapped a protective arm around him and pulled him back.

“The Cluster has never hurt a Robin before.”

“He. Will. Not. Be going,” Batman growled.

Alfred coughed into a fist and everyone shut up and looked at him. Robin tried not to move but he couldn’t help but try to press closer to Nightwing.

"Master Bruce," Alfred said sternly, "may I speak with you?"

Bruce wilted and then trudged after the true patriarch of the Wayne family.

It was almost funny, but Robin was still tense as Nightwing glared at the retreating back of their mentor and guardian. Alfred turned slightly to wink at him, and he relaxed with a faint smile.

Robin stared at Nightwing.

"... Nightwing?" He asked carefully.

Nightwing softened further as he looked at him. "Yes, Tim?"

"... it's okay if I don't go, right?"

Nightwing's eyebrows immediately went up to his hairline. It was like he couldn't believe that he would not want to go see the cluster.

Robin grimaced. He corrected himself hurriedly, "I mean— I want to go, but—"

"Tim, it's okay. If you don't want to go, it's fine. But to be honest, I'd rather have you go at least once. The cluster... they've always been allies of us Robins. I'd like you to meet my star, at least."

Us Robins. That thought made Robin pause.

Nightwing always tried to be accommodating and gentle with him. The thought of disappointing him gave him determination.

Robin shook his head and said in a firm tone, "No, I want to go."

Nightwing grinned. "Let's go now, then."

Robin glanced back at where Alfred and Batman had left.

"Don't worry about him. I'll take care of it, okay? I'll say that I forced you or something. B is just a paranoid asshole."

Robin's lips twitched but he nodded quickly and followed Nightwing. The two of them entered the teleportation tube that was installed in the cave and then away they went.

When they landed in the space station, Nightwing immediately locked the doors so nobody would enter.

Robin eyed him. Nightwing gave an innocent smile back and said, "It's just in case he decides to come after us."

Robin didn't say a word as Nightwing lead them through the metal halls before they finally ended up in the main room, where windows covered all of the walls, revealing a beautiful starry world outside of the space shuttle.

Robin gasped as he stared out the window at the close stars and planets. They were so close that Robin could almost see the surface of each star move and shift. Thankfully, the tinted windows allowed them to look directly at them.

"Hello, my star," Nightwing breathed and the stars remained silent. Nightwing didn't seem angry, just sad as he pressed his forehead and left hand to the glass, sighing.

Beyond the glass, the stars inched around an empty space, where the Jason's star used to stay.

Robin bit his lip again.

Jason's death had not only hurt Batman and Gotham, but also the heavens.

He might not have known it, but he was so very loved.

Nightwing exhaled again and then stood up straight. He looked at Robin with a thin smile and beckoned him forward.

"Come on. They don't bite."

Robin came forward, eyes darting towards the stars with silent awe and reverence. The stars and planets glittered and shone with a brilliance that matched the Sun, and Robin couldn't help but stare at the sentient celestial objects that floated in the sky.

"They're beautiful, right?" Nightwing said, and it startled him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah. They are," he agreed, because if he said otherwise, it would've been a lie.

It was awe-inspiring (and a little bit terrifying) to see somethings so big and large that were benevolent enough to help them.

It made Robin feel smaller than ever.

Nightwing hummed.

The communicator crackled then, taking away the sound of ocean waves and faint TV static.

Nightwing whipped his head around and Robin followed, staring between the communicator and the window, where the stars lied in silence.

"Hello," a thousand voices called and a shiver ran down Robin's spine.

Like the chorus of angels, a symphony of voices, a choir of sirens, the voices were soft and gentle.

They sounded sad. Tired. Wane.

Robin felt like it was odd that he understood what they were feeling, but he said nothing as he looked at Nightwing's face, which was tinged with the same exhaustion in the stars' tones.

"Hello. This is..." Nightwing gestured to him, "Robin. I'd like to introduce you to him."

The sound of ocean waves again. Robin felt his stomach swoop and drop.

Had they rejected him?

He knew he wasn't Jason, but he had to do it. In order for Batman to be the best hero that he could be for Gotham's sake, he needed a Robin.

Nightwing placed a hand on his shoulder and Robin tried to breathe past the panic.

The voices came back and said, ".... we know."

A different voice differentiated itself from the rest. It was distinctly masculine and adult-sounding, unlike the androgynous and childish voices of the others.

"My Nightwing," the voice called softly and Nightwing beamed.

"My star," he returned the call with a nod and a smile.

Nightwing's star continued, "Our little sister wants to make a deal with Robin. If he wants."

Robin startled. "Who?"

Hope filled inside of him. He wasn’t rejected after all!

Nightwing chuckled. "The little sister of the cluster is the protostar. That one, right there."

He pointed outside, towards a small, bow-tie shaped cloud of dust and gas, all of it converging into one center. She spun and consumed nebula swiftly, but did not move otherwise.

"That's the little sister?" Robin tilted his head.

She was oddly... vulnerable. With the way the other stars and planets circled the point of their cluster, and the way they directed the nebula towards her, they were clearly very protective of her.

"Yep," Nightwing said, but he was quickly interrupted.

There was a crackle from the communicator and then an angry hum like that of a buzzing hornet. Robin flinched and looked at Nightwing, who suddenly burst out laughing.

"My star! Please, Robin isn't going to take her away!"

Another angry hum, though less loud and more indignant.

Robin blinked and then relaxed. His lips twitched and he asked, "Is your star jealous that I'm looking at her?"

"He's the most jealous star I know," Nightwing said, in a loud and teasing tone that was clearly meant to be heard by the stars. "Such a sis-con."

Robin snorted, suddenly feeling a little better. He looked at Nightwing, who now looked more relaxed and encouraging. "You can talk to them," he said. "I promise, they're nice."

Robin nodded firmly and stepped up the communicator. "Uhm. Hello," he said, then winced from the awkwardness.

Silence again, and then, a soft, "Hello, Robin."

The word “Robin” was said with so much unspoken affection that it made him flustered. He stuttered then, but as Nightwing looked at him encouragingly, he continued.

Robin took a deep breath and said slowly, "I'd like to make a deal with the protostar, if that's okay. I can't promise that I'll be a good host, but I promise that I'll be the best host I can be. I'll take care of her and Batman too."

Silence.

Robin glanced back at Nightwing, who was grinning widely and giving an enthusiastic double thumbs-up.

Robin turned back as the communicator crackled once more and then the stars said, "Okay."

One voice in particular, softer than the others and lighter, spoke up then. "Let's make a deal, Robin."

She sounded tired, like she was struggling to stay awake and Robin felt his tone softening as he spoke to her, "Okay. I'll make a deal with you. We'll protect each other, okay?"

The protostar said softly, "I'll protect you."

Robin knew that she purposefully did not mention how he would protect her. He knew it, and he felt like he should've said something to make it fair, but the reassurance that she would be there for him suddenly made him breathless. He felt like he was robbed of all oxygen as he stared at the sky and suddenly understood why Nightwing was so fiercely and deeply protective of the cluster, even against Bruce.

They were kind. So very kind despite being cursed children who had become stars.

"Okay," he said slowly, already feeling a deep affection for his star blooming in his chest, "okay."

He instinctively put his hand on the glass and a bright light, flashing and fast, shot out of the nebula cloud she was consuming and flew towards him. It struck the glass and hot warmth entered Robin's body and then into his side.

He paused, taking a deep breath to calm his heart from racing before he opened his tunic, already knowing where the fated mark was.

On his left side, around the area of his ribs, was a four pointed star, white and pastel yellows and blues slowly tattooing itself into his side.

He beamed. "Dick! Look!" He had accidentally called him by his civilian identity, but Nightwing didn't seem to care as he bound forward and then picked him up and twirled him around.

"You did it! You've got your own star!"

Robin beamed.

He was accepted as a Robin and got his very own star from the Phantom cluster!

He wished he could've heard them singing, like Nightwing used to talk about, or maybe made a deal with his star in happier circumstances, but this was nice too.

Nightwing was still cheering and celebrating, but Robin couldn't help but look out past the stars. His protostar spun in place a little, looking a little more cheerful and he smiled.

"Thank you, Robin," she whispered and Robin grinned.

"No, thank you.... partner." That seemed like a good nickname for her.

A beat of silence from her and then she said, in a slightly more upbeat tone, "You too, partner!"

"Pfftt— you're like a couple of cowboys," Nightwing muffled his laugh.

Robin rolled his eyes and shoved him lightly. "Shut up, Dick. You're the one with the creepy, "my star" thing."

Nightwing gasped and put a hand to his chest dramatically.

"Y'know what? You're grounded! I won't take this slander anymore!"

Robin laughed and as the tension bled out from previous days of mourning and grief, he almost wanted to believe that things would be okay again.

He looked out the sky, as Nightwing put him in a headlock, and watched the stars begin to move slowly, as if suddenly gaining the energy to do so.

He watched that empty hole in space be avoided and he thought of Jason again.

No matter what would happen, he would make him and the stars proud.

————

Bruce seemed resigned when he came back bonded. He didn't say anything and just went to his room. Usually, Tim would've been worried, but he wasn't too concerned since he was so excited about having a star for himself.

Dick gave him the codes to unlock the files on the Phantom Cluster and Tim dove right in without hesitation.

He researched everything he could about the cluster, from what they told the Justice League, from Dick's own secret files that he sent over into his computer, from astronomy websites, and he even hacked into NASA's database on stars and astronomical bodies.

Tim finally found another purpose besides being Robin.

He was his star's host.

Being a host for a star belonging to the Phantom Cluster meant many things. For one, their condition reflected on their stars.

If Robin was whole and healthy, so would his star. If he was sick or tired, it would show on his star too.

For another, being a host meant being protected and watched over by the stars.

Nightwing had mentioned before that sometimes, the stars gave them powers. Robin had a hypothesis that with each host being bonded to a star, the powers that they were able to gain grew stronger or increased, since he discovered new abilities that were not recorded since he was bonded to his own star.

A lot of it were minuscule, barely able to make a difference unless it was a split second thing, when Robin miraculously needed just a little push to solve a mystery, fight crime, evade a dangerous situation, or defeat a bad guy.

Nightwing had mentioned before that he had never had a bad landing after being bonded, and that he had a small immunity to heat and fire. He had also said that sometimes, bullets would mysteriously be unable to hit him, but this was a hit-or-miss thing (quite literally) and didn't always happen, so Robin still had to be able to dodge well.

In the reports, the previous Robin mentioned how he would occasionally get brief, sporadic dreams of the future. Every once in a while, he would sleepwalk, and as if possessed, wake up with a new plan, an unknown secret, or an important clue in the morning. After the previous Robin had gotten his star, Nightwing had supposedly gained the same ability on the occasion, and even Robin discovered that ability, which proved his hypothesis.

Robin himself, had odd bouts of good luck, often causing him to end fights or solve cases even faster than Batman could. At other times, the good luck manifested in things like finding an unusual number of heads-facing pennies that were printed in 1943, or finding lost items whenever he lost them. When Robin fell asleep, nightmares were scarce and he would sometimes feel a weight against his side, as if he was resting next to someone with their head on his shoulder.

(When he woke up, he would feel refreshed, but with a slightly melancholy and loneliness. He wondered if it was from his star.)

Robin wanted to be depended on. He wanted to be important and loved and cared for, and his star was everything he wanted.

For her, he wanted to improve.

He trained under several masters, he made enemies and friends, he joined other hero teams, and he even created his own team, the Young Justice. Bruce’s team grew too, with Cass and Stephanie and others joining them in order to help Gotham City.

Every day, he grew older and his star grew alongside him, an eternal beacon.

She spun and whirled like a hurricane, absorbing and eating nebula and growing stronger, almost converging into a sphere as if she was about to begin her transformation into a star.

And then everything changed when Jason's star came back.

————

Both he and Dick had been in the space shuttle when she had reappeared.

The black mass that used to be the quasar still remained, still and quiet, but the other stars seemed to have gain energy from her silent presence. They spun around her happily, as she loomed over them with her inky presence, bending light around her like a lightless black hole.

With her arrival, it meant that Jason had come back.

And with Jason’s return, so did the Batman’s interest in the stars.

“How do they know?” He growled, as they poured over information and audio logs of the interviews of the stars. “How do they know what happens? Did they know that Jason would die and come back?”

Nightwing glared at him, but said tersely, “I don’t know. From what we know, their ability to read the future comes from Clockwork. He visits them and tells them information.”

Robin lifted his eyes up from the paper, which had a picture of his star on it.

“We’ve never seen Clockwork before, have we? We don’t know much about him either.”

“He seems to be an authority figure or warden for the cluster. They speak highly of him, but are purposefully vague,” Nightwing mused, rubbing his chin in thought. “I think I remember my star mentioning once that Clockwork helped him with his past.”

“So… he’s probably also a parental figure,” Robin said, and Nightwing nodded thoughtfully.

Batman looked exhausted, his cowl pulled down off of his head as he bent over the table with an almost inaudible creak of his back and stared intensely at the papers.

Jason’s star had come back, but there were no traces of Jason except an empty grave. They had all been too late when arriving at his grave, only to be met with a coffin that had been broken in from the inside. Whatever had happened, Jason had dug himself out on his own.

Robin knew that it killed Nightwing and Batman inside to imagine the boy they considered as family carving himself out of his own coffin.

The two of them were almost inconsolable at first, but they quickly gathered themselves up again and started investigating.

The cluster was surprisingly unhelpful, not even answering Nightwing when he asked questions about Jason. The only thing his star had said was, “Be patient.”

It was such a hauntingly simple and frustrating answer, exactly like what one would expect coming from an all-powerful and all-knowing being that lived for an unknown amount of years stuck with a child’s mind. Nightwing and Robin did not begrudge them, knowing that they were also protecting the quasar's secrets and bond with the other Robin, but Batman could not say the same.

Of course, they didn’t let that hold them down.

For the first time, Robin had been able to hear the song of the stars.

It was gorgeous. It was still soft, like waking up from a deep sleep, and sometimes it cut off like a bad connection, but Nightwing had looked relieved at the sound of it.

“There’s still another voice missing,” Nightwing had said sadly, “Jason’s quasar— her voice isn’t in the song.”

It already sounded so nice, with the melodic voices of the stars and planets and Dick’s star singing along, so if the loss of one voice was making it incomplete, just how beautiful was the sound when they were all together?

For many reasons, Robin wanted to find Jason.

He was reluctant to continue being Robin for awhile, but Nightwing convinced him to stay.

Once Jason was back, he would give back the suit.

“There’s something we’re missing,” Batman said slowly. “We need to review the facts.”

Nightwing nodded and looked at Robin encouragingly.

Robin began, “Okay. So on XX, XX of this year, we discovered that Jason Todd was revived or in some capacity, alive due to his star returning. He… dug his way out of the coffin himself, but has disappeared for now. The cluster seems to be aware of his movements and location, but is not planning to tell us where or why. The question is, how did Jason come back to life? Where is he, and if he's not in Gotham, did someone take him?”

Nightwing sighed. “We don’t have a lot of information. It’s just a whole bunch of what-ifs and wheres.”

Batman was silent, brooding.

Robin thought some more and then asked, slowly, “Have we reviewed the footage of the cluster before? What if… what if Jason’s star didn’t come back at the time that we thought?”

Nightwing blinked. “What do you mean?”

Batman, however, nodded suddenly. “I think I see what you’re saying. We should review the footage. Nightwing, maybe the time you noticed the star coming back isn’t accurate.”

“What! But I had been coming there every day!” Nightwing said, but then paused. His eyes went wide, and then rushed to the computer.

Batman patted Robin on the shoulder, making warmth ooze in his chest. Batman said with a cold, but vaguely grateful expression, “Good job on the new lead, Robin.”

Robin beamed.

They rewound the camera footage of the cluster which were all kept in the files, since Dick liked rewatching them.

And just as Robin suspected, it was true.

The empty space where the quasar had sat before her demise had not been as empty as Nightwing had thought. For at least a few days before her return as a black star, she had been very small and only noticeable in how light slightly bent around her tiny shape.

She had been shadowed and covered by her siblings until her final reveal and Jason’s ultimate return.

Nightwing covered his face. He seemed to be struggling to find the words on what to say.

Eventually, he said, strangled, “I should’ve looked closer. If I had known, we would’ve found Jason sooner!”

Batman sighed. “Don’t beat yourself up.” Both Robin and Nightwing looked at him with surprise. He sighed again and said, “I am… aware that I‘ve been upset and hostile of the Phantom Cluster. But ultimately, you are still bonded with them and they still offer you some semblance of protection. I am... also grateful that they gave us a chance to know that Jason is back. At least we know now that Jason had dug himself out a few days earlier.”

The three of them looked at each other.

Jason was going to be found and brought back to them. No matter what.

A few months later, almost 6 months after Jason's return, the silent mass that was Jason’s star suddenly bloomed into a protostar, larger than Robin’s. She was a ginormous, funneling top of blue and red nebula, quickly consuming the stellar remnants in the galaxy.

“… what does this mean?” Nightwing muttered as he stared at the footage of her new form. The other stars were cheerfully circling around their sibling again, their song now joined in by their returned sister. “Is he back for real? Was he not back before? Does this mean that he wasn't himself or something?"

Robin was silent, listening to the song. True to Nightwing’s words, the song was beautiful and ethereal.

It was a heaven’s choir, a siren’s song, a mother’s lullaby. It was beautiful in all sorts of ways. The sound was cold and sent shivers down his spine but oddly enough, he welcomed it.

“Do you think he’s… mad?” Robin asked. He felt strangely serene as he listened to the song of the stars.

“… hm?”

“Do you think Jason is mad that I’m Robin and that’s why he’s not coming home?”

Nightwing stared at him with such horror and disbelief that Robin quickly backtracked.

“It’s fine. He’s going to come home,” his tone was firm, hiding his inner insecurities. “The stars foretell it.”

Time passed and Jason’s star remained as a protostar, his own star often twirling around her in happy circles. Both sisters were cute to look at, especially because one was so big and the other was so small. The two of them spun cheerfully around each other, being fed nebula by their family, and Robin watched it all.

Of course, while the stars were in stasis, he was not.

He continued his duties as Robin, made secrets between only Nightwing and the stars, helped others and lived on, even when his mom was killed and his dad was paralyzed and in a coma. He could not prevent it because he had not known.

It was a cruel, cruel fact that the heavens did not care for civilian lives when they were lost.

(The stars did not care much for anyone but the Robins. It was a thought both flattering and terrifying.)

When his dad found out about him being Robin, he was forced to quit. He handed his uniform to Stephanie to keep safe for him, and then he was… normal again.

His protostar seemed unhappy with the decision, but thankfully not with him, because when he climbed onto the roof of the Drake manor to talk to her, she responded back just as eagerly as always. However, she had stopped moving, a sign of either displeasure, discomfort, or something from the future.

“Do I come back to being Robin?” He remembered whispering to her one night, and her answering twinkle made his heart swell.

He liked feeling important, but he also never truly wanted it. The pain and suffering that came from being a hero truthfully scared him. It was only the thought of Batman and Nightwing, as well as his star, that kept him from quitting all together when he first found out that Jason was back.

But he could admit to himself that he liked the feeling of flying through the air, beating bad guys, and saving people. He liked the feeling of recognition and attention.

He didn’t mind not being a hero for a little while. At least he knew that he would come back in the future.

Soon, Stephanie donned the Robin uniform, and at first, Tim could admit that he had been worried. She was reckless and foolhardy, but she was a good person with a keen eye for puzzles and problem-solving. He wanted her to succeed and in order to do so, she needed to meet the cluster.

It had been him who introduced her to her own celestial object and he was also the one who taught her about the Phantom Cluster and their abilities.

The both of them bonded over endearing and anthropomorphic astronomical bodies and Tim was the one who taught her to be Robin too, since Batman seemed insistent on kicking her down. It was difficult to make plans while Tim’s dad was also adamant on driving Stephanie away, but they made it work.

It was a peaceful night, as Tim snuck onto his roof and Stephanie quickly followed with a picnic blanket that was spread over his house shingles. It had been years since the both of them first met and then began working together in the hero scene, boosting each other up with their stars by their side. Now they were good friends after dating for a while and then Tim breaking up with her due to his change in status from a vigilante to civilian.

As they were chatting under the moon, with a tablet holding footage of their respective celestial objects, everything changed.

The song of the stars had cut off slowly, grinding to a halt and making both of them pause in their conversation.

“Uh. They just stopped singing. What does that mean?” Stephanie asked nervously.

Tim stared at the tablet and reached over to bring it closer. “… sometimes it means that there’s something we need to know or something is happening. I wonder what’s going on.”

He knew that Dick was also mostly likely noticing something was up as well.

Both Stephanie and Tim stared at the tablet in silence, tension building as nothing happened yet. The stars and planets slowed down and Tim’s star even stopped spinning, motionless.

Tim’s eyes were drawn to Jason’s quasar-turned-protostar.

There was another beat of silence, and then the camera’s feed turned to white with a sudden screech.

Both of them flinched from the loud scream and then watched a supernova consume the vision of the camera. It took a while before the brightness lowered and the shrieking of metal stopped ringing through their ears.

“Oh my gosh! Look!” Stephanie shook Tim’s shoulder, but it was unnecessary because he couldn’t take his eyes off of the screen.

Jason’s quasar had turned into a frighteningly enormous star. Almost 20 times the size of Dick’s star, Jason’s star had turned into a star that was so blue, it was white. She floated in space for a moment, before she then began a slow cycle around the cluster, carefully avoiding the planets so they would not burn in her luminosity. The rest of the cluster paused, as if taking in the sight of her before following suit and then…

Song burst from the feed again.

“Whoa,” Stephanie said, in a hushed whisper, “it’s beautiful.”

Dick had once described his and his star’s growth into adulthood with new identities. He had said that his star went supernova and transformed from a black hole to a giant star.

He had mentioned how the song had changed, with the addition of a fully mature voice of an adult star.

It happened the same way this time too.

Jason’s star had a light and delicate voice, distinctly feminine and quite high. She provided a soft harmony to the song alongside Dick’s star, with the both of their adult voices enriching the sound of the other stars, who were still children.

Stephanie gave another soft sound of awe.

Tim was more focused on what this meant.

It had been four years since his death. Now that his star had changed, it meant that Jason had also changed his identity, like how Robin became Nightwing. Whatever had happened, Jason had now grown up into an adult. He had come into a new identity in the four years he had been gone, and now he had found himself and alongside with it, his star.

But a question still remained.

Where was he?

————

Tim bopped his head to the music as he bent over his desk. It was another night of peace as he stayed in his room to do his school assignments, while his dad and Danna went on another date.

He was finishing up the last of his homework when he heard the door opening in the faint distance. He took a reflex glimpse outside the window, where he saw a cloudy sky, and then poked his head out of his room.

"Dad! Are you home?"

Silence.

Tim immediately tensed. He patted his pockets for weapons but found nothing. He inched back into his room and picked up the bat that was by his door. When he finally left his room again, he tried to go for nonchalant as he called out, "Dad! Did you bring home the wings I asked for?"

He carefully made his way to the foyer. But before he could turn around the corner and look at who had entered his home, he was knocked back by a fist.

He cried out as pain bloomed on his face. He squinted through the tears, silently wondering how they could hit so hard before he swung the bat. It was stopped with a hand, but Tim maneuvered his body and then lunged forward to kick the assailant back.

He darted backwards to get some distance and stared.

It was a muscular man, all clad in leather and black kevlar with a red helmet on his head.

Tim catalogued his appearance and could not figure out who this person was.

The only person with this kind of memo was the Red Hood, which was an alias that the Joker used, but that couldn’t be possible.

"Who are you?" He snapped. "What are you looking for?"

"What? I'm looking for a who," the man hissed, his voice coming through as electronic. "I'm looking for a Robin."

Tim's stomach dropped.

He said slowly, "I think you're looking in the wrong house. Robin isn't here."

"I heard you quit, Timothy Drake. I heard you quit being Robin and gave it to some other kid. Do you think it's that easy? Do you think it's that easy to leave being Robin behind?"

Oh crap.

Tim scrambled away as the man then lunged at him. He swung the bat again and as the man blocked with a fist, Tim lashed out with another kick. The man grabbed him by the ankle with the other hand and then threw him to the side.

Tim choked on his breath as his back hit the wall, knocking down some picture panes and shattering them on the floor. His back was already starting to ache, but he didn't have time to worry about that when the man struck again, punching him in the stomach.

Tim gagged on the bile rising up his throat before he attacked back with a jab to the throat. He then kicked the man twice in quick succession, making him grunt, and darted up on his feet, dodging a hit from the man's fist again.

"Who are you?!" Tim cried out, his blood freezing in his veins at the thought of Bruce and Dick's secret being known to others.

Would this man reveal their identities? Take Tim as a hostage? Use him to blackmail Bruce?

The man laughed mechanically. He reached behind his head and unlocked the helmet with a faint hiss of air. Then he dropped the helmet onto the floor and brushed his hair back with bright green eyes and a wild smirk full of teeth like he wanted to tear Tim apart.

Tim's eyes widened.

If the familiar face shape didn't key him in, it was the four pointed star on his cheek, unmistakeable and alight with bloody orange and turquoise, that told him just who had came into his house with the intent of attacking him.

"No..." he whispered in disbelief, scrambling backwards again as his breath came out quick and panicked.

Jason had come back?

Jason was back!

If he hadn't just been beaten by him with his fists, he probably would've been happy. Now he was just extremely confused and frightened.

"Oh yes," Jason purred. He was fully grown now, well muscled and clearly trained by someone other than Batman for the last four years. "You're in luck, Robin. You're the first one I saw after being back in this hell hole."

Tim was mentally making a list of the things he needed to do.

Finally, he replied slowly, "But why? Why did you see me first? And where were you?"

"I was dead, obviously," Jason scoffed. “And I came here to ask you a few questions.”

“Okay, cool,” Tim said nervously. “Did you need to punch me to ask me questions?”

Jason didn’t answer, but instead, swung to punch him again. Tim yelped and rolled to dodge. He was barely back on his feet before Jason grabbed his hair and pulled him down, kneeing him in the stomach.

Tim coughed but also took that moment while he was bent over to drop and kick out his legs, knocking Jason off his feet.

Jason fell and Tim jumped over him to get away. He flew down the stairs and barely reached the entryway when he was pounced onto by Jason, who felt like a damn elephant as he pinned him onto the floor with his body weight.

They wrestled but Tim was so out of Jason’s weight class that it wasn’t even funny. Tim could feel the panic within him rising as he struggled and tried to get away from the previous Robin, a once beacon of hope and light for Gotham.

“You have it so easy,” Jason hissed, as he started wrestling him to the ground. “A dad, money, a good home. You never had to dig through trash for scraps. You never had to take care of your dying mom while you were starving yourself. You never had to fight for your life while being tortured!”

Tim kicked Jason in the stomach, allowing just enough space for him to throw back his elbow to his chin. Jason made a faint noise of pain, and punched him once more, but before it could escalate, the most intense feeling of nausea struck Tim.

For a moment, he wondered if he was going to throw up over the previously dead Robin’s hands, but when Jason also paused and moved away from him with a gasp, he realized that both of them were struck with the same condition.

Tim blinked rapidly as the both of them stared at each other in thinly veiled confusion and distrust. Jason suspiciously stared at him, and then looked up out the window that was placed over the door. As Tim blinked away the stars in his eyes, he was beginning to realize that it was not just stars in his vision, but also stars in the sky.

The night was now clear, allowing them both to see a patch of sky with two distinctive lights.

Both Robins, old and new, stared at the rapidly twinkling lights in the distance. There were two flashes, blinking over and over, as if trying to get their attention.

The two sat there in silence. Then Jason looked down at his wrist, which held a watch that was now projecting the image of his star. She was spinning and bursting with solar flares like crazy, enough that Jason gave a disbelieving, almost angry laugh.

"Okay, jeez, I get it, Princess. You want me to keep your sister's fucking host alive."

Tim exhaled in relief, casting his eyes over to the night sky, which held his star in the distance.

Thank the stars that she helped him.

He didn’t want to know what would happen if her and her sister couldn’t get their attention.

He silently mouthed, "Thanks, partner."

The sky twinkled noticeably one last time before it stopped.

Tim jolted when Jason suddenly bent down and started taking off his shirt.

“Excuse me?!” He shrieked, feeling the bruises ache as Jason started undressing him. He struggled weakly, but Jason was still pulling apart his clothes.

“Shut up. Where’s the damn mark?”

Just to spare himself the indignity, Tim pulled his t-shirt to present his side and snapped, “Here.”

Jason stared at the four pointed star, colored with baby blue and butter yellow, for a beat and then stood up in a huff.

Tim glared at him. He loved the Robins and he loved Batman, but that didn’t mean he was just going to forgive him for almost killing him!

"Where are your medical supplies?" Jason asked, looking around his room.

Tim grimaced and said, "The kitchen."

“Where?”

He eyed him with distrust. Jason put his hands on his hips and waited.

“…. In the left cabinet next to the stove.”

Jason went off to look for it, probably, and Tim slowly sat up, rubbing his shoulder that had been knocked against several surfaces this night, while he lifted his eyes to the window again.

His star was still there, faint due to her distance from Earth, but she was still just barely bright enough that he could find her through Gotham’s smog.

Thank the heavens for her and her sister.

Jason came back with a stomp and the emergency medical kit in his hands. He sat down next to Tim and raised a hand, palm up.

"Hand."

Tim gave it to him.

Jason opened the kit and then began to inspect, clean, and wrap up his wounds. Even for his back, Tim was asked to take off his shirt and Jason applied bruise gel all over it. Tim was tense at first, but eventually, he just kind of melted underneath Jason's hands and closed his eyes as he was taken care of by the previous Robin.

Sometimes he would ask Tim questions.

“So what do you call your star?”

“Partner. She calls me partner back too.”

“Ha! You’re like cowboys.”

“You sound like Dick.”

“Like hell I do!”

But Jason didn’t hurt him again. Tim was full-on relaxing by the end of it.

When Jason was finished, Tim was lightly dozing from the warmth of the numbing creams and the fact that it was a late night on a school day. The fact that he hadn’t been hugged or touched in a while certainly aided his sleepy haze too. Jason snorted at the sight of him and said, "Aren't you too trusting? I just beat you up."

Tim grumbled as he opened his eyes and uncurled from his position. "You're an asshole, y'know that? What was all of that even for?"

Jason sighed and said, "I changed. And... I guess… sorry. I wasn't in a right state of mind when I came here."

Tim twisted to look at him. Looking at him closer, Jason's eyes were still green, though noticeably less bright.

The shade of green was so familiar that Tim stared for a long time before he suddenly blurted out, "The league. You were with the League of Assassins!"

Jason narrowed his eyes. "I was."

"Was it Talia? Did she revive you? What happened?"

Jason looked exasperated but he nodded with a deliberately careless shrug. "I died, crawled out of my grave like a zombie, and then she picked me up. I went with her to the League and she threw me into the Lazarus Pits before training me. Now I’m here again to take back what’s mine.”

“Robin?” Tim blurted again. “I’ll give it back to you. I was going to— but someone needed to be Robin and my dad made me quit so I gave it to a friend and she became Robin for a little while, but I don’t think she’ll mind if you get it back.”

“Breathe,” Jason deadpanned, eyeing him with an unidentifiable emotion. “And I don’t care for it anymore.”

“You sure? You definitely cared about it 20 minutes ago,” drawled Tim.

Jason glared at him and Tim narrowed his eyes at him right back.

Eventually, Jason rolled his eyes and looked away. “Well, I stopped caring.” He pointed at Tim demandingly. “I don’t give a fuck what happens next, but if you tell anyone I’m here, I’ll break your damn face!”

“But why?”

Tim could understand that Jason was angry. Whatever had happened in the League had changed him for the worse, but there was still that familiar, charismatic, and caring boy inside, evident by Tim's carefully bandaged wounds (despite being the one to inflict them, but whatever). He could see that Jason was feeling vengeful too, but he didn't want Jason to be estranged from Dick or Bruce.

"I have plans," Jason said with a sneer. "Plans for Gotham that can't have B and Dick interfering."

"... are you trying to get revenge?"

"So what if I am? I died. Better yet, I was murdered. It doesn't matter what you think, I'll do what I need to do and because you're the host of my star's sister, I'll let you go this one time."

Tim thought of Bruce's brooding and endless self-blame at Jason's death. He thought of Dick's almost desperate attempts in training Tim and his neverending grief from the loss of a brother and the loss of a possible future knowing him. He thought of Alfred's silent sorrow, his eyes full of fear when Tim used to suit up in the Batcave. He thought of that period of time where Batman brutalized every criminal he came across, even the petty ones, turning Gotham into a city of rage and pain.

".... They all mourned for you," Tim said, not really knowing what outcome he was looking for by saying this,"B and Dick mourned for you. It was so bad that I had to force them to make me Robin because Batman needed him. Batman needed you."

Jason stared at him, his eyes flickering between greenish hues before he looked away, eyebrows furrowed.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jason snorted coldly. “They clearly didn't care enough if the Joker is still alive. I’m going to stay here and I’m going to kill the Joker. No one else avenged me, so I’ll just have to do it myself.”

The Joker?

Tim's breath hitched as he froze so badly that even Jason paused and raised an eyebrow at him.

Tim stared at Jason with wide eyes.

He could not help but look down slightly, at the four pointed star that covered Jason’s cheek, a mark of the heavens that bound him to a star.

Jason snarled, “What?!”

Tim said slowly, “The… The Joker’s not alive.”

When Jason’s tense posture and aggressive stance slackened into shock, Tim had to continue and say, “He died a while ago.”

Jason grabbed him by the shoulders, fingers digging into his skin as he roared, “Who did it?!”

Tim pursed his lips.

Jason could probably keep a secret, right? He didn’t believe that he would go and tell anyone, especially because….

“Nightwing did. And I helped him hide the body.”

|||||||||||||||||||||||

Check out my CB!Jason art here

Tim and Dani are partners!! Hooray!

I'm sure you can guess who Steph ends up with, hm? She’ll get her own story, dw.

Tbh, I wanted this to be a 3+1 thing with all of the other Robins bc I thought it'd be short, but then it became longer than I expected, so I just... continued writing.... 😶 I think I got too excited again.

I'm trying to write in chronological order, but the history of the Batfam is so ridiculous that idk if I can do that, but if I don't do that, I'll get confused myself, y'know? Someone please help.

The scene where Jason beats the shit out of Tim apparently comes after he reveals his identity to Bruce… so I’m going to switch it for it to make sense. He was also supposed to choke Tim in this fic, but then it got too dark… so I changed that too :9

“How come none of them could figure out that he was with the League?” They knew he was revived in the coffin, so no one thought of the Lazarus pits bc they didn’t think he was basically a zombie (suspend your disbelief, please!). Also, more info on Jazz will be in the fic with Jason’s return.

Tim was originally supposed to go with Tucker, but then I thought about it and I changed it because 1) like Dick and Jason, his star is sort of the opposite of their personality, 2) I don’t see how they’ll encourage each other to grow, 3) a secret third thing

A deeper explanation of reason 2 is on AO3.

[cinnamon-galaxies]

𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧

Pairings: Alastor x gn!reader Summary: In which Alastor tries to get rid of you by giving you a dangerous task and explores your room once you have left. What he discovers are things he wishes he could unsee... Warnings/Tags: explicit and suggestive content but no smut, 18+, MDNI, gn reader, Emberlynn-coded reader, unrequited love, reader is obsessed with Alastor and he can barely handle it, second-hand embarrassment, cringe, like, lots of it, exaggerated descriptions, comedy, mentions of violence, murder and death, very brief mention of suicide (Alastor barely keeps his sanity), fandom slander and random references (you either get it or you don’t), Alastor needs his own warning, humiliation, a whole bunch of passive aggressiveness and sarcastic remarks, trash-fic Wordcount: 6.5k A/N: This is a spin-off to my other Emberlynn-coded reader story ‘The Simp’. It can be read as a standalone, though I suggest reading the original first for a better understanding of the reader’s messed up personality and their complicated relationship with Alastor. This one escalated a bit more than I planned. It was originally meant to be much shorter, but I ended up having way too much fun writing it. Comments, Likes and Reblogs are always appreciated!

Masterlist

   It was a morning like any other in the hotel. The air was still and tranquil, the residents just beginning to stir as they readied themselves for the day ahead. Alastor strode through the dimly lit halls, his mind set on a singular destination: your room.

   A familiar weight settled in his stomach, a feeling that had lingered since the day he claimed your soul. Your insufferable presence had become a constant in his existence, haunting him with a mix of irritation and curiosity. He braced himself for yet another day filled with your exhausting demeanor, yet he knew he had an important task to assign to you.

   As he approached your door, he could already hear the faint sounds of movement within – your usual morning routine, perhaps accompanied by some melodramatic humming. The thought made his insides twist, but he reminded himself of the necessity of the task at hand.

   In front of your door, Alastor closed his eyes and took a deep breath to prepare himself for yet another one of your annoying tirades, then knocked. Once, twice – the door opened when he moved to knock a third time and he almost punched the air. Immediately, his crimson eyes darted down, and there you stood, already dressed despite the early hour, with an eager grin plastered on your face, your expression brightening like an unexpected sunrise breaking through the clouds.

   “Good morning, Alastor!” your squeaky voice disrupted the early quiet of the hotel and Alastor cringed inwardly, his ears twitching at the painful frequency. He opened his mouth to retort with a dry greeting, but before he could utter a single tone you already interrupted him, the words spilling from your mouth like an accelerated record, “Is something wrong? Do you need my help? It’s still so early in the morning and you knocked on my door – I mean you never knock on my door, so there must be something wrong. Is there anything wrong? Do you need my help? Please let me help you, Alastor!”

   Instant regret grew inside of him as he tried to keep up with the neverending flood of your words that were uttered so fast he barely managed to understand what you said. He just stood there, staring at you with his mouth slightly agape, overwhelmed and the wheels turning in his head as he tried hard to piece together the fragments of what he caught from your extensive monologue.

   “Uhm…” He blinked, staring at your worried but also anticipatory expression, the adrenaline heating up your face like a tomato, making it appear as if it was about to burst. He imagined your head exploding and withheld a chuckle, the mere thought of all your blood and viscera spilled around your room a delightful image in his head.

   “Well, my dear, I do in fact have a task for you,” he eventually said, his voice much calmer than he felt. He always relished the stillness of his sleepless nights, when you finally left him alone, allowing him to unwind from the stress you constantly stirred within him. If he weren’t already dead, he’d probably be at risk of a heart attack from your relentless annoyance. Seriously, how could someone as utterly miserable as you be so exhausting? Maybe he should consider seeing a therapist before he completely snapped. It wouldn’t be long before he lost all the control he’d worked so hard to maintain. He could feel it, deep in his bones – the silent scream of agony echoing within him.

   You immediately straightened your back at his words, crossing your hands behind your back in anticipation. “Oooh, a task! Tell me! I’ll do it as soon as possible!”

Here's the missing part filled in:

   “I sure hope so…” Alastor muttered beneath his breath before he tilted his head to the side and responded much louder, “Well, it is something of high importance…” he drawled out, the radio static in his voice crackling, and he could swear he saw your eyes gleam.  

   “What is it, Alastor-kun?” you interrupted him, and Alastor’s eye twitched, though he did not further elaborate, choosing instead to let the moment linger with a teasing smile.

   “Well, you see… I need you to fetch something from Cannibal Town. There’s a butcher on Carcass Lane who sells the most delectable venison in the entire Pride Ring. I need you to grab some for lunch. Here’s the address and the list of items I need.” He handed you a crumpled piece of paper, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes, and you snatched it from his hands, pressing the note almost against your face while you read it.

   Alastor raised his eyebrows as he watched you literally absorb the information, then you looked up and nodded exaggeratedly.

   “I'm on my way!” you declared and scurried past him, the wind of your fast movement causing Alastor's hair to flutter. He turned around with a narrowed eye and crooked smile, a look of irritation on his face, but you had already disappeared behind the corner before his eyes could follow. He stared in the direction you just disappeared for a few more seconds before his smile widened into a predatory grin, flashing his sharp and pointy canines with a sudden, exhilarating thrill that sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine. This was an easy success. You really were so desperate to serve him that you were stupid enough to run to Cannibal Town alone. You, a small little creature, pathetic and completely helpless, were nothing more than prey for the people in this part of the city. Maybe, if he was lucky enough, you'd get eaten before you even reached the butcher shop, and thus a problem would've been solved without much effort on his side. Genius.

   Still standing in the doorway, he turned back around. Alastor had never dared to knock on your door before – because of obvious reasons which have just been confirmed to be true. But now that you were gone and hopefully not returning, he got curious. Without further thought he entered your room and closed the door behind him, turning on his heels to take a look around. His eyes widened with every detail that caught his eyes. Bright pink and violet walls clashed with white polished furniture that could've been sourced from a doctor's office. The cabinets and shelves appeared almost sterile compared to the atrocious clutter in and around. Dozens – no, hundreds – of plushies and figurines were crammed into the tiniest of spaces. It was a chaotic explosion of color and fluff, a seemingly random assortment that defied all attempts at organization. The shelf was filled with books and boxes that were somehow puzzled into the space like some kind of a real life Tetris game. The walls – dear Satan, the walls – were suffocatingly plastered with posters in colorful palettes that showed a wide range of grotesquely exaggerated, wide-eyed monstrosities. The eyes of the characters – if they could even be called that – were so enormous that they seemed ready to fall out of their skulls, while their breasts rivaled their heads in size. It was as if the artist had taken every ridiculously hyper-sexualized fantasy and spilled them out on paper to create those unnatural horrors of eyesore that depicted an unhealthy and disrespectful portrayal of the female body. How were their waists so small? Did they even have organs in there? Alastor raised his eyebrow as he eyed the pictures. Some of those creatures bore animalistic features with cat ears, bunny tails and other appendages like they were common in hell, yet seeing the mere addition of those features on such grotesque figures was more than unsettling to him. The others were probably supposed to be human but their proportions were so out of control they looked like misbuilt mannequins from the fashion store of mistrust.

   Alastor's eyes drifted further across the wall until they landed on the image of a pale man with sharp pointy ears and curly white hair who was mid-bite on a woman's neck, the blood pouring from the wound and running over the woman's chest in a subtle yet intendedly suggestive way. The text read ‘Baldur's Gate’.

   What in Hell's name was a ‘Baldur's Gate’?!

   Before his mind could even attempt to comprehend this madness, his gaze landed on another poster with the same writing and same world – but this one featured a woman swooning in the arms of what could be an octopus-man hybrid.

   Alastor blinked, horrified. Yes, that was indeed an octopus with glowing eyes and squirming, slimy tentacles wrapping themselves around the poor woman as though she were just another victim of this abhorrent nightmare. Wait – were those tentacles caressing her?!

   He gagged, the taste of bile appearing on his tongue. “This is disgusting,” he hissed, a shiver running down his spine. He could barely process what he was seeing. ‘Baldur's Gate’? Hell, maybe you belonged there. Maybe he'd be doing you a favor by sending you straight into that absurd world where vampires, octopus-men, and God knows what else ran free, far away from him, where you could fulfill your worst fantasies of–. He neglected the thought before he could finish it, his stomach churning and the threat of another gag rising in his throat.

   But then, his eyes caught something worse. Yes, worse. Somehow the room found a way to outdo itself. Layered posters plastered the other wall – yes, layered – leaving almost no surface of the actual wall visible underneath. And the images – Satan help him –  the images were so obscene, he couldn't withhold himself from widening his eyes in shock. Muscular men – half naked and grotesquely exaggerated – posed with claws, fangs, and the most ridiculous expressions of primal desire imaginable. Texts like “Alpha” and “Bite me, baby” screamed from these posters. But the final blow came from a particular poster showing a dripping wet, absurdly muscular mafioso leaning into a shower, a caption in giant, sultry text reading, “Are you lost, babygirl?”

   Alastor's jaw practically unhinged as his eyes widened in horror.

   What. The. Fuck.

   He averted his gaze, barely suppressing another gag, and found himself standing in front of a shelf, hoping for some brief moment of sanity. But no – his hopes were shattered. The shelf was packed with small figurines or more cat-girls and octopus men, between them some green-haired man holding two Katana in his hands and one between his teeth. How the hell could he even fight like this? This didn't make any sense at all. And – was that the sculpture of spaghetti with a face?! He stared at it with one eye widened and the other narrowed, his lids twitching under the pressure and his smile was shaped into a confused grimace. Why the Hell did you have spaghetti on your shelf?! But of course that wasn't all. Between those figurines were even smaller creatures that looked like they'd crawled from the very bowels of an overactive, perverted imagination. With a roll of his eyes and a deepening sense of disgust, he glanced at the books. Big mistake.

   How – just how could every single corner of your room be even worse than the last?! He was barely able to keep himself from laughing as he read the titles of the books that were stuffed into the tightest of spaces. Each one was worse than the one before: “Bound by Blood and Lust”, “Slave to the Beast”, “Taken by the Overlord”, “Marked by the Alpha”, “The Alpha's Virgin Omega”... and even more dreadful titles. “My Immortal” was the most normal of them all. But even a harmless title could hide one of the worst stories in all of history. If Alastor knew one thing, then it was that one should never judge a book by its cover – or in this case: title.

   He took a deep breath, stepping back from the shelf, his gaze still locked on the chaos around him. He found himself standing before your desk, turning with a low hum, eyes scanning the mess of paper stacks and notebooks with a bizarre mix of morbid curiosity and utter disgust. Your room was like a car crash – something no one wanted to witness, yet impossible to look away from. In a nutshell: It was absolutely atrocious.

   With narrowed eyes he took one of the paper stacks in his hands and shuffled through the pages. Most of them were notes and doodles, some better than others, but the majority looked like the deformed mannequin creatures from your posters – only more disturbing. Their eyes, grotesquely oversized and much rounder and bigger than the ones from the posters, were filled with far too many reflections, giving the eerie illusion of tears, yet each character wore an unsettling grin, twisted and unnerving, disturbingly similar to his own at its worst. He continued his expedition through your mess, not surprised to find some drawings of himself but shocked by the sheer quality and painstaking detail you had put into them. Then, his breath caught in his lungs. His eyes widened, pupils constricting in disbelief as he stumbled upon yet another drawing of him – this time, barely dressed, with a lewd speech bubble in the corner. ‘Oh, don’t be shy, little one. I promise, this is one signal that’s sure to reach every part of you…’

   He instantly flung the papers aside, recoiling with a loud, distorted radio screech. You truly were a creature of Hell. Did your parents even love you? They must’ve been really bad people if they managed to spawn such a fucked up creature like you… Maybe it was a good idea to just leave the room without exploring your personal belongings any further. Not even getting mauled to death by bloodthirsty dogs was as traumatizing as the deep, dark abyss of your mind. But before he could turn away, something caught his eye. A pink notebook that was adorned with glitter stickers and handwritten quotes lay right in the middle of your desk, a few pens strewn around it as if you were just using it. He knew he shouldn’t. Every single look was worse than the one before. He knew this flashy notebook would most probably hide even more stuff he would regret to ever have seen. However, there was a quiet little voice that tried to lure him into doing something he knew he would regret.

   With caution he approached the desk again and reached out his hand, his finger tips grazing the surprisingly soft material of the cover. He held his breath as he took it into his hands and opened it. The first page was adorned with hearts and tiny flower doodles, the image of a cathedral radio in the corner. In the middle of the page stood written in flourished cursive: “Static Lust – A Dark Romance Fanfiction”. Underneath, your name.

   He frowned. What was a fanfiction…? With a bad feeling in his guts he turned the page and began to read your surprisingly neat handwriting. His eyes flew over the words, taking in every sentence and he cringed inwardly at the badly written plot. The story was ridiculously self-indulgent, starring you as a tragic figure that was kidnapped and brought to Hell by none other than… him.

   Alastor blinked when he read his name, wrinkling his nose and inhaling a deep breath. Of course. He should’ve known. Fan-fiction. Knowing how hard you were in love with him should’ve prepared him for what he was about to discover.

   As uncomfortable as he felt, he continued this little venture into the literal intonation of your deepest thoughts. Somehow, it amused him. It was as if he was reading your diary, just more messed up. And most definitely pushing his boundaries. 

   You portrayed him with a personality that couldn’t be farther off from reality: a lovesick obsessive who wanted nothing but to corrupt you, possess your soul and your whole being. He couldn’t believe what he was reading. The sheer absurdity of it all – the dramatized seduction, the over-the-top description of his passion for you were unbearable to read. Yet, he couldn't stop himself from continuing the story. His eyes continuously trailed over every sentence, soaking in the words as if his life depended on it while his heart sank deeper into his guts. His expression was completely motionless and his already pale face drained of even the last bits of color. The worst was: it didn’t stop here. As the story progressed, so did your so-called ‘romance’.

   His fingers trailed along my jaw, claws grazing my delicate skin as he kept his gaze locked with mine, crimson eyes boring themselves into my very core as if he was reading my soul. I felt completely naked under his gaze, caught between desire and a flicker of fear at his imposing form.    “Be mine,” he growled with a deep sultry voice, the radio static gone and his hot breath grazing against my cheeks. Sharp teeth glinted from behind his smile, a silent threat yet so intriguing. The danger, his power, his possession were palpable. Everything left me completely breathless and a shiver ran down my spine, causing the butterflies in my stomach to flutter wildly around. It was a tingling feeling, one that jolted electricity through my veins and into the depth of my core.

   He swallowed hard at the description, nausea taking over his stomach, replacing the appetite he just had for a tasty bite of rotting venison. He would never say something like that to you. He would never do something like that to you. And most importantly, he could never love you. He wasn’t even able to love. But even if he were, he'd be more likely to fall for Lucifer than he would ever waste a single thought on you.

   ‘Be mine.’

   He let out a huff. You were already his. Certainly not in the way you wanted it to be, but he owned your soul. Which meant he could do to you however he pleased. But nothing similar to this bullshit from your writing, obviously.

   Alastor’s eyes narrowed as he continued to read and the story development was truly as bad as his characterization and anything else. The more he continued, the more his eyes widened in horror. It didn’t take long for the writing to turn explicit – vulgar and smutty. Each sentence was dripping with suggestive language, painting a picture of you and him in intimate situations.

   I couldn't resist him any longer, the way he dominated the room, the power in his every movement. My heart raced as he leaned in closer, his voice a seductive purr that caused my hairs to stand up. “You were a naughty little thing,” Alastor whispered, his lips brushing my ear and his voice dropped to a baritone that vibrated in his throat, “and you deserve to be punished.”    I shuddered, feeling my entire body tremble in anticipation. “Alastor…”    “Uh, uh, uh,” he brushed me off, his nose grazing the skin on my neck while his hot breath sent shivers down my spine and right into my core.     “Say it. Say, ‘Punish me, Sir,” he commanded, and I–

   Alastor slammed the book shut for a moment, closing his eyes as if to cleanse himself from what he had just read. He let out a sharp exhale, then opened the notebook again with a resigned sigh, morbidly fascinated by the sheer audacity of your words. His smile became brittle, twitching as he forced himself to read on.

   Alastor pressed me firmly against the wall, his finger tracing a line down my neck, the touch gentle but brimming with control. I felt his sharp claws graze my skin, leaving faint red marks that would serve as a silent testament to his claim over me. I remained still, terrified that the wrong move could turn his claws from teasing to lethal.    “So naughty…” he growled in my ear, his voice sending a shiver down my spine before he stepped back, creating a cold distance between us. The sudden loss of his warmth sent a chill through me, goosebumps prickling across my skin as I resisted the urge to reach for him, knowing he wouldn't tolerate such disobedience.    Alastor’s intense gaze swept over my body, lingering on every inch, and I could feel the heat pooling between my legs, the wetness trailing down my thighs. “Strip,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for hesitation. I obeyed without a second thought.

   This was absurd. This was disgusting. This was absolutely disturbing. This was how you viewed him? A domineering, smoldering lover? The mere idea was enough to make his skin crawl.

   He gagged once more, the mere thought of touching you making him recoil in pure revulsion. This went beyond simple disgust. It was something far deeper. What was any of this supposed to be? Did you actually believe he could ever reciprocate your twisted feelings? Were you truly so desperate that you wrote an entire book about him doing such indecent things to you? He couldn’t comprehend it, and it only worsened his already low opinion of you. He knew he shouldn’t have read it, but did you honestly think he wouldn’t find out eventually?

   Part of him just wanted to die again. To disappear and never return, to tear out his eyes and brain and offer them to his equals in Cannibal Town. Was there anyone in Pentagram City who still performed lobotomies? He definitely needed one after this monstrosity of an insult to all literature ever created.

   He flipped through pages in haste, no longer bothering to read the entire story, just skimming over a few lines here and there. With every word, it became more unbearable. The grotesque images your writing forced into his mind were intolerable, destined to haunt him for the far future where they would resurface in his rare moments of sleep and flash before his eyes every time he looked at you. It was obscene, nonsensical, and revolting. Violating not only his sense of decency but also his personal boundaries.

   What started off as a toxic fast-paced back and forth between the two characters turned out to be nothing more than a pure over-sexualized scandal. You and Alastor would do it everywhere. In the bed, in the shower, in the hotel's parlor, on the counter of Husk's bar – even on the balcony while you glared up at one of Vox’s drones, knowing damn well the television freak would watch. He even found a chapter in which he took you into his radio station and broadcasted your moans all over Hell, so everyone knew that you belonged to him. 

   “Ah, Alastor-kun!” I moaned in both pain and pleasure.

   “Punish me, Mister Radio Demon, Sir!”

   “Ah, harder, deer-daddy!”

   “YAMETE KUDASAI!!!”

   He slammed the book shut again and dared not to open it again. What. The. Actual. Fuck. Was wrong with you?!

   His face was white as chalk, his eyes twitched and for the first time in decades, his smile had disappeared and instead, his face was adorned by a completely and utterly traumatized grimace. This was… this was an affront to his dignity, to his entire being.

   His thoughts raced like a whirlwind as he imagined every possible way to make you regret this. To punish you – not in the way you do desperately wanted – but actually punish you in the most gruesome and painful ways he could imagine. Over the decades, Alastor got creative with his murders. Maybe he would even discover new ways to torture a soul before tearing it apart, shredding it into pieces to ensure not only your death but to erase your existence from history entirely. Perhaps he’d even find a way to prevent you from ever being born at all.

   Fuck.

   But until then, he would keep his rage silently hidden inside of him, deep behind the walls he had constructed to maintain his control.

   Alastor let out a laugh, though it was more out of frustration than amusement, the sound hollow and laced with irritation. Of all the souls he could have ended up owning, it had to be yours – lovesick simp with a disturbing penchant for writing self-indulgent filth. Oh yes, you were destined to be his punishment. The punishment Alastor most probably deserved in his afterlife. But before he could continue his train of thoughts, he got interrupted.

   “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” your frantic voice shattered the silence of your room as you burst through the door, nearly knocking it off its hinges. Alastor flinched, startled by the sudden commotion. His head turned a full 180 degrees to face you, accompanied by the snapping of bones and sharp crackle of radio static, and you froze mid-step, locking eyes with him.

   You blinked once, then twice. “Oh, Alastor! I'm so sorry!” you cried, your eyes glistening with tears. “I’m so, so sorry! I screwed up!”

   He stood there, holding your notebook, his expression frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. His heart raced in his chest as you hurried toward him, trembling slightly.

   “I went to the butcher, but I forgot my purse at the hotel! I had to come back for it!” you rambled, breathless, and Alastor’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m so sorry I won’t have your supplies in time! Please forgive me, Alastor! Or punish me! I’d love to be punished! I–I mean – I deserve to be punished! I can also punish myself if you prefer! Just forgive me for being so stupid!” you pleaded, completely oblivious to the fact that Alastor stood in front of you with your most mortifying secret in his hands. 

   Tears streamed down your face, but Alastor just stared, mouth slightly agape, yellow teeth peeking through as he stood there, overwhelmed. He held your notebook in his hands, the disturbing contents trapped between its thick covers, while you rambled on about a forgotten purse and your desire for punishment. All the while, you remained utterly unaware of the true embarrassment in front of you.

   “Uh…” Alastor exhaled at a loss of words.

   You gazed up at him with teary, wide eyes, then your eyes slowly drifted down to his hands. Realization hit you like a train. Your eyes widened and grew so big in size that they rivaled with the creatures on your posters, the color from your face draining, turning your skin from pale to snow-white in an instant.

   “No...” you breathed, your voice weak and barely above a whisper. You shook your head slowly, stepping back, repeating the word in disbelief, as if doing so could undo the reality before you.

   Alastor's initial shock dissolved into a wicked grin. His pupils constricted, and the glow in his crimson eyes intensified with a dangerous gleam. Watching your horror unfold, filled him with a surge of dark satisfaction and the thought of simply torturing you felt far too mild now. No, this reaction was much more satisfying, much more delicious. His eyes gleamed with cruel amusement as an idea took root. This wasn't just good. It was perfect. The situation was playing right into his hands.

   “Well, my dear, it appears that you've stumbled into quite the predicament, huh?” his static-filled voice broke the uncomfortable silence and he turned around fully, tilting his head in a derogatory manner. “Care to explain?” He asked, his fingers tapping against the book one after another, the sound of his claws clapping against its surface a haunting melody. His voice was much too light and way too cheerful for what he felt on the inside, but it was the perfect way to confront you with the danger you just put yourself into. It made him hard to read. It put him in charge.

   “Well… uh… uhm…” you stumbled, momentarily speechless. Alastor could see the wheels turning in your head and he noticed your pale cheeks turn a red color that was almost as vibrant as his coat.

   He took a step closer and tilted his head further, almost holding it at a 90 degrees angle. “Well…?”

   “I– it's not what–” you started but Alastor interrupted you.

   “Save this nonsense. This is exactly what it looks like, dear. Now, tell me, what is this thing you're so ashamed of, huh?”

   You began to fumble with your shirts, fingers fidgeting with the fabric as your breaths grew more ragged. “I–I–It's… a diary!” you shouted that last word. “A diary! Yes, yes! Nothing more! Just a few thoughts about my life at the hotel!” you tried to save yourself from this situation, crafting a lie that was so obvious that even the most stupid person would've seen right through it. And, after all, it's not that Alastor didn't just read page after page with an abhorred expression. But you didn't need to know. Not yet. He'd let you squirm a little before dropping the bombshell. So, he just raised an eyebrow and turned the notebook in his hands, eyeing it from all sides with faux curiosity. “Is that so?” he drawled and you seemed to shrink under his looming presence and intense gaze.

   You nodded hastily, your whole body vibrating with the simple movement. “Yes! Yes…”

   “Well…” Alastor paused for a moment, glancing down at the supposed ‘diary’ and then darting his eyes at you from under his lashes, a quick flicker of mischief dancing across his features but no less intense.

   You swallowed. And Alastor could see your throat jolt up and down.

   “Well,” he repeated, “if it's just about the hotel, then I guess you wouldn't mind if I take a look.” He moved his hand to open the notebook but your panicked voice interrupted him.

   “No!”

   He stopped his movement, thumb and index just touching the upper rim of the front over. He raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Oh? And why's that?”

   “Because… because… it's not good. It's just… bullet points and quick notes. Nothing special, really! Just ugly smearing and shitty drawings!” You explained in a rush, nervously shifting your weight from one foot to the other while you bit the corners of your cheeks and your hands kept fumbling with your shirt.

   Wait. Drawings? Alastor blinked. There were illustrations in there too?! He swallowed. Hard. Though his expression did not reveal any of the discomfort that crept through his veins like a venomous snake on the hunt for something to eat.

   “Oh come on, they can't be so bad!” Alastor assured while he made sure his fingers lingered at the very same spot, a silent threat that he could – and would – open the book any second.

   Tears welled up in your eyes again as you stared up at him with pursed lips, a pleading expression on your incredibly blushed face as you silently, yet loud enough for everyone to hear, begged he would put it aside and dismiss your personal belongings. 

   You folded your hands in front of you as if praying to some God, your voice barely above a whisper, “I mean it, Alastor. Please don't open the book. Please…"

   Oh, this was delicious. This was so much better than any torturing method he had imagined just mere minutes ago. Your pleading expression, the fear in your eyes, the way you so desperately tried to keep him from opening the book while you were completely unaware of the fact that he had already read its contents. That he knew about your deepest, dirtiest desires, your pathetic longing for him that must’ve affected you so strongly you spend hours and hours of your free time to create something this atrocious… He could see your body tremble. He noticed every inch of your skin on fire, every single hair standing on edge. He smelled the panic that surged through your veins and heard the blood rushing through your arteries, powered by the frantic beating of your pounding heart in your chest.

   The silence between you stretched on and Alastor enjoyed every second of it, reveled in this moment of utter uncertainty. He heard your ragged breaths, how you tried to force yourself to keep your breathing as steady as possible, fighting against the tears that glistened in your eyes. Alastor realized you resembled the drawings he’d discovered in that chaotic stack of paper, and his grin grew even more sinister, exposing his sharp fangs in all their menacing glory.

   It was at this moment he knew time had come to drop the bombshell. To reveal the truth to you and humiliate you with the product of your own creativity.

   “‘Deer-daddy’, huh?” he casually quoted one of the lines from your story and he saw you twitch, his sadistic satisfaction growing even stronger.

   “What?” you whimpered in shock but before you could say more, Alastor opened the notebook and flipped to the very page where he read it, turning the book around for you to face your own writing and pointing with his clawed finger at the line.

   “Here it is, ‘deer-daddy’,” he repeats again, tapping against the page twice. Then he inhaled deeply, raised one eyebrow and looked at you like a disappointed parent. “First off, I am not your father,” he clarified, his tone still casual, a subtle hint at the hidden danger underneath his facade. “And secondly… Wouldn’t that make the whole plot of your story a little… incestuous…?”

   The trembling of your body intensified and your breaths got quicker, impossible to control as you found yourself at the brink of hyperventilation.

   “Oh, come now, dear. Why so nervous…?” he drawled and your lips began to tremble.

   “You…” you started but your breath caught in your throat, your voice trembling as much as your body. “You… read… it…?”

   Alastor fell silent for a moment, his burning red eyes taking in your pitiful state. Then his smile widened, casual yet unnervingly so, before he cheerfully exclaimed, “Of course I did! How could I resist this flashy little booklet you so obviously displayed in the middle of your desk? I simply had to read it!” He closed the book and thrust the cover into your face, an exaggerated gesture meant to highlight its eye-catching design. The stickers you had playfully plastered on now seemed to mock you for forgetting to hide it away.

   Holding the book closer to himself again, he shifted his gaze between it and you. “But let’s be honest, dear. Your storytelling could use some work.” He opened the book again and flipped through the pages. “You started off strong with your self-insert and their dramatic backstory – it caught my interest at first. But come on. Kidnapped into Hell? By the Radio Demon, due to a ridiculous Halloween bet gone wrong?” He raised an eyebrow at the sheer absurdity of the plot before he continued, “First off, summoning me to Earth requires much more than a little pentagram, some candles, and a radio. I deserve better sacrifices than that. And do you honestly think I’d find a pathetic little human being, especially one like you, interesting? What could you possibly offer in return for my favor besides your fragile soul? I’m not the kind to wait years or decades for a death so a bargain can be fulfilled. It’s simply… inconvenient.”

   You stared at him, dumbfounded, as he critiqued your writing like an editor at a publishing house.

   “And kidnapping someone just because of their ‘tempting nature’ and without further motive? That’s quite foolish. What if the Sins found out? Or other powerful beings in charge?” He stepped closer, glaring down at you with a still raised eyebrow, his casual demeanor betraying a hint of enjoyment in your discomfort. “Don’t you think they’d come after you if they learned that a human managed to survive a descent to Hell? Honestly, you’re missing quite a thrilling plot here.”

   Alastor’s eyes flicked over the pages, taking in fleeting words without truly reading. He didn’t need to reread to recall the errors and striking details; they were burned into his mind – probably for the rest of eternity. As he took a deep breath, he stumbled upon a lewd drawing of you and him tangled together on a desk – something he must’ve overlooked before and wished he could forget now. So, there were illustrations in this book. You didn't lie.

   Blinking, he turned the page, pushing aside this humiliation for a moment to continue his critique, “While your writing style is surprisingly enticing, the rest of the story lacks character development, thrill, and depth. It could have been executed much better – if we ignore the fact that it centers around me being your beau and engaging in... inappropriate activities while indulging in exaggerated displays of carnal desires. You’re a filthy little thing, aren’t you?” He chirped, glancing at you with anticipation, waiting for you to form a response. But you were speechless. Not a single word managed to leave your lips as you just stared at him, dumbfounded, your mouth agape and eyes widened in horror and confusion.

   Alastor sighed. “Oh come now, dear. If you can be so bold to bring such an imagination to paper you can surely just answer my question.”

   “I–,” you stuttered, pausing to gather your strength to do as he commanded. But instead, the words tumbled out as an apology. “I–I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude–”

   “Uh, uh, uh, dear!” Alastor interrupted, waving his index finger in front of your face. Your eyes squinted, tracking its movement. “We both know you’re not ashamed of intruding on anything related to me. Considering you’ve been following me around with those doting eyes of yours ever since the day you begged me to take your soul. You’re a bold little creature, utterly devoid of dignity, feeling the need to humiliate me in the process.”

   He closed the book and handed it back to you. Your trembling hand snatched it from his grip, and you hugged it protectively against your chest, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths to steady yourself. Meanwhile, Alastor continued his scolding, stepping closer until there was barely a foot of distance between you. He tilted his head, looming over you like a predator, eyes narrowed and teeth flashing.

   His voice dropped, growing darker with each word, the static crackling around him making the air feel charged as he hissed, “I suggest you cease this violation of my privacy before I make sure you regret every little thought you’ve ever dared to indulge in regarding such frivolities.”

   For a fleeting moment, his eyes turned an abyssal black before returning to their fiery hue. It was a subtle threat, yet clear as day. He lingered, staring down at you, savoring your pathetic state, before shadows engulfed him, pulling him into darkness until he vanished completely, leaving you alone in your room with just your thoughts and the memory of the consequences of your inappropriate behavior.

   Yes, he definitely needed that therapist.

[sysig]

Sizing chart of cute: One Size Fits All (Patreon)

[incidentale]

for my own sanity i cannot think about the olympics announcement for more than two seconds

[taurasiluvr]

WE GOT A DOPE LOVE, WE GOT A BOND THAT THEY SPOKE OF / TWO GUNS WE DON'T GIVE THEM HATERS NO LOVE ── BUECKERS⁵

how you can help palestine part one part two

★ i got a some requests for a last part for my paige fic, so here it is!! ★ "girlyy u shld add another part to ur paige fic where reader finally breaks up w her bf and ends up giving back to paige?? (p receives) queen ur literally feeding us rn🙇🏽‍♀️" /// "and NOW i think you should do a final third part of the paige x reader where reader leaves that bum ass boyfriend and finally gets with paige 😜😜"

 ⠀ ── ⠀warnings ;; nsfw under the cut, mdni. homophobia (from ex), arguing, singular physical altercation (if you can even call it that), oral + fingering (r giving), lovey-dovey sex, break-ups.

 ⠀ ── ⠀word count ;; 3.8k

 ⠀ ── ⠀rylin's notes ;; requests are open for those who want to send them in :p

you and your boyfriend walk hand-in-hand into the crowded gymnasium, paige's jersey clad on your body. as you made your way to the bleachers, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness. again, you were wearing paige's jersey, a silent testament to the bond you shared, and you knew it would be noticed by everyone, including your boyfriend.

he glanced at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. "you're really supporting her, huh?"

"mhm," you replied, squeezing his hand. "she's important to me, you know that."

he nodded, his expression softening. "yeah sometimes i wish i played basketball so you could support me like you do her," he joked as you gave him a nervous laugh.

the worst part of that was – you kind wish he did, too.

you found a spot in the bleachers, settling in as the players warmed up on the court. the sound of basketballs bouncing and sneakers squeaking against the floor filled the gym. you scanned the court, your eyes quickly finding paige; she looked focused and determined, her movements fluid and confident. you felt your lips curve up into a subconscious smile as you watched her, and it filled you with adoration knowing how much she loved this sport, it made you fall in love with her even more.

as the game began, you cheered along with the rest of the crowd, your excitement growing with each play. paige was on fire (per usual), her skill on full display. you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride every time she made a basket or a crucial play. your boyfriend cheered too, his competitive nature coming out as he got into the game.

at halftime, the score was close, and the tension in the gym was palpable. you turned to your boyfriend, who was animatedly discussing the game with the dad next to him. he seemed to be enjoying himself, and you felt a small sense of relief. maybe things were starting to settle down.

as the second half began, the intensity ramped up. UConn was behind by a few points, and the pressure was on. you watched her closely, her determination evident in every move she made. with just a few minutes left on the clock, she made a play, stealing the ball and driving it down the court for a layup that brought the crowd to its feet.

you jumped up, cheering loudly, your heart pounding with excitement. your boyfriend joined in, his enthusiasm matching yours. as the final buzzer sounded, UConn emerged victorious, the gym erupting in cheers and applause.

you made your way down to the court, weaving through the throngs of celebrating fans. paige spotted you and jogged over, a huge smile on her face. she looked radiant, her eyes shining with triumph.

"my god, that was insane!" you exclaimed, wrapping her in a hug.

"i know!" paige replied, her breath still coming in short gasps from the exertion. she glanced at your boyfriend and gave him a nod.

he smiled, watching the interaction between you two. "you played a hell of a game, never thought women's basketball could be that entertaining."

you cleared your throat, nudging him slightly as you gave paige a sympathetic smile. "babe," you gave him a sigh, earning a shrug from him.

paige laughed, ignoring the comment. "well uh, maybe that's your sign to watch more."

"yeah, maybe."

there was a moment of awkward silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. you felt caught between the two people who meant so much to you, each with their own place in your heart (at least, that was what you were trying to convince yourself).

paige's teammates called her over for a group photo, and she glanced behind her. "aaliyah's boyfriend is hosting an after-party, if you're down," she didn't really acknowledge your boyfriend, her gaze fixed on you.

your lips curved up into a genuine smile as you nodded, and it felt like it was just the two of you for a moment. "yeah, we're down."

"okay, perfect." paige grinned before she turned around toward the team. you watched her go, your heart swelling with a mixture of emotions.

your boyfriend squeezed your hand, pulling you out of your thoughts. "babe, we have my function tomorrow morning, remember?"

"yeah, we won't stay out too late." your gaze stayed on the blonde before you glanced at your boyfriend, forcing a smile.

he nodded, though his expression remained wary. "okay, just don't want you to be too tired."

the drive to aaliyah's boyfriend's house was filled with a tense silence, your boyfriend focused on the road while you stared out the window, lost in thought. when you arrived, the house was already crowded, music and laughter spilling out into the neighborhood.

you spotted paige as soon as you walked in, her presence a comforting anchor amidst the chaos. she waved you over, her smile bright and inviting. "hey! so glad you guys could make it,"

"of course," you replied, returning her smile. "wouldn't miss it."

your boyfriend trailed behind you, glancing around the crowded room. "nice place," he commented, his tone neutral.

paige nodded, her attention shifting to him briefly before returning to you. "yeah, it's pretty great. come on, let's get you some drinks."

as your boyfriend found some of his friends, paige led you to the kitchen where a variety of beverages were spread out on the counter. as you poured yourself a drink, paige leaned in closer, her voice low. "you okay? you seem a little tense."

you gave her a small smile, grateful for her concern. "yeah, just a lot on my mind."

paige's eyes softened, and she gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "i'm here if you wanna talk."

"thanks, p," you replied, feeling a warmth spread through you at her touch.

the evening wore on, and you found yourself relaxing more and more as you mingled with friends and enjoyed the party. however, there was an underlying tension that you couldn't quite shake, a constant reminder of the complicated situation you were in.

toward the end of the night, you found yourself alone on the back porch, taking a moment to breathe in the cool night air. paige soon joined you, her presence a calming balm to your nerves.

"needed a break?" she asked, leaning against the railing beside you.

"yeah, just a little overwhelmed," you admitted, staring up at the stars.

paige nodded, her gaze thoughtful. "i get it. tonight's been a lot."

you turned to her, the unspoken tension between you palpable. "paige, you know i... i think that, um..."

paige's attention was fully fixed on you now, her eyes never leaving your face. "you think what?"

before you could finish, the door to the porch opened, and your boyfriend stumbled out, his expression exhausted but he immediately straightened up as he saw how close you and paige were. "hey, there you are. everything okay, what's goin' on?"

you sighed, your frustration bubbling over as you glanced back at him. "yeah," you muttered, annoyance taking over. with a scoff, you shook your head and began walking back into the house.

your boyfriend seemed confused and maybe even a little angry as he glanced toward you and paige. "the fuck is up with your attitude all of a sudden?"

"god, nothing," you retorted, rolling your eyes as you tried to push past him. "get outta my way."

"no! you think i'm fucking stupid?" his voice grew louder, anger seeping into his tone. he blocked your path, his presence imposing.

"just let me through," you insisted, trying to sidestep him.

"you've been acting weird all night, and now i find you out here with her?" he jabbed a finger towards paige, who had been watching the exchange with a concerned expression.

"jesus, you're overreacting!" you snapped, the tension in the air thickening. "it's not what you think-"

"oh, really? cus it sure as hell doesn't look like it," he spat back, his voice rising. he grabbed your arm and pushed you back outside, his grip tight as you let out a yelp.

the force of his grip was jarring, and the sharp yank backward sent you stumbling. your breath caught in your throat as you struggled to regain your balance, the pain from his grip making your arm throb. paige's eyes widened in alarm, and she took a step forward, her voice urgent.

"hey, asshole, let go of her!" paige shouted, her tone steely as she tried to pull you out of your boyfriend's grasp.

his grip tightened around your arm, his eyes locked onto paige's as his face contorted with anger. "don't fucking touch her," he hissed through gritted teeth. "you think you can just waltz in and steal her from me? you're a fuckin' girl and you're over here, corrupting her."

"corrupting her?" paige scoffed, her voice firm, her hands raised defensively. "what is this, the fuckin' 60s? are you kidding me?"

your boyfriend's grip on your arm tightened once more, and he turned to face paige, his eyes flashing with rage. "stay outta of this, you little bitch."

the insult hit you like a physical blow, and you flinched, your heart pounding in your chest. "don't call her that!" you shouted, your voice breaking with emotion. "let go of me!"

"or what?" he sneered, his grip still unyielding. "think you can just walk away from me?"

you could feel your anger and frustration reaching a boiling point. "god, just shut up! you're acting like a complete asshole."

"yeah, and who's the one sneaking around with this bitch?" he shot back, his words dripping with venom.

"i told you to not call her that!" you shouted, your voice cracking with emotion.

"or what?" he stepped closer to you, his face twisted in rage. "you gonna leave me for her? is that it?"

before you could respond, paige stepped between you, her gaze locked onto your boyfriend's. "you need to fuck off!"

"oh, so you're her knight in shining armor now?" he sneered as he finally let your arm go with a push, causing you to stumble backward. "fuckin' pathetic. you think you can take her from me? you're just a sad, desperate bitch who can't stand that she'll never want you like she wants me."

paige's jaw clenched, but she didn't move. "i don't need to take her from you. you're doing a fine job of that yourself."

"fuck you," he growled, pushing paige back roughly.

"don't fucking touch her!" you screamed, before getting his face.

the aggression in his actions was the final straw for you. "we are done," you declared, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt.

he turned back to you, his eyes wide with shock. "what?"

"you heard me," you said, stepping away from him. "i'm done with this. i'm done with you, no more breaks no more... no more of this, i'm done."

your boyfriend stepped back, his chest heaving with rage. "you think this is over? you think you can just walk away like this?" he shouted, his voice echoing in the quiet night. "for a girl?!"

paige stepped forward, her expression nothing short of pissed. "yeah, it is. you needa leave her alone, seriously, this shit is getting bad."

he glared at paige, his jaw clenched. "you think you're so tough, don’t you? just wait. you'll see what happens when i get back inside."

"oh yeah? i'm not fucking scared of you, i don't care who you think you are," paige snapped, she'd had enough of this guy the moment she met him – this was her last straw. "but what you're not gonna do, is step into my fucking place and threaten me or my girl."

"your girl? you gotta me fuckin' with me," he let out a bitter laugh as he took a menacing step toward paige, his eyes blazing with fury.

paige didn't flinch, her stance firm and unyielding. "yeah, my girl," she said, her voice laced with a dangerous edge. "and if you think i'm just gonna stand by and let you grab her like that, you're fucking crazy."

he sneered, his face contorting with contempt. "you really think she wants you? you're just a pathetic rebound, a distraction."

paige's eyes narrowed, her fists clenching at her sides. "this isn't about what you think. this is about you being an abusive asshole who can't handle the fact that she deserves better."

the words hit like a slap, and he recoiled, his face twisted with rage and denial. "you're fucking delusional," he spat. "she'll come crawling back to me. you'll see."

"not if i have anything to say about it," paige retorted, stepping forward to close the distance between them. "now get the fuck out."

the air thick with unspoken threats and barely contained anger. you stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, feeling torn and overwhelmed. this confrontation had been brewing for a long time, and now it was finally coming to a head.

he glanced at you, his eyes flashing with a mix of betrayal and desperation. "is this what you want? to be with her?" he demanded, his voice breaking with emotion.

you took a deep breath, your hands trembling. "i wanna be happy. i want to feel safe. and after tonight, i-i don't feel that with you."

for a moment, the silence was deafening, the only sound the distant hum of the party still going on inside. your boyfriend stared at you, his expression a mix of anger and disbelief, before finally turning on his heel and storming back into the house. the door slammed shut behind him with a resounding bang, the noise echoing in the quiet night.

you let out a shuddering breath, your knees feeling weak. paige wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into a tight hug. "it's okay," she murmured, her voice soothing. "he's gone."

you clung to paige, the reality of what had just happened crashing down on you. the fear, the anger, the confusion – it all seemed so overwhelming.

"he'd... he's never grabbed me like that before," you murmured, your voice trembling as you clung to her. "never put a hand on me, ever."

paige held you tighter, her hand gently rubbing your back. "i'm so sorry you had to go through that," she whispered. "now you know his true colors,"

you buried your face in her shoulder, the tears finally breaking free. "don't know what to do," you admitted, your voice choked with emotion. "i don't know if i can handle this."

paige pulled back slightly, cupping your face in her hands and looking into your eyes. "you're stronger than you think," she said softly. "and you're not alone. i'm here for you, always."

you nodded, taking a deep, shaky breath. "thank you, p," you whispered.

she pulled you into a tight hug, her warmth and strength surrounding you. "you don't have to thank me," she murmured. "i care about you. and i won't let anyone hurt you, especially a 5"8 frat guy,"

you let out a tearful laugh, shaking your head as your grip tightened around her.

she gave you a small, reassuring smile. "come on, let's get you home and away from all this shit,"

you nodded again, allowing her to guide you back into the house. the noise of the party seemed louder now, a stark contrast to the quiet tension of the porch. as you walked through the crowd, you felt the weight of curious eyes on you, but paige's steady presence beside you gave you the strength to keep moving.

 ⠀ ── ⠀

"i'm sorry," you buried your face in paige's neck, the warmth of her bed comforting. the events of the night had left you emotionally drained, but here, wrapped in paige's embrace, you felt a sense of safety.

paige's hand gently stroked your back, her touch soothing. "you don't have to apologize," she said softly. "none of this is your fault, i promise."

you sighed, the tears still threatening to spill. "i just feel so stupid. i should have seen the signs, should have ended it sooner. i should have listened to everyone when they said he was toxic,"

paige pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting yours. "hey, don't blame yourself," she said firmly. "it's not easy to see things clearly when you're in the middle of it. what's important is that you're safe now."

you nodded, grateful for her understanding. "thank you for being there," you whispered. "don't know what would have done without you tonight."

"you don't have to think about what could've happened," paige's expression softened, and she pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "i'll always be here for you," she promised.

you felt a surge of warmth at her words, the sincerity in her voice reassuring. you looked up at the blonde, the warmth in her eyes making you feel fuzzy inside. "i have to find a way to repay you for everything."

"nah, you don't have to, princess." her lips curved into a smile. "you know i woulda killed him right then and there if you weren't there, baby."

the petname made your face flush as you smiled up at paige, your heart beginning to race. "not just for tonight... i meant all the times you fucked me good,"

paige let out a breathless at the vulgarity in your words, her own face flushing as she licked her lips as they curved into a smirk. "really, princess? you're gonna make me blush," she teased, her voice dropping to a playful whisper.

"mhm," you batted your eyelashes up at her, making paige let out a laugh. your hands travelled to her naked stomach, your hand flush against it. "let me make it up to you, p,"

paige's breath hitched as your hands moved against her stomach, your touch sending shivers through her body. her eyes darkened with desire as she looked down at you, her smirk widening. "oh, baby," she murmured, her voice thick with anticipation. "what do you have in mind?"

you grinned, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her collarbone, your lips trailing a path of fire down her skin. "think you deserve a little pampering," you whispered against her skin, your hands sliding lower, teasing the edge of her waistband.

paige let out a low moan, her hands tangling in your hair as she arched into your touch. "fuck, you drive me crazy," she breathed, her voice trembling with need.

you continued your slow exploration, your lips and hands working in tandem to elicit more sounds of pleasure from her. you could feel the heat building between you, the air thick with anticipation. "relax and let me take care of you," you murmured, your voice soothing.

paige's eyes fluttered shut, her breath coming in shallow gasps as you continued your ministrations. your heart raced at her sounds, a surge of desire flooding through you. your moved with purpose, paige's hands roamed over your back, her nails digging into your skin as she struggled to hold on.

you moved downward, finding your place in between her legs. her hand was weaving through your hair, her eyes fixed on your face. you moved her underwear to the side as you licked a stripe against slick pussy, earning a low groan from the blonde.

"fuck, keep lookin' at me like that," paige let out a breathless laugh as she gripped your head.

you looked up at paige, maintaining eye contact as your tongue moved against her. her breath hitched, and her grip on your hair tightened. "god, you're so good at this," she moaned, her voice breaking with pleasure.

encouraged by her reaction, you continued your movements, your tongue and fingers working perfectly to bring her to the edge. the taste of her arousal and the sight of her coming undone because of you sent waves of desire coursing through your body.

paige's moans grew louder, her body trembling as she struggled to maintain control. "don't stop, baby," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. "fuck yeah, princess, oh fuck,"

you had no intention of stopping, your focus solely on her and the pleasure you were giving her. you increased your pace, your efforts rewarded by the way her hips bucked against you and the cries of pleasure that escaped her lips.

she was close, you could feel it in the way her body tensed and the desperate sounds she made. you began flickering your tongue against her clit, quickly pushing her over the edge. paige's entire body shuddered, her back arching off the bed as she came with a loud, guttural groan.

you kept going, drawing out her orgasm for as long as possible until she finally collapsed back onto the bed, her body limp and trembling. you moved back up to her, pressing soft kisses along her stomach and chest as she caught her breath.

"fuck, that was incredible," paige managed to say, her voice hoarse. she pulled you up to her, capturing your lips in a deep, sloppy kiss. "you're incredible."

you smiled against her lips, your heart swelling with pride and affection. "love making you feel good," you whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

paige's eyes softened, and she cupped your face in her hands. "and i love you," she said, her voice filled with emotion. "more than anything."

"i love you too, p."

paige's eyes glistened with a mix of love and contentment, and she pulled you into another tender embrace. you nestled into her warmth, feeling a sense of peace wash over you that you hadn't felt in a long time.

"let's just stay like this for a while," you murmured, your voice muffled against her skin.

"absolutely," Paige whispered back, her hand gently stroking your hair. "just you and me, no one else."

the two of you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the world outside fading into insignificance. in that moment, it felt like nothing could touch you, like you were both cocooned in a bubble of safety and love.

after a while, Paige shifted slightly, her hand trailing down your arm. "how about we get some sleep?" she suggested softly. "its been a long night."

you nodded, feeling the exhaustion of the evening catching up with you. "yeah, that sounds good."

paige helped you settle into the bed, her movements gentle and caring. she tucked the blanket around you, then slid in beside you, pulling you close once more. you could feel her heartbeat against your back, a steady, comforting rhythm that lulled you into a sense of security.

"goodnight, princess," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

"goodnight, p," you replied, your eyes already drifting shut.

as you lay there, on the cusp of sleep, you felt a profound sense of gratefulness. despite the turmoil, you knew you had someone by your side who truly cared for you, someone who would stand by you no matter what.

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

[oddinarylani]

'i wish you'd just care about me' arranged marriage skz.

pt 1: chan, lee know, changbin, and hyunjin.

w: blood, violence in changbin's

pt 2 is ⇀ here

𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷.↴

it wasn’t the best of circumstances. no. the day you were bathed in white, promised to a man, and walked down the aisle by your father to be given to the hands of your husband was one you spent in mourning, swallowed by grief. “i bet you’re so excited, yeah?” the makeup artist asked, brushing a pearly shade of pinkish red onto your lips. she had a soft genuine smile as she asked, surfacing you into reality from the fogginess in your head. you nod, once, “yes, i am.” you lie in an attempt to make conversation easy. most of the guests that day knew of the arrangement, but other’s hadn’t a clue - which made appearances dire to keep up with. part of you was pleased to move onto a new chapter in your life if it meant moving on from life with your parents. but the other part reminded you that you were going into a new marriage completely blind to the man you’d call your husband. you met him one singular time before changing your last name, the entirety of it was spent with your parents talking to his own - glances you cast in his direction, if only to study the face of the man you hoped to love one day. 

his jaw was set coldly, eyes focused on the conversation shared between your parents. he was handsome but just stone. was anything there? you would wonder. is there a man beneath that face? the bone beneath his skin rippled in tender structure, ears pierced, nose rounded, and a heart-like shape to his mouth. while there was no longer hope to hold out for, you scrounged up a bit more in the depths of your chest in desire to love him one day. truly love him. and to be loved in return. 

two months into your marriage and you still feel the brick wall dividing you from your husband. it wasn’t exhausting all the time, no. you saw him smile; a few times actually. sometimes you think of it when going to sleep. you hadn’t heard him truly laugh, but you still maintained that same hope from the first time you ever saw him that one day you’d be the reason for him to. your new routine as husband and wife took a minute to settle into; with chan slowly rising to ranks of his family’s company and your own growth in the business of your own. your days were spent at home in your office working from home, a lot of calls into business meetings that you kept your mic muted for, and phone calls to overseas clientele for holiday season. 

chan would wake in the morning and rise from your shared bed quick to get ready for work, leaving you to fix coffee and shrug on a robe in the cold of your home (winters weren’t kind in the mornings) when he’d leave, you’d have a cup ready for him, cream and a sugar cube. “thank you, have a good day.” he’d wish, already halfway out the door with a small tired smile on his face. “you’re welcome, you too,” you’d say, scrolling through your phone as the door would shut. 

he’d take little notice to your attempts at growing your relationship, and you hadn’t had the time to bring it up to him yet that you wanted to try to have a wonderful marriage. you’d step into the living room wearing a new dress for a banquet for the company, smile a bit wider and brighter than usual - he’d look up from the couch, phone still in hand and would give you a thin lipped smile. “you look nice.” you’d rent a movie, one he’d said he’d wanted to watch soon, and welcome him home with drinks by the couch and he’d brush it off, “ah, sorry. i have a company thing tonight. tomorrow maybe?” of course, he’d forget the next day anyway so it would all be for nothing. when he’d come home extra late and you’d be in bed, buddled in pjs in the comforter with a book and the lamp on next to you, you’d muster your best smile and set your book down. “hey, how was work?” he’d sigh, pulling the tie from his neck. “nothing new really.”

and then you’d beg yourself, beg yourself, to just answer the question of why were you in love with him? 

maybe it was for all the times you’d get to see him smile, the chuckles as you’d watch a movie, the thank you’s for cooking, and everything in between. maybe you loved him for the way he stumbled into the kitchen almost late for work, his hair a bit messy and his tie disoriented and you stopped him - “wait,” you put a hand up, walking up to him to fix his tie. it was the closest you’d ever been to him besides the day you’d gotten married, you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. “sorry, my hands are cold.” your voice still laced with sleep as you straightened his tie and flattened his hair. “i-it’s okay.” he assured, clearing his throat. “eat some on your way to work, coffee’s on the counter. have a good day, okay?” you push a few pieces of toast wrapped in a napkin into his hands, pointing to his coffee before turning back to the stove. “r-right. thank you, have a good day.”

that was pretty cute. you even for a moment thought there’d be hope for you, as his cheeks flushed pink when you started working on his tie. sitting at your desk in your office you’d smile at the thought before catching yourself and smacking your own cheeks. 

but time was catching up with you, and the unbearable ache of loving him was almost too much for your heart to handle. you at least needed to know if he felt the same or if he ever could - but in the following days after your realization, you proved yourself right. there was no way. no way this could work out. a steady stream of emotion was constantly running through you; you couldn’t focus on work, you couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat - and you wondered if he even noticed. you were growing increasingly frustrated with chan, and every passing day of limited conversation, barely any eye contact, and virtually no response from chan was wearing you down. one second you were smitten, and the other you were pissed. 

and it eventually all came to a halt. 

the front door of your house shut loudly, louder than usual. and you had a sneaking suspicion chan hadn’t the best day at work. well. that was a shame - you were still pissed, and to think he had the audacity to come home angry from work when he could barely prove to be a communicative partner was enough to leave your blood boiling. you’d let him have it if given the chance. 

“how was work.” it wasn’t so much a question as much as a routine statement. you sat on the couch, shuffling through your movies to find the one he’d been wanting to watch, which upon realization, you didn’t know why you did that when you were pissed at him. 

“fine.” he stomps into your shared bedroom, yanking the tie from his throat as he did so. you roll your eyes and keep shuffling with a much heavier hand this time. when he re-emerges from the bedroom, he’s shed his tie but still has on his button-down and suit jacket on, you furrow your brows and sit up from the couch. 

“what’s wrong? what happened?” you ask out of the goodness of your heart. he tosses open the fridge, sighing. “nothing. nothing happened.”

“you wanna watch that movie you said you wanted to see?” he runs his hands over his face, closing the fridge door. he looks for a moment as if he’s thinking, his hands on his hips as he swallows. “no. not tonight.” he finishes, beginning to walk out of the kitchen before you stand.

“i really really wish you just cared for me.”

it was quiet, quiet, when you said it. the words left your lips before you could realize that your vision was getting a bit glossy. he freezes in his tracks, whipping his vision towards you at the sound of your voice. there wasn’t venom to your words like you expected there would be, no. just defeat. chan hears it, he hears it in you and all of his frustration, his anger, his annoyance, just melts away. instead, his chest is swallowed with guilt. 

“i try,, i try so hard to make this work, chris. i really do.” you wipe your face even though tears haven’t fallen yet, and he thinks it’s to stop them from ever doing so, at least in front of him, and his chest aches. he’s turned to face you now, just six feet away or so, and his brow softens at the sight of you. 

“i cook for you and make you coffee every morning and try renting your favorite movie because you said you wanted to watch it and wear pretty things out to work events and when i go out with friends but,, you don’t,,,” you look at him when you speak, he sees that water building in your eyes and takes a step closer to you, almost wanting to reach out but stopping himself before he’s to do so. your head shakes, you sniff one more time. 

“because that’s what married people do.” this time he does walk closer, you don’t move, but you don’t look him in the eye either - it seems much to hard to do when you’re on the brink of crying. 

“i promised myself,,” you lift a clenched fist to his chest, tapping him once with it, your lips screwing together in frustration though your voice is still soft and tearful. “that as your wife i’d love you one day.” your hand drops from his chest, you wipe your eyes when a single tear spills over your waterline, ducking your head to do so out of his line of sight. “is it too much to ask the same from my husband.”

it’s quiet for a minute, in one way he knows everything to say. every sweet word to soothe over your aching heart, because that’s what he’s suppose to do as your husband, and there’s another part of him that has no clue what to say. 

because what kind of husband is he to leave you feeling as empty as this.

“i told myself on our wedding day that,, i never wanted to be the one to make you cry.” his palms come to cup your cheeks, though his large hands end up swallowing some of your jawline and neck as well. your eyes widen a bit at the feeling, “look at me?” he asks, voice quiet. you do so with guidance from his own hands. “i’m sorry. i’m really sorry.” even he has some water building on his waterline, you notice. you frown, feeling his thumbs dry your under eyes. 

“i never wanted to make you feel uncared for or unheard. i appreciate everything you do for me. and i’m sorry i’ve made you question if i care for you.” he wipes his thumbs under your eyes once more before his hands lower a bit. “you’re my wife. i care about you so much. and i’ll show you that, i promise.” 

you talk for a little longer, but disregard the movie for the night, instead, you settle on curling up beside chris who wraps an arm around you, his cheeks a bit pink as you adjust yourself in his hold. he feels the burn of your own cheeks against his arm. “is this okay?” he asks, his opposite hand settling on your hip. you smile, “of course. i’m your wife, you can touch me. can i touch you?” he hums, scooting closer, giving you the okay to lay your arm across his midsection. you close your eyes for a moment, if only to enjoy the feeling of holding your husband for the first time. the warmth that always seems to naturally radiate off of him, the closeness of his breath, the feeling of being the only woman who gets to see him like this. 

“i didn’t know you were so cuddly, mr. bang.” you smile to yourself, his hand stroking soft over your hip. “only when given the chance, mrs. bang.” he replies. “ooh,, too smooth.” you admire. 

when silence encircles the both of you, and you feel sleepiness begin to creep up on you, he speaks again, “did you mean it when you said you’d learn to love me one day?” his voice is quiet, so tender - it licks at the wounds of your heart and seals them shut. your heart pounds behind your ribcage and you breathe deep to settle the rage of affection steadily brewing in you. “of course.” you reply, your face beginning to bury in his neck. 

“well, that’s a shame.” you furrow your brows, opening your eyes to look up at him. before you can reply he speaks again. “because i love you now.”

 𝓵𝓮𝓮 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀.↴

“the summer berries on the bushels in the forest are getting ripe now, i brought you some.” you lift your basket, both hands wrapped around it’s weak woven handle, showcasing your proud supply of freshly picked goods. you set the basket down a moment later, your husband batting a quick eye to the basket before he looks back to his spread of books a second later. “mm.” is his only reply. 

lee minho was the protector and guide of the largest castle in the northern part of your land. he was a renowned alchemist and practitioner of magic, known for being aid to a handful of people in the village you were raised in, and most notably - a fierce god of night. a vampire. 

it was true the stories of bloodlust and killings that tainted centuries of vampire lore; but lee minho set out to do something different. he hadn’t a care of the human experience, which he shared with that of his ancestors, but he had no need to kill them either. animal blood tasted just as delicious as a human’s. and when befriending a human, their loyalty was like no other. so he didn’t kill them, no, he made pacts and promises, and if anything used them more like pawns but they’d die soon before he did. 

and then there was you. his wife. promised to his hand by your family - a pact of sorts, one of which you both hadn’t necessarily agreed to if it wasn’t for both of your families stepping in to further push along the marriage. in a quiet candlelight scenery you were married to your now husband, and your seal of a kiss was shared. which, honestly, you didn’t regret. he was very handsome - and kissing handsome men was always a joyous occasion (well, mostly anyway) 

he was rageful. not at you, maybe more to existence itself. he was never angry towards you, he never showed it, but you could see deep within the brown wash of his eyes that he was indeed an angry man. he had a hate you’d only seen a few times, and every time you looked a little too hard you felt yourself look away - to anywhere else in the room. afraid of what it meant, afraid of his own distaste. 

“you’re wearing the dress.” he notes. his vision still wondering over the pages in his book. your slightly fallen expression gleams a little at his comment. “yes, of course. you bought it for me.” your hands smooth over your torso, he still doesn’t look up. your lips twist at the sight of your husband’s disinterest, but you turn to wash the berries and leave the room. 

most of your marriage to minho felt like a huge disinterest on his side. he’d lived many years, this much was true. but in your short time to live, you longed for a husband who loved you; and part of you thought minho was largely incapable of this. he never showed it. he never showed anything for that matter; he was always so far away. life not only was nonexistent to him as a man, but in his very eyes. he showed not a shred of emotion, and even in your good memories with him, he showed very little. part of you blamed it on his years of living, but yet the other part of you reminded you it was all the more reason to care. every day felt like a slow drag, you weren’t really living, not really. survival maybe. but being bound to this castle with a man who rarely payed you mind left an ache worse than death. were you not to his standards? maybe that was it. 

you’d shed too many tears over the situation, now every time you cry you try to pull yourself together in the face of your grief. upon talking to your family, a few members reminded you that your voice was powerful, and you should very much share your opinions to him on the matter if your marriage was to work - but that was the thing. a few months in with the man you were to learn to love, and you felt even now it was helpless. it was a sting that brought you to your knees, god how you wanted to just tell him. tell him you loved him - and hear it from his own mouth. 

upon your ravage of feelings and your family’s request, you resorted to writing a letter to your husband. you surely wouldn’t have the guts to face this powerful man in person, not like this. so you took to beginning your note in scribbles in the isolated space of your bedroom. 

your lips twitch in thought as you think over the contents of your letter, your hand stilling still quipped with a quill. you’re swallowed with silence in the stillness of your bedroom, word after word is brought to the front of your brain. there’s a number of things you could say, but not enough words in the world to describe how you felt. 

“lee minho, i’m unhappy.” you speak aloud as you write, taking a moment to look back at your writing, quickly scribbling the line out before starting again. 

“dear husband, i have a few things to bring to your attention.” you nod along as you write, happier with this line. 

“i believe if we’re to work as husband and wife, we should talk more.”

“i try time and time again to gain your attention, to bring you happiness in a way i know how.”

“but,, it seems to never be enough.”

“if you don’t want me,” you pause, your fingers fumble with the quill in your hand as your palms begin to warm against the hardwood. your lips twitch again.

against all things in your brain reminding you a married couple should speak of their issues and this was a must in your relationship if either of you wish to continue - an overwhelming feeling of pure grief washes over you and your hand as you still to keep from writing. 

every bright moment in your relationship flashes before your eyes like matches starting a fire. it’s so overwhelming that your voice dies, and a tight tug at the back of your throat halts you to a shred of reality you hadn’t dwelled on. you sit further back in your chair, eyes glossing over into thought - lost entirely to the contents of your brain. realization has hit you like a truck in the face of your confrontation. 

because what about all of the wonderful times you’ve spent together.

what about the dancing of your wedding day, the golden burn of his watchful gaze, the presents, the meals shared, the wishes of good morning or good night? what about all of the times that kept you so closely tethered to him? what about the times that kept you in love with the man who barely spoke to you. 

you take a breath - and as quiet as it would be, it’s blaringly loud in the silence of your bedroom. 

“i want to love you. i do. and,, i think i do.” clarity has left your quill, and instead, you write from your heart. what you truly feel. 

“i hate that you don’t notice when i try to do kind things for you.”

“i want to work in matrimony of us.”

“i know our marriage is against our wishes, but i want to make it work.”

“i just.. i just wish you cared about me.”

a hand sharply grabs your chin, pulling your gaze to meet that of your husband's golden gaze. 

“not care?” he asks, his face screwed into a sort of confused expression. “not care?” he asks again as his expression contorts again, further - until his hand is tender. 

you’re so sharply pulled from your own head that you’re left with whiplash. he’s heard you? where was he? did you leave the door open? your eyes are blown wide as you face him in the realization he’s heard everything.

your mouth dries as you look at him, his gaze cuts into your very being and you feel utterly frozen. “no-! i didn’t mean it-” “you do though. i’ve made you feel this way.” his gentle grip on your chin leaves you, and he shuffles away, sitting firmly on your bed. his gaze seems lost, as if he couldn’t keep up with the words you’d admitted. 

“minho..” “i do care.” he cuts in. you swallow, your brows melding together as you do so. “i don’t… want you to feel this way. and i’m sorry for doing so.”

in the face of confrontation he seems genuinely distressed, not that any part of you doubted it - but it was comforting to hear the words leaving his mouth. 

“if we’re to be married, i want you happy. comfortable. i don’t want you to feel bad because of me.” he explains. 

“i just,, i want to work this out. i want us to talk more; tell me what makes you happy and what hurts you.” you reassure, holding onto the back of your chair as minho’s head hangs low. “i’m your wife, i want to hear all of that.” a small smile stretches across your mouth; it’s lopsided and a bit sad, but it’s there nonetheless, and the sound of your voice lets minho’s head rise as he meets your gaze once more. 

he sees in you the beauty he sees across the room even as you just sit a few feet away from him. it’s overwhelming, suffocating; and part of him hates it a little bit for suffocating his heart in one swift swallow. you’re all encompassing and human - he’s learned self-control few could achieve, and yet even a few months into a marriage he didn’t agree to and he’s smitten. he wants to reach deep inside his chest and pull his heart out by it’s tethers, and apart of him wants to feel your love to the highest degree he could if just to be surrounded in heaven once more. 

“were you lying then?” he pauses, hands wrung together. “when you said you loved me?” a small quirk in the corner of his mouth leaves your face and chest hot. 

“i wasn’t lying.”

minho’s made home on your bed, lulled to his side as his pretty eyes wash over your face. you aren’t connected, in fact, you’re a little afraid to touch him - regardless of this fact, your wrist lifts to reach nimble fingers to his face, but you pause, your soft fingers retracting into your palm. 

“touch me.” he needs. his hand cupping your own to bring to his face tenderly.

your face is flushed with a dusty pink, the feeling of his face beneath your touch lights the nerve endings in your palm alight. your brow quirks in thought, but not for a moment do you part with his sun-washed eyes. 

“how did you become a vampire?” you ask quietly, your thumb strokes the soft skin beneath his eye, his hand stroking the back of your own. 

“i was born into it. my family comes from a long blood-line of vampires.” you hum in response, taking a moment to study the wash of sun-like gold that overtakes your husband’s eyes. fractals of evening sun beam through the curtains in your bedroom, creating a soft sleepy haze in your room. dust is seen floating in the room in the portions of sun that reach into the room. 

“you’re beautiful.” he beats you to it, realizing he too has been looking at you the entire time. you retract your hand nervously, a smile stretching across your face in sweet embarrassment. “thank you.”

“do you want to be one one day? or do you value your life?” he’s half joking, a floppy smirk on his lips as he sighs a laugh. you hum once more, looking to his mouth to see the slight glimpse of fangs visible to you. 

“maybe. if it meant i got to spend more time with you, than yes.”

minho’s smirk widens, his eyes washing from your face to the curve of your jaw, to the drop of your neck. his mouth parts, his hand coming to the curve of your ribcage over your waist, his warm hand freezes you in place. he lowers his lips to the column of your neck, a lowly drunken gaze filtering over his face. “that could be arranged.” his breath meets the tender flesh of your neck before he presses your waist closer to your body, his soft lips meeting your neck in a single kiss. 

𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓫𝓲𝓷.↴

“be careful on the job today.” you crane your neck out of the doorway of the kitchen to look at your husband as he tightens a holster around his thigh. he looks up for a moment, face momentarily stricken with something similar to surprise at your well wishes. he looks down a moment later, checks the clip of his pistol, and then shoves it into the holster. “i will. i’ll be back tonight.” the door closes sharply behind him and you’re left in the silence of your home yet again. 

there’s a pool of melted ice on top of your coffee, you take a sip anyway, the palm of your hand now wet from the sweat off the glass. in truth, you were trying. very sternly trying to make your marriage work. but with circumstances of said marriage coupled with the dangerous reality of your lifestyles, it felt like your assumed fate was dwindling before your eyes - a thin bow ready to snap under pressure. 

being born into crime wasn’t all good fellas or the godfather all the time - no. it was nasty business, some of which you came to regret but again this was the only life either of you knew, leaving the business would be impossible without a gun to your head. you persevered in the face of guilt anyway, not knowing fully how your husband felt about the situation. the sound of your phone ringing brings you out of your head for a moment, leaving you rolling your eyes at the sight of your mother’s name across the vibrating screen. 

“yes?’’ your coffee tastes bitter now, too much water - you pour the contents into the sink as she begins talking. 

“hey hun, there’s a job tomorrow that’s opened up. one of the boys got canned, we’ll pay his bail through an anonymous source but we have to wait a few days so the cops don’t catch on. you in?” your fingers tug a coffee filter out of it’s wooden box, stuffing it into the machine as you press a button on your grinder. 

“mom,” your hand comes to your eyes, rubbing them tiredly. “i told you i was out of the dirty work. i’m doing that shit anymore. and i’m severely out of practice of doing anything hefty.” you explain, the grinder stops, you pour the grounds into the coffee machine. she sighs on the other end, her voice coming through more heated now - pressure started weighing on your shoulders. she says your name with a deadly tone, it leaves you feeling as though there’s a cold metal rod stiff in your back. 

“why don’t you ever look out for this family? you think you can just leave and do the bare minimum when your father and i have slaved over making a good childhood for you?” and then you’d argue back and forth until you felt like ripping your hair out and you’d finally cave and you mom would end the call sharply and once again leave you in the silence of your home that was beginning to feel more like a prison. 

when you heard the beep that ended the call, you tossed your phone to the couch and let your mind wander yet again - what else was there to do in your seemingly failing marriage and rocky relationship with your parents? you hadn’t many friends unless they were in the business, and that only counted for a few really close ones. you track around your kitchen with your fingers pushed into your hairline, and your mind wanders back to something she’d said on the phone a few weeks ago. 

“we found you your husband, is that not good enough for you?”

you hadn’t even the energy to put up with audacity of that claim. so you ended the call and showered, but it still ate at you greatly - because no. no it wasn’t enough. changbin, as dedicated to the lifestyle as he was, and you respected him for his commitment, was terrible at showing you what he truly felt. most conversations were barely that, mostly exchanges if anything - and the few good times you’ve had together were truly the only thing keeping you around if it wasn’t for the godforsaken hope you managed to hold onto. 

you saw the good in him - the good he was capable of, and every time you’d suffocate yourself in thought about being three months in and still not working together as a married couple should, you reminded yourself of this fact. it’s what kept you in, what drew you closer to him. because what could you both be? it’s already bad enough you have feelings for the guy and he clearly didn’t feel the same way. 

“fuck,, what am i gonna do.” to clear your head you showered again, tying back your wet hair and slumming around the house until changbin arrived back home when you’d be drifting off to sleep. at least you had an opportunity to clean; and when the house was clean, you felt a bit better. you were correct about changbin returning late - you heard a long sigh as he entered your bedroom, the plop of a duffel bag could be heard. when you look at the time on your phone you see it’s just past three in the morning. 

“how’d it go?” you ask tiredly from the bed, the bathroom light flickers on and he raises his head a bit. “oh i’m sorry i didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“it’s okay. you okay?” 

“yeah. yeah, everything went fine. what’d you do today?” you see the rings of exhaustion circling his eyes as he strips off his shirt and hides the smallest of winces.

you sigh heavily, rubbing your eyes as the sink begins to run. “i talked to my mom on the phone. doing a job tomorrow night. cleaned the house though.”

“what kind of job?” he asks as he starts the shower. you talk a bit louder so he can hear you over the sound of the spray. oh he wasn’t going to like the sound of this - these kinds of jobs were everyone’s least favorite in the business. 

“there’s a warehouse on fifth, when you’re leaving the downtown area. apparently some guys are trafficking there. gotta take them out.” 

“shit.. be careful. small time guys have been trying to make names of themselves.” 

“i know, i will be.”

careful you were, but careful was not enough. those guys holed up in that warehouse with every corner covered, not only that, but with automatic weapons with full mags, dressed in black to blend with the shadows. the job was done, the victims released into promised care and with you aid in the following days, be returned to their families or brought to homes, but not without some wounds of your own. the guys dropped you off at the back of your house, granted it was past midnight but you couldn’t be too careful. your home was secluded - but what the law knew was unbeknownst to the organization in regards to this mission in particular. 

you left your weapons in the van with the promise of getting them back the next day. “c-clean the blood off it for me, would you?” you grinned, shuffling from the van with your arm slung over your partner. you lean nearly fully into his weight as he aids you in finding your back door. you bang on the big sliding window before unlocking it, letting changbin know you were home. 

“we gotta get the fuck outta here. you be careful yeah? call me tomorrow morning.” the driver calls before peeling away from your home. you nod, using the wall to stumble inside your house as the living room is suddenly flooded with light, and your husband walks out of your bedroom with his phone in hand and his brows furrowed. 

“changbin,,” you push the door closed, leaving bloody handprints everywhere you touched. 

“fuck- okay, okay, okay- it’s alright. come here.” his outstretched hands come to wrap your arm around his shoulders and stabilize on your waist as he helps you walk to your bathroom. 

hot spots of pain blossom on your waist, ribs, and leg. it’s throbbing, all encompassing, and leaves your eyes watering when changbin’s palm presses a little harshly into your side. throughout the house your gasps and groans of pain are heard, changbin is working as diligently and carefully as he can to help you to the bathroom, only imagining how much you must be hurting. 

“okay, okay- i’m gonna lay you on the floor okay?” he helps you rest along the floor after he’s put some towels down, and kneels by your side before grabbing the extensive first aid kit you kept in your bathroom. you nod, closing your eyes to focus on breathing, but every breath in hurts, and every exhale throbs your wounds. 

“where are you hit?” he asks, you now notice his hands are tainted with your blood in just a few splotches. he rummages through the kit, reaching for the hem of your shirt as he cuts through your gear and clothing. “m-my sides, and,, one in my left leg.” 

“alright. it’s gonna be okay - let’s get you sewn up. what happened?” he asks as a way of distracting you from how bad this was about to hurt. he pours some alcohol in his hands before barring your torso to his eyes, now seeing the festering wounds. 

“t-they-” you laugh because it’s hurting so bad and your eyes are getting glossy as adrenaline leaves your body. “they had automatics… every one of them was geared the fuck up. and not only that but there must’ve been twenty,, twenty five of them and five of us.” 

changbin’s head slowly shakes in disappointment that you were set up that badly for failure, his haw is tight - but he remains focused on the task at hand, cleaning you up. he lifts you up with one arm and helps you shred your arms of your sleeves completely, focusing now on the wound near your ribs. “why’d they send you in with only five people? did they want you to die? fuck.” 

“seems like it.” you chuckle, his hand stabilizes before he reaches into your wound with medical pliers to grab the bullet still embedded in you. your grip tightens on the towels beneath you, eyes now swimming with tears as you groan at the feeling of the tug of the pliers. 

“i know, i know. you’re doing good though, talk about something. tell me about the job or- your favorite music or something.” his hands dip into a bowl of water, returning to your wound to clean you from blood and put some pressure on the wound. 

“the job was shit, but,, the guys are gone. all the victims are safe and i’ll work on paper work to get them home tomorrow.” he hums, nodding. he puts a bit of topical numbing around the wound before grabbing sutures to close the open wound. “as far as music,” you laugh to yourself again, your gaze focused on the ceiling. “you trying to get to know me? didn’t think you cared so much for that.” 

his hands pause. then lower. he looks at you with a kind of genuinity you didn’t expect from the man you called your husband. “of course i care. you’re my wife.” 

“you’re always so focused on the work, on your job. you’re gone a lot. i can tell you care about the organization i just,, i don’t know. i always hoped you’d care for us too.”

he frowns a bit, his gaze is focused back to his hands as he threads the string more diligently through the needle. he’s paused, he has a focused expression and you can tell when you look at him he’s thinking - part of you hopes you haven’t stumped him, or made him uncomfortable - maybe you did hold out too much hope. 

“i do care about us. about you. i always figured since we were arranged to be married that you wouldn’t want much to do with me.” when he returns to working on your wound you wince, eyes closing tight. he apologizes quietly, but it’s over quicker than you expected. 

“i want everything to do with you, silly. you’re my husband. i want this to work between us if we’re going to be married.” your eyes are still watery and the throbbing hasn’t subsided - you wonder if part of this is delusion since your filter has seemingly disappeared in the face of pain. 

he smiles, softly. “i’m sorry that i’ve made you feel that way, and hey-” his hand reaches for yours, the one that bears the ring he gifted you on the day you were married. your eyes meet his as your head lulls to the side, you grasp onto his hand as if he’d stabilize you - and he does. “i do care about you. genuinely.”

you squeeze his hand, the wash of tears that drowned your eyes from pain spill finally. “i care about you too.” 

“don’t cry, silly. i’m almost done, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” 

after changbin coaches you through treating your wounds, he runs you a quick bath and helps you wash the dirt and sweat from your hair. it felt strange to say you felt an overwhelming trust to him - but maybe that was just the energy he exuded. he helps you to bed, and quickly showers off himself before laying next to you. 

his arm wraps around you, and the pain in your side has dulled from the medicine he made you take after closing up your wounds and cleaning them. your head rests on his chest comfortably. “you never answered my question about music.” he says suddenly. 

“i’ll play you all my faves tomorrow morning when you cook me breakfast because i got shot.” you grin cheekily against him. 

“deal.”

𝓱𝔂𝓾𝓷𝓳𝓲𝓷.↴

“i am to be his wife.” there was no expression in the gaze you cast your parents, hands folded neatly in front of you, ever obedient in the face of nobility. before your eyes, in the face of your youth your life of freedom ever awaiting your embrace is taken from you and shackled. your life is to be given to a man you didn’t know, and when shoved his own in your hands you feel the pulse of forgotten life in your palms. there was more to say other than you didn’t want this, there was more words you could sputter in anger at your parents, other screams and cries for this to not happen, yet you swallow, let your eyes gloss over, and prepare a wedding in the following year to a man you’d meet only once before promising forever to him. 

across from you at the altar he stood jaw tight, eyes glassy yet lifeless. when the wedding guests settled and your father handed you off to the prince’s hands, you breathed deep in an attempt to conceal the building tears that sparkled in your eyes. officiant you didn’t know, in the sea of people commending your marriage you knew few faces, and he spoke vows because of remembrance not because of promise. when he lifted the veil from your eyes to look at you, he for a moment faltered and his lips flattened. 

you kissed him because you had to. and you slept beside him that night because you had to. 

in marriage, you always imagined that life would blossom with a spark of light. as a seal to two people’s testament of their love it would grow into something truly beautiful - it would drink in the sun, bathe in the rain, paint its colors on pages and tell its story on lips through decades. as a young girl, the idea of one day marrying someone that loved you was thrilling to say the least. it was pure; and good. and every notion, every dream, every promise to your life you’d made, was stripped from you in a single evening. 

you’d rise from bed when the maids would wake you to dress. you’d be dressed beside your husband, wearing the rings that testified your union, and would watch over the kingdom that would be given to your hands one day. 

there was no use in trying, not even from the start. 

but you wanted to love him. oh you terribly wanted to love him. 

beside him you’d sleep - watching the curvature of his heart shaped lips, the breathing his body exuded - existence. how you were his without him even knowing. only in this state could you see him, really see him. the sprawl of his hair on the pillow before it was to be tied back that morning upon your wake. beautiful he was. when his eyes fluttered open, he wet his lips and you heard him speak - for the first time it felt as though it was to you. 

“i’m sorry.” 

for the entire rest of the day you spent in a haze in your own head. 

two months have gone by, and you were achingly in love with him. but you couldn’t say the same for him; his headspace was unknown. you shared a great castle together, a smaller one just outside the village as your parents lived inside the city walls in the palace, but home felt like a restraint on you. nothing was sacred.

when you spoke, it was matters of business and a shred of the time was talk of personal matters. the only truth you spoke to hyunjin was in the hours before he’d wake when sleep would leave you too early. you tuck your folded hands together under your pillow, your eyes washing over his face as he slept. upon your movement, he turned to his side, his broad shoulders creating lines of his body beneath his sleep shirt. part of you wanted to reach out, to wrap your arms around him and tell him you believed in the both of you, but your thoughts still to silence. 

“i wish you cared for me, in the way i care for you.” you mumble quietly. 

“but i cannot say it yet. you’re a shadow; yet you’re sorry. i’m so confused in my love for you.” 

that’s when he turned over, his eyes open. the maids walk in a second later and your wide eyes glance to them. they pause in their steps, looking between the both of you. had he heard you? surely not. you push yourself onto your elbows as he speaks to the maids, his own hands planted firmly in the mattress. 

“i can dress her.” 

they quickly excuse themselves after, mumbling as they leave the room hurriedly. the room stills, you’re left in the wake of his words with confusion bubbling through your head and your face suddenly flushed. he stands without another word as they’ve left the room, moving to the closet to fetch your under clothes, corset, and gown for the day. 

“hyunjin,” you speak softly. 

“i care greatly for you. i do, but-” 

you swallow, still sitting on the bed with your legs curled beneath the covers. “you cannot dress me.” you hold a hand to pause him in his movements as he approaches with your day clothes in hand. he swallows, “you’re my wife. i can dress you. if you’d let me.” 

hwang hyunjin was one of the most beautiful men you’d ever seen, and this he knew as well - yet the cool confidence he usually carried on his shoulders, in his handshakes, and in his voice, had dissipated. he looked at you with darting eyes that searched your own for the answers he needed, his hands gripped your dress tight. 

his hand stretches out to you, offerance of aid. you look to his palm, the gentle length of his fingers, and find his exuding energy welcoming - so you take his hand. it’s warm as your skin washes over his own, his hands were smooth and embracing, and you stand before him with a sharp intake of breath. 

“i’ve made you feel this way,” he begins, beginning to untie the laces that hang from the neck of your night dress. there’s a great deal of nerve vibrating through your body at the prospect of him dressing you, but regardless you let him in the wake of his tenderness. and if it meant a moment you could share closer to him - you’d take it. 

“you only speak your feelings to me when you think i’m asleep.” at that your breath stills, panic settles in quietly to your bones. 

“i-i’m sorry i-” “you have no need to apologize, it’s me. i’ve made you feel this way. and i’m sorry.” when your dress is removed, he kneels at your feet to gather it before letting you step into your under dress. you rest your hand on his shoulder for balance to do so. 

“in truth, i can’t tell you why i love you.” he says, his hands working to tie your second layer skirt around your waist, once it’s firm and not uncomfortable, you turn your head to look at him with glossy eyes. “you cannot say such things to me and not mean it. you can’t.” 

“i know i haven’t shown it, but it’s true, that i promise you.” with that, he gently guides your arms through the holes of your corset, and begins lacing it, leaving your eyes drowning in tears as your lips tremble. 

“you-you haven’t shown it. how am i to know you love me or that i love you when we hardly have a relationship. you’re my husband, i want to love you as one.” you gasp as he pulls the strings to tighten it, his palm laying flat on your back as he tugs once more. 

“it’s a promise i make now, to show you i do indeed love you. i want you to tell me when you’re hurting, i want to help, i want to grow with you.” his hands lay along your waist as your corset is tightened. when he rounds you, seeing your eyes fogged over, his heart pangs with guilt. 

“i’m sorry, truly. that i have made you feel this way. but please, know my promise is true.” his hands come to gather yours in his grip. 

you nod, wiping your face for a moment as you lift your gaze to look at him. “then i’ll tell you. i’ll tell you whatever you want to hear. i want to work to make this kingdom a happy place for our people, we must work together in that regard.” 

hyunjin listens, strokes his thumbs across the backs of your hands and you speak for a while longer on your marriage, how you’re both willing to work to make your love make sense, how you wish to be a unit in making the kingdom a place of happiness for your people. he prepares for the day, wearing an outfit the same shade of off-white as your own with his long dark hair tied back into a bun. 

he offers his arm to you before you both leave your bedroom, smiling softly. “thank you for talking to me.” he says, opening the door for you. “thank you for listening and talking as well. it feels nice to have this weight lifted.” 

“i agree.”

sorry if hyunjin's is written weird i was listening to cornfield chase by hans zimmer and got lost in the sauce.

[colonelarr0w]

Just a random, domestic scenario that I thought of about Astarion and it made me soft enough to put into writing.

Picture this …

Astarion, especially after everything that he’s been through with Cazador, definitely has to re-teach himself what it means to love without primarily focusing on physical intimacy. Everything that he’s ever known about loving someone, or rather, everything that he thought that he knew about loving someone is restricted solely to sex.

Of course, his understanding of love drastically changes when you waltz into his life. You with your words of affirmation, you with your soft hands, you with the hugs and kisses that don’t necessarily lead to something more. It strikes him as odd … why is it that you saw past his body and looked at him? Really, truly looked at him.

In the beginning, it scares him. It invokes a feeling in him that he wasn’t able to define, and in truth, it scared him. It scared him that every time your arms wrapped around him or every time your lips touched his, he felt warm. For a second, for one singular split second, Astarion felt alive.

And because of that, he pushed you away. It scared him even more when you actually let him.

“We don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with,” you’d told him one night. You were sitting up beside him, his head resting beside your thigh while his eyes stared up at the flickering night sky. “I have no problem waiting for you.”

And wait for him you did. Never once did you pressure him into anything, never once did you make him feel as if your touch was anything but comforting — you didn’t want him to revert back to the mindset that he had become so accustomed to. When he reached for you, you did the same. And if he didn’t, you never grew angry with him.

For that, he was thankful.

All of your waiting comes to a head one night at the camp’s fire. As usual, you sit at Astarion’s side, both of you sitting in a comfortable silence. His fingers itch to hold yours, but he wills himself to stay completely still — even though he wants to hold and touch you, something in him roots him to his place, preventing it.

“Astarion?” He turns at the sound of your voice, blinking away the glazed look that had pained his eyes in favor of looking at you instead. Your eyebrows pinch together, creasing the space between your eyes. “Are you alright love?”

“Fine,” he answers, voice dead and cold. You hum, nodding your head, not prying any further. Even though he certainly doesn’t want to speak about what plagues his mind, a small part of him also wished that you would pry — likely because he knew that eventually, he would crack.

But you don’t. Because you understand the possibility that he would shut himself away further, retreating back to a place where you might not be able to reach him. “Alright, but if something is bothering you, you know that I am here for you.”

“That’s what … scares me,” Astarion whispers, his voice barely audible over the crackle of the camp’s fire. You turn your head to him, gaze catching his profile, silently waiting for him to continue. “Why do you stay … knowing that what you give isn’t reciprocated?”

His question catches you off guard. Was that what was bothering him? His inability to reciprocate the love that you so easily gave to him? Your heart sinks, eyes softening as you angle yourself to look at Astarion fully. The intensity of your gaze makes him feel as if you’re looking through him — through the flirtatious facade that he had put up constantly and seeing Astarion. Seeing ‘Little Star.’

Your silence worries him; makes him feel as if what he had asked you was wrong. Your lips are pressed into a firm, thin line with your eyes focused so intently on his own. Astarion feels as if you’re analyzing him … judging him. But you’re not, and he knows that you’re not.

“Because I don’t do the things that I do expecting it to be reciprocated,” you answer easily, allowing your lips to turn upward into a soft smile. A smile that begins to melt away the iceberg of worry nestled somewhere in Astarion’s chest. You inhale deeply, holding your hand up with your palm facing Astarion. “Here, if you’re okay with it, I want you to lay your palm against mine.”

Astarion’s eyes narrow, confused. His gaze flickers between your upheld palm and your eyes, which hold no ounce of malice or ill intent. Hesitantly, and very slowly, he lifts his palm. And slowly, very slowly, he brings it towards your own, laying it flat against yours.

Shockingly, the touch doesn’t burn. It doesn’t leave behind a searing scar that he would look at with distaste. Instead, it fills him with a comfortable warmth, one that reinforces the genuine love that you feel for him. The love that extends far beyond physical intimacy, far beyond sex — far beyond anything that Astarion had ever experienced.

“Something as small as this,” you say, not moving your palm from against Astarion’s, “is enough reciprocation for everything.”

He remains silent, watching you. You smile, and as if running on autopilot, he returns it.

[mull3ts]

[ 𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒; ONE WAY TICKET ]

⚠︎ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | Smut (18+), Dilf! Aged Up! Friend’s Dad! Mark, Daddy Kink, Blowjobs, Dry Humping, Degradation/Praise Kink

Mark thought he was like you once, shy, timid, unsure. But one singular move proves him completely wrong. 

You were introduced to him as his daughter’s friend, the daughter of the couple next door, swinging by for a few weeks before heading back to campus. He gave you a handshake, a polite smile. He thought you were just a little shy when you could barely hold up a conversation with him, only speaking when he asked you something.

Initially, Mark didn’t think anything of it. 

He knew you were watching a movie with his daughter, so he went back up to his room, tending to whatever business he needed to. That’s when he thought something of it. He thought about how pretty you are, gorgeous even. Sure you were shy, but he’s sure that some people are like that at your age. He knows he was like that at your age. 

Mark’s not blind, he could see right through you from where your eyes subtly darted when he spoke to you. He likes you. Besides being a sight for sore eyes, you’re smart, clever, witty, he sees the way you talk to his daughter. He just wishes that maybe you were a little bolder. 

Mark Lee doesn’t make first moves. 

That’s when you lied between your teeth to your friend saying you needed to use the bathroom. You didn’t really. You didn’t even know why you even told her that. So, you walked upstairs, hunting for the bathroom when you decided to go…left, right, left…right—you decide to go right. As soon as you do, the bedroom door swings open making you stumble back into a wall. You blink a couple of times.

Oh look, it’s Mr. Lee. 

“Holy shit,” he apologizes, his eyes widening in horror. “A-Are you alright? Are you hurt?” 

You’re still rapidly blinking, also in horror. “N-No, sorry, Mr. Lee. I- I didn’t mean to, uhm, yeah.” 

He’s confused for a second. He glances at the bathroom door. “Were you gonna go in there?” 

“Uh-” 

“Because, honestly, the toilet’s just kinda like a little-” 

Screw it. The next thing you know you’re shoving his chest back into his room. He hums a little in surprise, muttering “What the—?” the moment the door clicks behind you. You’re a little surprised you did that.

He’s a little surprised he let that happen. 

You breathe in. “I want to suck your cock.” 

What the fuck. You’ve never done this before. Why did you just tell him that? You're only acquainted with Mr. Lee and, to be completely honest, you don’t even remember his first name—John? Marcus? William? You're sure it starts with an M. You’re also sure it’s probably Mark.

Mr. Lee does a double take. “Did you say…?” 

You nod. “Yes. I wanna get on my knees and gag on your cock.” 

He narrows his eyes down at you. 

“Please.” You add, hoping that maybe it’ll convince him. 

“Y/n, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he trails off like he’s skeptical. “You’re young, I’m like twice your age..and I don’t think maybe you’d wanna mingle around some guy like me, honey. You should go for someone younger, maybe, closer to your age, y'know live your life.” He continues, “Besides, I’m an adult, you’re probably barely an adult, and I just don’t think you should be getting into adult games you should be getting into young adult things.” His hands are on your shoulders at this point. 

Is this man serious? He’s not your dad. “Y’know, Mr. Lee, thank you for the fatherly advice, but, I’d rather you give me life lessons while your cock is in my mouth.” 

One of his eyebrows is cocked up, probably in amusement. “Uh-huh…you sure you wanna…” 

“Suck your cock? Yes.” you answer immediately. “Please.” You add, again. 

“Well,” he shrugs, walking over and sitting in one of his cushioned chairs. “Just tell me if it gets too much for you, honey.” he sighs, pointing for you to sit in-between his thighs—you quickly oblige, getting on your knees in front of him. 

You look up at him as you unfasten his belt, pull down the zipper; your fingers reaching for the waistband of his briefs. His voice interrupts your movements, “You sure my kid’s not gonna wonder where you went?” he pries “Whatcha’ gonna do if she comes in to see her pretty little friend gagging on her dad’s cock, hm?” 

Fuck you for wearing shorts. You could feel your wetness begin to ooze out of you. 

The corner of Mark’s mouth curls up just a little when you don’t respond to him, opting to pull his briefs down lower until his swollen dick slips out, slapped against his stomach. Your lips part in awe, looking at it up and down; your eyes fixate on the white fluid beading at the tip. It’s precum according to Twitter. 

Your stomach is doing somersaults. Why did you think you could do this? Why did you think you could fit all of that in your mouth? You have a gag reflex!

Fingers creep through your hair, almost soothing you, messing your hair just a little. “Go on, baby,” he pushes. “Take it just like you told me you wanted to.” 

You press an unassuming kiss on the base of his cock first, earning a curse from him. 

God you’re such a virgin. 

You stick your tongue out, letting it glide from the base up to the precum where you close your mouth around the tip. His fingers in your hair leave your scalp, the fingers wrap around your hair creating a makeshift ponytail, insinuating he wants to have control over her. Maybe he’s holding back.

Yeah Mark is definitely holding back. 

If it was anyone else like one of his flings, he would’ve already been far into their throat, shoving his dick in as far as allowed. But he’s not. Because you’re different. He likes you. He definitely likes you. If you were just anyone else he would be less…reserved. He doesn’t want to scare you. He’s refraining himself. 

It’s not for long, though. You come to realize that you need more, you want him to teach you about his stupid “adult games”. You use one of your hands to play with his balls and the other to hold onto his calf. You release your hold when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, a.k.a the part you couldn’t fit in your mouth. He twitches in your mouth, while he cusses again, his grip on your hair tightening. You assume you’re into pain by the way your cunt clenches around nothing at the feeling. 

Mr. Lee clicks his tongue, the “tsk” he gives is just a little condescending. Using his free hand, he grips your jaw to help you out a bit, easing his dick further into your mouth. “Such a pretty girl with a pretty mouth,” he grins. You take another inch of him, trying your best to use your tongue more than your teeth. You conclude sucking dick might be harder than you thought. 

“Look at you, struggling on my dick. Pretty baby’s havin’ a little trouble down there, isn’t she?” he chuckles at the way you glare up at him, all helpless and at his disposal. “Don’t forget to breathe through your nose, baby.” 

You try to breathe in, breathing in his scent as you take him deeper, letting him guide you by your hair. You swirl your tongue around his base, emitting soft groans from him. Gosh your jaw hurts. And he hasn’t even hit your throat yet! 

He groans, loudly. “Fuck, I love your little—shit—You ever had a cock in your mouth, baby?” 

You don’t answer, his hold on your jaw tightens. “Answer me.” 

Tears are forming in your eyes as you shake your head. You pull back a little only to plunge his cock farther, his pubes tickling your nose just a little. 

“Good girl,” he praises, your chest swells with pride. “Such a smart girl, aren’t you?” 

You’re so wet now, you’re desperate. You bob your head, tears becoming more prevalent in your eyes everytime he hits your throat. He smiles, using his thumb to wipe away your tears while still holding your jaw. 

You finally have the courage to look up at him, seeing how large he appears from this angle. He’s got a small smirk on his face, a strand of his greying hair fallen on his forehead. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Look at how fuckin’ gorgeous you look,” He praises, now rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “You’re such a slut too, beggin’ to suck your friend’s dad’s cock. You love my cock, don’t you?” 

You whine around his dick, gasping when he yanks you by the hair to pull out. He’s looking at you expectantly. A smirk plastered on his face. You bite your lip, nodding your head eagerly. “Yes!” you cry “Yes, sir!”

He’s immediately satisfied, plunging your mouth back straight to his dick. This time, you hollow out your cheeks, sliding your mouth even further and backwards. His hips thrust upwards, clutching your hair harshly as he uses your mouth. “Such a good girl for me, baby, fuck. Baby knows how to use her mouth for some good, huh?” 

His praise makes you hum around his shaft. Though, a part of you feels just a little jealous he’s been with other people. Not to mention the fact that he’s clearly had a wife. 

Mr. Lee’s dick hits the back of your throat making you gag around him. “Thaaat’s my little slut,” he groans out. “Gag on my dick like I know you wanna.” 

You do as you’re told, letting his cock slide into the back of your throat over and over again. You feel him twitch inside you, his hips beginning to stutter. 

He cusses again, “M’gonna cum, baby,” he pants “M’gonna cum down your throat, and you’re gonna fuckin’ take it, aren’t you?” he chuckles. “You’re gonna take it just like you wanted, pretty girl.” 

You whine around his cock. He smiles. 

Mr. Lee is beyond pleased. Good. 

“Fuuuck,” he lets out a long drawl before he shoots his cum straight down your throat. Your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head at the feeling. He yanks you off his dick, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his dick. “Swallow it all.” 

You oblige. Looking up at him when you’ve taken everything. “I’ve never done that before.” you timidly admit. 

He scrunches his nose at you, his eyes still hooded. “Lying is a bad, bad thing to do, little girl.” 

You pout, “I swear!” 

“Then you’re very good at it,” he holds your jaw again, his thumb parting your lips. “You ever been kissed before?” 

“Once or twice.” you murmur, a little ashamed. 

He gives you a little smile, his lips now touching—kissing yours. You whine against him, your hand resting on his thigh. He grins against your lips, reaching down to pick you up and place you on his thigh. You’re pretty sure he can taste his cum now that his tongue made its way inside. 

Something possessed you when you were straddling his thigh, the next thing you knew, you were rubbing your cunt on his leg. 

Mr. Lee chuckles softly, watching you in complete amusement as you humped his thigh. You’re so sensitive from rubbing your thighs together that you’re such a whiny mess on him. Yes, you still need to get back to your friend (his daughter), but yes—you feel too good to do so. 

He keeps you secure, his hand still on your waist as he watches you use his thigh to your heart's content, moaning and whining out just for him. You don’t even care that you’re leaving a damp spot on his stupid trousers. “Get off on my thigh, you poor baby, you need to cum so badly, don’t you?” 

You sob, his hand on your waist comforting you. “Please,” you begin to beg, “J-Just wanna cum, Daddy, please~” 

That’s the exact moment his grasp on your waist tightens, his already dark eyes grow darker. “Good girl,” he praises, his heart swollen from pride by the name you called him. “Such a good girl making yourself cum all over Daddy’s thigh.” 

You cry out, your body shuddering and clinging onto the man for dear life. As if you could get any closer to your orgasm, he continues. 

“That’s why you need me, huh, you need a fuckin’ Daddy.” he groans “None of these boys, lousy little inexperienced college boys. Do they bother you, baby? Is that why you come to me to get off? You come to me to guide you? Why you need your Daddy?”  

A loud moan leaves your lips, ��Yes, yes, yes, Daddy! T-That’s why I need you, need y-you so…so bad!” 

“Good baby,” he coos, drawing out the “O” as he lifts your flimsy shirt above your head, pushing your bra out of the way, pinching your nipples. “Cum. Cum for Daddy, sweetheart.” 

Your limbs turn all jelly-like, and the next thing you know you’re like a puddle in Mr. Lee’s arms. Screaming and crying as your body spasms with nothing but pleasure, it’s like you’re seeing stars. You can barely hear him praising you endlessly as you cling onto him. You’re a hundred percent sure you’re sobbing tears. 

He’s got a shit eating grin on his face as he takes you in. His finger dipping in your shorts to find the slick that’s gushed out of you, holding it to his mouth to taste. “Pussy’s so fuckin’ good,” he mumbles to himself as his eyes shoot to your tits then right back at your face. “Pull your shirt down, baby.” The smile never leaves his stupid face. “And fix your cute little bra.” 

Your face is on fire. You glare at him, fixing your bra. This man can’t be real.

You’re both just staring at each other now, not really paying any mind to the time or anything else, really. But, the clock on his wall is like a slap in the face. You sigh. “I- I should really go.” 

Mr. Lee looks at his watch. He sighs, “Guess so, baby.” 

You place a kiss to his cheek and throw him a demure smile when you pull away. “You know where to find me.” 

He rolls his eyes at you before grabbing your face, kissing you right on the lips. He pulls away. “Dunno ‘bout that honey,” he teases. 

“Then maybe open your window later for a little something, Daddy.” you tease back. 

You both realized your rooms’ windows face eachother. 

Perfect. 

“Maybe I will.” 

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, biting back another smile. “See ya, Mr. Lee.” 

“Later, gorgeous.” 

You leave his room, closing the door behind you with an ear-to-ear grin on your face. Before you know it you’re lying to your friend again about how sick you feel, saying you need to go home. 

On your way up to your room, you’re mouthing “Mark” until you open your window. Your face heats up when his window is already wide open, he’s already there giving you one of his shit-eating grins. 

You beam back at him. Luckily, you managed to get his number from his daughter. You call him. He looks at you questionably, but picks up, amused. 

“Hey there, old man.” you taunt. 

“You really shouldn’t have came into my room, honey.” 

“Really? Why not?” you pout. 

“Being with your friend's dad really isn’t good for you.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “And how do you know what’s good for me Mr. Mark ‘know it all’ Lee?” 

“Cause' I’m older.” he extends his arms, stretching “Got more life experience.” 

“So,” you prod. “Whatcha’ gonna do about it, hm?” 

“Knock some sense into you.” 

“Uh-huh,” you raise your eyebrows. “How do you plan on doing that, exactly?” 

His eyes never leave yours. “You’ll see.” 

★ Adult Games | A “One Way Ticket” work | wc: 2.6k

★ Taglist | @chitaphrrrr @nctdom @shescharlie @marklexleaf @jenos-bbygirl @the-universe-in-you-jjh @shiningdery @aecu @moonlightjaemin @donutswithjaminthemiddle @f4irycoven @meowniee @jenoxygen @yincotton @luvjeongjaehyun @gyyyyyu @sunshinedhyuck @3ranch @pinkynana @dialosthermind @ishireads @icy-thot @fineapplehoe @sbngcha @chaerincl @lookingforangst @skye-is-here @hyuckypjm @airpodbaekuwu @bellamendoza @miyahhhhh @damiien-haas @imrinana @cyclothimikhh @back2jisung @aintdprian @tacojisung @nana-blair @xuxibelle @billboard-singer @yesohhsehun @w0nuuu @lava1004 @kpoplover-19 @allofuswantgwinam @if-i-like-i-reblog @beautywine @anowamij @beautywine

©earth-to-that-asian/mull3ts, 2023

[as-is-above-so-below]

The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

Part 6: Darling

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: implied sexual content, MDNI Note: PART 6 HAS ARRIVED! Thank you for all of your support! A special thank you to @lethalchiralium and @peachesofteal for workshopping with me, per usual, and being my beta! Enjoy and blessed be! (p.s. ghost drinking an orange sodie lol) << Previous | Next >>

Simon could hear his daughter’s screams as he came up the walkway to their front door, duffel slung over his shoulder. He had returned from a month-long deployment an hour ago and only allowed himself enough time to debrief and return his weapons once on base before hopping in his car and heading home.

He entered the house, still in full gear (mask and all), to find his heavily pregnant wife pacing the living room, their crying daughter in her arms. Her eyes and cheeks were red when she turned to the door, sobbing in relief at the sight of him.

“Oh, sweetheart. What’s going on?” he asked, dropping his bag by the door and going to her.

“She has a-a cold.”

“I can see that.” He wiped at the snot and drool on Joanie’s lip with his glove. “Where’s Roach?”

“He went to pick König up. You didn’t see him?”

“No. Must’ve just missed ‘im.” When Price handed out assignments for their most recent deployment, Roach had offered (more like decided) to stay with Freyja for the duration of his absence. With König also deployed, it made sense for him to help her with the baby and housekeeping while Simon was gone. Better than staying on base – alone – for a month. Knowing someone was in the house with his family made him feel better about leaving for such an extended period, especially with his track record. The last time he had left the country, leaving his pregnant spouse behind…

Simon rubbed his daughter’s back, his heartstrings tugging at the thought of her being in pain. “Give ’er here, I’ll take a turn.”

“Si, no, you must be exhausted-”

“I am exhausted, which means I’m in no mood to argue. Go to bed, love, please.”

His pleading didn’t seem to affect her as she went back to doing laps around the couch. “The doctor said there’s nothing we can do. It just has to pass. I’ve tried everything. Chest salve, shower steam, saline – nothing’s working. Every-Every time we put her down or sit down, the screaming just gets worse. Can’t stop…moving, and your son is kicking the shit out of me-”

This was ironic, considering how Joan only kicked when Simon or one of their friends spoke or touched her belly. Now, their son only ever kicked for her.

“Freyja.”

She stopped her rambling and found he had stepped into her path; he firmly held her biceps and dragged his hands up and down. Freyja sniffled as another tear slipped down her cheek. No singular word could describe how she felt (and probably looked). Drained, fatigued, beaten, dog-tired; none quite did the trick.

“You look like shit. You need to get some rest.”

“No, Simon, please just go to…bed.”

Soon as Ghost took Joan and returned to massaging her spine, her wails simmered to quiet whimpers as she cuddled into him. She dropped her head onto his shoulder, little fingers hanging from the collar of his shirt to the top of his vest. Their baby was getting big, her senseless baby talk beginning to lean more toward coherent vocabulary. When Joanie cried a soft “Dada” against his neck, Freyja started to sob harder, the heels of her palms dug into her eyes. 

Shit. “What’s wrong? She stopped screaming bloody murder. That’s a good thing.”

“I’ve been trying to calm her down for hours! You come home, and after five minutes, you’ve fixed it. She hates me! She fucking hates me!”

“Frey, look at me.” He stopped comforting Joan for a moment to tilt his wife’s chin up, forcing her to listen to him. When she did, he took his hand back. “Babies see their mothers as an extension of themselves. She knows your heartbeat and breathing sounds; she gets food from you…”

“Who told you that?”

“…I read about it.”

Freyja softened, tears no longer flowing freely. “You read parenting books?”

“Of course I do. I want to be the best for them and you.” He pulled her into his chest with one arm, his covered lips pressing into her hair. “You are her mother. I could never take your place. You’re her home. But I’ve been gone for a month, and I’ve never been away from her this long. There’s something to be said about missing her dad and wanting some comfort.”

When Simon brushed her tears away, she turned to kiss his palm, then rested her cheek there. Freyja didn’t know how, but her husband sure had a way with words, always knowing how to make her feel better. 

“Better?”

“Mhm,” she hummed and, before she could reach to pull his mask up, Joanie whined in frustration, kicking her legs impatiently, about to start up again. Simon chuckled and let his wife go, his heavy boots thunking against the hard floor as he began what would be a long night of getting his steps in. 

“Good. Now do as Daddy tells you and go to bed. Don’t make me tell you again.”

.

.

.

Coming up on the end of her pregnancy, the ‘waddling’ stage was in full swing. If Freyja thought she was big just before Joan was born, she was almost certainly a whale now, and she was losing energy much faster than before. This time around, though, they were sure to schedule a c-section for the week before her due date. The OB didn’t put up much of an argument with her medical history and Joan’s early arrival.

Her phone pinged again as she rounded the corner toward her husband’s office.

And again.

Joan’s irritable whines became more evident as she closed in on her destination. “Si, I can only move so fast.”

“Oh, thank god.” Ghost detached Joan’s iron grip from his mask while she was distracted. She continued to kick her little legs against him, trying to get away. “She’s antsy. I can’t get her down for shit. She’s sick of me.”

He wheeled his chair around the desk and tugged her missing sock back on (to her protest) until he reached the other side and placed her feet on the floor. “See? Mum’s here. Go see her,” he cooed, her tiny hands gripping his thumbs for support.

“Dad Ghost” as she had lovingly coined Simon in his work attire, was a walking contradiction. An arguably massive man, a masked mystery to majority of the population on base, snapping otherwise cocky and egotistical soldiers back in line. Still, no one dared to laugh as he screamed at them for poor technique or a lackluster performance with a blonde baby on his hip or strapped to his back. It never failed to make her want to giggle, hearing such a soft, gentle tone from the big scary skull plate affixed to his balaclava. 

Freyja was halfway across the room when he stood their daughter between his comically large boots. “She won’t go that far,” she admonished. “If you give her too big of a task, she’s not going to even try-”

As if sensing her mother’s doubt, Joan took a steady step forward, still holding Simon’s hands in deep concentration. Then another, and another –

Until he couldn’t stretch forward anymore, and she let go, hobbling towards Freyja until she stumbled at her feet, letting out a soft baby grunt.

They both stared at each other in silence, eyes wide and mouths agape in shock. Neither spoke for a good minute, until Joanie pulled herself up again by Freyja’s cargo pants, babbling, “Mum mum mum mummm”, gnawing at the thick material and looking up with big, brown eyes.

“Did she just…?”

“I told you, she’s bloody brilliant.” Simon shot up to scoop the baby and place her in his wife’s waiting arms.

“My big, smart girl! I can’t believe it!” She squealed and giggled as Freyja peppered her face in fat, wet kisses and gently shook her. Ghost joined in, playfully nibbling at the rolls on the other side through the black material covering his face. Joanie smacked them both away, screaming with joy. Amongst all the commotion, Price stopped in the doorway on his way to their brief (which they were about to be late for). 

“What’s going on here?” he asked, fists on his hips in faux anger. “I thought we had an understanding! No fun at work without Granddad.”

“We officially have a walker on our hands!”

Price gasped and crossed the room in an instant. “And I missed it?!” He shoved the stack of mission folders at the lieutenant and stole his granddaughter from her mother, hiking her high up on his waist. “You walked without me? I’m offended, little miss, but I’ll settle for a victory lap.”

He plucked his green bucket hat off the top of his head and dropped it onto hers, earning a high-pitched shriek of delight when it covered her face. “Let’s roll, everybody. We’ve got a meeting to get to,” he commanded before marching down the hall. “Oi, lads! She walked!”

A chorus of cheers broke out in the distance, followed by a wall-shaking group chant, “Joanie! Joanie! Joanie!”

Freyja just stood there, pouting, arms crossed atop her belly. “Just once, I’d like to celebrate our baby’s milestones in peace.”

“You know that’s not possible, love.” Ghost chuckled next to her, offering a single pat to her ass as they headed to the briefing. While neither of them would be going, it was their job to know what was going on during their impending absence. The ruckus started to die down when the couple sat, and the others followed suit. Soap placed a mug of peppermint tea in front of her, which she thanked him for, and  Laswell, Gaz, and Soap filed around the table.

“Kӧnig and Roach should be here shortly,” Price said, bouncing Joan on his lap as Ghost passed out manila folders.

Gaz checked his watch with a furrowed brow. “It’s five past. Maybe they forgot?”

“Just give them a few minutes. I’m sure they’ll be here.”

“His office was closed, so he’s definitely in there. I can go grab ‘im. It’s no trouble,” he offered, the metal legs of his chair scraping against the floor as he stood up.

“Be my guest, Sergeant,” Freyja hummed, making eye contact with John as she sipped her tea, hiding her mischievous grin behind the cup. She waited for an appropriate amount of time, about how long it would take to take ten paces up the hall before she held up five fingers. 

“You’re a demon.”

“Five, four, three, two…”

“Verdammt nochmal!” 

There’s a loud bang, eerily similar to the sound of a six-foot-six body slamming into the floor. Boots thunder against the ground until Gaz appears in the doorway again, eyes wide and blushing like a madman.

“Genau deshalb habe ich das Militär verlassen, keiner von euch hat den Anstand, verdammt noch mal anzuklopfen!”

“Didn’t knock, did you.”

“Nope.”

“How bad?”

König stomped into the meeting, red as a tomato as he jerked his long, tangled (read: freshly fucked) hair into a knot at the base of his neck before slipping his hood on. Roach walked in behind him, grinning like an absolute idiot (read: clearly the one doing the fucking), albeit a bit flush, and his clothes untucked and wrinkled as he plopped beside John. 

“At least I didn’t get knifed this time.”

“Der Tag ist noch jung, Unteroffizier.”

“I don’t know what that means, but it sounded like a threat.”

“It was,” Freyja sang, her body shaking as she attempted to withhold laughter.

By the time Price had finished divulging the details of the op scheduled for the end of the month (which was also around the time of her c-section, which left Freyja and those deploying disappointed), Joanie had escaped his hold to crawl across the table and landed in her mother’s lap. She sat back against Frey’s round belly, happily gnawing on a teething ring while the captain combed her fingers through her soft, blonde curls. 

John cleared his throat and leaned back, tipping the chair on its back legs. “So…In a shocking turn of events, Roach is the top–”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY, CAPTAIN?!” Soap screeched after choking on his coffee, leaving a stain on his shirt as it dripped from his nose.

“Oh, mein Gott…” 

“I don’t know. What did I say, Sergeant?”

Across the table, Roach held his lips between his teeth as he wheezed, quickly signing, “Only for my king.”

“PLEASE PLÖTZE! Stop talking!” König, finally deciding he’d had enough, shot up from his seat and practically sprinted out of the room, almost bonking his head on the door frame on his way out. A moment later, he stormed back in and snagged his forgotten file awaiting him in Roach’s outstretched hand before turning back out.

Biting his lip, Soap muttered, “Interesting…” to himself, eyeing the Austrian’s retreating form before flicking back over to Roach. The Brit was already looking at him, probably having heard him being sat next to him. He winked with a devilish smirk, and practically purred, “S’alright, happens tae th' best o' us.”

.

.

.

A few days shy of their next mission, and the birth of the newest Riley, the gang gathered around their living room for one last game night before Roach, König, Soap, and John departed for another mission. Roach and König were less than pleased to be missing the birth of their godson, but it couldn’t be helped.

Kyle placed a red eight down on the stack of cards, ending his turn. “C’mon, mate, what’s the wildest thing you’ve done on a mission?” he prodded, raising a brow in Simon’s direction. “You know all our stories. It’s only fair.”

The two shared a knowing look, and Freyja giggled once before Kyle interrupted, “Besides that, you heathens.”

Simon pressed against the kitchen chair he had dragged in for himself, seriously considering what he would consider the most outlandish activity he had partaken in outside of combat. Particularly, that didn’t involve screwing his wife in places they shouldn’t, like public places, sniper lookouts, cars, or supply closets…

Before he could drift too far, he caught the saucy side-eye his wife was throwing him from her deep armchair.

“No.”

Soap peeked up from his hand with a quirked brow. “Does Ghostie have an embarrassing secret? Now we have to know!”

“It’s not a secret, and I’m not embarrassed by it just because I don’t flaunt it around,” he said, shot back the rest of his whiskey, and replaced his mask. Simon didn’t always wear it with their friends; he just so happened to feel inclined to it that night. There was no rhyme or reason as to when he needed the comfort; the urge just came and went as it pleased. 

He tried his best to sound completely disinterested, hoping the discussion would blow over as he threw down his card. “Blue.”

Unfortunately, his plan did not work, and all interest in their game of Uno was lost. Kyle threw his hand down on the table, completely giddy. “WHAT IS IT?! TELL US!”

Simon groaned, throwing his cards at his wife, who simply laughed. “See, look what you did.” He sighed and begrudgingly unhooked his mask from behind his ears, tossing that at her too. After a beat, he let his tongue loll out, revealing a silver ball.

Several (if not all) of their jaws dropped, save for Freyja’s, who was utterly thrilled that this was happening.

Johnny was the first to speak. “Is…that…” he stuttered, staring unabashedly in disbelief. 

He snapped his mouth shut again once everyone had had a decent look. “Alright, can we move on please–”

The Scot pounced across the space, clearing the coffee table as he knocked Simon out of his chair, taking them both down into a heap on the floor. They wrestled as he tried to dig his fingers into Ghost’s mouth and pry it open again. “LEMME SEE!”

“JOHNNY!” Simon roared, bucking and thrashing his hips in attempt to get the man off, but he quickly scooted up until he sat firmly on his chest, knees pinning his shoulders as he yanked the piercing back out.

“Awe, so that’s why you’re always fuckin’ like horny teenagers! Oh, ah bet that feels good on your cu-”

“SHUT UP, SOAP!” “THAT’LL DO!” 

Freyja whipped her slipper at Johnny’s head, which he swiftly dodged. Meanwhile, Gaz was face down on the floor, having a fit and struggling to breathe. Price looked like he would actually rather die than endure another moment of the scene unfolding at his feet. Kӧnig was carefully weaving between people and furniture to remove Soap before he got hurt, and Roach stayed in his spot, mouth open in silent laughter.

Thank God Joanie was a heavy sleeper.

“Are you gonnae sit there ‘n tell meh that a’m wrong? A husband should always eat arse!”

“JOHNNY, OH MY FUCKING GOD!”

Kyle finally caught his breath and cut back in, “But does it WORK?!”

Everybody froze, including Kӧnig, whose hands looped under Johnny’s armpits, about to extract him. From underneath him, Simon glared up at his wife (who started this whole fucking mess). “Freyja–”

But Freyja, being the brat she is and loving the chaos, “…It works.”

Simon covered his face with both of his now freed hands, so utterly sick of her shit as the sergeant shook his shoulders, he and Gaz both screaming like madmen. Kӧnig still hovered over them, ready to remove Johnny if Simon called for it, his red hair up in a neat top knot at the crown of his head. A few strands hung loosely by his ears and at the peak of his forehead, framing his pale skin.

“AAAAAYYYYYY, SO YOU DO GIVE GOOD HEAD!”

He removed his shield at that, looking up at Johnny with a confused expression. “Who said I don’t give good head?”

Price flinched with a crinkled nose and grabbed his hat from the back of the couch. “That’s my cue.”

“Scary guys either have monster cock or scary good head,” Kyle stated as if it were pure fact.

“But he has both.”

“I can’t fucking take this.” Simon finally shoved at Johnny and the Austrian lifted him with ease, standing the Scot back on his feet.

Soap dusted off his pants. “Damn, you’ll have’ta get one’a those, Köni,” he teased and turned to face the giant, looking up at him with a boyish grin. 

König’s skin, ever the shy one, immediately painted itself a rosy hue, unable to be hidden by any hood or mask. Even Roach was taken by his brashness and turned a little pink himself, choosing to sip his drink. König was, unfortunately, frozen in place, wide eyes staring down at Johnny’s proud face.

Three seconds pass.

Then two more.

Then three again.

“OH MY GOD, THAT WAS THEM?! The threesome you told me about a few weeks ago, was them?”

With nowhere else to go, König collapsed onto the couch and pulled the neck of his sweater over his face. “Verdammter Himmel, Johnny…” If he could crawl into a hole and die, he would.

“What can ah say? M’services are world-class.”

“Can confirm,” Roach added, having put his glass down so he could use both hands to talk.

Johnny raised a brow and dragged his eyes from Roach’s shoes, slowly up his shins, then his thighs and chest before settling on the challenging smirk on his freckled face. “‘S that so?” he asked, stepping into the space between Roach’s knees and the table.

Roach simply nodded, looking up at his boyfriend through hooded lashes, resembling a lovesick puppy with shocking accuracy. He knew exactly what he was doing, too, the tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth. Roach was a…talented flirt, to say the least.

His glass was carefully removed from his hand and placed on a coaster. Without a second thought, Soap wrapped his fingers around Roach’s wrist, dragged it behind his neck, and tossed the man over his shoulder. Gaz gaped, completely dumbfounded into silence – flabbergasted, if you will. He paused in the entryway, looking over his opposite shoulder.

“You comin’, Kö?”

König, still tucked away in the corner of the couch, peeked out from the cocoon he had created with his sweater. Even his forehead was tinged red, still. He openly stared for a bit before mustering up enough courage to rise again, and in an impossibly meek voice for such a large man, replied, “...Yes, sir,” and loosely tangled their fingers together.

Kyle threw his hands up then dropped them onto his head, dragging his cap back a bit. “WHAT IS GOING ON?!”

Freyja offered a sympathetic pat, her bottom lip jutted out. Poor Simon, who had returned to his seat, covered his mouth with one palm as he tried to contain his chuckles. He pulled his mask back on after retrieving it from the floor.

“Don’t worry, Gaz,” she said and poked his cheek. “We’ll find you a nice girl.”

“I GET AROUND FINE!” He swatted her hand away, glowering at her. “You’re all just a bunch of slags!”

He jumped up, abandoning his beer and putting his hat back in place. “Where’s my niece? I need to restore my innocence,” he grumbled, trudging upstairs.

“Simon, did he just call us sluts?”

“Yes, darling.”

taglist: @esthervalea, @miss-leto, @sweetestcowboy, @blueoorchid, @apocalypticseagull, @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction, @covenlovenn, @330bpm-whiplash, @gnoccheyy, @jaggernauticals, @dwkfan, @untoldshortsofthefandomsdoms, @bobfloydsgf, @maviee, @thomaslefteyebrow, @kyovy, @prodyng, @scout-fang, @avalkyrieofparis, @misshoneypaper, @berryjuicyy, @voteforpedropascal, @beakami, @addictedtothefictionalworld

Copyright © 2023 as-is-above-so-below. All rights reserved.

[prettyboykatsuki]

keep me close to you | i. yoichi

✮ tags ; childhood best friends to lovers / idiots to lovers, reader is implied to have grown up a tomboy, stereotypical shoujo manga tropes rip, reader wears makeup, a lot of sexual tension, kissing, confessions 18+

✮ wc ; 3.6k (i don't know. don't ask me.)

✮ a/n ; the worlds most self-indulgent horseshit in the world. sorry! but im not at all actually. this is the very typical 'i didn't see you that way until i realize i did the whole time.' bc i love that trope and i love isagi ok....

reader in this kind of feels awkward in her femininity and that appears in the fic more than once!! please be forewarned.

✮ synopsis ; isagi has never seen you as much more of a friend. so he thought at least.

Isagi is in love with you.

He isn't sure when that happened. He'd love to be know but in all truth - there was never any big eureka moment that made such a thing apparent. If Isagi had to think of all the moments he maybe, sort-of, possibly loved you, they come up to him as bits of nothing-much memories.

That's exactly the problem, really. A long few years of little nothings, accumulated over time, Isagi finds that his whole life has been made up of you. There was no grand gestures of confessions or singular standout moments for him to mull over.

But there was rough-housing with you back when your hair was a little shorter and your chest a little less noticeable. And there was plenty of bike races to the store for ice-cream, and lots of bonding over music you both liked. Isagi remembers sitting on your floor in the 6th grade and watching you play video games much better than he ever could.

A lot that stuff persisted into your teen years, and even into adulthood. Isagi has never thought of it as weird. Play fighting or bike races or being reckless together felt natural - and in some ways, you were the only person who ever brought that out of him.

It was normal. You were friends and you got along as friends. Isagi never thought about it any more than that.

Just a few months ago, you got a boyfriend. Said boyfriend didn't think your friendship with Isagi was entirely appropriate. He had approached Isagi first. You talked to Isagi after, said you'd still hang out but no more rough-housing and that was that.

Isagi had heard about your boyfriend, though you didn't talk about him much. And after meeting him, it was easy enough to conclude that he was genuinely a good guy. Objectively good for you, accepting of your personality, kind and thoughtful. A good stable job There was nothing bad he could say about him. He wished there was.

"Just the being touchy. I know you two don't think anything of it since you've been friends for so long," He leans in, friendly, as he pats Isagis shoulder "But you wouldn't like if your girlfriend was being touchy with another guy right?"

Isagi had nothing to say. He'd never thought about. Never had a proper girlfriend, though he was interested in a few girls. He'd lost his virginity out of the country and had some hook-ups and talking stages. Never a girlfriend.

Would it bother him? He couldn't say. He didn't know who to think of. There was not a hypothetical girl he could conjure to give him a conclusion. Ultimately dazed, Isagi had replied with something along the lines of "Yeah man, I get it," and then left for practice without turning his back.

It bothered him for weeks. He couldn't do anything without pondering that very question. He couldn't stop thinking about the way he'd described you as his girlfriend. You'd always been a friend, and Isagi knows you as a girl. But you're you before that, and he's never quite put both things next to each other.

But he'd never even thought to look at you as a girlfriend. He brushed off such comments and so did you. You were his friend. One of the very best. You'd know each other until you die, and in a way - this is just proof of your next stage of life. You'd settle down with a partner and so would he and everything would be fine.

But, the thing was - he'd never actually conjured up the future. There was never any assured belief that you'd go and find someone to nest with so soon. It felt unnatural. Disorienting. There was an order to this strange and mad world and your relationship went against it.

Even in thinking that, it'd take Isagi weeks to figure out the extent of his feelings. Weeks of practicing, of going on group dates with his team, of drinking. Weeks of missing you. Being conscious of the sudden absence of his very best friend in the world. You still saw him but it was no longer every other day. And you still called and texted, still told him stupid stuff about your life.

But he'd go on Instagram and see pictures of you from someone else's account. You'd be wearing something he'd never seen you in before. It was pretty. You were prettier. He'd never thought about that before, if only to say that you were and always had been. And plenty of guys had noticed in highschool, too. He'd never thought about it then either.

Isagi had never really considered a lot of things. It didn't dawn on him that he loved you until Bachira pried the information out of him one night on the road.

("Yocchan is stupid,"

Isagi leans on the bench in the locker room and frowns, throwing a confused look Bachira's.

"What the hell? For what?"

It's not Bachira who tells him the information - but Rin, who walks towards his own locker with a tired expression and a towel around his shoulder.

"You're in love with her, you stupid jackass.")

Right. It'd been Rin who told it to him straight, and Rin would know a thing about love. Apparently he'd been with the same girl since highschool and he knew a thing or two. For Rin to tell Isagi such a thing made Isagi really think on it, and when Isagi finally sat down and thought about it - it was clear that he was head over heels in love.

Isagi is in love with you. It has been a tremendous pain in the ass trying to live with this information. It made sense - it really did. It made sense that everything suddenly felt so wrong. It made sense that he never new anything about love and that he could never keep a relationship.

When he thought about it, he'd never stop comparing everyone to you. If it were you—you'd be clumsy at fancy restaurants but it'd still be so much fun to go. If it were you—he might've cared much more about valentines day chocolates. It would've been so novel, so lovely - to imagine how hastily you would've made them. Not obligatory friendship chocolates but something just for him.

If it were you, he might've wanted to buy you expensive things. They'd be different. Clothes and shoes but game consoles and concert tickets. If it were you, he'd always take his sports car. He might've liked the way you fawned over them, with that wide-eyed sense of adventure he's spent his whole life getting to know.

Yes if it were you, Isagi might've gotten angry. Now that he knows, the idea you're getting so touchy-feely with another guy makes him sick. He knows he has no right to feel that way, but he can't exactly help the feeling either.

From the start, if Isagi had realized love started and ended with you, then maybe he would know a thing or two about love by now. He might've cared more about everything, had he realized it even a little sooner.

A few months ago would've sufficed.

Isagi is in love with you.

He has no idea if you feel the same, but in a way that doesn't change anything.

He's seated on his couch, alone in his apartment - and thinking wistfully that he probably has been this whole time.

He looks around his apartment, feeling a little sorry for himself. He's drinking. Even this tipsy, his mind is clouded with memories. You looked at this place together and you helped Isagi move in many months ago.

A place with a good view of the city, Isagi stands to his feet and watches near the cool glass of the window.

It takes him a while to hear his phone ring. When he does, he almost feels like he's hallucinating when he sees your name on the other side. He stares, wonders if the kami like playing malicious tricks on him, and then picks up.

He speaks slowly.

"Hello?"

He knows your crying, even though you're trying harder to hide it. That desperate sniffle that you get is an easy tell.

"Yoichi," You mutter, soft and sad "Can you come to the park?"

"At this hour? It's late. Your boyfriend is gonna be pissed."

You hiccup on the other side of the line. Isagi wants to run to you as soon as possible.

"Just come," You sniffle again, a little sadder. You're crying this time forreal "...I want to see you."

"Okay. Are you alone?"

"Mm,"

"Stay on the phone with me. I'll come soon. Stay on the line."

"Okay."

__

Isagi comes to find you at the park like you've asked. He keeps you on the line the entire Uber ride there and then as he comes through the playground to find you.

Somehow, he knows exactly where you'll be. It's the park you two grew up coming to. It's dark out, damp from the night, and Isagi finds you tucked in the same corner you always are.

You still fit there somehow, just beneath the slide. It's a big space, enough for two people. So, wordless, Isagi climbs into the little box and sits next to you. Close but not close enough, he hangs up the phone and turns his head to stare at you.

"I'm here," He says, mostly because he doesn't know what else to say.

You look up at him, obviously having been crying. You're wearing a sweatshirt and shorts, but your face has some light make-up on it like you were on a date. He forces himself not to frown as you gaze at him - pouting.

"You're here." You repeat, like you don't know what else to say. You lean your head on his shoulder. It's the most natural feeling in the world, but right now - it makes his breath hitch "Thanks for comin'"

"Are you gonna tell me what happened?"

"Well I don't want to."

"Can you really say that after crying like a baby, begging for me to come over, huh? All I want to see you—"

You elbow him without mercy.

"Shut up you jackass. Sorry to interrupt your late night jerk-off session with my tears."

It's not said with any malice, a joke - but there's insecurity laced in. Sorry for making you come see me, you want to say he's sure. He shakes his head.

"I could've been hooking up with a girl."

"Yeah? It's a miracle anyone would wanna get your dick wet, you should go back and finish the job,"

"Can't," Isagi mumbles, trying not to look at you closely "Some girl is making my shoulder wet instead though."

"Sorry," You croak, so horrifyingly sincere Isagi doesn't know how he's keeping himself upright "I can move."

"I was kidding," He says, hurriedly "It's fine. It reminds me of when we we're kids."

You huff a laugh.

"You only remember annoying stuff."

He mumbles something in agreement before there's a brief bout of silence. He speaks again first.

"Gonna tell me what happened?"

"We broke up," You mumble. Isagi feels his heart race, immediately riddled with guilt afterwards. "He broke up with me."

"I thought things were going well?"

"They were," You sniffle. It's the first time in your lives you've opened up to each other about something like this. You've talked about it, but it was always more him talking and you listening. He'd never heard about your crushes before.

In such a vulnerable, innocent position. Alone with him, confiding in him. He wants to stay with you forever "He was really good to me."

"So what? Why'd you break up?"

"I didn't love him. I liked him. And I thought I'd come to love him, but I didn't...I just couldn't love him. He knew it too, so he broke up with me."

"Was he mean about it?"

You laugh.

"Course not. He's one of the nicest guys I've ever met in my whole life. Told you, he was good to me."

"So then...? Are you sad about hurting his feelings?"

You nod, almost meek.

Isagi loves you more than life itself, he thinks.

"I wanted to love him. I thought I could."

"Why couldn't you?"

A brief pause of silence. You're debating on what to say before you seem to settle on something.

"Already someone else."

"Someone else? You love someone else?"

A whisper of hope. So small Isagi almost can't bear it. You nod.

"And what about them?"

"Doesn't love me back."

"How long?" His voice is shaking. He has no idea if you can tell. You laugh.

"A long time."

"Do I know him?"

You laugh again, a little throatier. More melancholy. Isagi feels like he's looking into an abyss. A dangerous place to fall in if he's not careful. He's already in love, already too deep. But he already steeled himself not to hope too much.

"You do know him, I guess."

"Tell me about him," Isagi almost urges. He has to be sure. He has to be sure this isn't one long dream, and that everything is real. "What he's like."

You look at him surprised.

"I thought you hated when I talked about stuff like this?"

"Changed my mind."

"Weirdo. It's nothin' special. We've known each other a while. We get along well. He likes the stuff I do and I like being around him."

"When'd you realized you loved him?"

"Middle school? Probably."

Ah. You've known each other a little longer than that, haven't you?

"You're being awfully secretive about it. Nothing more specific?"

You frown at him.

"Piss off. Go back to not caring about it. It's a dark part of my past and I already gave up on it forever ago."

"What if..." Isagi swallows. He's really the dumbest guy in the entire world for this. It could always be someone else. He knows that. "If your feelings were returned? What then?"

"I've never thought about it," You say, not even considering it might be the case "I'd be happy but I don't see the point in getting my hopes up. His type in girls is like...cuter I guess."

Isagi wants to knock himself out. Idiot. He's gone and ruined his own chances. He wish he could go back and kick the ass of his highschool self. If he called you cute right now, you'd definitely think he was trying to coddle your feelings. You are cute to him.

He can't get the words out.

"And you don't think you are?"

You shoot him a surprised look then burst out into laughter.

"Well, no. Daisuke used to say it but I don't know. Most guys wouldn't think of me as...cute? Sexy maybe? Apparently some of the guys from department see it that way."

Aah. Isagi hates this. He hates hearing that guys name without honorifics. His first name, at that.

"You should listen to the guy you used to date and not whatever knuckleheads you go to school with."

"Are you saying I'm cute, Yoichi? Started feeling bad?"

"It's not pity, alright? But you're not..not cute."

You pause before breaking out in genuine, unruly laughter. Isagi adores the sound of your voice, adores every inch of you as you giggle yourself into a fit.

"You'll never get a girlfriend like that. You have to at least be able to pretend."

It's not pretending. He wants to tell you that you're cute. The way you laugh is cute and the look you get playing stupid claw machine games is cute and the way you get excited by the 7/11 carrying your favorite things is cute. It's never been different and you still look so delighted. Everything about you is cute. Isagi wants to say all that, and that he finds you sexy too. For different, ordinary reasons those stupid guys in your department could never begin to know.

But words are useless - inconceivably pointless to try and make you understand.

"You're cute," He says first, staring at the place in front of him. Then adds "That's not pity."

"So you know how to smooth talk too?"

"It's not that either."

"Then what is it?" Your voice is wavering.

Now or never.

"A confession."

Isagi feels you tense. Feels you freeze. You start to stutter another joking, lifting your head from his shoulder to turn away but Isagi is quicker. Quick to hold your shoulder, to turn you towards him, to hold your cheek and make you look his face.

"Yoichi?"

"Is it me? Am I the person you like?"

You shake your head trying to look away.

"I don't want to answer that."

"I like you," Isagi grips your shoulder tighter, presses his forehead against yours as he holds on for dear life with hope "I only figured it out recently."

A bout of silence passes before your voice sounds again. It's shaking so hard. Isagi can hear how hard your heart is beating.

"This is fucking mean." You whisper. He frowns at you.

"Do I look like I'm joking? Huh? Does it even kind of seem like that?"

"But since when?" You're arguing. Isagi just confessed his undying love for you and you're arguing with him about it. It's so you. "I'm not even your type."

"No one is my type but you, you idiot." Isagi is exasperated explaining this. It's embarrassing but he's a lot of time to reflect and this is as true as it gets "Every single time I'd ever tried dating someone else or doing things with them - I didn't care. I just did it without thinking. But I always thought if it was you...I'd always want it to be you."

"You're not attracted to me." You assert, maybe trying to compensate.

"Fuck you, I couldn't tell you that you were hot to your face. You kicked my ass every time I mentioned the fact your tits got bigger in highsc—"

You shove him with your shoulder.

"Because you talk about it like that you shitty jock." You hiss.

"Then what do you want me to say?" Isagi mumbles, looking at you "I think you're sexy. What else is there?"

"God this is so embarrassing,"

"I'm being serious," Isagi adds, pouting, face flush with heat "You're just...you've always been attractive I guess."

You give him a small frown. Isagi thinks it's the cutest thing in the world. He wants to kiss you absolutely fucking stupid.

"Are you sure? Like really sure?"

He snorts, laughing humorlessly.

"I've been agonizing about it for weeks. Yes I'm sure."

"What if I told you to kiss me? Could you do it?"

Isagi stares at you in disbelief. He turns himself slightly, staring at you before reaching his hand out towards your cheek. You make a soft noise of surprise as he brushes his thumb underneath your eye. Your face is so hot it's burning against the palm of his hand. He lets his hand settle on the back of your neck before leaning into kiss you.

He kisses you hard but slow. Passion imbued into each tiny movement, drawing as deep as he can go without pushing his tongue between your lips.

You let out a soft moan that makes him pull away, eyes widened. Humiliated you try to shove him away, but Isagi manages to catch you by your wrist.

"Is it starting to click or do you need me to prove it one more time?"

"Ugh. Fuck, you're so,"

He grins wolfishly as he stares at you, watching you shrink so slightly under his gaze. He's not used to winning against you in any capacity with the exception of soccer. It feels good.

"I'm so?"

"Annoying."

"That's it?" He leans in again, lips brushing your cheek and pressing a kiss to it before moving down. He presses kisses down your jaw, relishing in the way you squirm. "Nothing else to add?"

"You're enjoying this too much, Yoichi," You reprimand, though you don't make any effort to move "Are you fishing for compliments?"

"I'm wondering if you find me sexy too, that's all."

You pause before leaning in. He watches the gears turn in your brain before turning your voice low.

"Wanna touch me and find out yourself?"

He pulls away instantly in shock as you blink at him innocently. There's an air of smugness about you. He feels his face burn red immediately, blood rushing up into his brain. He tucks his chin looking away from you. His brain feels like it's full of static.

He's embarrassed. By what you've said but more by how naturally everything falls into place. By how effected he is by something so simple. It usually takes so much more to get him like this.

"What the hell was'at..."

"Karma. Don't be all cocky. I've known about my feelings way longer than you."

"Didn't think you'd know jackshit about stuff like that though."

"Just cause I spare you my sex stories doesn't mean they don't exist."

Isagi feels a pang of irritation as he scoffs.

"I don't want hear about them now either."

"I thought you weren't the jealous type?"

"I just wasn't that into any of those girls."

"But you're into me? Enough that you get jealous?"

Isagi laughs at that.

"Yeah. I'm way more into you than you're ever gonna get through your head anyways."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Means I wanna get all lovey-dovey with you and embarrass you all the time."

You flush and Isagi feels like he's won. Instead of feeling elated or cocky, this time he just feels a little dazed. He stares at you through lidded eyes.

"I'm so into you," Isagi mutters, leaning his head against your shoulder "You're never gonna get it unless you look in my brain,"

You pause momentarily, leaning back enough that Isagi sits up. He looks at you curiously before he feels you tap foreheads. You close your eyes and hum, before peeking just one open.

"I looked," You say softly "I still win,"

Isagi groans internally. God. God you're so fucking cute. It's so you and it's so cute and he loves you.

"Can I please kiss you again?"

"You don't have to ask every time."

"No takebacks."

Isagi leans in again, to kiss you a little softer this time. When he pulls away, the look on your face makes him want to do it all over again. You'll be here all night if he doesn't get a hold of himself.

"You wanna come over to my place?"

"Isn't a little early for that?"

Isagi knocks your foreheads together.

"Not like that. It's late and the trains aren't running. I don't want you taking a cab,"

"I'm a big girl, Yoichi," You say sardonically "If you want me to stay over, just ask. You're still my best friend, dummy." You add the last part a little softer.

He grabs your hand.

"Then stay with me."

You nod.

"Okay. And we can have sex if you want."

"Fuck yeah."

[fortemelody]

AHHHSHFBTKFNTLFKGNFMDM SONIC 3 TRAILER SONIC 3 TRAILER SONIC 3 TRAILER IM LOOSING MY SHIT RN

here’s some things i noticed/wondered/loved:

- i think in that scene where tom is on the ground yelling for sonic, he is wearing a special forces suit. maybe he upgraded from cop to working with gun?? if so i think that’s a really good use of his character actually! he wanted to save a life and raise a family above all else yes, but he still got his previous dream of doing more serious cop work!

- shadow just. has a big ass portal?? like holy shit he’s just suckin the life outta earth and ig that’s one way to do it (or maybe it’s just a ring and i’m stupid idek)

- i’m sure we’ll learn more about this in the actual movie so i’m not too worried, but i’m super confused at the very beginning scene. apparently sonic didn’t change his heart…but he did tho? like he learned what being a true hero meant in the last movie. tbh i feel like that’s enough but hey i’m not against more character development for our boy so!! (also that bit where he’s like “in my lungs” was actually really funny to me, ben schwartz’ awesome delivery caught me off guard)

- GERALD ROBOTNIK ALIVE HUUUUH?! tbh i would’ve preferred if maria was alive, i feel like that would be an interesting dynamic. but also ig that would make it harder for shadow to learn anything so i totally get it. anyways i’m just glad they’re putting a little twist on the story, it keeps it interesting. they already sorta did that with the knuckles and iblis thing actually! (even if that show sucked ass and although that probably wasn’t intentional 😭)

- even tho bro only got like… 3 lines, i really think keanu fits shadow. he’s very soft spoken in comparison to the rest of the case which feels nice. also he’s like the “really bad” guy so ofc he’s not gonna be yappin on and on like sonic or robotnik and he’s gonna take things uber seriously.

- where was my girl maddie :( i think she was only in like a singular frame. hope shes in the movie a somewhat significant amount. i heart pretzel lady!! could live without wade tho like pls im so sick of his bowling soap opera 💀

- FAT ROBOTNIK FAT ROBOTNIK FAT ROBOTNIK!!! after fucking 3 movies they finally fulfilled jim carrey’s wishes!! let the man get creative like please i love jim carrey sm aughdfhfnfmschxj. also love how we got so much stobonik content within that short scene like jesus come get y’all’s food

- shadow at one point says something along the lines of “when we’re done, there won’t be anything left.” maybe i’m reading WAY to into this but what does the “we’re” part mean?? is he working with others? i feel like this is either gonna be team dark or some new movie exclusive character(s). edit: someone made a valid point that he’s actually probably referring to gerald (look at reblogs!)

-CHAO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! lowkey wonder if the room therye in is like an amusement park or somethin like that

- no sign of amy :( but honestly my prediction now is that she’s gonna be the post credit scene teaser cus they always do a new character reveal there. first tails, then shadow. and honestly now i think it might be better that way so shadow can have a chance to breathe and show his story in full. i’m pretty sure i vaguely remember colleen (tails’ VA) being kinda mysterious about amy’s appearance when asked, and also the fact that it was confirmed that this isn’t the end of the movie franchise/universe. but ig we’ll just have to wait and see!

so sorry i stated this yesterday morning to give my initial thoughts but then got busy and completely forgot to post/finish it. and today i started (and am close to finishing) a very long edit of the trailer, so be on the look out for that too!

genuinely i feel like this movie is gonna somehow be even more record breaking than any of the previous movies and i am so here for the hype 🙏

[more-mara]

breeding with carcar ? (or Carlandoscar if you're feeling taking up the challenge)

I know this is probably not what you had in mind but I’ve went for a non traditional abo vibe with this, I just couldn’t help myself lol.

CW: Mentions of mpreg, shouldn’t be a shock but I’m giving the warning anyway lmao

The thing about Oscar was that he never felt like an alpha, not really. Part of him thought that maybe something had gone wrong when his mother was pregnant with him and that had resulted in him being given the wrong designation. Because that’s how he felt- wrong.

No alpha should want to submit, to be held down and fucked like an omega. But Oscar did, he craved it, craved to have an alpha knot him, to have them fuck their cum so deep- to claim, to breed. Alphas couldn’t get pregnant, Oscar knew that, of course he did, but it never stopped the fantasy.

Oscar had tried to act like an alpha, to enjoy having sex with omegas who were so wet and desperate for him to knot them but Oscar just couldn’t bring himself to enjoy it. He remembered clearly trying to help Lando with his heat, it had come out of nowhere and Lando had been entirely unprepared for it- Oscar was just in the right place at the right time. He had fucked Lando despite himself, despite imagining what it would like to be Lando, to be the one getting fucked within an inch of his life, begging for a knot that he’d inevitably get just to satisfy his deep seeded want to be claimed, to have an alphas seed fucked into him with the primal urge to breed.

When it was over and Oscar was locked inside Lando, their bodies relaxing into eachother as they came down from their orgasms, Lando had held him while he cried, a shocked little look on the olders poor fucked out face as Oscar admitted how he felt- how he deeply wished he wasn’t an alpha.

Lando had rubbed soothing circles along his back as they waited for Oscar’s knot to go down and Oscar felt like shit afterwards- realising that he was the one who should have been comforting Lando, not the other way around. It was just more confirmation that he was shit at being an alpha, unable to even properly take care of an omega in heat.

But it was Lando who had suggested he speak with Carlos, claiming that he also had ‘singular tastes’. Oscar was unsure about it, not really wanting anyone else to know how he felt, frankly it was embarrassing. But when his rut inevitably hit during the summer break, he found himself texting Carlos who lived only a short walk away from his Monaco apartment.

Carlos had been understanding and explained to Oscar that his feeling were not as strange as he had been led to believe but Oscar wasn’t entirely convinced- not least until Carlos had him bent over the bed, begging for Carlos to fuck him.

“Look at this, an alpha begging for cock, how beautiful,” Carlos said, running a large hand over Oscar’s arched back. Oscar whined, high in his throat as he pushed back against Carlos, desperation overcoming him as he felt the excessive amount of lube beginning to slide down his thighs.

“So wet for me,” Carlos grunted, teasing just the tip inside Oscar’s hole. Oscar flinched forward, a needy groan falling from his lips as Carlos gripped his waist, forcing him to stay still- forcing him to take. Like this, Oscar genuinely felt like an omega, so wet and open and ready to be bred- ready to be claimed by his alpha.

When Carlos fucked into him, hard and merciless, Oscar suddenly felt what it was like to enjoy sex, to actually want to do it. He felt the tears brimming in his eyes before he could stop them, running down his face as Carlos plastered himself to his back, snapping his hips and fucking into the wet heat of his hole. Oscar choked out a moan as his arms buckled beneath him, pushing his ass out further as Carlos continued to pound into him.

“Gonna breed you so good, fill you full of my cum,” Carlos grunted, his hips stuttering as little as his thrusts became more frantic. Fuck, the thought of carrying Carlos’ pups was making his head spin with sudden want, his hole clenching around Carlos, ready to be filled.

“P-please alpha,” Oscar begged, drool pooling from his mouth as Carlos fucked him to his orgasm, his cock spurting cum against the bedsheets- but Carlos didn’t falter, growling into Oscar’s neck as he continued to fuck, to take what he wanted as Oscar lay pliant beneath him- like a good omega.

When Carlos came, his knot swelling inside Oscar’s hole, Oscar had to bite into his hand to prevent crying out. Carlos rubbed his thighs, his stomach, his waist, anywhere he could get his hands on to soothe the other alpha through it.

“You did so well, so good for me, my good little alpha,” Carlos said, nipping his teeth against Oscar’s neck playfully as he bundled him into his arms, cuddling his body close.

For the first time in his life, Oscar didn’t hate that he was an alpha.

[renjunphile]

if my wishes came true, it would have been you | mark lee

PAIRING ✧ nct's mark lee x female reader WORD COUNT ✧ 12.0k TAGS ✧ idol!mark x idol!reader, exes!au, exes to lovers!au, really quite angsty, happy ending, fluff, non-linear narrative

PLAYLIST aka SONGS BY YN ✧ the 1 by taylor swift ; 21 by gracie abrams ; i miss you, i'm sorry by gracie abrams ; champagne problems by taylor swift ; in between by gracie ambrams ; somebody by hwasa and loco ; i know it won't work by gracie abrams, dancing with our hands tied (acoustic) by taylor swift

SUMMARY ✧ persist and resist the temptation to ask if one thing had been different, would everything be different today? (alternatively, every single time you and mark get a chance to talk about your breakup, it never goes as planned)

-

MAY 2021

"NCT are here."

You hum along to the track blasting in your left ear through the singular airpod. It's the first day of your comeback promotions, and while you should feel confident from the many months you'd practiced the song every single day for multiple hours, no amount of time could ever erase the nerves you feel each comeback day.

You're already finished with your hair and makeup, being the first to sit in the chair to give your members some time to wake up from their naps in the van. Though you should all be bright, awake, and preppy for your comeback stage, the reality was that all of you were obliteratingly tired from the near all-nighter in the practice room. Your makeup artists are true magicians for the way they cover up all signs of tiredness even under all those harsh, bright stage lights.

"Unnie, did you hear me?" your youngest member Kali poked your arm incessantly.

"Kali, stop," you whine, pushing her finger away, "I heard you."

"So why didn't you react?"

"Why should I?" you sigh, pausing the track on your phone.

She pauses for a while, choosing to craft her words before replying too hastily, "We should still go and say hi. Haechan is asking if we wanna film a TikTok with them."

"You know they only post with SM idols," you remind her.

"You were in SM too. It's just for fun," she mumbles, "You know how many idols feature on Haechan's private account. Please come."

"You're up to no good, Kali," you squint at her suspiciously, watching the room carefully to see if anyone had overheard. It wasn't really a big deal; all your managers were well-informed, just like your members, and your stylists were basically your friends.

"I already talked to our manager and Haechan talked to their manager," Kali wrapped her fingers around your wrist delicately, but pulling to encourage you to stand up, "Let's go."

The walk to the hallway where the NCT members agreed to meet the two of you wasn't exactly a long one, but the rumblings of nerves bubbling in your stomach made it feel like a million years. You weren't stupid; you knew exactly what to expect and you wouldn't put it past your maknae to meddle in a time like this.

"Oh look, they're here already," Kali was biting a grin behind her words as 3 figures came into view. Haechan gives you a warm smile and a famous bear hug before he was shoved away. 

"Noona," you resist a pout as one of the boys you had been taking care of since you were younger wrapped you up in a big hug, "Haven't seen you in so long. Missed you."

"Missed you too Ji. You grow an inch every time I see you," you also resist the urge to ruffle up his perfectly styled purple hair out of fear of getting hunted by his hair stylist, "I like this purple on you."

He gives you an appreciative grin and somehow you still see him as the tiny, shy boy running energetically around the halls of the company building after being chased by his fellow trainees. Jisung moves on to greet your member, who was still in conversation with Haechan.

It's definitely not that you dread having to face Mark Lee. It's totally not the fact that he's your ex-boyfriend. Or the fact that you're still in love with him. Or the fact that he's still in love with you. No, none of that.

Totally.

"You look really pretty, Y/N," he begins slowly, taking in your appearance in front of him, having not seen each other for a few months.

Mark Lee stands in front of you stoic, hands by his side and feet together. It's almost like he's fighting his instinct to wrap you up in his arms like he's done most of his life because you sure know you're having to fight that instinct too.

"Thanks, Mark. I like your blue hair," you smile softly, "How are you?"

"I'm good. Amazing, even. I guess," he's mumbling, running his hands through said hair you just complimented and you can tell he's nervous, "I love the song. And the whole album. I can tell which songs you wrote. You always make me so proud."

Ouch. It stings your heart whenever he says things like that. How could you have let go of someone so sweet?

"Thanks. Congratulations on your first album and coming back with Dream."

"Ah, thanks. I fought so hard to come back to the group and I'm really happy they finally listened to me," he began, "You know how much I love them."

"Yeah, I know."

You're barely meeting his eyes, but when you do, it feels like he's hesitating in his words.

"Mark-"

"Happy birthday by the way," he rushes out, "For yesterday. I'm sorry that I didn't text. Or call."

"It's okay," you reassure him, knowing that that was probably easier for you both that he didn't.

"How did you spend your birthday?"

"The members got me cake. Coffee, my favourite," you recount, "I did a live for a bit, but other than that we were practicing all day for today."

"Oh, I'm sorry. That really sucks," he frowns.

"You know how it goes. I'll have more birthdays to celebrate anyway-"

"But you didn't celebrate last year either!" he protests.

"Maybe next year, then," you pull your lips into a tight smile, "It's okay Mark. Don't worry about it. I'm not really fond of my birthdays anymore and 22's not a big deal."

He sighs while looking at you, "You deserve to celebrate your birthday no matter what. I hope you can find some time to do something  for yourself."

You chuckle lightly, "That'll be hard to come by. I don't know how you've done it with multiple groups all these years, Mark. I've only been debuted for three years and it's never got any easier. You were really stretching yourself thin, huh?"

"I guess," he's playing with his fingers, so you know he has something to say.

"Just say it, Mark. Whatever you want to say."

You can read him like a book and you've always been able to. It's not your fault that the book is wide open, as compared to the way you've always been- shut, bound, and locked.

"I just wanted to say I miss you. That's all. I just wanted to see how you were doing."

Thanks to the secluded hallway that Haechan had found and led you to, the coast was clear enough for you to close the distance between you and Mark even just by a bit more. His breath hitches as you place a hand on his arm.

"Thanks for caring, Mark. I miss you too."

He smiles at you softly and the two of you are so engrossed in each other to notice that Kali, Haechan and Jisung had disappeared a while ago. You know it's time for you to go back though.

The worst part of the whole situation wasn't the breakup itself. Of course, the breakup hurt both of you for a long time and you don't even think you're recovered. It did happen over a year ago, but that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part is knowing that every time you meet again, walking away hurts more each time. It's the fact that there's nothing you can do but listen to your heart break with each step you take away from each other. It's the fact that there's nothing you can do about the fact that you still love each other more than anything else in this world.

-

2014

Mark Lee was known to be SM's golden child. In the future, he'd be known as the most over-worked in the company, due to his talents and resilience, but now, he's just Mark Lee, second to you.

You'd done everything before Mark. You were born first. You moved to Korea first. You beat him joining the company by 6 months and you beat him getting announced as part of SM Rookies just by 7 days.

None of that mattered because it was always just you and him together, wherever. Sure, you trained and practiced separately, but lunchtimes, downtimes, company gatherings- it was always the two of you attached to the hip. There was really nothing the company could say- the two of you were barely 15 so what was the worst you could do?

"How long do you think it'll be before your debut?" the two of you are lying down on the grass in a park a few minutes away from the building. His hands are rifling through the blades, yanking them up every so often, while you made daisy chains quietly.

He hums in response, "I don't know. Soon I hope, but I've only been here for like just over a year. Realistically, I'd say like 2 years. Don't tell anyone I told you, but I heard Johnny hyung talking to the manager about some kind of project that the company has been thinking of for a while. Something about having a group with infinite members!"

Your eyes widened at the thought, "Wow, really? EXO debuted with 12 and I thought that was a lot!"

"Yeah, right? But there are only like 9 of us in SM Rookies right now. How many do you think they'll start with and how am I going to get lines in a song if there's so many of us?"

You nudge him, "Well, with your awesome talent and writing skills of course. I can't wait to see what ends up happening to you guys- oh yeah, by the way, how's that new trainee you guys are training with? Donghyuck, right?"

"New?" he sat up with wide eyes, twisting his body to look at you, "He's been here for like 5 months and it's been the worst 5 months of my life! He's just so infuriating. His voice is amazing, sure, but he never listens and is always talking and hanging off me! I told him that he makes me want to leave the company."

You laugh at his frustrated expression, "Ha, you'd never leave the company. You'd never leave me behind. Plus, I bet you'll be best friends in a few years. Opposites attract and all that."

"Hm, but you and I are quite similar. Don't you think?"

There were definitely some traits that you shared to both be enduring the same path. Resilient, hard-working, brave, and enduring were all ones. After all, it's a big leap of faith to train to have the chance to be an idol just at 12 or 13 with no guaranteed future.

When it came down to it though, you'd like to think that there were also traits you each had that weren't always necessarily opposites all the time, but traits that complemented each other.

Mark liked to talk; you liked to listen. Mark was optimistic and would always be the one to cheer you up on your particularly moody days. You were Mark's calm through it all. Mark loved to rap; you found your passion in singing. Mark liked carrots and would take them off your plate in the cafeteria and swap them with his peas. Mark's hands were calloused from his guitar-playing, while yours were smooth and soft when he held them.

"No, I think we're the perfect example of opposites attract."

"Well then that's why you're my best friend," he grinned over at you while you slid a daisy chain bracelet onto his wrists, "Forever and whenever."

"Always," you grinned.

-

AUGUST 2021

"What are you doing here?"

"No happy birthday Mark?" he teases, holding a bouquet of flowers and a grocery store plastic bag in his hands on your doorstep.

"Come in before anyone sees you," you pull him inside your dorm, sticking your head out the hallway to see if it was empty, "How did you get here?"

"Relax, Y/N. My manager drove me and I was in all this," he pulls out a mask and a beanie from his pocket to show you.

"Oh, good. Happy birthday, I guess, but what are you doing here?" you question him again, looking at the contents in his grasp.

"Well, it all started when Hyuck said that we were throwing a birthday party for me. Then Jisung invited Kali and obviously, you too. And your members, of course. Then you said you couldn't come because you're busy," his eyes dart to the episode of Modern Family on your TV and the blanket lazily thrown on the couch, combined with your pajamas, "So I didn't want to come to the party anymore."

"But all my members are at your dorm," you frown, "There's still a party?"

"Yeah, I guess. Gives Jisung an opportunity to spend more time with his crush, which I'm sure Kali appreciates."

"So they're hosting your birthday party," you hum, "Without you? And you came here to what? Check that I'm busy?"

"I know you're not busy. Erin told me so, which I suspected anyway. I know it's kind of rude for me to come to force you to spend time with me when you didn't even want to come to my birthday party in the first place, but I thought I would try." he shrugs, "Is that okay?"

Mark is adorned in a white T-shirt and grey joggers. He's clearly not dressed for a party and your member clearly told him that you're staying inside and moping to your comfort show while you try to avoid your ex-boyfriend on his birthday. Plan failed, you guess.

Here's the thing: you've always been the worst at saying no to Mark. The one time you did, the world crashed around you. You would've thought it would have got easier to say no to him after already experiencing the worst-case scenario, but looking into his slightly pleading chocolate eyes shows you otherwise.

"Of course, Mark. You're the birthday boy," you finally say after a period of silence where Mark felt like his heart was thumping out of his chest.

"There's no one else I'd rather spend my birthday with," he hums lightly, even though his words are loaded, "Here, a big bouquet for missing last year too."

The tradition started on his 15th birthday in 2014. Even though it was his birthday, he had got you a bouquet of flowers to thank you for being his best friend of one year and making him feel all the more comfortable in his first year in Korea. You were his dance partner, his classmate, his fellow English speaker, and his best friend. He got you flowers again the next year, then the year after, and again and again for being his partner through everything.

The last birthday you shared with Mark before the two of you broke up was his 20th birthday in 2019 and he had prepared his own bouquet that year, choosing all your favourite flowers and colours and wrapping it all up himself. Mark was selfless like that- thinking of other people even on his birthday.

"It's beautiful," you examine the flowers- pink and red camellias and carnations, white primroses, pink peonies, red roses and baby's breaths. Taking that flower language course with Mark back when you were both 17 comes as a regret now, with the messages he's sending you through the bouquet. You hope it's just a coincidence.

"Anyway, I brought us- or I made my manager buy us- some Oreo ice cream, peanut butter chocolate, some ramen, and chicken and mushroom pastries," he grins as he pulls each one out of the bag, "And I brought cake, obviously."

You hold yourself back from saying what you would say every time he presented your favourite pastry from your childhood home to you- 'you know the way to my heart'.

"I haven't had one in so long," you gasp, taking it from him and preparing your plate already, "Thanks Mark. Why are you so considerate on your own birthday?"

"I like to celebrate the people I love on my birthday too. I wouldn't be me without them," he plops himself on the bar stool at your breakfast bar while you sigh hopelessly. He'll never leave your heart alone, "I wanted to soften the blow too."

You turn to him slowly, "Soften the blow?"

He sees the panic in your eyes and lets out that melodious laugh you've always loved, "Oh, nothing like that. Nothing to tell you. I just wanted to bribe you to talk to me on my birthday. I thought after over a year you might be ready to talk?"

"About what?"

"Us."

You thank the manufacturers of the heavenly pastry slice that only takes 90 seconds in the microwave. You set the plate down in front of Mark and take the seat next to him.

"What did you want to talk about?"

"Are you still my best friend?"

"Mark, come on," you began warily, knowing the difficult conversation you were about to have.

He meets your eyes and you feel the pain reflected in them, "When we decided to give our relationship a try when we were 16, we pinky swore that no matter what happens, we'll always be best friends. Always. Right?"

You find the power to break his gaze and stare down to your hands on your lap, "We did."

"So, why can't we go back to being friends? I know, I know when you broke up with me, you said that you don't think we could stay friends. I understood, of course, and I wanted to give you some space. Well, at least initially, but it's been over a year now and I really miss us. Your friendship meant everything to me even if I can't have you as my girlfriend." his tone is heartbreaking in the way that it's vulnerable and pleading.

"I told you when we broke up that breaking up was the hardest choice I'd ever have to make. It blew the choice to leave SM out of the water. I didn't want to break up, but it felt like I had no choice," you explained slowly, "When we first started dating, I knew I already loved you, but growing up together and debuting and going through everything I went through really taught me what real love in real life looked like and I could never have predicted at 16 how I felt for you at 20. Mark, you're everything to me, I hope you know. I said I didn't want to be friends when we broke up because how could I have lived with myself seeing you and talking to you still knowing I had you in the way that I did and knowing I loved you that intensely but not being able to show it anymore? How could I live with myself still having you around knowing I let go of the greatest thing that's ever happened to me?"

Mark Lee was brave at 16 when he kissed you for the first time and asked you to be his girlfriend against all the bans and rules. Mark Lee was brave at 18 watching you walk away from everything you both knew at SM Entertainment and for not running after you to stop you because you both knew it was for the best. Mark Lee was brave at 20 hearing you sob through the phone while you were halfway around the world because you just couldn't do this anymore. Mark Lee is brave at 22, taking your warm hands in his, and Mark Lee is brave when he lifts your chin up to meet his gaze and asks you this:

"Why can't we just get back together? This year apart is hurting us more than it's benefitting us."

People say that the eyes are the windows to the soul- that the eyes say everything someone can't say. Your eyes are filled with tears, yes, but also love and fear and all the emotions in between.

The problem was that your brain always rules your life, keeping your heart's true desires always suppressed deep within.

"Mark," you trail, before he cuts you off.

"I don't see the problem, Y/N. Both our companies knew we were dating and you're not a rookie in the industry anymore. I mean, we dated through your whole rookie era! I acknowledge everything you said and felt when we broke up and I wanted to give you time to work through those emotions, but I'm asking if anything has changed. Has it?"

"I've never stopped loving you, but I'm still scared Mark. I'm even more scared now as your career grows," you say quietly, "I don't want to hurt you. If anything gets out, it won't just hurt you or me, because I could take it if it only hurt me, but it's our members, Mark. You know how fans feel about idols who date and it's never ever as simple as 'if they're a true fan they'll be happy for me'. That's not how the industry works."

He squeezes your hands, "Then we'll get better at sneaking around! You know the boys love you so much and they know how much our relationship meant to me and they'd never ever get in the way of that. Or we can just text and call and I don't even have to see you in person when it's risky. I just want the chance to tell you that I still love you every single day as I promised."

There it is again, the sound of your heart breaking at the most loving boy on the planet.

"Will you let me think about it? At least about being your best friend still? I'm sorry that I can't give you an answer right now on your birthday," you murmur. The confessions from Mark came as no surprise, but he never fails to leave you speechless with no clear thoughts in your brain and your heart always full.

"I'm just asking for a chance. Just for anything you can give me," he smiles finally, "How about we eat all this and continue your Modern Family? It's still my favourite show, so I couldn't dream of a better way to spend my birthday."

"I'd like that."

-

2015

"I'm debuting," Mark barges into the near-empty practice room, huffing and panting like he just ran a marathon, "Y/N, oh my God!"

You're sat cross-legged on the floor with your phone propped up in front of you. Your eyebrows are stitched together tightly, indicating that you were probably either criticising yourself on a recording or trying to learn a choreography. The moment you realise that it's Mark, your whole body unclenches and you relax as you pause the video. You don't comprehend the weight of his words until he says them again.

"Y/N, Y/N, I'm going to debut!" he's practically screaming in joy as he belly slides towards you and crashes into you, wrapping his arms around you.

"Oh my God, Mark! Really? Tell me everything right now!" you squeeze him back, pride bursting in your chest.

When you both joined SM, you came with the obvious dream of being an idol entertainer. Sure, the company can make all these empty promises to you at the start, but with the way the industry works, nothing is really ever truly for certain. For you, the company had not given you any time scale or idea of what direction they wanted you to go in. You weren't even really that hopeful, considering the company just debuted Red Velvet one year ago, but you were still enduring.

However, it was almost time to debut a new boy group since it had been 3 years and counting since EXO broke into the scene. You were always certain that Mark was always a part of that plan.

"So, do you remember last year when I told you about the infinite boy group idea? It was true! The company gathered all the male trainees and showed them their idea- it's called NCT and it's so cool, trust me! So it's like they're going to debut groups within NCT like different members in each group!"

"Mark, that sounds amazing. Which group are you going to be in?"

"Uh, they said all of them?" Mark frowns in confusion, "Like the first is going to be this unit where members can switch out anytime and it only has a comeback whenever it wants to, and then the second one is like a normal permanent group which I think I'll be with Hyuck and the hyungs, and the third one is a group where we graduate once we hit 20! But I don't think that one's fully confirmed with members yet."

He's running out of breath explaining it to you and his eyes are going crazy so you just laugh and hug tighter, "That's a lot of information, but it still sounds amazing. See Mark, I told you that you're going to be the most important person in this building! You're literally the best."

Mark nudges you so that you break away, "Psh, shut up Y/N. It's still a few months out anyway. We're going to be writing and practicing the debut song for the first unit really soon though."

"And I'm so proud of you," you tell him sincerely, knowing that there are not many people who you can say have worked harder than Mark to achieve their dreams, "Do you feel scared at all?"

He swivels his body so that he's sitting in front of you and he starts playing with your fingers like he always does, "Naturally, I guess. Debuting is a whole new world and being an idol too, but this is what I've been working towards so why shouldn't I be more excited? I've been waiting for this day, but I guess it's human nature to have fear of the unknown."

"It's definitely not wrong to not be scared. I'd be over the moon if they finally tell me I'm going to debut," you sigh dreamily.

"And you will! They can't keep you hidden here any longer and you know that the company loves you so much! You've given everything for them so you deserve it all back," Mark is now rubbing circles with his thumb on the back of your hand, "I can't wait until we achieve our dream together. No matter how long it takes, we'll both be standing on that stage together as idols. It's so close now, Y/N."

You smile softly at the boy, ever the optimist, "I can't wait for it too, Mark. Don't let the fame get to your head so quickly and don't forget me when you're famous okay?"

"You're so silly," Mark laughs, "You'll always be my best friend- wait scratch that-"

"I won't always be your best friend?"

"No! You will! But this is literally the best day ever and I have all this adrenaline and energy right now and if I don't say it now, I don't think I ever will, but all I'm saying is that I've been by your side for nearly 3 years now and you're literally my other half and it's so goddamn obvious that I like you so much and I really want to be your boyfriend. Okay, exhale Mark."

Your eyes widen at his confession and you slide away from him in shock, "Wait, really? You like me? You want to be my boyfriend?"

He looks at you like you just grew two heads, "Y/N, that's literally exactly what I said. Do you like me back?"

Shyness begins to creep out of you while your whole face flushes red. You've never been the type to be shy around Mark, even in the times his words and actions make you feel giddy.

"Mhm, you're my first real crush that developed when we met. I thought I'd grow out of it, but it kept getting stronger the closer we got," you admit.

The first day that Mark Lee walked into the practice rooms and got introduced to the trainees, you thought he was the cutest boy in the world. He was dorky and shy at first, but when he performed in front of you, he turned into a completely different person that made you fall for him even more.

The two of you were the same age and he was your deskmate in Korean lessons. Though Mark had grown up speaking Korean, he had never lived in Korea speaking it almost 100% of the time, so the company thought it would be good for him to join your lessons, especially to get training for the language he would be using as an idol.

The two of you became very fast friends and by the end of the month, you were chasing each other in the cafeteria and sharing food in corners with your own inside jokes.

His face breaks out into a grin, tackling you into a hug, "Aw, my little Y/N likes me back!"

You roll your eyes playfully and shove him off your body, "First of all, I'm 3 months older than you, and second of all, you have been spending way too much time with Donghyuck."

"Yeah that little devil rubs off on people," he sighs, "Whatever. Does that mean we're boyfriend and girlfriend now?"

"Wait, wait, wait. We have to consider the implications! Especially if you're debuting soon! Are we going to tell the company? How is this going to work?" you bombard him with questions, playing your part as the realist in this friendship, "Is this a good idea."

"I mean, half the hyungs have secret girlfriends so we can ask them for help and at least it helps that you're in the company with me so if they do find out it's easier to protect the both of us," Mark replies, "I've actually spent a lot of time thinking about this, believe it or not. You keep me up awake at night sometimes."

"You're so cheesy," you mumble, turning away to hide your blushing face, "But I guess I do want to be your girlfriend- but what if we break up? I don't want to lose you as my best friend!"

"How about this then," he extends his pinky out to you, "Let's pinky swear that even if we break up and this relationship goes horribly wrong, we'll be best friends still. Forever and whenever."

His words are dripping with sincerity and it surrounds you like a blanket. There's no one in this world that you trust more than Mark Lee when you entwine your own pink around his and smile at him, "Always."

Your pinkies are still attached a minute later when he's looking at you with a goofy smile.

You glare at him, "What's going on in that big head of yours?"

"If we're dating, then does that mean I can kiss you?"

The thought of kissing Mark had admittedly crossed your mind more than you could bare to say out loud. You wanted to play it off cool- shove him and roll your eyes or something, but truthfully, you really did want to kiss your dorky best friend Mark Lee.

"I mean, I guess," you shrug, "If you want to."

"Ha ha, I do," he starts leaning in closer and your heart is beating faster.

This was it. You were going to kiss your best friend-turned-boyfriend in the middle of a practice room. He was going to be your first kiss too!

Mark's face is so close that you can feel his breath on your lips. You can tell he's never done this before with how slowly and nervously he's advancing, but you can see the hope in his eyes.

Your eyes flutter shut. Your lips are almost touching, just ghosting over each others.

"Wait!" you groan as he opens his mouth, "If I'm your first real crush, then who's your first crush overall?"

You smirk, "Jongin-oppa. Duh."

-

2022

This was the biggest concert of your career. Playing the Olympic Stadium had always just been a distant daydream - something to dream about just to amuse you or occupy time. You'd never thought that you would actually live to see the day when that dream came to fruition.

It wasn't even a realistic dream. No girl groups had ever played their own concert at Jamsil Olympic Stadium, but your group was going to be the first.

Cameras were pointed all around you backstage as you prepared to go on for your opening.

"Leader, give us a pep talk," your bandmate Yana whines while nudging you. You gather in a circle, pretending you're not deafened by the noise of your fans screaming just past the partition, where they're waiting in anticipation.

The 5 of you lean closer, putting your heads together and your hands in the middle. Before that, you make sure to look at their faces carefully and examine each member's expressions.

Jian is a year older than you, but she's nervous as hell and can barely get any words out. You're not worried because she's proven time after time that she's born to be on stage and that she completely transforms in front of an audience showering her in love. Yana seems nervous too, but she's better at hiding it and it comes out through rambles of sometimes unintelligible speech. Erin is gripping her microphone tightly with a poker face, probably recalling all of her raps in her head quickly, even though you know it comes second nature to her. Your youngest, Kali, seems the most excited. That kid is the most fearless idol you've ever met and you're grateful for someone like her on the team.

As for you? Well, you're a mix of all of your members. It's coming up to a decade now since you started training and you still have to take everything that this career throws at you one by one. The feeling backstage is not exactly overwhelming- it's more pride and joy and excitement to be out there and perform the best concert you have to give.

"No one can ever take this away from us. We're the first freaking girl group to host a show here! We've worked so hard for this and we absolutely deserve it. Everyone out there is here for us, so we should give it our all and play the best show ever. Don't let your nerves get to you. Just relax and be the amazing and talented performers I know we all are," you breathe out, "I'm really thankful for you guys and I'm so happy to have you by my side with me for this. We're exactly where we should be. I really love you guys so much. Let's kill it, yeah? 3, 2, 1, Fighting!"

Your members release a chuckle and you all wrap your arms around each other in a group hug. Soon, your cues begin in your in-ear monitors and you break up to take your positions on the platform that will lift you up to the stage.

The concert starts off without a hitch. Everything is perfect and the energy you get as each song progresses is nothing like you've ever felt. The sea of fans is expansive and blinding and you still have to check you're not dreaming every few moments. You eventually settle into the stage and the concert slows down a bit with your solo performances.

Your company had encouraged you all to perform something of your own choosing and while you had a vast repertoire of songs tucked away on your GarageBand, they were mostly unfinished, too personal or waiting to be adapted to your group to go onto your future albums. The song had to be something that would only ever be just for you, but something you could bare to release into the world for everyone else to hear.

Okay, so maybe you let your emotions rule you and get the best of you. Maybe the song you chose was the wrong one to invite your fans to insert themselves into. Maybe it was too personal to sing a song about Mark Lee in front of the biggest crowd you'd ever played in your life, but when else could you?

The baby grand piano is gleaming in the centre of the stage and your blue dress is sparkling from the way the lights hit the crystals adorning the whole slip. You're admittedly more nervous about this, but you think it's more to do with the fact that you know Mark Lee is in the stadium, somewhere.

Your company had warned you that if you wanted to sing this song, you had to do a little speech before that would throw them off your scent, "Hi guys," you pause for their screams, "I know you guys enjoyed Kali's energetic dance and Jian's amazing original song! For my segment, I thought we could have a little chill time and not to dampen your spirits, but I wanted to show you guys this heartbreak track that I wrote after watching too many sad rom-coms. I really hope that none of you guys can relate and if anyone ever breaks your heart, just send them my way, okay? I hope you guys enjoy it. This is '21'."

You let out a deep breath and remind yourself that this was the right choice. Your fingers glide over the keys perfectly like it's muscle memory from the year you've been working on the song. You send a prayer to higher beings that Mark won't kill you as you begin the first lines.

"I missed your 21st birthday. I've been up at home; almost tried to call you, don't know if I should. Hate to picture you half-drunk, happy. Hate to think you went out without me. I'm sorry if you blame me, if I were you I would. Thought you'd see it coming, but you never could. I still haven't heard from your family, but you said your mom always loved me."

Mark celebrated your 21st birthday with you. Public dates were not a thing in your relationship, but this man made every effort to make the best out of your situation. He kicked out your members from your dorm after enlisting their help to decorate the place top to bottom in rose gold banners and balloons. After taking cooking lessons for weeks previously, he had then covered your dining table with expensive cloth and filled up two glasses with wine to go with the steak that he had perfectly cooked all for you. He then took you to the couch and serenaded you with a love song about how much you mean to him and how thankful he was for you. On top of all that, you had boxes and boxes of presents to unwrap that were all thoughtful, beautiful, or meaningful. Mark Lee was the perfect boyfriend.

For Mark's 21st birthday, you were sat cross-legged on your sofa with your phone placed on the table in front of you, face up. It was as if you were waiting for him to be the one to call when you were the one who broke his heart just a few weeks earlier and asked to not be friends.

You were drinking the wine that he poured for you on your birthday and you were half-drunk, punching in his number on your keypad, because even though you deleted his number, you already knew it off by heart. There was just something in you that refused to carry it through. You were a coward and Mark Lee celebrated his birthday without you for the first time in 7 years.

"I see the look in your eye and I'm biting my tongue. You were the love of my life since I was young. When the night is over, don't call me up I'm already under. I get a little bit alone sometimes and I miss you again. I'll be the love of your life inside your head. When the night is over, don't call me up I'm already under."

Later on that night, you're lying wide awake and staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars that you and Mark had decided to plaster all around your ceiling when you were bored one day. The crowd seemed to love the song thankfully and it was easy to get their energy back up. People placed meaning into everything idols did, so you weren't surprised at the people who were making guesses about your love life and the subject of the song. Whatever, they'd never get it right, anyway.

Your phone ringing cuts through the silence and you curse, hoping it won't wake up the other girls in the dorm. They're probably dead asleep from the high-energy concert anyway.

"You're still up?" his voice is grainy through the speaker.

"You're the one that called. Did you not want me to answer?" you quip back, "It's the adrenaline, I think."

"Touché. I was going to leave a voicemail, but this is better, I guess," Mark uttered, "The concert was amazing, by the way. I'm sorry we didn't come and say hello backstage, but we really enjoyed it."

"Thanks, Mark and thank the boys for me too, okay?" you instruct.

"Mhmm, of course," he replies, "That song you wrote was good, you know. But you might've as well called it 'Mark'."

You're laughing softly at his comment, "I should've changed the number, I know. But shut up- if you know it's for you, then why don't you follow my words? I said don't call me tonight."

"I've never been good at following rules when it comes to you," Mark sighs, "Plus, there's not a lot of times I can just call you up like this. At least I had something to say to you."

"You can always call if you want."

"Would you always answer?"

You pause to think, but Mark takes that as confirmation.

"Have you thought about what I said? 6 months ago when I asked if you wanted to be friends again? Or even get back together?"

"That question keeps me awake every night," you joke, "But today, when I was just looking out at the fans and greeting the idols that came backstage after the concert, it really made me think about how much I wanted to be doing all of this with you. I've always regretted what happened between us because it wasn't a choice I wanted to make. There are no words to describe the way that love manifests in front of you from the fans. I always find myself wishing you were still here by my side."

"Hm, cryptic. Is that an answer to my question or do I have to wait another 6 months to call you up and ask again?"

"How long are you going to keep asking?" you uttered, the feeling of disappointment taking over your body as you still couldn't find the courage to finally give in and allow yourself to be happy.

"Until you say yes again."

-

JULY 2020

The world was still shut as you knew it, yet you were halfway around the world from the place you grew to call home. Your company was generous to give you two months off to spend with your loved ones, and you chose to spend some time cooped up in your parents' house and your childhood home because even though there were so many quarantining requirements to get between the two countries, you hadn't seen your parents in almost 3 years.

Of course, you missed your members, but you lived with them and would continue to see them nearly every day for as long as you could keep your career going. Of course, you missed Mark, but it's not like you could go and see him anyway with the tough restrictions imposed on the Korean citizens.

There was also one big- scratch that- giant problem looming over your and your company's heads. The bane of your existence and public enemy number 1 Dispatch had dangled over your heads the threat of releasing the photos they had grabbed of you and Mark abroad in Vancouver at the start of the year. It wouldn't have been damning evidence considering it was the only photo set they had acquired of the two of you, but you were holding hands with your eyes clearly in view. 

Your companies had threatened to sue, of course, but Dispatch has never been scared. Then, your companies tried to play the guilt-trip card and interrogate them on why they would care to do such a thing when the world was suffering enough as it is. Alas, nothing got through to Dispatch. Eventually, your companies surrendered to pay a preposterous amount to get rid of the problem and it probably didn't even make a dent in SM's savings, but it surely hurt your growing but small company even if SM took the majority of the bill. 

It was completely eating you up and tearing your insides to know that because of your slip-up with Mark, the trainees in your company had to get their debut pushed back by a good probable few years.

Mark had been the perfect boyfriend, supporting you through your change to your new company and your short training period before your debut. Mark had been there to metaphorically hold your hand as you got to know the other girls and make lifelong sister bonds out of it. Mark had been there to cheer you on in the early mornings when you were doing your first few stages. Mark had been there when your first comeback did even better than your debut and propelled you to the top of the industry.

So why, oh why, were you thinking about whether being together is good for everyone involved? There you found yourself in a dark room, the phone next to your head as soft cries and hiccups escaped your lips.

"Baby, please tell me what's wrong. I hate when you cry and it's really hurting me that I'm not there with you right now. Do you want me to come there? Cause I will! I'll say I'm sick or something." he's rambling through the phone and you can hear that it's raining heavily in Seoul.

"Mark, you know that I love you right?"

"Of course I do," he coos gently, "And you're my once-in-a-lifetime great love. I love you too, baby. What's wrong?"

You don't even believe the words that come out of your mouth when you whisper them, "I can't do this anymore Mark. I think we need to break up."

"What? Y/N, this is not funny," his voice instantly turns serious.

"I'm sorry Mark, but I'm serious," you're sobbing at this point and you're surprised he can even still understand you, "I really don't want to do this but-"

"So why are you doing this? Look, let's just talk when you get back, okay? You're coming home soon, right? Or I can take a flight there, but baby, don't make these rash decisions- we're just missing each other."

"The guilt is eating me up, Mark," you confess in hushed tones, "I feel like I don't deserve to be happy. And every time I'm with you, I feel only this sense of anxiety about being caught together that I can't shake. I love you so much, Mark, but I don't know why I feel like this."

"Y/N, we've dealt with so much over the years and we've fought through everything together! We can work through this together, I promise. Just give me some time to think about what to do and everything will be okay-" he's crying now too and it breaks your heart to hear it because he barely ever cries, "I'll get the company to pay yours back what you paid to those assholes. Come on, baby."

"Mark," you whimper, "I ruined the company. I don't want to hurt my members either. Even if we admit to dating, imagine the hate that my group will face! I don't want to let them down any more than I already have."

"I'll tell the fans to not hate- Y/N just tell me what I can do to stop whatever this break-up idea in your head is. We're meant to be, Y/N. We're each other's perfect match."

"I don't love you any less, Mark. Please remember that. I need to do this for my members and for my company that took a leap of faith in me. I don't want to walk away from you, but I don't see any other choice. I don't want to hurt you or your members either. I can't be seen with you."

His voice is small and strained, "You're breaking my heart, Y/N."

"And I'm never going to forgive myself for it."

-

EARLY 2018

This was definitely the hardest decision of your life and it wasn't one that you took lightly either. It was something you had been thinking about for over a year and more intensely when the company started to press you on extending your exclusive training contract.

Herin Seo had entered SM just before you did and she lived and trained with you. She was your best friend outside of Mark and it broke your heart when she left the company only after 4 years in 2017. There were only a few months left on her contract, but she was desperate to get an out and an idol survival show finally gave her the motivation to break free.

Right now, she's taking the seat in front of you after setting down your favourite drinks from your favourite cafe that she still remembers, "Iced vanilla matcha latte for me and an iced oat latte for my best friend."

"You're the best Herin! My treat next time," you promise as you take the first sip. It's been a while since you've come to the café since it hurts to go when it used to be your spot with Herin.

"Well better be soon because I'm leaving in 5 days," she pouts, "I'm sorry I could only come to visit for a short time."

"It's okay. I'm glad to see you anyway after all these months," you grin, "How's settling back in Manchester?"

"I mean it's always been home but it took me a few months to really get to grips with the fact that I wasn't leaving after a week like I did when I would visit during my training. It's really weird to know England is now my permanent home and that I'm going to start school again there," she looks outside the large window that overlooks the river, "I really really miss Seoul."

You take her hand and muster your best comforting smile, "I'm really sorry that things didn't turn out how we wanted them to."

"Ha, it's not your fault Y/N. I mean, you're in the same boat; what are you planning to do with this contract thing?"

You sigh at the age-old question that's been plaguing your mind for months. In fact, your meeting with the company to decide your future was tomorrow and you still had no concrete idea of what you wanted, "I really don't know Herin. SM has been everything I've known for 5 years and everyone I love is at the company. I don't even know how to switch agencies or what happens at other agencies. At the same time, I know they're planning for a group soon, but I have this feeling that I can't shake when I think about it. I look at Jimin and Minjeong and my sweet baby Yizhou and I don't think I'm what the company wants."

"But they've invested so much time and money into you!" Herin furrows her eyebrows, "Surely they're building a group around you, Yizhuo, Koeun, Lami, and Hina! We were a pre-debut team! They can't just disregard all of you guys, right?"

"I wouldn't put it past them," you're fiddling nervously with your hands, "They've been good to me, but they're a business at the end of the day. I'm so torn up and I was thinking you could help me. How did you know that you wanted to leave the company?"

She thinks for a while before answering your question, "Well the survival show was just the reason why I left before my contract was up, but I already knew that I wasn't going to stay on and re-sign. For me, it just felt like I had more to give, but the environment I was in wasn't letting me grow anymore. I felt like there was nothing more I could give to SM. Even though Idol School didn't work out for me, I was still glad that I went."

You nod along to her story, "I haven't told anyone about this Herin. Mark's been bugging me about my terms for re-signing my contract, so I don't think it's even fathomable for him for me to leave."

"It's about you, Y/N. This is your story, your career, and your decision. There are going to be a lot of people that are going to be hurt or angry, but they will never understand what you're going through. Especially not the people who already debuted," Herin advises, "Look, talk about it with Mark tonight, and don't leave it until after your meeting because that might hurt more, but if he really loved you and wanted what's best for you, he would trust in your decision."

"You're right Herin. Thanks for being there for me."

So, you called Mark later on that night to come over. You had cooked up a few dishes for you to share and asked your dorm mates if they could give you a few hours for some alone time. Telling Mark was definitely going to be hard, but you couldn't imagine the conversation with the girls, who were going to be the most hurt. You remember when Herin left- you weren't angry, but you were overwhelmingly sad about the thought of the girl you started your journey with not being there anymore. That was when you started to question if you should still be there too, but you were scared to instill this thought in your other younger trainees that maybe thought they still had a chance.

"Hi baby," Mark is beaming when you open the door to him. He quickly shuts the door behind him with his foot and wraps you up in a tight hug, making sure to plant a kiss on your lips and then all over your face, "I missed your gorgeous face so much- oh my God the apartment smells so good! What did you cook?"

"Just some beef and rice," you lead him over to the dining table with the food set out already.

"Oh my gosh, you're so amazing," Mark smooches your cheek affectionately and takes his seat on the table. You had lived at the dorm for your whole time at SM and along the way, Mark had chosen his own seat at your dining table for when you had dinners inside, which was almost every date you shared.

You start with small talk, letting him eat and enjoy his meal before you inevitably break a little bit of his precious heart. You hadn't seen Mark for a few days since he was busy with some schedules, so he tells you all about the boys and what they've been up to recently. They're working on the biggest project NCT has ever done so far- a full 18-member release- and it's going spectacularly well. The album itself was a few weeks out, but each unit had been dropping some songs along the way.

"Babe, the company is throwing a release party when the album drops in a few weeks! Isn't that so exciting? They actually asked us what food we want at the party so we're all going crazy. I think Hyuck asked for a fondue fountain, so I'm dying to see if they'll actually give that," he's chuckling, halfway through his plate, "Do you have any special requests?"

Okay, deep breath. Now's the time. It's all or nothing.

"Actually Mark, I invited you over to talk about something," you begin and the smile on his face drops at your warning tone, "Please don't be upset with me."

"Ah, what's wrong?" he's pouting and you have to look away to get the strength to say what you need to. If you looked in his eyes any longer, you would find some reason to convince you to stay just for him.

"My contract meeting is tomorrow," you gulp, "I'm going to leave the company, Mark."

The sound of his chair scraping against the floor makes you cringe, "What? Y/N, what? What do you mean you're leaving the company? Where are you going to go? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just made up my mind today, Mark. I'm sorry I didn't confide in you, but this was a decision I had to make for myself," tears are welling up along your lash line, "I spoke to Herin today and I realised that the only thing making me stay any longer was you."

"But you're so close to debut!" he's arguing pleadingly, crouching beside you and holding your hand, "Babe, I can't imagine this company without you."

"I'm not Mark. You know that I'm not any closer to debut than I was when I joined 5 years ago. You're indispensable to this company, but I'm really not," you expressed, "I don't want to leave and I love you, your boys, and my girls, but I think this is what's best for me."

"But where are you going to go?" Mark sniffles, "I love you so much Y/N, but what's going to happen to us?"

You shake your head at his insinuations, "No, Mark. Don't worry. Nothing's going to happen to us and I'll make sure that whatever company I join will know about us and protect us. I hope you'll find it in you to forgive me for this."

He stands up and wraps his arms around you from above, "I'm sorry for reacting this way Y/N, but there's nothing for you to be sorry for. I trust you, okay? I love you and I want you to do what's best for you. I know I can't make decisions for you, but I'll try my best to support you however I can."

You look up at him with adoration dripping from your eyes, "I love you, Mark. We're going to be okay, yeah?"

He brings his head down and connects your lips in the most love-filled way that your heart explodes in that familiar overwhelming feeling that Mark always seems to do to you, "We're going to be okay, baby."

-

LATE 2022

The world was playing a sick joke on you- it really was. There was no way your whole career wasn't just some April Fools' prank or that you weren't just the main target of some joke show.

You always prided yourself on being close with the company's staff and higher-ups. As a leader of your group, you felt that it was integral to your success that you were able to communicate your wishes and worries to the company and this gave you more creative freedom too. Apparently, the company too was getting more comfortable with you.

"What did you just say?" your eyes were incredulous, peering towards your sheepish CEO, "That's actually the worst idea I've ever heard in my life."

"Look, Y/N, you wanted a feature on your song," your CEO chuckles at your response, "I think this is an amazing idea."

"You're literally giving Dispatch a green light to release those photos. Do you want me to email you a picture of me and Mark making out so you can just tweet it from the official account?" you counter, "Why in the hell would having my ex-boyfriend feature on my solo debut title track be anything short of a terrible idea?"

"Mark is incredibly famous and incredibly talented," she begins, counting with her fingers, "You have high standards. We have a good relationship with SM Entertainment. Your fans love shipping the two of you together since you're in the same age group."

"He's also my ex-boyfriend. Is that not extremely problematic? Everyone will hyper analyse every interaction we have or have had and then they're actually going to figure out that we dated." you ponder, "The worst part of this all is that I know he would say yes if his company lets him."

"Exactly- he's your ex-boyfriend, not your current one. By all logic, he's now just another fellow idol or colleague that you can collaborate with. Anyway, SM will definitely say yes; look how many of their idols are in relationships or at least feature on tracks."

"This is all Crush and Joy's fault," you groan, looking at the pleased expression on your CEO's face knowing that she had won the argument.

When your company proposed the idea of having a solo debut to you half a year ago, you had vehemently declined the opportunity, citing it wouldn't be beneficial to your group as a whole and that you wanted to be known for your group and not your individuality. Your members, on the other hand, had different ideas and talked you into at least hearing out the company. You had really only agreed to the debut when they told you that they would give you full musical freedom and the help that you personally requested. It only seemed like a good idea when you realised that someone in the group needs to be the one to start doing solo activities so the rest of the group can follow suit. You've always known that Jian has been curious about acting.

So you find yourself swiveling in your chair in the studio, waiting for Mark to find his way to the room. It's your first time working together for your solo debut and the last time you had spoken to him was a text he sent you asking if you actually wanted him to feature on the track before he gave a response to his company. You begrudgingly replied a yes because even though you still didn't think it was a good idea, you couldn't imagine yourself working with anyone other than Mark. The industry was crazy sometimes.

The knocking on the door snapped you out of your thoughts and you jumped up to open it to Mark Lee holding two cups on the other side.

"Hey pretty. I got us some coffee," he pushes a cup into your hand and you move aside to let him in, "How are you?"

"Don't call me pretty," you mumble as you turn away to hide the blush starting to appear on your cheeks, "But I'm okay. It's getting busier with the holidays coming up, so you know how that is, but the company thought this time was a great time to work on my debut."

"I feel you," Mark grimaces, taking a seat on the other spinning chair, "Don't tell anyone but Dream is actually having another comeback. It's going to be out just before Christmas."

"Another one?" your eyes widen in shock, "But you just released 2 Baddies and I know you definitely have a repackage soon!"

"Yeah, it's hard to be part of both units," he sighs, "Cause our new album will be over 6 months out from Beatbox, but only 3 months from 2 Baddies. Whatever, you know I love what I do."

"Doesn't mean you don't get tired," you cross your arms, "Now I feel bad having you on this track. You are way too busy, Mark! Why didn't you or your company say no?"

He shakes his head to reassure you, "Nah, trust me Y/N; you're exactly the break I need from the boys. Besides, I've never had the chance to formally work with you, so why would I give up the opportunity when it comes? We always made a great team back then."

You smile fondly, thinking about all those times when you and Mark were young teenagers and would huddle up in the practice rooms writing songs together and creating melodies on your guitars.

"I guess we did. Anyway, have a listen to this track. It's just something I wrote a while ago, but it always seemed unfinished so I thought that a feature would complete it," you hand him a pair of headphones and gesture over to your laptop with the track already loaded up, "If you like it, you can do your part in the second verse, but otherwise we can start from scratch."

You watch his face as he listens to the song and you're endeared to find out he still carries the same habit of letting his face do all the talking whenever he's listening to something new. His head is bobbing up and down as he nods along to the song and you can easily tell which parts he likes.

"So, what do you think?" you inquire.

He has a grin on his face, "I love it! Honestly! It's a cute song about a crush, I guess?"

"Yeah, I didn't want to go with any song that's lyrically strong for my debut. This song's pretty unassuming and you know how important it is to the companies to have a general public-friendly song," you shrug. They didn't really explicitly give you guidelines, but you knew what the company was really looking for- a hit, "Can you work with that beat? I'll send you the song of course and you don't have to rush or anything."

"I'll see what I can do," Mark teases, "Can I get an insider sneak peek at the rest of the album? You know, feature perks and all of that."

You flush even redder than when he complimented you earlier, "I'm going to be so honest Mark, the whole album is about you. Every song I've written is about you."

He shrugs casually, "I would've figured. You're a big inspiration to my writing too. Is that a no, then?"

You decide that there was no point shying away from Mark's request, considering that he would end up hearing each and every song whenever your album came out anyway. Plus, the two of you were artists and you understood being each others' muse- good or bad. Mark had seen you in every vulnerable state possible. Showing him your songs that you were comfortable enough to release to the public anyway was nothing to you.

"You can listen."

You don't bother giving Mark any explanations for any song- he's the one that lived through these experiences with you. You leave him with your tracklist on the laptop and tell him you would leave him for a few moments to grab some lunch for the two of you in the company cafeteria. You were hoping it was going to be a quick trip down and back up, but you had run into a producer you were also working with on the album, and that gave Mark at least 5 songs worth of time alone.

What you hadn't expected upon returning was to find Mark crying softly, his sweater paws rubbing at his eyes.

"Mark? Are you crying?"

Your surprise caused him to jump up and frantically wipe away his tears, "Ha. That's a really sad album, huh?"

The guilt continues to eat you up from the inside out, "I'm not going to release all of them, I think. A few sad songs and fill the rest in with inconspicuous tracks."

"Well your songs are beautiful anyway," he gives you a pained smile, "You're an amazing writer. I just wish I wasn't the cause of your pain."

"Hey," you scold softly, bumping his arm with yours, "Don't say that. You were nothing but amazing to me. You made me so happy. It was just the circumstances around us."

He chuckled bitterly to himself, "If we weren't famous- if this industry wasn't so vicious, I would still have you?"

"Mark," you warn, but he cuts you off.

"Have you thought about what I asked you?" he interrupts, "It's been a year, you know? I still miss you."

"Mark, it's not that easy," you counter, "Nothing's changed!"

"It's either you want to be with me or you don't. Don't skirt around it and just tell me the truth, okay? It would really make working together easier if I know where we stand. I won't stop fighting for us until you tell me to stop, so tell me what you want, Y/N," Mark pleads, standing up to face you, "I'm sorry for springing it out of nowhere, but I need to know. I can't move on until I know to let you go."

You hate yourself for what you did to Mark. He was the boy that taught you how to love and how to love patiently, sincerely, and passionately. He was the boy that held your hand and rubbed your back when you cried and the boy that celebrated every success with you. He was the boy that told you how proud he was of you, even every time you felt like the world was collapsing around you. He was the boy who would lay kisses on your forehead and whisper sweet nothings in your ear whenever you faced another setback. He was the boy that made flowers bloom out of your heart from his kind gestures and the way he showed you how much he loved you. And if nothing else, Mark was the boy that made you happy.

You remember a conversation with your youngest member the night before. You had confided in her how nervous you were to work with Mark and she lectured you on finally letting yourself be happy. You were already a 4-year idol and Mark was coming onto 7 years. You weren't rookies anymore and you had solid fanbases. It was clear that the companies weren't extremely opposed to revealing that the two of you were dating back then, so she told you that it would be fine now. Kali told you, rather cliché-ly, that the heart wants what it wants and your heart has been screaming and begging from Mark since the second you ended that phone call with him all those years ago.

"Y/N?"

"Mark," you meet his eyes and melt all over again, "It's you, Mark."

Mark wraps one arm around your waist and pulls you tighter. The other hand reaches up to your face to brush your hair out of your face and cradle your cheek as he brings it up to his own face. Your noses are almost touching as Mark lays it all bare for you, "Do you love me or do you not, Y/N?"

"I do," the feeling is cathartic when you finally tell him and when he finally presses his lips in a searing kiss that sets off all the fireworks in your heart. The feeling of Mark is familiar, but the kiss is longing and hopeful and you can't get enough.

You're both panting when he breaks the kiss and he rests his forehead against yours as he laughs softly in relief. He's been waiting to do that for over 2 years.

"I need you back, Y/N. It's been the worst 2 years of my life," he whispers against your lips, "Please come back."

You smile when he opens his eyes. They're that shade you grew to love all those years ago and they're sparkling like the day he first asked you to be his girlfriend.

Nothing's changed in your environment, that's for sure. What you're also sure about is that each time you see Mark again, you feel a little braver and more courageous. Each time Mark tells you that he loves you even though you shattered his heart like glass, you feel like his love can get you through anything. Maybe you needed those 2 years to see what you were missing or maybe you were just stupid.

Whatever. All you know now is that even 2 years on, Mark Lee is still begging for your love and your brain is losing out in its battle against your heart. It might've taken you two years, but now you see that all you need is Mark Lee by your side to get through the torrential storm that was heading your way and that you were going to get out on the other side to a bright and sunny sky, as long as he was holding your hand and leading you.

You place a kiss on his lips that tells him all he needs to know, "I'm here, Mark. It's always been you. You've always been the one. Always."

[natsarrownecklacx]

Curiosities

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count- 528

Summary- Wanda figuring out she has a somno kink.

Warnings- Allusion to smut, minors DNI this fic is NOT for you, allusion to somnophilia

ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ

Waves of moonlight spill into the room through a crack in the curtains, illuminating long red hair as it tussles around a carefully moving witch.

The room is silent, save for the quiet noise of jostling sheets being scrunched beneath the weight of a moving body and the occasional heavier breaths escaping your mouth.

Wanda couldn’t sleep, her mind occupied with something you had said so casually earlier in the day.

“Sometimes I wish you’d touch me while I’m asleep.” You’d said almost out of the blue, in typical you fashion.

She hadn’t thought much of it at the time. But now the words you let spill from your lips so effortlessly plague her mind, almost as if she can hear the thought coming from your sleeping mind.

She never thought she would be into such a thing, touching you in such an intimate way while you slept.

She’d simply looked over at your sleeping form to check on you. Your words came into her mind, making her laugh at the notion.

Only her laughter stopped when she realized, lying there looking at you blissfully unconscious, that the thought lit a fire in her belly she didn’t expect.

She swore she’d just take a peek. Just to curve her curiosity, then she’d go back to bed. She'd just pull back the blanket a little to get a look at you.

But now she’s kneeling in between your legs, gently hands shaking as she pushes your thighs apart.

She couldn’t help herself. She’d tried. But she really couldn’t. You just looked so pretty lying next to her. So innocent and ready for the taking. So pure and corruptible.

You whine softly in your sleep, your body already knowing what’s to come if it plays its part right, which only serves to make her craving for you pulse, sending a shot of arousal straight to her stomach.

Wanda takes a deep, shaky breath, willing herself to stay calm. Even though her body is begging her to give into her newfound urges.

Eager hands slide from your thighs to your hips, tracing a familiar path as they go. Only this time it feels different. Dirtier. Hungrier. More desperate. As though she’s holding herself back from physically tearing you apart.

“Fuck, y/n. What have you done to me.” She whispers into the room, her lips forming around the words while she wishes they could trace your skin.

Soft hands land on your hips, fingers immediately itching to dig into the plump flesh.

In a moment of weakness Wanda allows herself a moment, just one singular moment, to give in. Her hands squeeze your hips, delighting in the feel of your warm body in her hold, and in the almost imperceivable squirm the action insights from you.

Another, needier, whine falls from your lips. Your body arching into Wanda's, only slightly, but still noticeable to the witch.

Her breath catches in her throat. It’s almost as if you’re begging her.

The thought makes her wet, more than she thought it would.

Even in your sleep you need her. Need her to touch you, feel you, make you come for her.

And if that’s what you want, if it’s what your body needs, who is she to deny you.

ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ

A/n- I posted the same fic last night for Natasha. This was originally written for Wanda n for science I wanna see which will do better

[mallas28]

Whats wrong with this chapter?

So Horikoshi just write this weird and wrong chapter with strange structure and composition only for beautiful picture in the end? Because so many serious problems brought up in manga are unanswered like:

1. Quirk singularity. Quirk evolving every time. Humanity is still in danger. There only a matter of time when someone will appear with ability to end the world with one hand.

2. Discrimination of quirks and quirkless people. I know that Shodji het a "reward" for fighting discrimination,but we still see that it exists. Like Dai(or how is that boy was named) is still bullied for hid quirk.

3. Heroes system doesn't change at all. No matter how you change to call a hero. In final chapter we see that It doesn't change. Like raitings are still there. We see that Tokoyami and Kirishima selling their products. So heroes are still capable making a huge amount of money. So there is a matter of time when heroes will become corrupted.

4. Quirkless people can't become heroes if they are not millionaires. So Horikoshi telling me that Izuku was miserable for 8 years, waiting for teacher in order to All Might suddenly appear and give him suit? Its quite hypocritical thing anx message dont you find it. Manga literally telling me that if you are not millionaires or dont have a millionare friend you cant achieve your dreams. Wow.... Very inspiring message. I have no words.

5. Why Izuku doesn't change? I mean he still looks like a teenager. Why Horikoshi doesn't bother to change his appearance a bit. Its so confusing.

6. No ship confirmed. I think Horikoshi feared to confirmation the ship. So he let open ending. (Or maybe because a sequel).

7. No Dekus father. Horikoshi promised to show Dekus dad. But ot was droped for nothing. Fans were waiting. But nothing happens. Horikoshi again chickened? As he did with ships?

8. No one dies except villains. Don't get me wrong i am not eager for blood or smth. But you have a FINAL WAR. And you spared even pilots with no names at all. Is this serious? Is this fair and called Final war?

I really hoping for sequel announcement in 5th August. Because so many questions still unanswered. Horikoshi as a writer really dissapointed me a lot. He chickened to do many things in order to make all fans pleased then his work lost his own shine.

If sequel will be out i wish that Horikoshi could have a strong willed and skilled editor. Who will encourage Horikoshi to write complex story. I think Horikoshi is too afraid lost popularity that he easy to change his own story to please everyone.

This ending was bad in many ways. To be honest i never ever read ending worst than that. Even Fairy Tale final chapter was better written.

I hope for sequel.

[rebelliousstories]

Ten Thousand Candles

Kiss Me You Animal

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Zylia “The Freak” Shelley

Fandom: Fallout

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Strong Language, Mentions of Death and Killing

Word Count: 711

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

//Chapter Two//

Kiss Me You Animal Masterlist: Here

Summary: Cooper is not too sure if he is impressed or fed up with this new girl. Probably both.

Have you ever seen someone who just looks like if you say the wrong thing, no matter how small, they would hurt you and everyone in the immediate vicinity? That was Cooper Howard right now. He was tearing through the town faster than a bat out of hell, trailing after a girl. Why was he following this girl? Because just a few minutes ago they met, as she stole his bounty that she was now cashing in on.

Walking into town, he just caught the trail of the unearthly colored hair disappearing into the shop where the bounty originated. He gritted his teeth, and waited outside until she was to return. Cooper found a rocking chair, and waited. He was a patient man, and that was being put to the test as he sat there. Most people passed by him without so much as a glance, but others took one look at him and scurried away. It did not much matter to him anymore. He had two hundred years to come to terms with his new state.

Seeing her white hair come through the door, he took note and noticed her shoving something in her bag. He stood up slowly, marching his way up to her while she was distracted.

“Well, gotta say, sure as shit been a long time since someone stole my bounty from right under me.” Howard drawled, almost jovial in his speech. The woman’s head whipped up to see The Ghoul in front of her once more.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so slow then, Ghoulie.” She teased, finding joy in annoying him.

“I wasn’t slow,” he growled, “you were just a sneaky little minx who can’t keep her sticky fingers away from what’s not hers.” Cooper stepped closer to the woman, assessing whether or not he needed to draw his gun. But she just laughed.

“That ain’t how I remember it.” The still unknown woman got even closer to Cooper, and toyed with the edge of his jacket. He snatched it away, and stepped away with a flourish.

“Now, only time Imma tell you. Give me the caps that you got paid for my bounty, and we’ll be on our way.” His hand rested on his pistol while the other was outstretched.

“And if I don’t give you my caps for my bounty?” She replied, brushing a hand through her hair nonchalantly.

“I’d hate to kill someone as pretty as you now darlin’.” Cooper smiled, and hoped she would do the right thing. As she stood there, contemplating, The Ghoul was steadily losing his patience. She came closer and closer to his outstretched gloved hand, until it was resting right against her stomach. Sifting through her bag, she placed a singular bottle cap in his hand and closed his fingers around it.

“For you troubles. Name’s Zylia, by the way. Next time don’t be so slow.” The now named woman patted Cooper on the shoulder, and began to walk away from him. However, he had different plans. Howard stood there with the cap in his hand, and a million thoughts running through his head. Pocketing the cap, he turned to where Zylia was walking away.

“Do you have a death wish?” He called, making her stop for a brief moment. Even from all this distance, the pink eyes she held pierced his very soul.

“Maybe. What’s it to you?” Zylia responded, toying with a strand of hair.

“Do you know who I am?” Cooper questioned again, fully turning his body to face her.

“No. Should I?” Once more, his patience was being tested. Cooper moved his duster out of the way and rested a hand on his pistol that was still holstered.

“Little girl, I’m really not in the mood for this. Give me the caps.” He repeated, fully ready for a shoot out.

“Little girl? Well, I might be little, but not young enough to be a girl. I’m just gonna be on my way if that’s alright with you, Ghoul.” Again, Zylia turned around and began to walk away from the man. He chuckled softly, before drawing his pistol and aiming it at the girl.

It all happened in a flash, but the sound was one that was an everyday occurrence in the Wastelands.

Bang!