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callsigns-haze · 18 days

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His Shadow: Chp 2

masterlist part 1

Azriel, secretly juggling his responsibilities and personal life, maintains a hidden relationship with YN, who works at a pleasure house in the Hewn City. She was his light, his love, his passion. Yet being his darkest secret is a hard role because life in the Hewn as a young female isn't the easiest as the two of you hold an even dark secret yet to be told...

Pairing: Azriel x reader

This series contains mature themes: Explicit depictions of violence, including physical and emotional. Themes of secrecy. Descriptions of difficult relationships, including strained familial and romantic dynamics. Mature sexual content. Themes of power, control, and manipulation within complex interpersonal relationships. Discussions of parenthood and the challenges associated with it, including postpartum experiences.

The night had been peaceful, at least for the first few hours. Azriel had held YN close as they lay in the bed, Knox nestled in the small bassinet beside them. For a brief moment, everything in the world felt right—no shadows, no dangers lurking in the dark, just the quiet comfort of his family.

But as the hours ticked by, the reality of parenthood made itself known.

At two in the morning, Knox stirred in his sleep, his tiny whimpers quickly escalating into a full-blown cry. Azriel was on his feet in an instant, moving with the kind of speed that would have impressed even Cassian. He scooped Knox up in his arms, gently rocking him while YN tried to catch a few more moments of sleep.

Azriel whispered soothing words, his voice low and calming as he walked back and forth across the small room, Knox gradually settling in his arms. The infant eventually drifted back to sleep, but the peace was short-lived.

By four in the morning, Knox was awake again, this time with more insistence. Azriel rose once more, his movements slower this time, the exhaustion starting to creep in. YN tried to take over, but Azriel shook his head, determined to give her as much rest as possible.

He changed Knox’s diaper, a task he was still getting used to, and then fed him while humming a quiet lullaby. It took nearly an hour to get the baby back to sleep, and by then, the night had blurred into a haze of half-remembered moments.

When Knox finally settled down around five in the morning, Azriel fell back into bed, his body heavy with fatigue. YN curled up beside him, her hand resting on his chest, her breathing soft and even. Azriel’s eyes drifted shut, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to surrender to sleep.

But sleep did not last nearly as long as he needed it to.

At some point, the dim light of dawn began to filter through the curtains, and Azriel stirred slightly, aware of the passing time but too exhausted to fully wake. The room was quiet, blessedly quiet, as Knox remained asleep in his bassinet, giving his parents a much-needed reprieve.

It wasn’t until the first rays of sunlight touched his face that Azriel’s eyes snapped open. He blinked, disoriented, his mind sluggish as he tried to remember where he was. It took him a moment to process the silence—Knox wasn’t crying, YN was still asleep beside him, and the world outside was calm.

But then his thoughts cleared, and with them came a sudden, sharp realization: he had a meeting with Rhys at eight.

Azriel bolted upright, his heart pounding as he glanced at the small clock on the bedside table. 9:07 AM. The numbers stared back at him, mocking his shock.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, scrambling out of bed.

His sudden movement woke YN, who blinked up at him sleepily. “Az?” she murmured, her voice thick with exhaustion. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m late,” he replied, pulling on his pants with quick, jerky movements. “I was supposed to meet Rhys an hour ago at the River House.”

YN sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Azriel, it’s okay. He’ll understand.”

Azriel wasn’t so sure. Rhysand was many things, but he was also the High Lord, and punctuality was not something he took lightly. Still, the thought of explaining why he had overslept made Azriel’s stomach twist with anxiety. He didn’t want to lie, but he also couldn’t tell the truth—not yet.

He yanked on his shirt, hastily buttoning it as he searched the room for his boots. “Dammit, where are they?” he muttered, scanning the floor until he spotted them half-hidden under the bed. He dropped to his knees, grabbing them and shoving his feet inside without bothering to tie the laces.

YN watched him with a mix of concern and amusement, her expression softening as she saw the dark circles under his eyes. “Azriel, breathe,” she said gently, reaching out to touch his arm as he fumbled with his belt. “You can’t help being late. Knox had us both up all night.”

Azriel paused, looking at her, his heart aching with the desire to stay, to crawl back into bed and hold her and Knox close. But duty called, and he couldn’t ignore it. “I know,” he said quietly, his voice strained. “But I still have to go.”

YN nodded, understanding in her eyes. “Go, then. We’ll be here when you get back.”

Azriel leaned down and kissed her, a brief but tender touch of his lips against hers. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he promised, brushing a hand over Knox’s tiny head as the baby slept on, oblivious to his father’s rush.

With one last look at his family, Azriel grabbed his jacket and slipped out the door, his wings snapping open the moment he was outside. He launched himself into the air, the cool morning wind hitting his face as he flew at breakneck speed toward the River House.

His mind raced along with his heart, running through excuses, apologies, anything he could say to explain his tardiness without revealing the truth. But deep down, he knew nothing could truly justify the lateness—not in Rhysand’s eyes, and certainly not in his own.

But as he approached the River House, Azriel’s heart sank. Cassian was pacing on the balcony, his wings twitching with barely-contained frustration, while Rhysand stood with his arms crossed, his expression a mix of irritation and concern. The moment Azriel landed, he could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating.

“You’re late,” Rhysand said flatly, his tone giving nothing away, though his purple eyes told another story—one of anger and disappointment.

Cassian didn’t hold back. “Damn it, Az,” he snapped, his voice rough with frustration. “You’ve never been late for anything. What the hell is going on?”

Azriel straightened, trying to keep his expression neutral even as his heart raced. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice calm despite the turmoil inside him. “Something came up.”

Rhysand’s eyes narrowed, his frustration clear. “Something came up? Azriel, you’ve been distracted for weeks. You’re barely sleeping, you’re avoiding our questions, and now this?” He shook his head, the disappointment palpable. “If you’re dealing with something, you need to tell us. We’re supposed to be brothers, we do not keep secrets from each other.”

Azriel swallowed, the weight of his secret feeling heavier than ever. He opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat.

What could he say?

That the love of his life and his newborn son were hidden away in the Hewn City, a place he’d kept secret from everyone he cared about? That YN’s connection to the Hewn City’s pleasure homes was a burden he couldn’t share, even with his closest friends?

But instead of revealing the truth, Azriel shook his head, his voice tight with the lie. “I can’t explain it right now,” he said, avoiding their eyes. “But I’ll handle it.”

Cassian let out a harsh breath, clearly unsatisfied. “Az, we’re not asking you to spill your guts. But this isn’t like you. We can’t afford to have you slipping up, especially not now.”

Rhysand’s gaze softened slightly, though the frustration lingered. “We care about you, Azriel. But if you keep this up, it’s going to start affecting more than just you. We need you at your best, not half here and half somewhere else.”

Azriel nodded, the guilt clawing at him. “I understand,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with the weight of his secret. “It won’t happen again.”

The silence that followed was thick with tension, but Rhysand finally nodded, though his eyes were still sharp with concern. “See that it doesn’t,” he said, his voice softer but no less serious. “And Azriel… whatever it is, make sure it doesn’t consume you.”

Azriel forced a small nod, the words echoing in his mind long after the meeting began. He tried to focus on the discussion, tried to bury the guilt and exhaustion that clung to him like a shadow.

But even as the meeting continued, the memory of YN and Knox, sleeping peacefully in that small, hidden apartment, stayed with him, a reminder of the life he was desperately trying to keep from unravelling.

---

By the time Azriel returned home that evening, he was utterly drained. The day had been relentless, a blur of meetings, briefings, and strained interactions with Rhysand and Cassian.

Despite his best efforts to focus, his mind had constantly drifted back to YN and Knox, the image of them alone in that hidden apartment gnawing at his thoughts. Every moment away from them felt like a thousand tiny blades digging into his heart, each one reminding him of the life he was trying so desperately to keep in balance.

As he landed lightly on the roof of the building in the Hewn City, the familiar darkness of the alley below closing around him, he felt the exhaustion in his bones. His wings ached, his mind buzzed with fatigue, and all he wanted was to hold YN and their son, to let their presence be the balm for his weariness.

He made his way up the narrow stairs to their apartment, each step heavier than the last. The worn wooden door creaked softly as he pushed it open, the dim light inside greeting him. The moment he entered, he heard the soft, desperate cries of Knox.

YN was in the middle of the room, swaying gently as she tried to soothe their son. Her eyes were tired, her movements sluggish, and the dark circles under her eyes mirrored the exhaustion Azriel felt deep in his soul. She looked up as he entered, a small, weary smile playing on her lips despite the fatigue that clung to her.

“Hey,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper so as not to disturb Knox further. “Rough day?”

Azriel nodded, his heart aching as he took in the sight of her struggling to calm Knox. “You could say that,” he replied, his voice rough from the day’s strain. He walked over to them, gently taking Knox from her arms. The baby’s cries softened as Azriel held him, his strong arms cradling his son with a tenderness that belied his warrior’s exterior.

For a moment, everything felt right again. The feel of Knox’s tiny body against his chest, the warmth of YN’s presence beside him—it was everything he had fought for, everything he wanted to protect. But then his gaze drifted to the chair beside YN, and the brief comfort he had found quickly evaporated.

Draped across the back of the chair were YN’s clothes for tomorrow: a black satin cowl neck crop tank top, dark navy jewelled shorts, and a pair of black heel sock boots. The sight of them was like a punch to the gut, a stark reminder of the reality they were living in.

The outfit was for her return to the pleasure house—a place he loathed with every fibber of his being, a place she was forced to return to far too soon after giving birth. The thought of her having to go back there, of the way the lords of the Hewn City controlled her fate, made his blood boil.

His jaw tightened as he looked at the clothes, a flare of anger and frustration surging through him. He hated it. Hated that this was the life she had to return to, hated that she had just given birth and was still expected to fulfil her duties in the pleasure house. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

YN noticed his gaze and sighed softly, stepping closer to him. “Azriel…”

He turned to her, his eyes dark with the storm brewing inside him. “You shouldn’t have to go back there,” he said, his voice low and edged with anger. “Not after everything you’ve been through. Not so soon.”

“I know,” she replied, her voice heavy with resignation. “But I don’t have a choice. The lords… they don’t care about that. They want me back, and if I don’t go, it could make things worse for us. For Knox.”

The mention of their son tightened the knot of anger in his chest, but it also brought with it a sense of helplessness that he hated. Azriel was used to fighting battles, to facing enemies head-on.

But this… this was a battle he couldn’t fight with steel or shadows. It was a battle against a system, against the twisted rules of the Hewn City, and it made him feel powerless.

He looked down at Knox, his son’s tiny face peaceful now as he slept in his arms. Azriel’s heart ached with the desire to protect him, to protect YN, to shield them from everything that threatened to harm them. But how could he do that when the very world they lived in was stacked against them?

YN reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Azriel, I hate it too. But this is the life we have right now. And as much as I wish things were different, we have to do what we can to keep Knox safe. To keep us safe.”

Azriel closed his eyes, the weight of her words pressing down on him. She was right. As much as it tore him apart, they had to play by the rules of the Hewn City—for now, at least. But that didn’t mean he had to accept it without a fight.

“I’m going to find a way,” he said, his voice firm despite the exhaustion pulling at him. “I’m going to find a way to get you out of there. To get us out of here.”

YN’s eyes softened, a flicker of hope in their depths. “I know you will,” she said quietly. “But until then, we just have to hold on. For Knox.”

Azriel nodded, his resolve hardening. He would do whatever it took, endure whatever he had to, to protect his family. But as he looked at the clothes on the chair, a bitter taste filled his mouth. He knew that tomorrow, YN would put on that black satin top, those jewelled pants, those heels, and return to the life she hated. And there was nothing he could do to stop it—not yet.

But when he looked back at YN—exhausted, her shoulders slumped with the weight of their situation—his focus shifted. She needed him, perhaps now more than ever.

He turned to her, seeing not only the fatigue in her eyes but the emotional strain etched into her very being. Her body had been through so much, and yet she was expected to push through, to return to a life she had never wanted but had been forced into by the twisted politics of the Hewn City. The sight of her standing there, trying so hard to be strong, broke something inside him.

"You should take a bath," Azriel said softly, his voice gentle but firm. He shifted Knox slightly, the baby snug in his arms. "I’ll handle him."

YN hesitated, glancing at Knox and then back at Azriel, her expression torn. “Az, you’ve had a long day. I can manage—”

"No." Azriel’s voice was soft but resolute, cutting through her protest. He stepped closer, brushing a thumb over her cheek. "You need it, YN. You’ve been carrying so much, and you haven’t had a moment to yourself. Let me take care of him. Please."

She stared up at him, her eyes filling with emotion—gratitude, exhaustion, and a hint of relief. She was always trying to shoulder more than she should, always putting Knox and him first. But right now, she needed to rest, to let herself unwind, if only for a little while.

YN sighed, her shoulders finally sagging as she relented. “Okay,” she whispered, giving him a tired smile. “But only if you’re sure.”

Azriel smiled back, though it was tinged with sadness. “I’m sure.” He gently rocked Knox, who was still dozing in his arms. “I’ve got him. You go take a bath, relax for a bit.”

She nodded, though she still looked reluctant to leave. With one last glance at Knox, YN moved toward the small washroom attached to their apartment. The sound of water running filled the air a few moments later, a faint comfort as Azriel stood there with their son.

The apartment was quiet again, save for the occasional soft gurgle from Knox. Azriel sat down in a worn chair by the small hearth, cradling his son in his arms. The baby’s tiny hand curled around one of Azriel’s fingers, his grip surprisingly strong for someone so small.

Azriel couldn’t help but marvel at the life they had created together, the love he felt for this tiny being so fierce it almost scared him. Knox was barely two weeks old, and already Azriel felt a protectiveness that surpassed anything he had ever known. He had fought in countless wars, faced endless dangers, but nothing compared to the way he would fight for this little boy.

As Knox stirred slightly, his eyelids fluttering but not quite opening, Azriel smiled. He continued to rock him gently, humming softly under his breath, a lullaby his mother used to sing to him—a memory long buried, brought to the surface by the presence of his own child.

“You’re safe, little one,” Azriel whispered, his voice barely audible. “You and your mother… I’ll keep you both safe.”

She didn’t deserve the life she was forced to live, and Knox certainly didn’t deserve to grow up with those shadows hanging over them. Azriel would make sure of that.

The soft splash of water in the washroom signalled that YN was settling into the bath. He hoped it would help ease some of her tension, even if just for a little while. She deserved more than a few minutes of peace—she deserved a life free of the burden that the Hewn City placed on her. But for now, this was the best he could offer.

Knox let out a small whimper, his tiny face scrunching up as if he were about to cry. Azriel quickly adjusted him, bouncing him lightly in his arms. “Shhh,” he murmured, his voice soothing. “It’s okay, little one. I’m right here.”

The baby calmed almost immediately, as if sensing the steady presence of his father. Azriel chuckled softly, marvelling at how something so small could bring him to his knees. Knox was a miracle, a bright light in the darkness of the world they lived in, and Azriel was determined to shield him from everything that could harm him.

He glanced toward the closed door of the washroom, the sound of water still audible. YN deserved this moment—this brief reprieve from the weight of their reality. Azriel knew she would never complain, never ask for more, but that only made him want to give her everything.

For a long while, Azriel sat there in the quiet of the apartment, holding Knox close, feeling the warmth of the fire and the weight of his own thoughts. Tomorrow would come too quickly, and with it, the reality that YN would have to return to the life she hated. But for tonight, he would make sure she rested, that she felt loved and cared for. Because even in the shadows of the Hewn City, they had built something beautiful. And Azriel would fight to protect that beauty with everything he had.

As Knox finally settled into a deep sleep, Azriel stood and carried him to the bassinet beside the bed. He carefully laid the baby down, tucking him in with the soft blanket YN had made before he was born.

When YN finally emerged from the washroom, her skin flushed from the warmth of the bath, her hair damp, she looked more relaxed than she had in days. Azriel turned to her, a small, tired smile on his face.

"Feeling better?" he asked softly.

She nodded, her eyes soft as she walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Thank you," she whispered, resting her head against his chest.

Azriel held her close, his chin resting on the top of her head. "You don’t have to thank me," he said quietly, brushing a hand over her back. "You needed it."

YN sighed, the tension finally leaving her body as she melted into his embrace. For a few moments, they simply stood there, holding each other, drawing comfort from the quiet of the evening and the knowledge that, for now, they were safe.

---

The soft warmth of the apartment wrapped around them like a comforting blanket. The fire in the hearth crackled quietly, casting a gentle glow over the room. Azriel stood with YN in his arms, her head resting against his chest, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to fall away.

But exhaustion tugged at his every muscle, the long day and sleepless night before catching up with him. YN could feel the tension in his body, the way his arms, though strong and steady, trembled ever so slightly from fatigue. She pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, her eyes filled with concern.

"You look like you’re about to pass out, Az," she said softly, reaching up to brush a lock of dark hair away from his forehead. Her touch was gentle, soothing, but there was a firmness in her tone that told him she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

Azriel smiled down at her, though the smile was tinged with weariness. "I’m fine," he replied, his voice soft but still edged with the determination that had carried him through countless battles. "I can handle it."

But YN wasn’t convinced. She could see the dark circles under his eyes, the heaviness in his gaze. He had been running on fumes for days, pushing himself beyond his limits, all for her and Knox. And as much as she loved him for it, she knew he needed rest—needed it desperately.

"You’ve been handling everything, Az," she said, her voice tender but insistent. "But you need to rest. Let me take care of Knox tonight. You’ve done more than enough."

Azriel opened his mouth to protest, but the look in her eyes stopped him. There was a determination there that he couldn’t argue with—a quiet strength that had nothing to do with physical power and everything to do with the love she felt for him and their son.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as the exhaustion finally began to take its toll. "Are you sure?" he asked, though he already knew her answer.

YN nodded, her expression softening as she cupped his cheek with one hand. "I’m sure," she said gently. "You’ve been taking care of both of us, Az. Let me take care of you tonight."

He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a moment as the warmth of her hand seeped into his skin. It was hard for him to let go, to relinquish the responsibility he felt so deeply. But he trusted YN—trusted her more than anyone in the world. If she said she could handle it, then he believed her.

"Alright," he finally whispered, opening his eyes to meet hers. "But if you need me, you wake me up. Promise?"

"I promise," she said, smiling softly at him. "Now come on, let’s get you to bed before you fall asleep on your feet."

Azriel chuckled, though it was a low, tired sound. He allowed YN to lead him to the bed, his steps heavy with the weight of the day. The bed was a small, simple thing, but it had become a haven for them in the midst of the chaos of their lives. As they approached, Azriel glanced down at Knox, who was still sleeping peacefully in the bassinet beside the bed. The sight of his son’s tiny chest rising and falling with each breath brought a sense of calm to his weary mind.

YN pulled back the covers, and Azriel slipped out of his boots and jacket, leaving them on the floor beside the bed. He climbed in, the mattress creaking slightly under his weight, and let out a long, relieved sigh as his body sank into the softness.

YN slid in beside him, the warmth of her body immediately soothing his frayed nerves. She turned to face him, propping herself up on one elbow so she could look down at him. Her fingers brushed over his forehead, pushing back the strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes.

"Get some sleep, Az," she whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his temple. "I’ve got everything under control."

Azriel reached up, taking her hand in his, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice heavy with the exhaustion that was finally beginning to take over. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"You’ll never have to find out," she replied, smiling down at him. "Now close your eyes. I’ll take care of Knox tonight. You just rest."

He nodded, his eyelids already growing heavy. He let his eyes close, the darkness of sleep pulling at him, but not before he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I love you," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"I love you too," YN replied, her voice soft and filled with all the warmth he needed.

Within moments, Azriel was asleep, his breathing deep and even as his body finally gave in to the rest it so desperately needed. YN watched him for a long moment, her heart swelling with love and admiration for the male beside her. He had done so much for her, for their son, and now it was her turn to take care of him.

Carefully, she slipped out of bed, moving as quietly as she could so as not to disturb him. She checked on Knox, who was still sleeping soundly, his little face peaceful and content. YN smiled down at him, her heart aching with love for this tiny life they had created together.

She knew the night would be long, that Knox would wake up hungry and need to be fed and soothed. But as she looked back at Azriel, asleep and finally at peace, she felt a renewed strength within her. She would do this for him, for their family.

Let me know if you'd wish to be tagged! Comments and reblogs are really appreciated!

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x oc #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel imagine #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #az

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chaoticallyfluffy · 29 days

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I want more of the JL acting like normal celebrities.

Batman and Chappel Roan working together on a competitive cooking show against teams of Kylie Jenner and Danny Devito, Kanye West and Kesha, Taylor Swift and Superman, etc. They are a surprisingly good team who work together great. They end up winning the whole thing and a bunch of wholesome memes start trending about the two of them adopting you after your awful parents kicked you out. Superman and Taylor Swift are surprisingly a TERRIBLE team. They’re disqualified because they never finished cooking their meals as they were too busy arguing. They are memed to be the parents who kicked you out and desperately need a divorce.

Wonder Woman going on a survivor-like reality show about a bunch of celebrities stuck on an island together and all the contestants are whining about things like “My hair is so frizzy and Chad is SO hot, I don’t want him to see me like this omg” While Diana has already chopped down multiple trees, used the wood to make a cabin for everyone, hunted a wild boar which is currently roasting over a campfire she also made with the leftover sticks and leaves, and cracked the coconuts from the tree. The rest of the show is mostly a normal reality show. The other contestants never have to lift a finger and can peacefully gossip and have drama while being well fed, housed, and hydrated. The only real difference is that every few minute the camera switches to Diana wresting a grizzly bear or catching fish with her bare hands.

The masked singer where there’s a person in a colourful parrot costume singing on stage and everyone has to guess who it is. People have guessed many celebrities like Oliver Queen, Bruce Wayne, or even Lex Luther, but they mostly guessed famous singers because the guy is GOOD and there’s no way he doesn’t sing professionally. He sang songs like “Party in the USA”, “Call Me Maybe” and “Never Gonna Give You Up”. People were going crazy trying to figure out who he is. The time finally comes for the reveal. The man slowly takes off his parrot head and... it’s Batman. The crowd goes wild.

The Flash (Barry) and Green Lantern (Hal) make a podcast and spend the entire time going on long rants about their respective interests. Flash talks about forensic science and chemistry for an hour while GL hums in interest or asks questions every once in a while. After that GL rambles about airplanes and engineering for another hour while Flash enthusiastically nods and adds in related stories every so often. Twitter diagnoses them with autism.

Captain Marvel has a TikTok account where he posts himself trying suggestions from his fans. Some of his most popular videos include him juggling a bunch of chainsaws (perfectly, btw), pranking JL members, bedazzling Mr Minds prison jar with fake crystals and speech bubble stickers that make it look like Mr Mind is saying things like “I’m DUMB”, and his most popular by far, citing The Santa Clause rules to Black Adam and convincing him that since he killed his father technically that makes him his new dad (the horror stopped Black Adam in place mid battle, giving Marvel the perfect opportunity to punch him in the face. The punch has been slo-mo’d and memed to oblivion). His Batman mandated PR team has been begging him to stop for months but in response he posts himself TikTok dancing (terribly) in front of a green screen in the background showing an image of the emails while asking for more suggestions.

If anyone has any ideas like this or fics to recommend plz tell me In the comments, I love the Justice League just casually being celebrities.

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mr-cha-n · 8 days

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Chapter One: How to Not Get Stabbed

Pairing: Lee Chan x reader

Genres: action, smut, angst, fluff, superhero AU

Warnings: violence (heavy), sexual content, penetration, mentions of death, profanities, drinking

Word Count: 22.2k

Summary: The peace of quiet of your garage is only broken by the hum of machines and clanking tools, and you like it that way - until a superhero crashes his car straight into your door.

The garage hums with the familiar sounds of clanking tools and low rock music playing from your dad’s old radio, its worn dials barely holding the station through the static. The air stinks of oil and metal, a mix of grease and gasoline lingering in the corners of the shop that reminds you of home. Rusted car parts and half-disassembled engines are scattered across workbenches in an organised chaos that only someone who spends hours here could understand.

Most of the time you spend in the shop is alone – you haven’t expanded enough to need to hire a second mechanic, although you’d been considering getting someone to do your telephone and books after you dropped the phone behind an engine block, trying to juggle too many things at once.

But, that’s how you like it. Being surrounded by machines and metal brings you far more contentment than interacting with your customers – a necessity, although often a frustrating one. The beautiful complexity of the mechanisms feels like creation in your hands, the ability to mend and perfect a power usually reserved for God alone.

Something about the surety of everything having its place, and knowing what that is, brings you a solace well needed in your grungy corner of life.

Your garage sits on the edge of the city, tucked in a dodgy part of town where most people would think twice about wandering after dark. It’s not unusual to see someone rush by with their hood up, or hear the occasional screech of tyres speeding away from something best left alone. Keeping to yourself is the chosen lifestyle here, and you are no stranger to the consequences of choosing to get involved.

Over the years, you’ve managed to build yourself a reputation – not just for your skill with a wrench, but for being a place where no one asks too many questions. You’ve seen all sorts roll past: street races, ex-cons, people looking for a little discretion. You don’t judge. As long as they respect the rules and pay their bill, you don’t pry into their business. It’s a system that keeps you afloat amongst an unforgiving landscape. Every time you flip the newspaper over to see another store shot up or looted, you feel even less obliged to know anything about your customers.

But, peace and quiet is never-lasting.

You’re stuck at the bottom of a lifted car, trying to wrestle a stubborn bolt loose from the undercarriage as the high-pitched squeal of your doorbell rings out through the shop. Your hands, slick with oil, slip on the wrench and you mutter a curse under your breath.

Heavy bootsteps lumber into the shop, stopping a few feet away next to your squat wooden desk.

Finally, with a grunt of effort, the bolt loosens. It comes free with a satisfying click, and you slide out from under the car, swiping your forehead with the back of your hand. You wipe your hands on a rag, and take a quick glance out toward the street, taking in the dark, rusty tone of the early evening sky.

“How’s she lookin’?” A familiar, gravelly tone calls out towards you.

A lopsided smile crackles over your lips as you tilt your head with a small shrug, your gaze finally locking with the customer. “She’s looked better – but I think you already knew that.” The car is an old classic, its parts worn and rusted like they haven’t seen a proper tune-up in years.

Mr Corallo lets out a huff of laughter. His arms cross together over his broad chest, revealing a snake tattoo on his lower left forearm – a reminder to everyone of who he is loyal to, and who protects him. “Yeah, alright. And you’ve got a cure, doc?”

“Give me a few days and she’ll be as good as new.” You tap the hood of the car lightly with your fingertips, wiping off a speck of oil that had dripped from your shirt.

Mr Corallo nods, pulling an envelope from his jeans’ back pocket. “Half now, half later, right?”

You give a small hum of agreement, walking around to wash your hands of the oil.

"Mr Scott thanks you for your business," Mr Corallo says, throwing the envelope down. The corners of his mouth curl up, revealing just a hint of teeth, and his eyes gleam with a dangerous glint, revelling in the uncomfortable shift in the air at the namedrop of Mr Scott.

“Always a pleasure.” You reply with a tight-lipped smile. The invocation of Mr Scott bothered you less than it would others, but he wasn’t a person you wanted to be associated too greatly with your garage. The ‘lawyer’ has a reputation for criminal activity more well-known than any of his actual court cases, and you’ve seen the evidence of his anger splattered across the Lower South Rim back alleys. But, like many of your seedier customers, his business kept your shop out of harm’s way, and so you could get over his more displeasing mannerisms.

“Oh, hey-” Just as you think he’s gone, Mr Corallo turns around one more time, his gait falling to a stop with one hand on the doorknob. “-you haven’t happened to see or hear anything about that incident at Brewer’s Quarter, have ya? Mr Scott’s been interested in finding out more about what went down.”

You pause, drying your hands on the towel, careful to keep your expression neutral. The incident at Brewer’s Quarter had been all over the news – a warehouse fire, but not of the accidental variety. Word on the street was that it had been a targeted hit, a gang skirmish that went too far. Brewer's Quarter is just a few blocks over, close enough to your shop that you’d heard the sirens blaring late into the night.

You hadn’t seen anything, not directly at least. Of course, there was that incident with the car, but you aren’t sure that had anything to do with the fire…

It was the early hours of the morning, police had scattered, the fire had been put out, and anyone involved was long clear of the area. You were walking back from the shop, having had a late night trying to sort out your accounts for the last month – a job that required at least two glasses of whiskey to get through it.

You didn’t tend to stay late at the garage often, and the prospect of walking around these streets late wasn’t one that sat well with anyone who knew them. But there was a shortcut to your apartment through the old dump on 64th that cut down your journey to a five-minute run, if needed.

The night air had been cool, the kind of eerie silence that clung to the aftermath of violence. You had been walking quickly, your hands shoved deep into your pockets, eyes darting around out of habit. The whiskey buzz had made the shadows seem a little more sinister than usual, but you were steady enough on your feet.

You’d first noticed something odd when you’d reached the outer chain-link fence cornering off the dump – a faint, metallic glint, barely visible in the low light. At first, you’d assumed it was just junk, another rusted-out shell of a car left to rot. But, as you got closer, you could see the car was too new for this area, and wrecked – badly wrecked.

Instinct told you to keep moving; this kind of thing usually spelt trouble. But something about the car had caught your eye, something familiar. The lines of it were sleek, too well-crafted to be an average street racer.

You had crouched down, running your hand over the dented hood, feeling the grooves where it had clearly taken some kind of brutal impact. The whole front end was smashed in, the windshield cracked and splintered like a spider web. There were scorch marks, too, as if the car had been through a fire.

Either this car’s owner was involved in some dodgy business, or he was a terrible driver.

And then you had seen it – the unmistakable emblem, barely visible through the soot and grime. The flaming star, the symbol of the Red Comet. For the past two years, you’d seen headline after headline regaling how the Red Comet had saved the city once again, always seemingly one step ahead of the people who threatened to tear it apart. You know hardly anything about the superhero, although apparently nobody does. Even his name is a phantasm of the media, given in the aftermath of his first appearance which happened to be on the day that a red comet streaked through the sky. And this was his car.

Your heart had skipped a beat. What the hell was it doing here, and in this state?

You knew you should have walked away. But something in you just couldn’t. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was the whiskey making you bolder than you usually were, but you couldn’t just let the car sit there. Maybe, it was your way of giving something back to the hero who’d saved the city time and time again.

After making sure that no one was watching, you’d decided to tow it back to the garage. You’d covered it up, keeping it out of sight, hoping that no one would come looking for it. For the next few nights, you’d worked on it in secret. The damage was extensive, but you’d seen worse. Underneath the mangled metal and burned parts, the car was a marvel of engineering. You’d never worked on anything like it before – high-tech gadgets, reinforced steel, the king of stuff you only saw in movies. Every time you popped the hood, it felt like uncovering another layer of mystery.

Some of the damage seemed aeons old – definitely not the product of its latest encounter. The craftsmanship suggested that its owner knew his way around the car, but the lasting injuries let you know that he wasn’t a trained mechanic.

You only left one trace of your involvement – a small note, scribbled on a scrap of paper and tucked neatly in the wheel well. It simply read: ‘Fixed her up. No charge. -M.’

You figured if the Red Comet ever came back for the car, they’d know someone had taken care of it. You hoped that the note would calm their suspicions of foul play...

“Nope,” you reply to Mr Corallo, your tone light and steady. “I heard about it, like everyone else, but I was two drinks deep by the time I heard the sirens, and I wouldn’t have been able to get down the stairs even if I’d wanted to.”

Mr Corallo watches you closely for a moment, trying to gauge whether you’re telling the truth. You’re good at this game, though; slipping in half-truths to conceal the true extent of your knowledge.

“Smart,” he says after a beat, the tension in his stance easing just a bit as he releases the door handle. “Wouldn’t want you getting in the middle of anything … unpleasant.”

He flashes a grin, but there’s a hint of warning behind it. You match his smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. With that, he finally turns and makes his way toward the door, his boots scuffing the concrete floor. You let out a slow breath, the tension in your shoulders easing ever so slightly as he steps outside. But just before he leaves, he calls back over his shoulder one last time.

"And if you do hear anything… well, you know where to find us."

The door closes with a soft click, and the garage is silent again, save for the low hum of the radio.

Every bone in Lee Chan’s body aches, and he’s surprised his skin hasn’t turned green and blue all over. Any little move hurts – and that’s with days of much-needed recuperation. Groaning as he pulls himself up out of bed, he looks down to inspect the damage. A few cuts, scrapes, and bruises, and a particularly nasty swipe along his left thigh that has begun to scab over.

Chan winces as he gingerly presses his hand against the cut, the sting reminding him of just how close things had gotten. It had been a mess – a confrontation with Tempest as the Brewery Quarter. The whole thing had escalated far faster than he’d anticipated. What should have been a routine patrol had turned into a disaster as Tempest decided to unleash a barrage of electrical blasts, wrecking half the district in the process.

The fight is a blur now, fragments of shattered glass and the acrid scent of smoke lingering in his memory. He’d been so focused on taking Tempest down that he hadn’t fully realized how much damage he had taken in the process.

In the end, it was brute force and desperation that won out. He had managed to hold up the building just long enough to knock Tempest off balance, forcing the villain into retreat. But victory had been fleeting. Tempest had disappeared in the chaos, vanishing before Chan could deliver a final blow. By the time the authorities arrived, Tempest was gone, leaving behind only destruction and debris, and Chan had barely made it out himself, collapsing in a nearby alley as sirens blared in the distance. He’d limped home under cover of darkness, his mask barely shielding him from prying eyes.

A low groan escapes him as he stretches. He limps over to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looks like hell—his skin is pale, dark circles linger under his eyes, and the bruises that cover his torso are turning an ugly shade of purple. He splashes some cold water on his face, trying to wash away the fatigue, but it doesn’t do much. His body is spent.

God, he needs a hobby.

A small laugh ripples through him at the thought, getting stuck painfully in his scratchy throat. Seungkwan had told him just as much last week when they finally had time to hang out.

"You're not talking to enough people," He'd said, and he'd been right - Chan has hardly talked to anyone as himself in days. Making quippy remarks and telling people to get out of the way isn't quite the same as having a proper conversation with a friend.

Chan towels his face and stumbles into the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee while his mind drifts. Maybe a hobby wouldn’t even help. Maybe what he really needs is to let go of the whole hero thing, at least a little. Being the Red Comet 24/7 is exhausting, and lately, it feels like it is swallowing him whole, leaving nothing for himself.

The coffee smells good, but Chan's stomach twists at the idea of caffeine. He sits at the kitchen table, cradling the warm mug in his hands but not drinking, staring blankly out the window. He can’t help but wonder if next time he’ll be able to handle it. Tempest is growing stronger, more reckless, and each encounter is becoming more dangerous. He doesn’t know how long he can keep doing this, how many more nights his body can take the punishment.

I have to get ahead of this, he thinks, rubbing the back of his neck. Figure out where Tempest is hiding before he strikes again.

The thought of rest is tempting, but he knows there is no time for that. Not with Tempest still out there, licking his wounds and plotting his next move. Chan glances at the clock. Morning is just creeping in, but his mind is already racing through the next steps - tracking Tempest, preparing his gear, and finding his car.

The nagging feeling of unfinished business crawls under his skin. Chan hadn't had time to think about it amidst the chaos of fighting Tempest. His ride had been totalled - again - and left behind in the fray.

He stumbles over to his laptop, ignoring the stabbing pain in his thigh, and pulls up the city's traffic cams. His fingers clumsily tap at the keys as he rewinds footage from last night, scanning for any sign of the car. He remembers the last place he'd seen it—by the Brewery Quarter, just before Tempest had thrown him through a storefront.

The footage shows chaos: explosions, debris flying, panicked civilians running. For a moment, it’s overwhelming—too much movement, too much destruction—but then he spots it. His car, smashed and smoking, left abandoned next to the dump.

His stomach twists as the camera catches something else: a tow truck pulling up beside it. But not a city truck. The logo is fuzzy, and there’s something strange about the way the driver moves—hurried, almost too careful for a standard recovery job. The truck hooks up his wrecked car and drives off, disappearing into the shadows of the industrial district.

"Who the hell…?" Chan mutters to himself.

His heart races as he shuts the laptop. If he’s lucky, whoever has the car just wants to strip it for parts. If he’s not, well… there are people out there who would pay a fortune for the tech inside that car. And some who’d use it for much worse.

He forces himself up, grabs his jacket, and heads out the door, ignoring the protest from his still-aching body. He knows the industrial district well enough to navigate it, even in his current state. If the car was taken there, it shouldn’t be too hard to track down.

The sun is starting to set by the time he reaches the dingy outskirts of the industrial district. This part of the city is a graveyard of old factories and warehouses, the kind of place where no one asks questions. Chan walks down the narrow streets, scanning every alley and garage for a sign of his car.

Turning the corner to the large, decrepit dump, the first thing that hits him is the overwhelming stench of rust and decay. The place is a sprawling mess of discarded metal, twisted scrap, and a mountain of broken-down machinery.

But, there it is. Chan immediately spots his car nestled between two towering heaps of rusted junk. The sleek frame, now only slightly dented, stands out against the twisted metal and debris.

As he gets closer, he notices that the car’s exterior, though damaged, has been worked on. The front end, which had been complete wreck, is now at least partially repaired. Fresh metal panels have been welded on and the wiring had had once been exposed in neatly tucked away. Someone’s been fixing it.

Chan’s mind races. Who would do this? And why?

As he begins inspecting the car, he notices a small white flap peaking out from the front-left wheel well. He's been in one too many fights to trust that pulling it out won't immediately blow him and the car up, but curiosity gets the better of him. Pulling a glove out of his backpack and creating a small blast shield from a nearby sheet of scrap metal, Chan takes a deep breath, positioning himself cautiously as he reaches out.

Carefully, he pulls the note free. Nothing explodes, nothing clicks ominously. The paper is crumpled and worn, as if it’s been shoved in the wheel well in a hurry. Chan straightens, exhaling the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, and unfolds it with cautious fingers.

''Fixed her up. No charge. -M.'

Chan stares at the note, his mind racing. It still feels like a trap to him, but nothing about this situation makes sense. The repairs, the hidden note—it’s too deliberate to be a coincidence, yet not malicious enough to feel like a typical setup. Whoever M is, they didn’t just stumble upon his car. They knew exactly who it belonged to, and for some reason, they’d chosen to help. The fact that the repairs are real, tangible, and expertly done is a gesture of… what? Trust? A warning? He can’t decide.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. The car is functional—enough to get him back on the road, at least.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, Chan checks the dashboard. The wiring looks as pristine as ever, the engine hums quietly when he turns the key, and though the car still bears the scars of its encounter with Tempest, it’s ready to move.

Pulling out of the dump, he glances into the rearview mirror, half-expecting someone to step out from the shadows and reveal themselves. But the place stays still, abandoned, as the setting sun casts long shadows over the heaps of twisted metal.

Between the note, the footage, and the repairs, he's got enough to work out who this mysterious mechanic is, and what they want.

It’s about 11 pm, two weeks after you finished fixing up Mr Scott’s car, that you hear the crash.

The sound is unmistakable – the sharp screech of something heavy colliding with metal, followed by the distinct echo of glass shattering. The garage rattles slightly from the impact, and you pause mid-wrench, heart immediately kicking into overdrive.

What the hell was that?

You set down the wrench gently, wiping your hands as you strain to listen for any other signs of disturbance. The city is loud, but the crash came from too close – maybe just outside the garage. You mind runs through a quick list of possibilities: a car accident? A break-in? Something more sinister?

Instinct kicks in, and you head toward the door cautiously, flipping off the lights in the main work area to stay hidden in the shadows.

As you edge closer to the garage door, you hear another sound—a low, metallic groan followed by the clank of something heavy being dragged. There’s movement outside, slow and deliberate. You risk a glance through the small window in the side door and immediately spot the source.

There, just outside the window, the sleek black car that you fixed up all those days ago sits awkwardly on the side of the road, the front end crumpled around a streetlamp. The driver’s side door is hanging off its hinges. Standing next to the wreckage is a figure – tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a long coat, their silhouette barely visible in the dim streetlight. They seem to be inspecting the damage, unfazed by the mess.

But there’s something off about the way they move, something too calm for someone who’s just been in a crash.

As the figure leans around the edge of the unhinged door, peering inside of the car, you realise that that’s because they are not the one who was in the crash.

Grabbing a heavier tool from the nearby workbench, you edge towards your door, heart pounding.

The figure straightens and, as if sensing your presence, slowly turns toward the garage. Even in the dim light, you can see their eyes – cold, calculating. The figure doesn’t move for a moment, just staring, and you can’t tell if they’re sizing you up or deciding whether you’re a threat.

Finally, the figure steps forward, their footsteps slow and deliberate as they close the distance to the garage door. You brace yourself, unsure if you’re about to get a question or a fight.

Then, you see something rustle from the corner of your eye. A blur, barely visible in the darkness, moves faster than you can register. One second, the mysterious figure is advancing towards the garage door, and the next, they're violently thrown back into the wreckage of the car. The sound of impact echoes through the night - metal crunching, glass shattering anew.

You blink, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to make sense of what just happened. From the shadows, another figure emerges, slightly hunched, moving with a combination of grace and exhaustion. The way they move—the fluidity of it—immediately gives them away. It’s him. The Red Comet.

He stumbles slightly, but regains his balance, turning toward the crumpled figure near the car. You can see the strain in his posture, the way his breathing is laboured. He’s injured.

The man in the long coat struggles to his feet, groaning as he wipes a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” the figure sneers, pulling something from the inside of his coat. A gleam of silver flashes in the dim light.

Before you can react, the man lunges, moving with startling speed, the blade aimed straight for the superhero. You want to shout, to warn him, but it all happens too fast. The Red Comet dodges, just barely, the blade slicing through the fabric of his suit as he twists to the side. But even though he avoids a fatal blow, the movement causes him to stagger, his injuries slowing him down.

The mysterious figure presses the attack, slashing again and again with precision and fury. The Red Comet blocks and counters, but it’s clear he’s at a disadvantage. You grip the wrench tighter, your knuckles white, debating whether to rush in or stay hidden.

Before you can make your decision, the Red Comet manages to disarm the man with a swift kick, sending the blade clattering to the ground. The figure growls in frustration, throwing a wild punch, but the Red Comet catches his arm and twists, throwing him hard into the side of the car. There’s a sickening crunch as the man’s body slams into the metal, and he falls to the ground, unconscious.

For a moment there’s silence. The only sound is the superhero’s ragged breathing as he stands over the fallen figure. His shoulders heave, and you can tell that every movement is causing him pain.

Then, without warning, his knees buckle, and he collapses to the ground.

“Shit,” you mutter, your body moving before your mind has fully caught up. You drop the wrench and rush toward him, your pulse racing. He’s still conscious, but barely. Up close, you can see the gash across his side, blood seeping through the torn fabric of his suit.

“Hey, hey—stay with me,” you say, kneeling beside him, your voice low but urgent.

The Red Comet’s masked face tilts towards you, his breathing shallow as he tries to sit up. “I’m … fine,” he manages to rasp, though the wince that follows tells you otherwise.

“Yeah, sure. You look like you’re just peachy,” you mutter, glancing at the wreckage around you. “Come on, let’s get you inside before someone else shows up.”

He nods, clearly too exhausted to argue. With some effort, you manage to help him to his feet, guiding him toward the garage. He leans heavily on you, his weight almost too much to bear, but you grit your teeth and push forward. You’re not sure how much time you have before the figure wakes up—or if they’ll wake up at all—but right now, your focus is getting the superhero somewhere safe and outside of foreign eyes.

You heave him onto your makeshift cot, the one you use when you decide to stay in the garage overnight. He groans as he lies back, and you can see the toll the fight has taken on him now under the garage lights – bruises, cuts, and that deep slash across his side that’s still bleeding.

"I'm going to grab a first aid kit," you say, your tone more commanding now that the adrenaline is kicking in. "Don't move."

He doesn't seem to be in any state to do so anyway.

You grab the kit and hurry back, your hands surprisingly steady as you kneel beside him. "Alright, I'm going to have to cut the side of your shirt away." You say, looking up at the masked face for confirmation. But, nothing comes. Moving forward, you realise that he's completely out cold, his breathing shallower than it should be. You know you need to patch up the wound before he loses too much blood.

Taking care to avoid causing more harm, you gently cut away the fabric of his suit. The fabric peels back to reveal the deep gash along his side—angry and red, still oozing blood. Your heart pounds, but your hands remain steady. You’ve dealt with injuries before - though, usually your own.

Working quickly, you clean the wound, wincing as you realise how deep it really is. This isn’t good. The gash will need stitches, but there’s no time for that now. You press a gauze pad against the wound to stem the bleeding, your mind racing.

"Stay with me," you mutter under your breath, wrapping a bandage tightly around his torso to hold the gauze in place. "I’m not letting you die on my cot."

Once the wound is secure, you check his pulse—faint, but there. The man’s been through hell, and whatever fight he was in tonight clearly pushed him to the brink. You can’t help but wonder how often this happens. How many times has he barely made it out alive?

You glance up at his masked face, wondering who exactly is lying before you. There’s the urge to check, the man completely vulnerable to you, but you think better of it. What would be the point of knowing anyway? It would just bring you more trouble.

You sit back on your heels, a shaky sigh of disbelief exiting your body. For now, he seems stable, but you know he’ll need more help than you can provide tonight. In the morning, you’ll redress the wounds and take him over to a hospital, if he wants.

You grab two blankets from underneath your desk, draping one over the suited man. Dropping a spare pillow down on the floor beside him, you make sure that you’re close enough that you’ll wake up if his condition gets dramatically worse. The floor is cold and hard, but the exhaustion hits you as the adrenaline drains from your body, and you fall into a dreamless sleep, your mind still half-occupied with thoughts of the masked hero bleeding out in your garage.

It takes Chan a whole minute after waking up to work out where he is. All of his instincts tell him to run, to get out quickly and quietly before anyone finds him, but the pain in his torso when he squeaks even an inch is enough to keep him bedbound.

Touching his hand to the wound, he feels the soaked-through gauze. That’s going to need replacing.

His hands trail up, confused at the suffocating stuffiness that labours his face. He quickly notes the cause – his mask is still on. You didn’t take it off last night, and he’s suddenly very grateful for the stuffiness.

Twisting his head to the side, careful not to strain himself any more than necessary, he spots you.

You’re slumbering next to him, your back crooked at an awkward angle from sleeping on the floor. Oil and grease still stain your skin and shirt, the liquids mixing with a darker substance – his blood – on your hands and wrists.

Chan can barely recollect what happened last night. He remembers being chased down, and not knowing where to go. He remembers typing something in the navigation pad and your shop being the first thing to come up. He remembers getting stabbed, you helping him in here, and nothing more.

Letting out a small sigh, he can’t believe that he actually came here. It was a reckless move that not only relied on an unknown person’s charity, but also put you in danger. It had been stupid and, more than that, selfish.

Yet, he’d made the right call. Anyone else could have left him to bleed out on the sidewalk, shut up their doors and windows and ignored him entirely. But you’d helped him, patched him up, and given up your bed to allow him to rest.

Chan isn’t sure the last time someone else had done so much for him.

A low groan escapes his lips as he tries to adjust himself slightly, wincing from the sharp pain that shoots through his torso. He catches his breath, forcing himself to stay still, even though every fibre of his being wants to push through the pain and figure out what to do next.

"Alright, Chan, just move carefully," he mutters under his breath, trying to psych himself up. Gritting his teeth, he gently pulls himself into a sitting position, groaning as the movement aggravates his injury. Every breath feels like fire in his ribs.

Before he can do much else, you stir slightly, blinking groggily as you wake. You stretch your arms and rub your eyes, clearly disoriented. It takes you a second to remember where you are, and then your gaze locks onto Chan.

"You're awake," you mumble, pushing yourself off the floor with a grunt. "And sitting up? That’s ambitious."

Chan gives a half-hearted chuckle, though it turns into more of a pained exhale. "Yeah, well, I thought I’d try not to bleed all over your place anymore."

You shake your head, already reaching for the first aid kit on the nearby table. "You should’ve woken me up. That wound needs fresh bandages."

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” he replies, feeling overwhelmed by your instinct to help. “You’ve done enough already.”

You pause, glancing at him as you grab the supplies. The look in your eyes makes him feel like a child again, shivering at the intensity of your gaze. “You must be my worst patient – the cars never try to leave in the middle of being fixed.”

Chan watches you work as you kneel beside him, carefully unwrapping the soaked gauze. Your movements are precise, steady, but there’s a certain gentleness there too. It strikes him how unphased you are by all of this. He shivers as your hands ghost over his obliques, careful not to irritate the damaged tissues.

As the gauze comes off, you let out a little hum of confusion, tilting your head. Chan looks down, and understands your surprise. The cut, which had been deep and angry last night, is now scarred and blistering, not fully healed but significantly better than it should be.

You pull back slightly, your brows furrowing in confusion. “I’m no doctor, but that’s not normal,” you murmur, eyes flicking between him and the nearly healed wound.

Chan shifts uncomfortably under your gaze, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation. He’s always kept his abilities under wraps, never letting anyone else get close enough to notice the odd things that happen to his body – especially when he’s injured. But here you are, kneeling beside him, piecing things together faster than he’s ready for.

“Yeah … it’s … complicated,” he stutters. “I heal quickly. Doesn’t help much with the pain, though.”

You blink at him, clearly processing what you’re seeing. “So this is … normal for you?”

Chan shrugs, wincing as the motion pulls at his side. “Sort of. Part of the whole... superhero thing.”

Your eyes narrow a bit, but you don’t press him. Instead, you shake your head and return to reapplying fresh gauze. “Well, whatever’s going on, it’s saving me a lot of work,” you joke, though your voice is tinged with curiosity.

He lets out a low chuckle, though there’s still tension in his voice. “I guess so.”

When you’re done, you sit back on your heels and meet his gaze. “You really should rest more,” you say softly, the concern in your voice genuine. “Even if you heal fast, pushing yourself like this is ... well, it's a bad idea.”

Chan nods, knowing you’re right but unwilling to admit just how much he’s been pushing himself. “I’ll try,” he says, offering a half-smile.

“Good,” you reply, standing up and brushing the dust off your knees. “And when you’re ready, maybe you can tell me more about what’s going on."

He looks at you, the weight of the situation bearing down on him. The last thing he needs is to bring someone else into his mess, but after crashing (literally) on your doorstep and bleeding all over your floor, he supposes that he probably owes you some explanation.

"Yeah," he murmurs, "I can do that."

You seem satisfied, and start to walk back over to your desk, pulling out a rusty, old kettle and a bottle of long-life milk. After a moment, you notice him looking at you, and quirk an eyebrow. "Still awake?"

A small laugh reverberates through his chest as he feels himself being pulled back into the darkness of slumber.

By the time that the superhero reawakens, you’ve achieved a number of things. After making yourself a cup of very strong coffee, tidying up your sleeping nest, and checking that he’s still alive, you descended into a deep panic, and then you solved it.

The events of last night had been freaky, although it isn’t unusual for crashes or violence to populate your area. But something about the way that man had moved, the look in his eye, had put you on edge. And now, you have a banged-up superhero sleeping in your garage, who can apparently heal himself at an extraordinary rate. The whole situation feels like being dragged into something you don’t understand or have the ability to deal with.

The one thing you are certain of, however, is that you feel better for helping him.

The weariness in his voice, the untrusting flinch of his body – it all spoke to a man who knew loneliness as well as you did. And even if he could have survived without your help, there is a level of satisfaction in knowing that you’ve done something for someone else; someone who isn’t a crime boss or gang leader.

After deciding that you’d actually dragged yourself into this mess, and that you had to stick with your decision, you felt a level of calm.

You’d spent the morning repairing the Red Comet’s car for the second time, wincing every time you saw your previous alterations damaged by the impact of last night. The collision with the lamppost had been particularly harmful to the car, and you realise that you’re going to need access to the superhero’s technology to be able to have a chance at fixing the complex mechanisms fitted under the hood.

By midday, the Red Comet stirs again. For a moment, as he reorientates himself, you sit in comfortable silence, the noise of the city outside barely filtering in. It feels a little odd to have someone else here. Usually, the garage is your sanctuary – your place to escape everything and everyone. Yet, having him here, even in his battered state, doesn’t feel like an intrusion.

Eventually, he breaks the silence. “I, uh … I guess I owe you an explanation.” His voice is rough, although less than it had been this morning, and it has a softer quality to it that you aren’t expecting.

You nod but keep quiet, letting him decide when to speak.

“I don’t normally ask for help,” he admits. “But I didn’t really have a choice last night.”

You watch him carefully. There’s something raw about him, something that feels more human than the stories you’ve heard. Right now, he’s not really a superhero – he’s a man, wounded, worn out, and trying to hold it all together.

“Well, you found the right place,” you reply, keeping your tone light. “I guess you found my note?”

His head snaps up, and although you can’t see his expression well through the mask, you think that he looks a little shocked. His gaze darts over to the car, now suspended in the garage, and back over to you.

“I did,” he nods, holding back from telling you too much.

When he doesn’t say any more, you sigh, wringing out your frustrations on a damp cloth. “Look, I know you probably just want to leave. I also know that I’m basically a stranger to you. So, I’m not going to force you to tell me more than you want to. But, some guarantee that this isn’t going to come down on my head would be appreciated.”

His head falls slightly at your words, a tired sigh echoing through the room. “I – I can’t guarantee that. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved at all, but now you are, and I can’t promise that nothing will happen.”

You feel your heart drop a little as your concerns are confirmed. You know that what he’s saying is correct, and that you’d expected it, but it still strikes fear through you to hear it put so plainly.

Before you can say anything further, the Red Comet pushes himself up from the bed, wobbling onto his feet. This pushes you a little too far.

“Nope. Stop. You’re not going anywhere. You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but I’m not going to let you limp out of here and collapse two blocks down.” You grimace, your voice forceful and commanding.

He looks surprised that you’re stopping him. A moment passes between you, tension thick in the air, as you wonder if he’s going to push past you anyway. You know that he’s far stronger than you, even in his weakened state, and that he could leave any time he wants to. But he sits back down, a breath of relief releasing as he takes the weight off of his feet.

Another moment passes and he looks back over to the car. “It’s pretty bad, right?”

You nod. “About the same as you, I’d say.”

The superhero huffs a laugh, but the sound is strained and weak.

“Look, there’s a sink over there with some towels, and I can leave some water and food out for you to eat. I’m just going to go over to the shop to grab some extra supplies for my first aid kit, but no one will see if you want to take off the mask and get some air.” You explain, pulling a bottle of water out of the mini fridge next to your sink.

He seems apprehensive, until you pull up a chair. “You can sit on this – don’t strain that cut any more than you need.”

With that, you march out of the garage, grateful for the fresh air yourself. You’re not sure if he’ll take up your offer, or if, by the time you get back, he’ll be gone again. Either way, it’ll be his choice.

Two days later, your garage is still shut.

You’ve had to make far too many phone calls to concerned customers asking why the doors weren’t open when they’d driven by, and when you’d next be open. News of the crash had spread quickly around this part of town, and that has given you an easy cover for your current closure. The repairs needed after your shop front was damaged mixed with the emotional toll of the crash happening so close to you becomes the perfect excuse.

In reality, you and the Red Comet had been working on his car. After doing the basic repairs, the superhero had returned to his place and brought back the technology he used to supe up the vehicle, and you’d spiralled into mechanical heaven. The gadgets were like nothing you’d ever seen before, and your mind was spinning with ideas of other ways you could use them in your shop.

Every now and then, the Red Comet would slip some more details into the conversation, slowly letting you in on the knowledge of what is happening in the city, and the threats he’s currently trying to tide. But it is a slow process, and you are still more in the dark than in the light.

Nevertheless, you have to admit that you’ve enjoyed the company. Contrary to his first impression, the superhero is chatty, having opinions on everything from the condition of the city’s transportation infrastructure to the performance of the Southville Stormriders in the upcoming championship. As his body heals, his spirit follows in suit, becoming more lively with every conversation. He has the aura of a kid forced to grow up too quickly, but you can tell that whatever passion and zest for life got him into the superhero gig still exists within him.

And he’s funny, which shocked you at first. He makes you laugh in a way that you haven’t experienced since your father passed, and the joviality is much appreciated in contrast to the looming fear that someone’s out for you.

You still haven’t seen under the mask, although he came back in normal clothes – a white tank under a black jacket, dark jeans, and heavy boots. Today, his face has been hidden behind a balaclava and chunky vizor glasses.

You’re working on the undercarriage of his car, lying side by side beneath it. You hand him a wrench, the sound of metal scraping against metal filling the small space between you. The work is a little tedious, but satisfying, especially with the challenge of integrating his advanced tech back into the framework. It’s the kind of hands-on talk you’ve always loved.

“Pass me the torque wrench?” His voice is muffled by the balaclava, but you can hear the concentration in his tone.

You hand it over, your fingers brushing lightly against his gloved hand. It’s the closest you’ve been to him since this whole thing started, and there’s an odd comfort in the proximity. You’ve spent more time together in the last few days than you have with anyone in the past year, and the easy companionship is something you didn’t realise you were missing.

"It’s getting warm under here," he mutters after a while, loosening the final bolt on the undercarriage.

You glance at him and nod. The garage has become a furnace with the afternoon sun bearing down on the metal roof. Sweat is starting to bead on your forehead, and you can only imagine how hot it must be for him with the extra layers.

He shifts beneath the car and pulls off his jacket, tossing it aside. Beneath, the white tank top clings to his toned arms and chest, the fabric stained with grease. His arms are littered with scars – some fresh, some old. You try to focus on the work, but it’s hard to ignore the way his muscles flex as he reaches for the next tool.

"So, how exactly does this tech work?" you ask, trying to distract yourself and also genuinely curious. "It’s like nothing I’ve seen before."

He chuckles, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. "It’s… complicated. But I can walk you through it if you want. It’s mostly about energy efficiency—getting more out of less, that kind of thing."

You raise an eyebrow. "Sounds useful. Ever thought about putting this stuff on the market? You could make a fortune."

His smile falters for a second, and he glances away. "Not really. There’s too much risk. The wrong people get their hands on this tech, and it could be dangerous."

You nod, understanding the weight of what he’s saying. "Fair enough," you say, going back to the bolts. "I guess we’ll just have to make sure it stays in the right hands, then."

His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he nods. "Yeah. We will."

For a while, the two of you work in comfortable silence, the steady rhythm of the tools and the soft hum of the city outside the garage filling the space. Every now and then, you share a joke or a story, the conversation easy and unhurried. You realize that, despite everything, this feels … normal.

The sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the garage. The temperature drops slightly, but the warmth of the day's work lingers in the air. You sit up, stretching your arms above your head, feeling the satisfying ache of a job well done.

"That should do it," you say, wiping your hands on a rag. "She’s ready to go."

You can see the balaclava shift as a grin appears on the superhero’s face. “Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without you.” There’s a sincerity to his voice that makes you feel like his words are about more than just the car.

“You probably could have,” you admit, with a teasing smile. You offer him a hand. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”

He takes your hand, his grip firm but not overpowering, and pulls himself to his feet. For a moment, as your hands connect through the gloves, you wonder what his life is like outside of this – what he does when he’s not saving the world or fighting villains. You wonder who it is behind that mask, and if he’s ever wanted a normal life, away from all of this.

But you don’t ask. You’re not sure you’re ready for those answers, if he would even be willing to give them. There’s something nice about the mystery – something comforting in not knowing everything.

"Drinks on me?" you offer, grabbing a couple of beers from the mini-fridge in the corner of the garage.

He hesitates for a second before nodding. "Yeah. That sounds good."

The two of you sit down, you on your makeshift bed and him on the hood of the car, facing opposite directions to allow him to drink comfortably. You take a sip of your beer, the cool liquid a welcome relief after the heat of the day. For a moment, everything feels still—quiet. Almost peaceful.

"Thanks for letting me lay low here," he says after a while, his voice sincere.

You have to stop yourself from glancing around at him, surprised at the weight in his tone. “Anytime. If you ever want to give up the superhero gig, I’d pay to have another set of hands around here.”

He chuckles softly, the low sound reverberating through you. “You wouldn’t want the business I’d bring.”

You shrug, a smile breaking across your face. “Eh, I’m not interested in what baggage you have. I’m really only about the money.”

A full, hearty laugh escapes him, and you feel warmed by the noise.

“You know,” you say, leaning back onto your hands, “I’ve always wondered what it’s like. Being out there, doing what you do.”

He doesn’t answer right away, and for a moment, you think you’ve overstepped. But then he sighs, the sound heavy with the weight of a thousand unspoken thoughts.

“It’s complicated,” he finally says. “People think it’s all glory and heroics. A sort of celebrity lifestyle – free things, all the attention you could want, as friends or more. But most of the time it’s just … messy. You make decisions in the heat of the moment, and you hope you’re doing the right thing, but there’s always a cost, and sometimes, you don’t know if it was worth it until it’s too late.”

You feel your heartstrings tug at his answer. The idea of being a superhero always seems so black and white – good versus evil, right versus wrong. But you can see how every choice would have a consequence, and one that everyone else would have an opinion on. Given that, you admire that he’s stuck with it for so long.

“And I guess with your identity hidden you don’t get to reap those benefits very much.”

“Well…” He starts, and you can hear the grin in his voice. You let out a bark of laughter at the implication. “But actually, no, not really. Friends are a bit of a luxury when everyone you know is put in danger just by knowing you. The free doughnuts from Jupiter’s are pretty sweet though.”

“Ahh, a man with good taste,” you hum, nodding your head in agreement.

“I almost considered doing a sponsorship with them,” he chuckles.

“Do you ever wish you could just ... walk away from it all?” You ask, the question slipping out before you can stop it.

“Sometimes,” he answers, not seeming bothered. “But it’s not that simple. Once you’re in, you’re in. There’s always something more, someone else who needs saving. And if I’m not there to stop it … who will be?”

You nod to yourself, understanding the weight of that responsibility even if you’ve never carried it yourself. “That’s a hell of a burden for one person to bear.”

A beat passes before he responds. “It’s the life I chose. Or maybe it chose me. Either way, it’s mine.”

You’re about to respond when a sharp pinging sound cuts through the quiet. You spin round, confused at the origin of the noise, and see the Red Comet pull out a burner phone from his pocket, glancing down at the screen. The balaclava scrunches up as something in his face ticks.

“I’ve gotta go,” he says, standing up and moving towards the car door with one quick motion.

You feel the weight of your aloneness before he’s even left, but you just say: “Okay, be safe.”

The superhero stalls for a second, and you can feel his gaze lingering on you through the mask. Then, he nods a quick goodbye, dashing into the car and slipping into the night.

Your words have been echoing in Chan’s head all week.

Well, that whole conversation has. You’d asked him if he’d walk away from it all, and he had almost said yes. You’d asked him what it was like to be him, and he’d almost asked you if you wanted to find out. And you’d offered him something – a job, an escape, companionship.

Those are the words he’s thought the most about: ‘I’m not interested in what baggage you have’.

You’d said it so casually, like it was just part of the joke, but he’d felt it in his soul. The uninhibited acceptance of everything he is and has, the knowledge that a life around him could never be one of safety – it didn’t seem to matter to you.

It is that simplicity that tugs at him the most. You didn’t want anything from him, didn’t expect him to be more than what he is. And for someone who has lived his life under the pressure of constant expectations, that is a gift he hadn’t realised he’s been longing for.

When he’d woken up after that fight at the chemical factory, the night that he left you, the first thing he’d done was reach for his phone. For once, it wasn’t to check on the city’s news feed or get updates from the fiend. He hadn’t texted his informants or checked in with any of the underground sources he kept tabs on. Instead, he’d messaged Seungkwan.

He’d texted him out of the blue—no preamble, no explanation—just a simple: Hey, you free to hang out this week? It had been too long since he’d allowed himself to do something normal, something that didn’t involve running across rooftops or dodging bullets.

Seungkwan had responded almost immediately, and they’d planned to meet up at a quiet café on the edge of town.

Now, here, with his friend, Chan finally lets himself relax. As Seungkwan launches into another exaggerated story about his latest antics, Chan doesn’t once think about putting on the mask.

Seungkwan is mid-sentence, hands flying animatedly through the air as he recounts yet another ridiculous moment from his week.

"...and then I swear, the cat somehow managed to lock me out of my own apartment. I'm standing there, in the hallway, keys in hand, and all I can think is, 'Is this really my life now?'"

Chan can’t help but laugh – the kind of laughter that feels good, deep, and unburdened. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed this, the simple joy of sitting across from a friend, talking about nothing and everything all at once.

Seungkwan grins, leaning back in his chair. “See, this is why you need me in your life, Chan. To remind you that no matter how crazy things get, at least you’re not getting outsmarted by a house cat."

Chan shakes his head, still chuckling. “Maybe if you let it outside once in a while, it wouldn’t hate you so much.”

His friend gasps, an overexaggerated, sprawling exclamation. “If you want him to get hit by a car and die, just say so.” Seungkwan crosses his arms in front of his chest, pouting out his lips.

“At least then you’ll be able to get inside your house,” Chan replies, unable to keep the smile off of his face at the horrified look that crosses his friend’s features.

“You’re incorrigible,” Seungkwan sulks.

There is a moment of comfortable silence between them, the kind that only comes from years of friendship. Seungkwan’s face softens into something more serious, a tender look in his eye.

“You’ve been busy,” he says. “I haven’t seen you in, what? A month? Two?”

“Something like that,” Chan admits, leaning back in his chair. “Things have been hectic.”

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow. “Hectic? I’m guessing that’s code for ‘I’ve been running myself into the ground again’?”

Chan grimaces. Seungkwan has always been able to read him like a book, even when he himself wasn’t sure how to explain things.

“You could say that,” He finally replies, his voice quieter now.

Seungkwan leans forward, his expression softening. "You know, you don’t always have to be ‘on,’ right? It’s okay to take a break every now and then. Hell, you deserve it more than anyone I know."

Chan sighs, running a hand through his hair. "It’s not that simple. There’s always something. And if I’m not there…"

"If you’re not there, the world won’t end," Seungkwan cuts in, his tone firm but kind. "You’re not a machine, Chan. You can’t keep going like this forever. At some point, you have to take care of yourself too."

Chan looks down at his hands, the weight of his friend’s words settling over him. It isn’t that he doesn’t know Seungkwan’s right—it’s that he doesn’t know how to stop. Being the Red Comet has become so much a part of who he is that the thought of walking away, even for a little while, feels impossible.

But then he thinks about you—about the quiet moments in your garage, the way you’d offered him something without asking for anything in return. And for the first time in a long time, he wonders if maybe, just maybe, there’s a way to find some balance.

“I met someone,” Chan blurts before he can stop himself.

Seungkwan’s eyebrows shoot up. "Oh? Now this is interesting."

“It’s not like that,” Chan says quickly, though he isn’t entirely sure what it is like. “It’s just … they’ve been helping me out. And they said something that’s been sticking with me.”

Seungkwan tilts his head, waiting for him to continue.

“They said they weren’t interested in my baggage,” Chan murmurs, almost bashful to say it too loudly. “Like it didn’t matter. Like I could just … be there without all the weight of everything else.”

Seungkwan leans back, crossing his arms. “Sounds like someone who just likes you for you.”

“Yeah,” Chan whispers, surprised by how much that realisation has hit him.

“And that scares the hell out of you, doesn’t it?” Seungkwan adds with a knowing smirk.

Chan can’t help but laugh softly, shaking his head. “I can’t drag anyone else into this – I feel bad enough that you know.”

Seungkwan’s smile softens. “Look, Chan, whoever this person is, they sound good for you. Don’t let that slip away because you’re too scared to let them in.”

He wants to push back, argue that you deserve better, it wouldn’t be safe, but the truth is that you’re already involved. That the shadow of the Red Comet had already eclipsed you and you’d embraced it. And that scares him more than anything else.

The garage is dim, the overhead lights casting long shadows across the tools and scattered car parts. The air smells of oil and metal, and Chan can hear the soft hum of the city outside – far enough away to feel distant but close enough that the noise never truly stops. He understands why you like this place so much.

Tonight, he’d come without the excuse of his car. He feels a little bit embarrassed that the thought of visiting you without a clear reason is making him so nervous, but if you suspected his real reason for being here, you didn’t let on.

Instead, he’s helping you with a different car, and you’re teaching him more basic repairs that he can do to his own vehicle when it inevitably gets scuffed up again. The implication is that then he’ll need to use your services less, but Chan’s far less interested in that.

You’re standing behind him, your hands resting over his, guiding him as he grips the wrench, showing him how to loosen a particularly stubborn bolt. “Here, let me show you. It’s all in the wrist.”

“Am I bad at this?” He asks, puzzled as the bolt doesn’t move despite the extra force he puts through it.

You chuckle, taking the wrench from him. “Bad? No. Just hopeless, I think.”

He laughs, watching you remove the rusted bolt, his gaze shifting between the tools in your hands and the subtle way your brow furrows when you’re focused.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” you say, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Usually I can’t get you to shut up about how I’m using the wrong size socket.”

Chan huffs a soft laugh at the absurd suggestion that he knows more about mechanics than you. You seem to have a way with the tools, the cars, the entire garage, that makes it all look effortless. There’s a confidence in the way you move, a fluidity to how you handle even the most rusted, stubborn parts, and Chan finds himself mesmerized by it. “I’m not always lecturing you.”

“Oh, please. I’ve had more mechanical critiques from you than my old boss did.”

He grins, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well, I’m just trying to make sure you don’t blow anything up.”

You tilt your head, narrowing your eyes playfully. “That sounds like a challenge.”

The low hum of the radio fills the quiet of the garage as you work. Suddenly, a voice crackles through the local news, catching your attention:

‘Another power outage struck the East Side last week, with authorities pointing to the recent attacks on the city’s power grid. Though no group has claimed responsibility, speculation points to the villain known as Tempest.’

Chan feels himself tightening a bolt with a little more force than necessary as the report continues:

‘Sources close to the investigation say the damage could take weeks to repair, and citizens are growing increasingly concerned about the city’s ability to handle these incidents. Vigilante Red Comet was spotted at the scene of the attack, but the damage seems to have eclipsed even his abilities.’

There’s a beat of silence as he grabs a wrench off of the bench, before setting it down with a sigh. “We should talk about it.”

You sit up, brushing your hands on your coveralls. “Tempest?” you reply, more softly now. He sits up too, his back against the car’s wheel, gaze distant.

“Yeah,” Chan replies, his voice dropping. “It’s getting worse. He’s not just causing chaos anymore. He’s targeting the city’s infrastructure. Power plans, grids, anything that’ll knock out a large portion of the city. The hit on the east side—it was a disaster. People are starting to panic.”

“Jesus. Why? What does he want?”

Chan runs a hand through his hair, frustration etched into every line of his face. “He’s … unstable. I think he just thrives on destruction. There’s no rhyme of reason with him. He’s got power, and he wants to show it. Or, at least, that’s how it’s always been with him. Recently, he’s felt more calculated, like there’s something new at play.”

You nod, your face thoughtful. “You think he’s working with someone else?”

“Maybe,” He shrugs. “I can think of a few people who would profit from issues with the city grid.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you look like you’ve just had a realisation. Chan’s fingers tap the metal beside him, his adrenaline shooting up at the suggestion of new information. “So can I.” You say, slowly getting up from your seat on the floor.

“I have a few regulars that come by the store, less than clean people, if I’m being honest. They don’t tend to bother me much, but recently Mr Scott’s people have been coming around more than usual, and they were asking about you.”

Chan's eyes narrow at the mention of Mr Scott. The tension in his jaw is unmistakable, and his fingers curl into a fist by his side. "Scott’s people have been around here? Asking about me?" His voice is low, dangerous. He doesn’t like that you’re in the middle of this, that you’re even saying the name of a man he’s been trying to avoid for as long as he can remember.

You nod, your expression cautious. “Yeah, it was subtle at first. Just questions about who comes in, what work I’ve been doing lately, but the last time they came, they dropped your name. They didn’t ask directly, but it was clear they were fishing for information.”

Chan’s breath hitches. He pushes himself up from the ground, pacing slightly, his mind racing. “That’s not good. Scott’s been trying to get a foothold in the city’s underbelly for years, but if he’s working with Tempest…” He trails off, the weight of the implication hanging in the air.

“And you? Where do you fit into all this? Why are they after you?”

His head hangs back, staring at the ceiling for a long moment. “I’m the only one standing between them and control. Tempest sees me as the only real threat to his chaos, and Scott... well, Scott doesn’t like people he can’t control. He’s offered deals, threatened me, tried to recruit me. But I’m too unpredictable for him.”

There’s a heaviness to his words that makes you pause. “So that’s it? They want you gone because you’re the last line of defence.”

He nods, eyes closed. “If I slip up, if I lose... the city falls apart.”

You let out a low whistle, trying to break the tension. “No pressure, then.”

Chan smiles faintly, but the weight of it is crushing him. “Yeah, no pressure.”

“You know,” you say, nudging his knee with your foot, “for a guy who spends his nights punching villains and saving the city, you’re pretty bad at explaining the whole ‘hero’ thing. No flashy speeches, no dramatic pauses. I’m almost disappointed.”

He snorts, feeling the pressure draining from his body, just slightly. “Yeah, well, I didn’t get the ‘how to be a superhero’ handbook.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Clearly. Maybe I should write it for you. Chapter one: How to Not Get Stabbed.”

Chan chuckles, the sound rough but genuine, and the tension eases. Your teasing banter cuts through the weight of everything, pulling him back to the present, away from the looming threats of Tempest and Scott. He looks at you, really looks at you, and there’s something about the way you’re sitting there, so calm and grounded despite everything he’s just told you, that makes his heart skip a beat.

He’s always admired your strength, the way you handle yourself in situations that would break most people. But now, sitting here with you, there’s something more—something deeper that he’s been trying to ignore for too long. The way your eyes light up when you tease him, the subtle curve of your smile as you try to lighten the mood, even though you know how dangerous things have become.

His chest tightens, a sense of longing creeping in before he can stop it. God, how did I let it get this far? He’s been trying so hard to keep you at arm’s length, to convince himself that this was just a friendship, that you were just a part of his life he could protect from a distance. But sitting here with you now, he can’t deny it anymore. He feels something—something strong, something that terrifies him.

“You know,” you continue, leaning back and giving him a grin that makes his heart race, “I’m thinking of starting a new side hustle – PR for superheroes. I can make you look all mysterious and broody, like the city’s very own shadowy protector.”

He shakes his head, trying to ignore the flutter in his chest. This is dangerous. Not the banter, not the situation with Scott or Tempest, but this—this closeness, this pull he feels toward you. He wants to reach out, to close the gap between you, to tell you what’s been gnawing at him for weeks. But the thought of dragging you deeper into his world stops him cold.

You have no idea how much danger you’re already in just by being near him. If Scott or Tempest found out how much you meant to him … the thought sends a wave of fear crashing over him. He can’t let that happen.

He feels you watching him, your smile fading slightly as you sense his inner turmoil. “Hey,” you say, your voice softer now, more serious. “You okay?”

Chan nods, forcing a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But you don’t buy it. “You know, you can talk to me, right? You don’t always have to be the tough guy. I mean, I know you’ve got the whole hero complex thing going on, but I’m not going anywhere.”

He swallows hard, your words hitting him like a punch to the gut. I’m not going anywhere. That’s what scares him. Because the more you stay, the more you get involved, the harder it’ll be to keep you safe.

You are halfway through reorganising your toolbox when you hear it – a heavy, deliberate knock on the garage door. There’s something about it, the measured calm, that instantly raises your hackles. You look around, and realise that the noise of your work and the bright lights above your head are dead giveaways that you’re still in the garage.

It’s not long before the knock comes again, and you get the sense that the third time won’t be so polite.

Swearing under your breath, you straighten up, trying to look as menacing as possible. You walk towards your door, not bothering to temper the sound of your footsteps. Your boots make a deliberate, echoing thud with each step as the tension in the room increases.

You yank the door open, not wanting to give whoever’s on the other side the satisfaction of forcing their way in. Two hulking figures fill the frame, their shadows stretching ominously into the garage. Their suits strain at the shoulders, muscles rippling beneath as they size you up. The one in front leans in slightly, his eyes cold and calculating.

“(Y/n),” he drawls, his voice a low rumble. “We need to have a word.”

The sound of your name rolling off his tongue makes your stomach twist, but you keep your expression hard, unflinching. Crossing your arms, keeping your stance wide and shoulders square, you look up and down at the man. “Funny. I’m not in the business of chit-chat. What do you want?”

The response doesn’t seem to satisfy them, and the next thing you know, you’re being hoisted up, your arms and legs swinging around furiously as the two men move you inside the garage, placing you down your desk chair.

The edge of your chair digs into your back as they force you into the center of the room. For a moment, panic surges, your heart hammering in your chest. Your breaths come quick and shallow, but then you see him.

The man from the crash steps into the light, his coat swaying slightly with each step as his eyes bore into yours, and the sight of him makes your blood run cold. His smile is familiar, twisted with cruelty, and it sends a wave of nausea through you. The two goons stand like statues beside you, blocking any potential escape route. You force yourself to stay calm, but the icy grip of fear claws at your chest.

“It’s nice to see you again, (Y/n).” He says smoothly, his voice laced with mockery. “Didn’t think I’d be back so soon, but it seems you’ve gotten yourself mixed up in something … unfortunate, and Mr Scott doesn’t like his pets to disobey his orders.” He stops just in front of you, towering over where you sit, pinned by his presence.

You grit your teeth, struggling to keep your emotions in check. Rage simmers beneath the surface, but your heart is still racing. “If you’ve come for more trouble, you’re going to regret it,” you spit out, your voice sharp despite the tremor you feel inside. You flick your gaze toward the two muscle-bound men, wondering how quickly you can move if this gets ugly.

The man in the coat laughs, a sound that chills you to the bone. “Oh, I think it’s you who’s going to regret it, sweetheart.” He leans in closer, his breath brushing against your cheek. “You’ve made some... interesting friends lately. Friends like the Red Comet. And that’s got Mr. Scott very curious. He doesn’t like being curious.”

Your stomach drops.

“I fix cars,” you say flatly, keeping your eyes trained in front of you. “Whoever walks through that door looking for a tune-up isn’t my business. Now unless you’ve got something that needs fixing, get out of my shop.”

The man straightens up, his smile fading as he gestures to the two goons. “Search the place.” They don’t hesitate, immediately scattering toward your workbench and tool racks, tearing through the space without any regard for your belongings.

You try to keep your breathing steady, but your mind races. If they find anything – any trace of the tech that linked you to the Red Comet – it could be the end for you.

“Stop!” you shout, jerking forward, but the goon behind you grabs your arm, yanking you back into the chair. Pain lances through your shoulder, and you twist against his grip, muscles straining, but he’s too strong.

“You’ve made this harder than it had to be,” the man in the coat says, stepping forward, his voice a mockery of sympathy. “But all we need are answers. Tell us what we want, and we’ll leave you in one piece.”

Your pulse races as you glance around, weighing your options. The tools are scattered across the floor, too far to reach easily. You know how to fight, but outnumbered three to one, it’s going to be a challenge. The man in the coat watches you closely, as if waiting for you to make a move.

The sound of metal clattering to the floor grabs everyone’s attention. One of the goons has knocked over a pile of parts, and in the chaos, you see your opening. With every ounce of strength left in you, you twist, wrenching yourself free. The adrenaline surges, your muscles burning as you lunge toward the nearest workbench, your fingers closing around the heavy wrench.

The sickening crack of metal meeting bone echoes through the garage as you swing the wrench at the goon’s head. He stumbles back, cursing in pain, but there’s no time to hesitate. Your breath is ragged, each gasp like fire in your lungs, and you scramble to your feet, racing toward the door.

But before you can make it, the second goon blocks your path. His fist swings toward you, and you barely duck in time, the force of the hit grazing your shoulder. The pain is sharp, but you ignore it, bringing the wrench up again and slamming it into his midsection. He doubles over with a grunt.

Before you can make it to the door, though, the man in the coat grabs you by the wrist, twisting your arm painfully behind your back.

“You should’ve stayed out of this,” he snarls, his voice dripping with venom. His grip tightens, and you bite back a cry as the pressure mounts, your muscles screaming in protest.

Just as you think he’s about to slam you into the ground, the door bursts open with a crash. In a blur of motion, the Red Comet sprints into the room, his fists a flurry of movement as he takes down the first goon in seconds.

His eyes lock onto yours, fury blazing behind his mask, and in a split second, he’s on the man in the coat. With a swift, brutal motion, he grabs him by the collar, slamming him against the wall. The impact reverberates through the garage, shaking the shelves as tools rattle.

“If you ever touch them again,” the Red Comet growls, his voice low and dangerous, “you won’t be walking out of here.”

The man’s smug expression falters, but before he can respond, the Red Comet knocks him out with a single blow, the thud of his body hitting the ground echoing in the now silent room.

You collapse against the nearest wall, your breath ragged, your muscles trembling from the exertion. The garage is still, the only sound the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. The Red Comet turns to you, concern replacing the fury that had been there just moments before.

“Are you okay?” His voice is filled with worry as he steps closer, his hands hovering over your shoulders like he’s afraid to touch you, afraid you might break.

You nod, still catching your breath, the weight of everything crashing down on you. “I’m fine,” you manage, though your voice is shaky.

He shakes his head. “This is my fault. I should have never come here.”

You reach out, resting your hand on his arm. The fabric is terse and warm, and you can feel that his muscles are still tense beneath it. “I’m not some damsel in distress. I can handle myself.”

His jaw tightens for a moment, but he nods. “Still,” he says softly, “I’m sorry.”

You stare at him, your chest tightening as the weight of the situation settles between you.

The strained cough of one of the men is a quick reminder that the situation is yet to be over. You glance around, feeling panic building as you try to figure out what to do before they wake back up. “Do you have, like, protocol for this kind of thing?”

The Red Comet nods, his posture straightening as he seems to shift back into superhero mode. “Leave them with me.”

You hesitate, your eyes scanning the room again. The unconscious bodies of Mr. Scott’s men lay sprawled across the floor, and despite the superhero’s calm demeanour, the tension in the air still feels thick and suffocating. You want to argue, to insist that you stay and help clean up the mess. After all, this is your garage—they came here because of you.

But then you look over at him. His shoulders are tense, his jaw clenched, but he seems more confident and sure of himself.

“I’ll be back,” you say, your voice softer than you intended. “Fifteen minutes.”

He nods, his gaze never leaving yours. You can see the gratitude there, mixed with something deeper—something unspoken. And as you turn to leave, your heart feels heavy with the weight of everything unsaid between you.

You step outside, closing the garage door behind you and leaning against it, trying to steady your breathing. Your mind is spinning, replaying the events of the last few minutes over and over.

Fifteen minutes pass like a blur, and when you finally open the door again, the men are gone. The garage looks almost untouched, only the scatter of a few tools out of place letting you know that the confrontation ever happened. And the Red Comet is standing there, his back to you, head bowed slightly as if weighed down by something.

“All okay?” You call softly, stepping inside. Your voice feels too loud against the stillness.

He doesn’t respond at first. The silence that follows feels thick, uncomfortable, as though it's hiding words he’s not ready to speak. Your heart pounds harder in the quiet. You move forward, feeling unsure, and reach out to him, grabbing his arm and guiding him to sit with you at the workbench. His surprise flickers for a moment, but he doesn’t resist your touch.

"I can’t keep doing this,” he finally breaks the silence, his voice sounding so broken that it hurts to hear. “I can’t keep pretending this doesn’t affect you. That being around me doesn’t put you in danger.”

Your breath catches. For a split second, doubt clouds your mind – am I making a mistake being involved in this?

But before the uncertainty can take hold, you push it away. You take his covered hand in yours. “I know what I’m getting into. I knew the risks when I fixed your car, and I know them now. And I’m still here, aren’t I?”

He exhales, shaking his head. “It’s different now. They know about you, and they almost hurt you.”

The words hang in the air between you, an admittance of the truth that feels too heavy. A cold chill runs through you, the fear creeping in despite your resolve. But hearing the despair in his voice—the way it trembles with guilt—makes you push past your own fear. Is it dangerous? Yes. But leaving him, letting him deal with this burden alone, feels worse.

Reaching out, you gently lift his chin so that he’s forced to look at you. A small, determined smile forms on your lips. “Hey, you may have saved the day, but I had it covered. Don’t underestimate my skill with a wrench.”

A choked, sob-like laugh leaves him, and his shoulders crumple slightly, releasing the bundle of stress he’d been holding.

“Look,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “You’re just going to have to accept that I’m involved now; there’s nothing stopping that. And I don’t want it to. You’re not getting rid of me even if you try.”

A beat passes, and you wonder if you’ve pushed too far. His posture is so still that you feel like you cannot move an inch either.

His hands are the first to move, slowly and a little shakily. When they reach the bottom of his mask, you realise what he’s trying to do.

In a flash, you pull your own hands back to cover your eyes, the instinct to respect his privacy taking over. “I’m sorry,” you blurt out, feeling awkward in the silence. “I didn’t mean for-”

“Don’t apologise,” His voice is softer now, more vulnerable. There’s a rawness you haven’t heard before, unfettered by material. You keep your hands over your eyes, and jolt slightly as you feel his own covering yours. His fingers wrap around delicately, and gently pull the cover away from you. “I want you to see me.”

Slowly, hesitantly, you open your eyes, your heart thudding in your chest.

When you look up, he’s there—entirely unmasked, fully exposed. Your lips part, and you instinctively reach out, your fingertips ghosting over his jawline. He lets you, his skin warm beneath your touch.

He’s beautiful, each feature perfectly balanced in its own way. But there’s something deeper in his eyes, a mix of concern, fear, and vulnerability that pulls at you. You can’t look away, and yet, you feel your attention drawn towards his soft, full lips.

For a moment, you just stare, processing the weight of what he’s just done. He’s standing in front of you, fully exposed, fully himself, no longer hidden behind the persona of the Red Comet.

And then you smile, a euphoric beam that lights up your face. The corners of his mouth perks up in response, slowly exposing his teeth and gums, and you realise that you’ve uncovered his most beautiful feature.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says quietly, as if he’s afraid of what you might think now that you’ve seen him. “You’re too good for this, for all the danger that comes with me.”

You shake your head, your grip on his hand tightening as you refuse to look away from him. “That’s not for you to decide. I choose to be here, with you. And we’re going to figure it out. Together.”

His eyes search yours, and for the first time, your see something break in him – something deep and guarded that’s been locked away from far too long.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he admits softly, his voice trembling. “I don’t think I could handle it.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his words, and without thinking, you pull him into a hug. At first, he stiffens, like he’s not sure how to respond, but then, slowly, he wraps his arms around you, holding on tightly as if you’re the lifeline he didn’t know he needed.

“You won’t lose me,” you whisper into his shoulder, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “I’m right here.”

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. The garage is quiet, the world outside seeming to fade away as the two of you sit there, holding onto each other in the dim light.

When he finally pulls back, there’s a softness in his eyes. “My name’s Chan. Lee Chan. I’d like you to know that, too.”

Your heart swells, and your head tilts forward. “Thank you for trusting me.” You say, hoping your sincerity is clear to him. “Chan.”

Hearing his name from your lips seems to soften his worry, bringing him a sense of calm. You both stay still, sitting close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. The air between you feels charged with something unspoken. Your hand is still resting lightly on his cheek, your thumb brushing softly against his skin, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

His eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze. His breathing hitches slightly. There’s a question in his eyes, a silent invitation.

Slowly, hesitantly, you close the distance between you. His breath mingles with yours, and just as your lips are about to meet, he pauses, as if giving you one last chance to pull away. But you don’t. You’re here, with him, and you want this.

When his lips finally press against yours, it’s soft at first, almost tentative, like he’s afraid of moving too fast. But then the kiss deepens, and all the tension, the fear, the vulnerability between you melts away. It’s as if everything you’ve both been holding back—the uncertainty, the emotions you couldn’t quite voice—comes rushing out in this one moment.

His hand moves to cup your face, pulling you closer as the kiss grows more urgent, more certain. You feel the warmth of his skin, the way his body moves against yours, and it’s like nothing else matters.

As you start to peel the suit from his body, careful to avoid touching the side he’d been stabbed, you reveal more and more of him. Your head swirls with thoughts of him – not just of the muscled body that now presses against yours, but of the vulnerability of the moment; the superhero allowing you to see all of him after so much hiding.

It makes you feel euphoric, being allowed a peak under the mask, knowing that he trusts you enough to let you.

As your own clothes are removed, you don’t feel any shyness. The tenderness of his reveal is enough to put you at ease, to want to give yourself to him.

He’s beautiful under your eyes, chest heaving as you wrap your legs over his, gently positioning yourself on top of him. The way your name falls from his lips, in the voice you know best of all, only makes you feel more eager to please him.

The movement of your bodies against each other is slow, subtle. It’s quiet, other than the breathy moans that escape you and him. It’s not the type of intimacy you’re used to – quick flings with rough strangers to satiate a need are completely different to the unhurried, deliberate push and pull between you.

It hits you part way through, as Chan’s hands flutter over your hips, that he must be holding back to not hurt you. A man with super strength, his grip the gentleness you’ve ever known. You wonder what it would be like to have him at full strength, pounding into you, another time. But, now, you’re addicted to the slow movements, the hesitant touches, and almost teasing way he’s dragging you both towards completion.

You fall flat onto him, your body twitching slightly with exhaustion as you finally reach the peak, unable to tear your eyes away from his face, scared that if you look away you’ll never see it again.

He’s panting beneath you, head thrown back in bliss, but he’s cradling your body, holding you up as you’re unable to do it yourself.

Here, curled up into his grasp, you feel the safest you’ve ever felt. You want to tell him as much, let him know how much you appreciate him, but you can’t say anymore, too fulfilled to do anything but let your eyes flicker shut.

The hum of the city has changed.

What once was the usual rhythm of car horns, distant chatter, and the thrum of daily life has been replaced by something more unsettling – a tension hanging in the air that you can feel in your bones. The streets seem quieter, but not in a peaceful way. It is the kind of quiet that came just before a storm. A charged silence.

You stand in the doorway of your garage, leaning against the frame, arms crossed as you take in the atmosphere of the Lower South Rim. Even in your rough corner of the city, people are moving differently. Heads down, quick steps, and nervous glances thrown over their shoulders. There are more empty storefronts than usual, their "closed" signs flipped down in the middle of the day.

The power cuts have been getting more frequent. A few seconds here and there at first, and then they started lasting longer—whole city blocks going dark for hours. You think back on what Chan said about Tempest, about his attacks on the power plants and grid, and wonder what the next step is.

You can hear the buzz of a TV playing from the diner across the street, the static of an emergency news broadcast cutting through the afternoon haze. The voice of the newscaster drifts through the open window, tired and strained.

‘...no official statement from the Mayor’s office yet, but sources say that tonight’s blackout could affect up to 40 percent of the city’s power grid...’

You can’t help but let out a slow breath, your eyes narrowing as you scan the horizon, the towering skyscrapers of downtown standing like sentinels in the distance. Even from here, you can feel the anxiety that’s creeping its way into the heart of the city. People are scared. And for good reason.

A flicker of movement catches your attention, and you glance down the street. Two men in heavy coats are standing outside the old hardware store, their eyes shifting nervously as they talk in low voices. Normally, you wouldn’t think twice about it, but something about their hurried conversation and the way they keep looking around sets off alarm bells in your head.

You strain to catch snippets of their conversation as they move closer to your side of the street.

"...another one tonight... Tempest, they say..."

"...power plant’s next... you hear about Brewer’s Quarter? That’s not just a coincidence..."

Your heart clenches at the mention of Tempest, and the knot in your stomach tightens.

The men glance your way, cutting their conversation short as they catch sight of you standing there. You raise your chin slightly, meeting their gaze, and they turn and disappear down an alley without another word.

For a second, you consider following them, but then you catch the low growl of an engine coming up the street. It’s a familiar sound—Chan’s car. The sleek, black frame pulls up in front of the garage, its polished exterior gleaming in the dull afternoon light.

His eyes meet yours as he gets out of he car, and you can see the tension in his shoulders, the faint lines of worry etched into his face.

“Another blackout,” you say, nodding toward the TV screen in the diner. “And it sounds like Tempest is involved.”

Chan’s gaze flickers toward the diner as he listens to the broadcast for a moment. Then he looks back at you, his voice low. “It’s worse than that. I think I’ve figured out what Tempest and Scott are planning.”

You frown, stepping aside so that he can follow you into the garage. The heavy steel door shuts behind him with a dull clang, sealing the two of you away from the restless streets outside. The familiar smell of oil wraps around you like a protective barrier, but even in here the tension of the city’s looming crisis feels suffocating.

“What’d you find out?” You ask, your voice low with concern as you monitor the stormy look on his face. Your hand stretches out, instinctively wanting to make him feel better, and you settle it on his shoulder, drawing small circles on the tense skin.

He rolls his neck, letting out a long sigh. “Tempest is targeting the main power plant. If he pulls this off, it’s not just going to be a few blackouts. The whole city will go dark. Emergency services, hospitals, everything will be offline.”

Your stomach drops. “He wants to take out the whole grid?”

Chan nods, his eyes hard. “And Scott’s working with him. He’s planning to seize control of the city once Tempest throws everything into disorder. They’ve been building towards this for weeks. Those smaller blackouts were just tests. Tonight’s the real deal.”

A chill runs down your spine as the weight of the situation sinks in. The whole city could be plunged into darkness – people trapped in hospitals, traffic systems down, everything coming to a halt. And in the chaos, Scott would swoop in, consolidating power and taking control while everyone else is scrambling to survive.

“How do we stop them?” You ask, your voice steadier than you feel.

Chan straightens up, his gaze snapping round to you. “Nuh-uh, there’s no ‘we’. I’m not letting you put yourself in danger.”

You feel a slight prickle of irritation that he doesn’t trust you enough to let you help, but its tempered as you realise that he just cares about you. But, he’s wrong, and you think he knows it. There’s no way that he’s going to be able to stop Tempest and Scott at the same time, and your engineering expertise is too useful in this situation for him to stick you at home.

“Chan,” you say, softly, watching him shiver as you say his name. “There’s no way that you can do this alone. Please, let me help.”

The air between you feels charged, as if the storm Tempest is brewing outside has somehow seeped into the garage, thickening the tension. Chan’s eyes flash with conflict, his body tensing further at your words. For a long moment, he doesn’t respond, his jaw tightening as he looks away, his gaze fixating on the far wall as if searching for the right words there.

“No,” he says, but his voice is softer than before, lacking the firm conviction you were expecting. “I can’t risk it.”

Your hand remains on his shoulder, your fingers still tracing soothing circles, but you can feel the tension rippling beneath his skin. He’s at war with himself, caught between wanting to protect you and knowing deep down that you’re right.

“Chan,” you say again, more firmly this time. His name feels like a thread that connects the two of you, tugging at something vulnerable and raw beneath his guarded exterior. And when his eyes finally meet yours, there’s a flicker of fear, not for the situation, but fear for you.

“You’re not a liability,” you continue, your voice gentle but steady. “You know I’m not. I can help with this. You need me.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair in frustration, his fingers tangling briefly in the strands. “It’s not that I don’t think you can help. I know you can. That’s what scares me.” His voice is strained, the words heavy with the weight of something unspoken. “If anything happens to you…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but the implication hangs in the air, thick and suffocating. You can see the battle playing out in his mind—the need to keep you safe warring with the reality of what’s at stake. He’s terrified of losing you, of dragging you into a world of danger that he’s never wanted for you.

And you have to decide for yourself too. The city’s fate hangs in the balance, and you can viscerally feel the weight of it pressing down on your shoulders. This isn’t something you’ve done before, you’re not superhuman like he is, and even if you have a good swing, you’re not a trained fighter.

But, as the fear about what will happen to you ripples between you, you feel your own fear for him fighting back, equally as strong. “If you go out there alone, you might not come back. And then what? What do you think that’ll do to me?” You step closer, your hand sliding down from his shoulder to his chest. His heart is pounding beneath your touch.

He freezes at your words, his breath catching. You watch as his defences start to crack, realising that everything he’s feeling about you, you’re mirroring straight back to him.

“I’m not asking you to put me in harm’s way,” you continue, your voice soft but insistent. “But we’re a team. We’ve been through enough together that you know I can handle myself. And you know I won’t sit by while the city falls apart.”

His eyes close briefly, as if he’s trying to block out the truth in your words.

When he opens his eyes again, they’re filled with a mix of longing and fear, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You mean too much to me,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if admitting it aloud makes it too real. “I can’t lose you. Not like this.”

Your breath hitches at the vulnerability in his voice, at the raw emotion that’s finally breaking through. The tension between you tightens, like a taut wire about to snap. The air feels electric, charged not just with the danger outside, but with the undeniable pull between the two of you.

You step even closer, your body now inches from his. “Then don’t push me away,” you murmur, your hand still resting over his heart. “Let me stand by your side, Chan. We’re stronger together.”

For a split second, you think he’s going to close the distance, to give in to the longing that’s been simmering beneath the surface. His gaze flickers down to your lips, his breath coming quicker as he leans in just a fraction.

But then, just as quickly, he pulls back, taking a step away from you. The sudden distance feels like a physical blow, and you can see the pain in his eyes as he forces himself to pull away.

“Alright,” he says quietly, his voice filled with resignation. “But we do this my way.”

Relief washes over you, but it’s tempered by the new distance between you.

Chan straightens up, his face set with grim determination. You watch him morph into superhero-mode, no longer the man you know. “We go to the plant. Tempest won’t go down easy, but he’s not the brains behind this. Scott’s pulling the strings. Tempest just wants to destroy—Scott wants control. If we can cut off their communication and disable whatever tech Scott’s got rigged at the plant, we might have a shot at stopping them both.”

You let out a slow breath. “And what do you want me to do?”

“I’ll need you to guide me through the plant while I handle Tempest.” Chan continues, his voice frighteningly calm.

You watch as he begins emptying out his backpack – things you don’t recognise but know are meant for the kind of fight that’s coming. His suit comes out next, and you realise that you shouldn’t go in there unprotected either.

As if having the same thought, he pulls out a set of spare clothes. They’re his, and they sit slightly too large on you, but they give you some protection and hide your identity.

He moves to the garage door, pushing it open to reveal the darkening city streets beyond. The sun is already starting to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the buildings.

"We’ve got maybe an hour before they hit the plant," Chan says, his voice low and urgent. "We need to get there before Scott’s men lock it down."

You follow him to the car, your heart pounding in your chest as you climb into the passenger seat. The engine roars to life, and within seconds, you’re speeding through the streets of the Lower South Rim. The city rushes by in a blur of neon lights and dark alleys, but all you can think about is what’s waiting for you at the power plant.

The power plant looms ahead, a dark silhouette against the evening sky. The hum of machinery grows louder as Chan and you approach, its rhythmic thrum pulsing through the ground beneath your feet. The towering smoke and tangled networks of high-voltage lines have Chan biting his lip in anticipation of what sort of damage Tempest could do in this place.

He stops the car just outside the perimeter fence, far enough away to avoid being spotted by the guards patrolling the gates. He cuts the engine, and for a moment, the only sound is the distant buzz of electricity and the faint whistle of the wind through the nearby trees.

“We go in quiet.” Chan says, turning towards you. He feels almost unable to meet your eyes, and is suddenly grateful that the mask means that you cannot see his. His voice sounds urgent, pleading, and all he wants to do is tell you to stay here. But, instead, he has to be content with urging you to stay safe. “Tempest will be inside by now, and Scott’s men will be guarding every entrance.”

You follow his lead, slipping out of the car and crouching low as you both move toward the fence. The power plant’s lights flicker sporadically, casting eerie shadows across the yard.

“Here,” he whispers, pointing to a section of the fence he’d scouted out earlier that day. “There’s a gap in the security feed by the northeast corner. We can slip through there without setting off the alarms.”

You nod, your eyes scanning the perimeter for any sign of movement.

Chan pulls out a small cutting tool from his belt and makes quick work of the chain-link, creating a narrow opening just wide enough for the two of you to slip through.

"Stay close," Chan whispers, pulling you to your feet as the two of you creep through the shadows toward one of the smaller side entrances.

The place is heavily guarded – more than he expected. Groups of armed men patrol the exterior, their faces hidden behind black masks, each carrying enough firepower to take out half the neighbourhood. He can count at least three groups circling the building, their movement precise and practiced.

"They’re serious," you murmur under your breath, ducking behind a stack of shipping crates as one of the patrols passes dangerously close.

"Scott doesn’t leave anything to chance," Chan replies, his eyes narrowed as he watches the guards move. "But we’ve got an advantage. They don’t know we’re coming."

He feels like he’s trying to convince himself more than he’s trying to convince you.

“Can we take them?” You ask, glancing over. He has to stifle a small laugh, taken off guard by your instinct to run right into the fray of it.

Pulling a small device from his pocket, he shows it to you. “We don’t have to. This will scramble their comms for a few minutes – just long enough for us to get inside without raising the alarm.”

He activates the device and tosses it towards the guard post. Within seconds, the guards’ radios crackle with static, and they begin frantically tapping at their earpieces, trying to regain contact with their base.

"Now," Chan whispers, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the door.

You move quickly together, your footsteps silent against the concrete as you weave through the shadows. The guards are distracted, their attention focused on their malfunctioning radios, and you slip past them without a sound. It feels almost too easy, like he’s holding his breath, waiting for something to go wrong.

As you reach the door, Chan presses his hand against the electronic keypad, and the door clicks open with a soft hiss. You slip inside, the dimly lit hallway stretching out before you. The air inside the power plant is thick with the smell of metal and oil, the low hum of the generators reverberating through the walls. He wonders if it smells is at least a little comforting to you.

"This way," Chan says, nodding toward the far end of the corridor. "We need to reach the control room. If Scott’s got his tech set up, that’s where it’ll be." His eyes dart around the darkened hallway. The place feels like a maze—industrial pipes and steel beams crisscrossing overhead, the walls lined with electrical panels and junction boxes. Every corner feels like a potential ambush, every shadow a threat.

"How far to the control room?" you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

"Two floors up," Chan replies, glancing over his shoulder at you. "There’s a service elevator near the back. We can use it to bypass the main floors."

Just as you reach the service elevator, a crackling voice echoes through the plant’s PA system, sending a chill down Chan’s spine.

‘All units, be advised: intruders detected. Sweep the lower floors. Shoot on sight.’

Chan curses under his breath, his fingers hovering over the elevator button. "We don’t have time for subtle anymore," he mutters, pressing the button as the sound of footsteps and barking orders echo through the corridors behind you.

The elevator doors slide open with a soft ding, and you and Chan slip inside, the doors closing just as the first group of guards rounds the corner. He catches a glimpse of their rifles as they move past, their boots thudding against the concrete. He takes the moment to glance over at you, and although he knows you’ve seen the guards as well, you appear steady and calm.

The doors slide open with a soft hiss, and you step out into a narrow hallway, the control room just ahead. But before you can move, Chan grabs your arm, his eyes wide with urgency.

"Listen to me," he says, his voice low and serious. "Once we’re inside, things are going to get messy. I need you to stay close, and if things go south, you get out. No arguments. Just run."

You blink, caught off guard by the intensity in his voice. "What are you talking about? I’m not leaving you in there alone."

Chan’s grip tightens slightly, his gaze locking with yours. "If something happens to me, you need to get out. Promise me."

You open your mouth to argue, but the look in his eyes stops you cold. He’s not asking. He’s telling you.

Swallowing hard, you nod. "Okay. I promise."

Chan lets out a breath, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. "Good."

He releases your arm, and the two of you move toward the control room. The door is just ahead, the hum of machinery louder than ever as you approach.

With one final glance at Chan, you push the door open.

The massive door creaks open, revealing the control room – sprawling, cold, and sterile. Row upon row of screens flicker with data, tracking every part of the city’s power grid. You can see the central control panel at the far end, its flashing lights indicating the system's full capacity. If Tempest gets his way, the entire city will be plunged into chaos.

But there’s no time to appreciate the magnitude of it all.

Standing next to the control panel, you see Tempest for the first time. His eyes glow with a crackling blue energy that dances along his fingertips. His face is twisted in a cold, sinister smile as he watches the screens.

At the far end of the room, perched in front of one of the larger monitors, is Mr Scott. He’s leaning back in his chair, completely at ease, his sharp suit unwrinkled, as if this whole operation is just another day at the office. His eyes flicker toward you and Chan as you enter, a slow, calculated smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Well, well," Scott drawls, his voice oozing with smug confidence. "The city’s little hero, right on schedule. And you brought company. How quaint."

Tempest’s gaze snaps toward you, the crackling energy in his hands intensifying. His grin widens, and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as the air around him grows charged with electricity.

"Red Comet," Tempest growls, his voice a low rumble of thunder. "I’ve been waiting for this."

Chan tenses beside you, his muscles coiling like a spring ready to explode. You can see the weight of the situation bearing down on him, the knowledge that every second counts. One wrong move, and Tempest will fry the entire plant.

But it’s Scott’s next words that make your blood run cold.

"I’m impressed, Red Comet," Scott continues, his voice smooth as silk. "Not many people would be brave—or foolish—enough to bring someone they care about into a situation like this."

His eyes flick toward you, and suddenly, you realize what’s happening. Scott knows. He’s figured out who you are, and worse, he’s figured out how much you mean to Chan.

For a moment, everything seems to freeze. You can feel the weight of Chan’s gaze on you, the unspoken fear that he’s been trying to keep hidden now laid bare.

"Don’t listen to him," Chan whispers, his voice tight with barely contained fury. "He’s just trying to get in your head."

But Scott’s smile only widens, his eyes gleaming with malicious glee. "Oh, I don’t need to get in your head. I’ve already won. Tempest, if you’d be so kind…"

Tempest raises his hand, and in an instant, the air around you crackles with electricity. You can feel the charge building, the hair on your arms standing on end as the temperature in the room seems to spike. The power plant’s machinery groans in protest, the lights flickering as Tempest channels his energy into the room.

Chan reacts in a flash, grabbing your arm and pulling you behind one of the large control consoles just as a bolt of lightning crashes into the floor where you were standing. The air is filled with the smell of burning metal, and the ground shakes beneath you as Tempest unleashes another wave of energy, sending sparks flying.

"You okay?" Chan asks, his voice tight with worry as he crouches beside you, his back pressed against the console.

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. "Yeah. I’m fine."

But there’s no time to catch your breath. The room is a war zone now—Tempest’s lightning bolts crackle through the air, shattering monitors and sending showers of sparks raining down around you. Scott’s men scramble for cover, their rifles raised, but they’re clearly outmatched by Tempest’s raw power.

Chan’s eyes scan the room, searching for an opening. " “We need to split them up,” he mutters, his eyes scanning the room. “I’ll keep Tempest busy. You get to the control panel and shut down the grid. That’ll cut his power supply.”

His body softens for a second, as if he’s realised something. “Please, be safe. I lo-”

A spike of panic riles your body, and you put your finger on his lips, shaking your head. “Not now. Afterwards.” You know what he’s doing, giving you one last goodbye in case something goes wrong, but you’re not going to let that happen.

With one last look, Chan stands, his body moving with a grace and fluidity that belies the tension in the air. "Tempest!" he shouts, drawing the villain’s attention away from the rest of the room.

Tempest’s head snaps toward him, his eyes narrowing as a cruel smile spreads across his face. "Running away already, hero?"

Chan doesn’t respond. Instead, he leaps into action, moving with lightning speed as he closes the distance between himself and Tempest. The two of them clash in a violent burst of energy, Chan’s fists moving in a blur as he dodges and weaves around Tempest’s attacks.

You watch in awe for a moment, until the pair crash out of the control room, leaving you alone with your task. And Mr Scott.

Ducking low, you sprint across the room, weaving between the shattered remains of monitors and control panels until you reach the central console. Your heart pounds as you reach the panel, your fingers trembling as you start scanning for the emergency shutoff switch.

The control panel is a mess—wires sparking, glass shattered—but you spot the emergency switch buried beneath a layer of debris. Just as your hand reaches for it, a shadow falls over you.

“Now, now,” a smooth, chilling voice says. “Where do you think you’re going?”

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat as you turn to see Mr. Scott standing just a few feet away. His expression is cool and collected, but there’s a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

“Did you really think I’d let you shut down my operation so easily?” Scott steps closer, his presence suffocating as he corners you against the control panel. “You’ve been very helpful, of course, playing your little part. But I’m afraid your time’s up.”

“You’re wrong,” you say, your voice trembling slightly but defiant. “You can’t win this.”

Scott chuckles, a low, mocking sound. “Oh, I already have. Tempest is keeping your little hero occupied. You really think Chan can save the city and you?” He steps even closer, his eyes narrowing. “He’s going to have to choose. And I know what heroes always choose—they save the city, and they let the people they care about burn.”

Fear claws at your chest. Scott’s words are like poison, seeping into your mind. You know Chan, you trust him, but in this moment, Scott’s chilling logic feels too real. You glance at the control panel, your fingers brushing against the switch. If you could just reach it…

But Scott is faster. He lunges, grabbing your wrist in a crushing grip, and slams your hand down on the panel, pinning you in place. “You’re not going anywhere,” he sneers.

Panic surges through you. You try to struggle, but Scott’s hold is like iron, unyielding. Your mind races, heart pounding as you glance desperately toward the outside, but Chan is nowhere to be seen.

Scott’s grip tightens on your wrist, and he leans in close, his voice a cold whisper in your ear. “See? He can’t save you. He’s too busy fighting for his precious city. And you… well, you’re just collateral damage.”

You grit your teeth, anger rising in you as Scott’s taunts cut deep. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you spot something – a heavy metal pipe, half-buried under a pile of debris.

Without hesitation, you spit in Mr Scott’s face.

He staggers back slightly, a furious yell retching out of his mouth. It’s all you need. You lunge forward, loosening his grip on your wrist, and close your free hand around the cold metal. With all the strength you can muster, you swing the pipe up and slam it into Scott’s arm.

He curses, and you yank your hand free. You fall backwards, breathless and shaking, but you don’t hesitate. You dive for the emergency shutoff switch, slamming your hand down on it. The room plunges into darkness as the power grid shuts off, the hum of electricity fading into silence.

Chan barely has time to move before Tempest is on him, unleashing a bolt of lightning that crackles through the air with a deafening roar. The strike slams into Chan’s side, sending him flying across the room. He crashes into a metal column, the impact knowing the wind out of him.

Tempest strides forward, his eyes glowing an eerie blue as arcs of electricity pulse around him. His grin is wide, feral, and filled with malice.

Chan groans, pushing himself up on shaky arms, his muscles screaming in protest. The force of the lightning has left a sharp, burning pain radiating through his body, his skin tingling and raw from the electric blast. He staggers to his feet, trying to catch his breath, but there’s no time. Tempest’s next attack is already coming—a barrage of lightning bolts raining down from above.

Chan dives to the side, rolling behind the column as the floor where he stood moments ago explodes in a shower of sparks and shattered concrete. The heat from the lightning is intense, the air thick with the smell of ozone and scorched metal.

He grits his teeth, struggling to keep his focus. Tempest is stronger than ever, feeding off the power grid, the electricity in the room swirling around him like a living thing. Every movement is effortless, every attack precise and brutal. Chan’s every muscle aches, and he can feel the burn of his injuries starting to slow him down.

He knows he’s outmatched while Tempest is drawing power from the grid, but there’s no backing down now. The city’s fate—and yours—rests on him holding Tempest off long enough for you to shut down the power.

He darts out from cover, launching himself toward Tempest in a blur of movement. His fists connect with Tempest’s chest in a rapid series of strikes, each punch landing with a dull thud against the villain’s armour. But Tempest barely flinches, his body crackling with electricity, his smirk widening as he grabs Chan by the arm, sending a surge of lightning coursing through him.

Chan screams, his body convulsing in pain as the electricity sears through his nerves. His vision blurs, his muscles locking up as he struggles to break free. Tempest's grip tightens, his laughter booming like thunder as he watches Chan writhe in agony.

"Pathetic," Tempest sneers, throwing Chan across the room like a ragdoll. Chan crashes into a bank of machinery, the sharp edges biting into his back as he collapses to the ground. His chest heaves, his body shaking uncontrollably from the aftershocks of the lightning. Every nerve feels raw, every movement like fire.

For a moment, he can barely move. He hears Tempest’s footsteps approaching, the crackling energy growing louder with each step. Chan’s vision swims as he tries to push himself up, his limbs sluggish, the weight of the fight pressing down on him. Tempest looms over him, the villain’s eyes glowing brighter as he raises his hand, ready to deliver the final blow.

“You’re done, Comet,” Tempest growls. “Your city is done.”

Chan’s breath comes in ragged gasps, his mind racing. He’s out of options, out of strength. But then, through the haze of pain, he thinks of you. You’re trying to shut down the grid—buying him time, risking your life to stop Tempest. He can’t let you down. He can’t let you face this alone.

With a pained groan, Chan forces himself to his feet, swaying slightly as he stands. His body protests every movement, but he grits his teeth, pushing through the pain. He raises his fists, squaring his shoulders as he locks eyes with Tempest. “I’m not done yet,” he growls, his voice filled with defiance.

Tempest’s smile falters for a moment, irritation flashing across his face. “You should’ve stayed down,” he spits, raising both hands, lightning coiling around his arms in a deadly swirl.

The air hums with electric tension, and for a heartbeat, time seems to freeze. Chan braces himself for the incoming strike, every instinct screaming at him to dodge, to move, but his body is slow to respond, his muscles stiff from the earlier shocks. He knows he’s not fast enough. Not this time.

But just as Tempest unleashes the full force of his power, the room suddenly plunges into darkness. The lights flicker once, then die. The hum of electricity disappears, leaving only silence in its wake.

Tempest freezes, his hands still crackling with fading energy, but his powers falter—flickering like a dying flame. His eyes widen in shock as the realization hits him.

The power grid is down.

Chan feels the shift immediately. The oppressive weight of Tempest’s electric aura vanishes, the air stilling as the last crackle of lightning fizzles out. Tempest stumbles, his control over the electric currents slipping through his fingers.

Chan takes the opportunity. With Tempest momentarily weakened, he surges forward, his body moving on pure adrenaline. His fist connects with Tempest’s jaw in a brutal uppercut, sending the villain staggering back. Before Tempest can recover, Chan grabs him by the collar, pulling him close.

“This ends now,” Chan growls through gritted teeth.

Tempest’s eyes widen in fury, but without the power grid to fuel him, his strength is faltering. Chan slams him into the ground, pinning him with a knee to the chest. Tempest struggles, his hands sparking weakly with residual electricity, but it’s no use. The fight has been drained out of him.

From across the room, he hears your voice crackle through the earpiece. “I did it—the power’s down, but—Scott’s here! I need—”

Your voice cuts off suddenly, and Chan’s heart drops.

“Hold on,” he mutters, his grip tightening on Tempest’s collar. He delivers one final punch to the villain, knocking him out cold, before rising to his feet, every part of him screaming in pain. But there’s no time to rest. You’re in danger, and Scott is still out there.

Without hesitation, Chan takes off, sprinting through the now-darkened room, desperate to reach you before it’s too late.

Chan races through the maze of darkened corridors, his heart pounding in his chest, every step driving him closer to you. His breath is ragged, and every muscle in his body aches, but the thought of you alone, facing Scott, fuels him. He can’t let anything happen to you. Not after everything.

He rounds a corner and skids to a halt as he hears voices ahead—yours and Scott’s. The sound sends a chill down his spine, the urgency in your voice mixing with the low, taunting rumble of Scott’s.

“I told you,” Scott says, his tone dripping with mockery. “Your little boyfriend can’t save you. He’s too busy with Tempest to even know you’re in danger.”

Chan’s heart clenches at Scott’s words, and he presses himself against the wall, moving silently toward the source of the sound. He peers around the corner and his blood runs cold.

There you are, backed into a corner near the control panel, Scott towering over you with a cruel smile on his face. His fingers trace a small, menacing blade in his hand, the tip glinting in the dim emergency lights. You’re holding your own, standing tall despite the fear that’s clear in your eyes, but Chan can see the tension in your shoulders.

Chan's breath catches in his throat as he watches the scene unfold. His first instinct is to charge in, but something makes him hesitate, his heart pounding even harder. It's you—there’s something in the way you’re standing, the way your movements subtly inch you towards the metal pipe lying next to the control centre. You’re not just holding your own—you’re planning something.

“I’ve been in worse situations,” you say, your voice tight but steady, the words slipping through gritted teeth. “And you’re not nearly as intimidating as you think.”

Scott laughs, a low, cruel sound. He steps closer, the tip of the blade catching the dim light, and Chan tenses.

“I’m not looking to intimidate,” Scott sneers, “I’m just making a point. Once Tempest brings the city to its knees, people like you won’t have a place anymore. There won’t be anyone to run to. No heroes. No Red Comet to save you.”

You shift slightly, your gaze flickering to the corner of the room. Chan follows, and his heart skips a beat as he spots it – a small metal canister tucked away near the base of one of the computer systems.

“Shut up,” you snap, your voice filled with a fiery determination Chan has always admired in you. “You talk too much.”

Scott’s smirk falters for a second, and in that moment, you move. In one swift motion your hand snatches up the heavy pipe from the floor and, with all the strength you can muster, hurl it towards the canister of compressed air.

The wrench strikes the canister with a sharp clang, and for a heartbeat, nothing happens. Scott’s eyes widen, his smirk faltering as he processes what you’ve just done. Then, with a deafening whoosh, the canister bursts open, releasing a blast of compressed air with explosive force. The sudden eruption knocks over machinery, sending a wave of sparks into the air, and ignites a small fire as it hits an exposed electrical panel.

Chan darts in, fear spiking as the room plunges into chaos.

Scott stumbles back, his arrogant composure shattering as the explosion disorients him. He throws his arms up to shield his face from the heat and debris, his confident swagger replaced with pure instinctual panic.

"WHAT—" Scott shouts, but his words are drowned out by the roar of the flames licking at the side of the control panel, smoke curling into the air. The ground trembles beneath your feet as the machinery in the room jolts, sparking uncontrollably from the burst.

You dive forward, using the confusion to close the distance between you and Scott. He’s still reeling, eyes darting around the room in shock, trying to regain his bearings, but you’re faster. You slam your shoulder into him, knocking him off balance. His knife clatters to the floor as he stumbles, barely catching himself on the edge of a console.

“No more talking,” you grit out, grabbing a broken-off piece of equipment from the floor. You swing it with precision, striking Scott’s leg just below the knee. He cries out, collapsing to the floor in a heap, pain and fury etched across his face.

You step back, panting heavily, and spot Chan. He’s standing in the doorway, his chest heaving with exertion, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and relief. For a moment, the noise and confusion around you both seem to fade, leaving only the two of you. His gaze flickers from you to Scott lying on the floor, and then back to you. He can’t help but be overwhelmed with pride for you.

He rushes forward, dodging a sparking cable that snaps to the ground beside him. “Are you hurt?” he asks, his voice filled with barely contained urgency. His hands hover near your shoulders, wanting to touch, to check for injuries.

“I’m fine,” you breathe out, though your hands tremble. “I had it under control.”

Chan shakes his head, disbelief mingling with a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I saw that.”

Before he can finish, a groan from the floor snaps both of your attention back to Scott, who is struggling to push himself up, his face contorted in pain. His eyes, wild with anger, lock onto you and Chan, but there’s a flicker of something else there—fear.

“You think this is over?” Scott spits, his voice hoarse and filled with venom. “Tempest is already—”

“-is already beaten.” Chan cuts in, his voice low and dangerous. He steps forward, his body tensed like a spring coiled up, waiting for a release. Scott’s arrogant demeanour falters. His eyes flicker between you and Chan, weighing his options, and for the first time, it’s clear—he knows he’s lost control.

Scott's face twists in frustration as he struggles to comprehend his downfall. His once smooth and confident façade now appears cracked, broken by the realization that his carefully orchestrated plan has failed.

"You’re finished," Chan growls, stepping closer, his presence looming over Scott like a shadow. "Tempest is down, and your men are scattered. It’s over."

Scott’s jaw clenches, his hands balling into fists as he scrambles to pull himself together, grasping for the last shred of control. "You don’t understand," he spits. "You might’ve stopped me here, but this city... it’s already rotting. You can’t save everyone, and when it crumbles, you’ll fall with it."

Chan’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t flinch. "Maybe. But not today."

With a final blow, Chan knocks him unconscious. The room falls silent except for the distant crackle of the damaged electronics and the faint hum of the emergency lights flickering on.

As Chan turns to face you, his features softened in the dim light, a sense of relief washes over both of you.

He steps closer, searching your eyes for any lingering fear or doubt. But instead, he only finds exhaustion and a shared understanding of what you’ve both just survived. His hand reaches out, cupping your cheek gently as his thumb brushes against your skin, wiping away the smudge of ash from the battle.

His breath hitches, the emotion of it all threatening to overwhelm him as you stare at each other. He takes a deep breath, pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly, afraid to let go. You cling to him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours, a grounding rhythm to remind you that you’re both still here.

“I’m not letting you go,” Chan says softly, his voice thick with emotion. “Not now, not ever.”

You smile, your heart swelling as you look into his eyes. “Good,” you whisper back. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

And in that moment, with the city still buzzing in the background, the chaos subsiding, and the weight of the battle falling away, Chan closes the gap between you, pulling his mask out of the way, and kisses you. It’s slow and deliberate, filled with the kind of tenderness that only comes from knowing that you’ve both found each other on the other side of something dark and dangerous.

And as you pull back, resting your forehead against his, he knows that whatever the future holds, you’ll face it together.

You look up at him, your eyes sparkling under the glowing light of the plant. A small, soft smile curves your lips, your face contorting as if you’ve remembered something important. “I love you.”

Chan’s entire body stutters at your words. His breath catches, and for a moment, he’s complete still, feeling like the world has stopped spinning around him.

“I love you,” you repeat, your voice quieter now, more certain. The words hang in the air between you, vulnerable and raw, yet filled with a warmth that settles into every corner of the moment.

Chan exhales slowly, his grip on you tightening just a little, as if anchoring himself to the reality of what you’ve just said. His hand slides up to cup your face, his thumb brushing tenderly across your cheek. He opens his mouth, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I love you too. And I don’t know how to do that without pulling you into this fight, but I know that I can’t keep pretending that I don’t feel this.”

The world outside might be chaotic, and the battles ahead uncertain, but right here, in this moment, everything feels clear.

Chan pulls back slightly, looking down at you with a smile that’s equal parts relief and joy. “Whatever happens next, we’ve got this,” he says softly, his voice steady with conviction.

And you know, without a doubt, that he’s right.

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 11 months

Text

Pretty like the wind

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a/n: part ten! Surprise! Thought I would treat you all. 🤫🫨🫂

warning: kids, past trauma, blood, mention of puking, wounds, Illyrian camps, alcohol, smoking, nightmares.

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The wind blew behind the window. Steady tapping and hoots echoed through the empty house. Even the flame in the fireplace seemed to sway to the melody of the wind. You sat in one of the plush chairs. Feet tucked beneath you. A blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Yet it didn't seem to warm you. Nothing seemed to warm you these days. No matter what you did, you always felt a chilly sensation twirling deep within you.

Your eyes felt heavy. Sleep was another thing that did not come easy. You had tried, but the longest you had managed to stay put was an hour, and after that, you had been up, pacing the rooms. Worry ripping at your skin. You had hoped to see Azriel once you could manage to lift yourself from the bed, but he had done everything he could to avoid you. I don't want to accept it. Your voice echoed through your mind. If only you could take them back. Go back in time and scratch it all up. Explain it all to Azriel before asking him for time. Before saying that you simply couldn't do it now, it didn't mean that you didn't want it in the end. You did want him, but then, did he want you?

A sickness crept up your throat, and you stood quickly. Waiting for the nausea to subside. Home. You wanted to go home. The only issue was that you no longer knew where home was. Was it back in the sanctuary? At Cordelia's? With Azriel? A cold shiver ran down your back, your skin growling clammy. When you stated to Rhys that you wanted to be escorted to the sanctuary, he simply shook his head. "What do you mean, no? You can't deny me...", but the high lord only gave you a tight smile and said, "It's Azriel's order. You're to stay in the house of wind".

You had let out a huff, "I'm not a prisoner! And if he wants to order me around, he better grow a pair and do it himself". Rhys had only laughed at your words, tilting his head back in clear delight. He was enjoying this way too much, this smug ass. "You sure keep him humbled", the high lord snickered. But his delight soon faded, "You'll be safe in the house of wind, Y/N. We both know there are many more males..." You had turned to the high lord at such speed that you nearly gave yourself a whiplash. "That wants me dead. Then let them. Let's end this and move on", you said through gritted teeth. "I can't", Rhys said bluntly, "I couldn't back then and especially can't now when my brother's life is linked with yours".

Panic rose over your body. Your hands trembled as you moved to walk once more. You couldn't sit still. You couldn't. Taking in a sharp breath, you plunged within your heart, trying to find that barely flicking bond. Trying to tug. Trying to... Azriel, you called, your voice barely a whisper. Of course, you guessed it. You might have practically grown up between the iron walls, but you knew what mates were. Or you had suspected. But you had never allowed yourself the time and luxury to dream of such things. They would make one weak. And there was no kindness in...

The sound of footsteps made you whirl back. Eyes catching a glimpse of a tiny frame. Zofie peered through the corner, earless in her hand. The poor empath had been exhausted. With you and Axel in distress, she was barely managing to juggle the emotions everyone felt. From anger to heartbreak. Yet she stood through it all, unyielding. You opened your arms for the little girl without a second thought. After all, the two of them were all you had. Zofie's bare feet tapped against the wooden floor.

"Why are you up, little one?", you asked softly as she nuzzled deeper into your embrace. "Is Mr. Earless snoring again?", brushing her messy raven hair, you smiled down at her. Zofie only shook her head, "Do your hands hurt?", she asked you instead, cutting the chase. Wanting to know the source of your discomfort. "No, Zo, nothing hurts. I'm just not tired, baby", you hoped your lies struck the truth for her, but the girl only tilted her head to the side. Eyeing up the dark bags beneath your eyes. The grayish tint your skin had gained. "Is it your back?", the girl asked, her eyes big as she looked at you. Her question stole the breath from your lungs, but you quickly shook your head.

"I promise, you don't have to worry", you said, cupping her cheek. Zofie bit her lip, her eyes darting towards the window. "I miss Azriel", she admitted finally. She had been the one who had taken the spymaster's absence the hardest. Or more like the one who showed her emotions openly regarding that. You knew that Axel also missed Azriel. The boy had scrubbed drawings of him but hidden them beneath his bed so no one would see them. You caught glimpses of him trying to train throughout the day. Then frustration would strike when he would lose his balance and Azriel wasn't there to catch him or correct his movements. Angry tears followed suit. Come back; you would call in moments like that; come back for them at least, please. But it was the same unbreakable wall you hit all the time. Icy yet thick with shrouded thorns.

"He doesn't like us anymore, doesn't he? If it's because of what Ax said,", the girl rambled on, her eyes building up with tears. You asshole, you banged your fists against the cold wall Azriel had built between the two of you, I hope you're seeing this. But you bit through the anger. Because you couldn't. You could hurt yourself. You can suffocate, but not them. Not the kids. "Listen to me; what I said that day, I said because I was upset", you cupped her already crimson cheeks. "Azriel loves you two; he's just...", Your words trailed off, "He's away on a mission, hence why he hasn't been here for a while. But he will come see you both when he returns". The hope that bloomed in Zofie's golden eyes made you want to let out a sob. She held onto your hands. "Will he actually?", you nodded your head without hesitation. You'd find a way to make him see them at least one last time. You would find a way. "Good", Zofie nodded quickly, "Axel has written him an apology letter, and I drew him a picture. He'll have to read it". Her innocent voice was so full of hope that it made your eyes sting.

Azriel could barely see through the cloud of smoke he puffed out. He was not the one to use stimulants like that. The state of intoxication always left him uneasy. His sharp senses dulled out. And Azriel held himself to high standards. He always needed to be in shape and prepared to act and make decisions. But the past week had been nothing but a mercy cloud of whatever herbs he had snatched from a local dealer. The longing and pull were so strong that the spymaster was ready to do everything to keep you off his mind.

But he failed. Failed at late night hours the most. During the day, he felt you struggling on the other side, kicking at his mental shields and scraping your nails at them. So he knew you were well if you had the energy for all that. It's at night when it all halted that all the lingering fears slip into Azriel's head. What ifs swirling around. And when he no longer managed to grasp you on the other side, he would winnow. Winnow to the house of wind. He would walk through the quiet house until he was right in front of your slumbering figure.

Most nights, he watched you and the kids like that. One of you would stir, and he would turn into nothing more than a shadow. There were nights when Azriel dared to brush his fingers over your forehead or run his hand over one of the kids' backs soothingly. Azriel hoped that he wouldn't have to deal with their distress. But it lingered all over. Zofie's tiny body seemed even smaller, and that alone ripped out a chunk of the spymaster's heart.

"Maker", Azriel's head jerked up to the sound of an empty bottle rolling across the floor. A handful of curses followed suit. "Ah, that's a handful more than when we checked last time", Cassian's voice ran through the hallway. "He's alive", the lord of bloodshed cheered, clapping his hands, but he only earned a huff from his high lord, "Shut it, Cass". Azriel knew that he should go and greet them. That was part of the Nothing Bad Is Going On Act, scene three. But he couldn't be bothered tonight. Not after he heard you sobbing through the bond. Crying till you turned to heave. His blood was burning from the neglect. Everything in his body screamed for him to go, but he stayed lying on a messy mattress. He had never bothered to buy a bed frame. He never cared.

"You are unbelievable", an old shirt flicked onto Azriel's chest. He didn't need to move to feel Rhys's angry gaze. "Get your ass up; we're going to train", the high lord ordered, nudging Azriel's leg with his foot. It was almost funny how not long ago they all grumbled about Nesta's living condition. Alcohol consumption. And here he was. The spymaster of the night court. Azriel draped an arm over his tired eyes. "I told you to come here only when it was necessary", the shadowsinger muttered. Hoping to usher these busybodies away.

"It is important", Rhys shuffled behind, no doubt picking up the empty bottles. "You are wasting away", Rhys had gone easy on Azriel with work. It almost felt like a full-circle moment. Azriel couldn't help but remember how Rhys had wept after he realized that Feyre was his mate and the girl had gone back with Tamlin. "Come on, Az, this is insane", even Cassian's voice held a thread of worry, but Azriel couldn't find it in himself to care. He had been selfish once again. So what was the reason?

"How is she?", the words slipped past Azriel's lips before he even realized it. No matter what he did, you were always on his mind. No matter what he did, getting rid of your presence in his senses seemed impossible. "I have an insane suggestion for you", Cassian answered, no doubt getting fed up. "You will be shocked when I'll tell you ", Cassian kneeled next to his brother, poking at his side before saying, "How about you go check yourself?"

Azriel only rolled his eyes. Everyone was urging him to speak. Even his mother had scolded him. "You'll grow to regret this, boy", she said, pointing a warning finger at him and shaking her head. But you said it yourself—I don't want to accept it. And for the third time in his life, Azriel was left to be a fool. Mor. Elain. Now his mate. One he had dreamed for as long as he remembered.

Azriel shook his head as he moved to sit up. Head pounding from the alcohol and the lack of sleep, "She doesn't want to do anything with me", those words stung because you had been barging into his mind without a break. "You don't know that", Rhys said, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at Azriel. "Did you let her explain herself, or did you tuck your tail beneath your legs and run?", the high lord huffed. Azriel shot him an angry look. "Fuck you", the spymaster barked. Rhys only nodded, "Mature, get your ass up". But Azriel stayed seated. Trying to win the staring contest. "You gave up on them real quick", but Cassian didn't get to finish because Azriel had his hand on his brother's neck. The lord of bloodshed pressed against the nearest wall. "I. Did. Not. Give. Up. On. Them", Azriel snared each and every word through gritted teeth. His hand jabbed against the middle of Cass's neck. He's been feeling so on edge. So in need to punch something. He had shattered the mirror in his bathroom but it did little to soothe his frustration. Cassian didn't back away as he snarled back, pushing against his brother, "Then go to her; she's practically walked holes in the floor up there". Azriel pulled back. He turned away from him to brush his fingers through his hair. He needed a distraction. Something. Anything to keep his mind off this.

"Do you have the reports from the camp?", he turned to Rhys. Cassian pulled at Azriel's arm, "Don't change the topic, ass". But Spymaster ignored him, his eyes on Rhys. "Do you?", he repeated the question. "I do", Rhys said calmly, not a single trace of emotion on his face. "Give them to me", Azriel extended his palm towards Rhys, who only looked down at it, not amused. "No", the high lord said simply, "It involves information that's... sensitive". Azriel let out a huffed laugh, "Bullshit". He stepped closer to the high lord, who simply raised his palm, silencing the male, "Azriel, enough". Azriel gritted his teeth in return, "You can walk yourself out", he barked out, turning from the two males as he reached for another bottle.

You were braiding Zofie's hair when a dark swirl appeared in the living room. Your breath hitched. Hope blooming in your stomach. But it all fizzled out as quickly as it sprouted. It was Rhsy, Feyre right next to him. The kids instantly stood up, bowing. You couldn't help but smile. The two had been mesmerized by the high lord and lady. To Axel Rhys was still a floating head, but since the high lord didn't seem to mind the constant reminder of that, the boy continued to wave that card around.

"To what do we own the pleasure", You stood as well, smiling at the two. You looked like a rag doll that's been dragged through dirt compared to their neatly pressed clothes. "You all should come to have dinner with us", Rhys said calmly, that cat-like smile on his lips. Feyre nodded to her mate's words, "Staying stuffed in here doesn't help. I'm sure"; you knew that the high lady had spent her fair share of days here herself. "The paintings keep me entertained", you gestured to the painted furniture and the colorful walls. A laugh slipped past her lips as she too looked around.

"You can take the kids. It'll be nice for them to see Nyx", you ruffled Axel's hair, and the boy instantly stepped forward, reaching for the high lady. Zofie followed suit. But it was Rhys who wasn't too pleased with that decision. At least not fully. "I don't want to leave you here alone", the male stated, his eyes darker than moments ago. "I'll be fine", you said, smiling at him, but he didn't return the gesture. "Rhys, I'll be fine", you stated once again, not failing to catch a glimpse of worry that flashed across his face. Worry that seeped into your bones, "What is it? Did something happen to Azriel? The high lord shook his head quickly. "No, no", he reassured you, "I just revisited the day I brought you to the sanctuary". You reached to clasp his hand, trying to suppress the shiver that ran through you, "Don't think about it. It's not worth it".

You felt as if you were on fire but also freezing at the same time. Your back felt sore; you didn't remember the mattress feeling so hard. You moved your finger over the surface, halting when you didn't feel the plush material beneath you. Solid, cold ground met the tips of your fingers. You sat up quickly. No. No. No. There was no way. The breeze flew past you. The only comfort left for you. The camp buzzed around you. People were walking past. A lady let go of her daughter, the girl rushing to thread a wildflower through the bars. No. You crawled toward her. Hands reaching for the iron polls. "Please", you breathed. "Tell them", but the girl only laughed as she hurried away. You pushed your hand through the gap, trying to wave her over again. Wave anyone over. But no one stopped. No one listened. No one answered.

You jolted up. Cold sweat dripping down your body. You quickly pushed the blanket off. You must have fallen asleep while waiting for Rhys to bring the kids back. You reached for the wood, throwing a couple of logs into the fire. The floor creaked behind you, making you jump. Hiss fell from your lips when the back of your leg met the flame blazing behind you. You leaped forward, hissing, hand-moving to run down the sore spot. And then it echoed again. The same noise. The same footsteps as that night. A glass hit the ground. You jumped forward without a single thought. Yanking the door open, bare feet sinking into the fresh snow as you ran.

Azriel's eyes shot open. He wasn't in deep sleep; he was sure of it. The sleep he had managed to slip into was simply gray. Dreamless. There was no sound. Nothing seemed off. Until an ache ran through him. His feet grew cold. A shiver. Azriel sat up. His senses perked up. Something was wrong. But none of his shadows posted at the watch spots had been triggered. And then the same images of the ever-recurring nightmare flashed through his eyes. The snow. The river. Arrows. The delicate white turned a deep shade of red. And then, as if all at once, your panic hit his chest. Making him growl. "Y/N", he muttered. "Find her", Azriel roared, shadows leaping into the night as the spymaster stood, broad shadows filling the space as he too winnowed.

You had no idea where you were running. You knew that the only way down the mountain was a handful of stairs, but you couldn't find them. They were snowed in. Had to be. The wind blew right through you. The silk nightgown did nothing to protect your skin. But you didn't care; you had to get away. You would never go back. They would never... Your foot slipped. Your body weight shifted as you tumbled to the ground. Sliding down the side of the peak. Nails digging into the frozen ground, hoping to catch onto something, anything.

You hit the ground with a thud, the snow breaking the fall slightly. Stars danced in the corners of your vision, but the voice inside your head urged you to get going. You turned to get up, reaching for a branch, only to feel it snap beneath your weight. A frustrated cry slipped past your lips. The snowstorm was picking up. A dark shadow flew over your head. "No", you muttered, hurrying to pick yourself up, darting towards the dead trees, trying to leap between them. Branches caught onto the thin material, ripping slits into it, scratching your skin. You had to get away. If you could just make it down the hill, someone would...

A hand gripped your shoulder, and you let out a scream, trying to duck away. But the grip didn't ease. You trashed in their grip with all that you had. "Y/N", a voice roared. "No", you said, trying to claw your way out. "Y/N", it called once more, "Love." Darkness swallowed you as two huge wings spread over your body. Your eyes followed the curve of it.

"Look at me, hey", a warm palm touched your cheek, making you blink a couple of times. Azriel stood right in front of you. Eyes filled with worry. "What are you doing? Are you out of your mind?", he huffed, looking down at your scratched-up body. But you didn't care; you couldn't... Stepping forward, you wrapped your arms around his neck, shaking. Azriel didn't miss a beat, his arms wrapping around your delicate frame. Hissing at the coldness of your skin.

"You're barefoot; Mother strike me", he huffed, dipping to pull you up into his arms. "We can't go", you said, shaking your head, making Azriel frown. "We can't; there's someone. They are in the house", the spymaster only watched you. Purple lips. Teary eyes. Bloody fingers. "No one can get into the house beside us, love", Azriel muttered, watching your terrified eyes. How was he able to walk away? Leave you like this... After it all... The spymaster gritted his teeth. "Let's get you warmed up", he muttered, shooting up into the sky.

You stayed by the same fireplace, feet dunked in a warm water bath made by Azriel. He was walking through the house, checking every single door and every window. Right now, you couldn't tell him what was part of your dream and what happened actually. Everything you heard and felt mushy, mixed up together, but Azriel didn't press.

"Nothing seems broken. It's probably just the wind", he muttered, handing you a cup of tea. Oh, how the tables had turned. "You need to get out of the damp clothes", Azriel said bluntly. "It's fine", you muttered, not lifting your eyes up. "You're in a bloody silk nightgown that's drenched", his voice picked up. Whatever you still had on your body, left very little to the imagination. The swell of your breasts was visible through the damp material clinging to your skin, and the slit, a tree so gracefully granted you, finished right over your hip.

"Azriel", you breathed, closing your eyes. This was the last thing you wanted to talk about right now. "Where are the kids?", Azriel muttered, no doubt having looked for them in the rooms. "At Rhys's. I thought seeing Nyx would cheer them up", you breathed out, setting the cup of tea down. The mug felt scorching hot in your frozen palms. "They miss you", you added after a moment, finally daring to look up. Only to be met with that same mask of coldness. Unapproachable mountain. "I don't think so", he huffed, even if deep down he knew that he was wrong. It was easier to stay away if he kept telling himself that. "You're petty over something a scared child told you?", you shook your head, huffing. "Something YOU told them", Azriel stepped closer, pointing a finger at you. Watching as a flash of guilt ripped through you. Hating the way you lowered your gaze instantly.

"Have you seen her", it was petty to ask. If he wanted, he could. You had grown jealous of her in the past week. Of how she had Azriel in ways you hadn't. "What if I have?", Azriel's words made a shiver run down your back. An angry tear slipped down your cheek. Azriel's face fell at the sight of that, his anger and frustration fizzing out as he turned to kneel in front of you. "I haven't. I swear I haven't. I didn't... I didn't even think of her once", he said in one breath. He was desperate now to chase the ache that bloomed in his chest.

"Do you see why I don't want it now? Don't want it like this?", you breathed out. "You're not over her, and I'm not here", you said, shaking your head. "Elain chose Lucien; they are mated", Azriel said firmly. "It didn't stop you last time", you muttered, turning away from him. "They are happy, she settled. Y/N, they walked in there after fucking", he exclaimed. Frustration dripping off him. "And the only woman I want to bend over and...", he halted, his chest raising up and down frantically.

"I know how it goes. The frenzy and all", you rubbed your palms together, "I'm not ready for that". Your voice sounded so small, and it ripped at Azriel. He moved to hook a finger beneath your chin. "Do you think I would do anything against your will?", "I didn't want you to leave, but you did", a shiver ran down Azriel's back. Not only did he leave, he didn't answer your calls for a week. Too deep in self-pity. "I'm sorry", Azriel muttered, closing his eyes and dipping his head. "I just...", he muttered, "My whole life, I've been waiting for you, and the thought of you rejoicing me... it blinded me".

You watched him for a moment—a male so big, looking so small—in front of you. You leaned closer to him, cupping his cheek. Tugging on the bond slightly. Making the sides of Azriel's lips curve up. "I want you... just...", you swallowed thickly, the images of your nightmare swirling at the tip of your tongue, "Be patient with me".

"I'm sorry for how I reacted", Azriel said, moving to thread his fingers through your hair, "There's no rush. I told you, I'll wait, and I will". You leaned closer to him, resting your forehead against his. Breathing him in. "But you do need to change because I'm only a man", he huffed, making you let out a laugh. "Is this too seductive for you, sir?", you purred, making Azriel growl. "You will be a death for me, sweet", his hand gripped your hips just how he liked it, slippery silk bunching up in his palms.

His lips brushed just over yours before he pulled away. "Can I kiss you?", Azriel muttered, inches away from you. You tilted your head back slightly, suddenly feeling giddy. "A bit late to ask that, no?" Azriel shook his head, his palm nestling in the crook of your neck as he pulled you closer. "Yes or no?", lustful need swirled in his golden orbs, but he waited for your answer regardless. "Why don't you try and find out", you hummed, unraveling the last bits of Azriel's self-control.

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

Taglist: @naturakaashi @hoemadegrace @just-m-2 @thereadinggremlin @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @caroline-books

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel imagine #azriel acotar x reader #azriel acotar imagine #azriel acotar #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar imagine #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger

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lovezbrownies · 3 months

Note

I wanna make a request for Yandere Bully, Lauren if that's alright?

Scenario: every single day, since the reader transferred to her school, they always have very visible injuries on their face and body. (ex: a broken arm in a cast, a leg brace, bruises and swollen eye sockets, broken nose etc.) Reader comes to school with these injuries nearly every day.

Then, it turns out that the reader is part of an underground fight club where the reader fights and gets beaten up every single night because they're poor and need to earn money for their sick mother's treatment.

I am so sorry for the delay! Very very long one ! :3

Lauren's Masterlist + General Masterlist

Synopsis: How would Lauren react to seeing you hurt all the time?

Lauren McCanister x GN!Reader

Warnings: Physical assault, fighting, bullying, isolation, crossing boundaries, stalking, made up illness, usual Lauren activities!, slightly edited!

“Mom, how can I tell the difference between injuries made on purpose and injuries made by accident?”

“Why do you ask, Laurie?”

“Something suspicious has been happening with my darling as of late, constantly comes to school in pain. Various bruises, broken limbs, and random swelling.”

“Hm… Let’s go to the big whiteboard in the lab, the living room whiteboard won’t be enough. Bring your notebook.”

You hiss in pain, trying to sit on your desk as gently as possible to not anger the arm whose bones you’ve broken two days ago at the last fight you attended. Thankfully it was only your arm, had it been your leg you wouldn’t have been able to participate in tomorrow’s fight. The underground society’s rules are twisted, any broken limbs are okay to fight with, even if both your arms are shattered, but if it were your leg? Not a chance would they let you register another fight. You couldn’t care less if you were battered and beaten almost to death, as long as you had enough to pay for your mom’s medical bills for the month.

Your mother’s been sick for a while, and you’re her only hope to get her better. And even if she was terminally ill with little to no chance that she’d make it into the next year you will make sure that year would be the most fulfilling, joyful, healthy year for her. Your mother’s done so much for you as you’ve grown, sure maybe there’s been a few bumps along the way but there always will be when you have a parent. Either way, you will make sure she’s treated, you will make sure she gets better, and you are sure she will heal and become healthy once more.

Since you’ve changed schools you haven’t exactly been a very social butterfly. Not making any new friends in the new one and neglecting your friends from the old one, far too busy to partake in any friendships. One individual, in particular, hadn’t stopped bothering you, however, harassing and bullying you since you joined the school. Lauren McCanister, the most popular girl in school, a jock, gorgeous, and incredibly smart. She’d chase after you and obsessively harass you until either school was over or when you finally reached your home. Lauren for some unknown reason loved to follow you home, of course, while verbally abusing you along the way.

One very strange thing about your bully is she’s far too worried about your health for her to count as a bully anymore. An everyday occurrence it is, with your broken arm and bruises scattered around your body, she’d cornered you like a Lion, “Fuck’s this? Again? What, you broke your arm when you were cooking and juggling the ingredients but fell down the oil you spilled before that? Fucking likely with how ridiculous your damn stories are, I know these aren’t self-inflicted dickhead, who did this? What’s their name? Do you know them personally? I hope you know you’re m-min- Ugh, you’re my-my um… Whatever! You’re not supposed to be hurt! Get hurt one more time I will find who did it and kill them! Good lord…”

Excited shouts sound out, and you breathe in and out, today is another fight, and another fight tomorrow, and as many as you can until your mom’s happy and healthy again. It was almost instinct at this point, go on the offensive immediately, get a few strong punches in, go on the defensive then trap your opponent in a death grip before throwing them down to the floor where you then proceed to beat them up until the ref says signals the winner, that is you, that they’ve won. After that is all the stupid celebrations and drinks and whatnot, you prefer to leave before anyone pulls you into a celebratory party. You’d rather take the money you owe tonight and get the hell out of there.

“Hey! Rel, wait!!!” Just as you are about to go to your manager for the cash someone calls out for you. Calling out a nickname only your fellow fighters use, it stood for Relentless Pain which is the name your manager gave you after a few fights. Looking back it was two other fighters who were also under your manager. “Oh sorry, what’s up?” Dick (Dick Crusher) smirked as he and Skull (Super Skull) neared you.

Leaning into you Dick spoke into your ear, he needed to get close so you can hear him through the crowd, “I didn’t know you had such a hottie for a girlfriend!” Confused, you gave Dick a perplexed look, Skull leaned in to speak in your other ear, “Yeah! Like super super hot! She’s blonde, green eyes, really fucking tall, but in a dominatrix hot way, ya know?” Blonde, green eyes, and tall… Only one person you know of matches that description, and no way in god’s name will you let that evil bitch know you work here, else she’d use this shit against you.

This can’t be real, first, she torments you in your personal life, and now she wants to do the same in your work life? Lauren can eat shit you won’t let her take this away from you, you needed this job, and knowing Lauren she’d do anything to ruin your reputation. You panic, grabbing Dick and Skull’s respective shoulders, “What?! No way! Give someone my spare costume and have them pretend to be me, man! She’s insane! A-A stalker or something!” Panic settles into the duo’s faces as they realize the weight of what you’ve said.

Dick grabbed your hand, rubbing it softly, “We got you man don’t worry, we’ll make sure she never knows you’re here!” Skull follows up while taking off their jacket, “Here, take my jacket, you don’t gotta worry about a thing!” You muttered a soft thanks as you put on the jacket Dick offered, immediately running out of the nightclub the underground fight club is hosted in. You didn’t want to risk a thing, so you ran home, as fast as you could.

“Hey, lady! Here they are! The Relentless Painnn!!” Moron One called out to her, extending the word ‘pain’ as Lauren turns around, finally, you’re here! Finally, she can get an explain to her what you’re doing here, why you’re getting yourself hurt over an- “Who the fuck is this?!” Lauren exclaimed as she took a good look at the wimp claiming to be her darling. They were scrawny, hunched over, and had so little muscle it almost made her laugh.

Moron Two stepped forward, hands raised in the air, “Listen, man, you told me to get my best buddy, the Relentless Pain, and I did! Now, we will-”

“Shut the fuck up, you absolute buffoon, if you value your life and family I’d suggest you get me MY Relentless Pain, or else I will make sure you will regret the very day you were born you absolutely pathetic piece of TRASH!” Lauren cut Moron Two off as she yells at the two ridiculously dressed nincompoops, the other nincompoop cowering in fear behind them both. Her darling wouldn’t fucking cower in fear! Her darling eats fear for breakfast!

Lauren growled, rolling her sleeves up due to frustration, “I fucking saw them! I saw them on the stage and this wasn’t them! My [Name] isn’t some fucking wimp! My [Name] has a fucking broken arm and this moron doesn-” It then hit her, this wasn’t some stupid mistake, this was all on purpose, to give you the time to run away from her before she can find you. Now she is confused and furious, why would you run away from your girlfriend? And why the hell would you run away from your girlfriend.

Lauren ran out of the dressing room, the two morons calling out to her but she had better priorities than those idiots! She continued to run, bumping into several people until she finally made it out of the nightclub, there wasn’t a single soul out there, except for some person wearing a hoodie, and walking away from the club, but Lauren was sure it couldn’t be you. You were wearing your fighting clothes, not a hoodie and shorts, but then again… Moron One had a jacket on when she first met them, but when they came back they didn’t have it on…

Was that damn bastard trying to hide you away from her? Fucking idiot won’t know what’s coming, but now she has to deal with you. Lauren calls out to you, she needs you. “Hey! You! Come back here!” She yells out at you, as you look back at her slightly, you face still hidden, and suddenly… The figure books it, running faster than she’s ever seen you run!

You couldn’t be stupid enough to run away from her right? You know how fast she can run, don’t you? Cause this little act is going to give you more trouble later on, that’s for damn sure. Lauren scoffs and starts running after you, this chase reminds her of the predator and prey dynamic, especially with how much you’ve been looking back as she nears you. It… It turned her on… Sure, she felt a little shameful, but she’s a sadistic bastard, Predator-Prey dynamics are her bread and butter!

With lust on her side, she caught up to you pretty easily, grabbing your arm and stopping fully, pulling you back into her, laying your head on her chest… Except it wasn’t you, it was some… weirdo! ”Ew!!!” Lauren exclaimed, sick to her stomach over the fact she let some rando touch her. The weirdo stuttered out a few words, “I-I-I’m s-so sorry!! I’ll p-pay the-the bill I swear!” They shuffled around their jacket pockets, quickly taking out their wallet and handing it to Lauren. Which the lady then proceeded to push him to the ground and stomp back to her car, beyond furious over tonight’s events.

Maybe she was wrong, maybe you didn’t work at the club… No, hell no. McCanisters are never fucking wrong, and she will get it out of you one way or another.

Another day, another fight. It’s been two days since the Lauren incident, and surprisingly she hasn’t brought it up at all, maybe she wasn’t there, maybe it was some other hot tall blond! But you couldn’t think of any other person who’d claim they’re your girlfriend that looks like her, whatever, as long as she doesn’t ruin your career you couldn’t give more of a shit anymore. You spent the rest of the day as you usually do, hoping to god that this time she won’t try and catch you in the fighting club.

And of course, god doesn’t listen, as one could see the predatory Lauren had pushed you into an empty classroom, she straddled you and pinned both hands to the floor, careful not to put too much pressure on your broken arm, and before you could try and recover she had used her head to point to the sole desk in the room, where a camera was recording you both. She looked so damn smug you almost wanted to beat the hell out of her for humiliating you like this, for always taking advantage of you, for making you feel miserable any time of day.

“Be careful with what you do to me, darling, there’s a camera recording every single thing, and many more that I hid-” Lauren threatened but you couldn’t sit still and let her do whatever sick thing she wanted to do! You wiggled as hard as you could, managing to get a hand out of her grasp. The moment of hope quickly is stolen away from you as Lauren captures your wrist once again, “God damn it stay fucking still!” She screamed, accidentally spitting on your face, making you wince in disgust you were temporarily distracted and the spit aided in stopping your resistance.

The woman above you panted heavily, the smug smirk that was previously on her face has been replaced by a strong grimace, her hands tight around your own, and her legs tightly pressed against yours. This was bad, horrible. You were at a disadvantage, fight back and you have no life. Lauren’s the town’s princess, and if you dare hit her you will become ruined, fired from both jobs, no money to pay for your mother’s medicine, and no way out of the town with no money and no car.

Then, a strange sound suddenly cuts through the tension. She… Lauren was laughing, wildly even, as if she was reading your very thoughts, as her laughs slowly tuned out she shifted her face closer and closer to yours, noses now touching, her hair covering your peripherals, “Tell me. Why are you always hurt? And don’t lie to me or I swear to god you’ll have more than a broken arm after this.” Why is she so obsessed with what you do in your free time? Why does she want to know why you’re always in pain? Lauren hates you for all you know, always berating you day in and day out, so why so… needy?

You sighed, trying to look the other way, yet you couldn't see anything other than blond hair flowing all around you, to tell her or not to tell her… That is the question… Then you felt Lauren dig her nails deep into your wrist, she smirked as you yelped in surprise, looking back up at her, “Answer me.” Lord, she’s nosy… Either you answer and she tells everyone, which can lead to your arrest due to how illegal underground fighting is, leaving your poor mother all alone, or you don’t answer and she does some other fucking thing to ruin your life. One can never escape a McCanister with their sane intact still.

“You want to know? Soo badly? Fine, I fight in an underground fighting club, there. You can let me fucking go now, right? Since you’re going to ruin my life one way or another anyway right? Just let me have a lick of freedom before you sick the police on-”

“God, shut up. I’m not going to do anything, jeez why the hell do you see me that way?” She literally threatened your life two seconds ago, “Why are you fighting? You don’t need the money, aren’t you on financial aid?” Lauren asks question after question and it’s getting on your last damn nerve. Is any of this necessary? Should you genuinely be putting up with this? And all for what? To not make Princess mad? Who the fuck cares you have less than a year to get out of this hell hole and you couldn’t care less if she ruins your reputation, as long as you can still make enough money for your mom.

You rolled your eyes, sighing. It was fairly easy to overtake her strength, she may be a jock but you’re an athlete. You quickly turned the table on her, her now on the floor while you stood high above her, brushing yourself off. “You found out what you wanted, why I fight is none of your business, Lauren.” And you attempted to storm off, yet the classroom door was locked shut. Looking back at the blushing Lauren on the floor, you ask, “Why did you close the door, Lauren…?” Chuckling softly the woman on the floor slowly gets up, dusting off her skirt. She walked up to you, head held high.

A smirk was plastered on, her face full of mischief. “I had a feeling you’d do something like that, so I had someone lock it after I got you in here! And they won’t open the door until I send them a voice note specifically telling them to, so you have no way out until you tell me the whole truth, silly!” Her smirk only extended to a full-blown Cheshire smile, tilting her head to the side Lauren looked deeply into your eyes, expecting her demands to be met.

This was a bad position, cameras watching your every move, a witness outside who is also the only way out. You couldn’t attack her and get away with it, breaking open any windows would take too long, and she probably already has that solved as well. Looking off to the side you let out a scoff, “Why’re you so obsessed with me? Don’t you hate me or something? You know with all the harassment, I thought you’d enjoy me being beaten up.” You honestly expressed to Lauren, though her only response was a big scoff, mocking you for your own thoughts.

Lauren leans towards you, leaning her hand against the wall next to you she has you in her grasp. “Shut up, who cares about why I’m doing this, just tell me why you’re looking for the money.” Lauren shamelessly brushes off your concerns, a need for knowledge overwhelming her. God, I’m just like Mom Lauren thinks, “Heavens, fine, if I tell you, you’ll let me go got it?” Lauren nods frantically, ready for whatever your reasoning might be, “I- My mom’s sick, it’s terminal and I needed the money for her medicine. That’s it. Is that what you wanted, you sick freak? To know my mother is ill and dying and I’ve risked my life for her? Are you satisfied-”

Lauren immediately cuts you off, “Which illness?” Her rude interruption stunned you, with no worry or guilt she asked something so incredibly intrusive… Fine, whatever it takes to get the hell out of this room, it’s getting hotter and hotter. “Willheim’s.” Silence overtook the room, you nor Lauren uttered a single word, up until Lauren’s twisted laughter began echoing throughout the room, you looked at her, rage overcoming you.

“Aha! HA! I-I’m so- ehe- sorry! It’s just so ironic!” Your hands are clenched, knuckles white with pressure. You wish you could blow her head out, “I’m so sorry, I laughed because my mother just discovered the very cure for Willheim’s. I can have my mother administer it to your mother for free, just come over whenever you want! I’d do a-anything for y-y- Erm, my mom made it a while ago actually! Just has been arguing with Big Pharma over the price which is w-why she’s taking so long to publish i-it!” Lauren stammered out, so nervous, so needy for your approval.

It felt like a complete smack to the face, all that work and pain, only to find out your bully’s mother had the cure this entire fucking time? It was hard to even comprehend the words Lauren just spat out, with just one visit to her home your mother would be safe and healthy again. It was both a dream and a nightmare, having your mother be healthy again is the only thing you’ve dreamt of for months now, but to know it’s Lauren McCanister that’s helping her? What a nightmare.

A stinging pain came from your palms, a wet feeling covering your fingers. You’ve been clenching your hands so hard your fingernails began penetrating your skin, what a lovely day. Your face filled with disgust, you continued to stare into her eyes, hatred swirling within your own. Lauren stayed quiet, that stupid smile of hers still going strong, “...Fine.” You mustered out, shame overcoming you, pride no longer intact.

Somehow, Lauren’s face glows even brighter, and finally, finally, she backs off. Lauren gestures for you to follow her as she walks off the the back of the room, where a bunch of pillows and blankets and various foods and drinks lie. Strange how you hadn’t noticed that before. As Lauren sat down in the middle of all that comfort she extended her arms outwards, beckoning you into her arms.

“Come here. You have to tell me where all those bruises came from and who they come from… I’ll take care of you from now on!”

#yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere x darling #yandere oc #tw yandere #gender neutral #gn reader #oc x reader #x reader #yandere #Yandere x reader #female yandere #female yandere x reader #female yandere oc #Yandere oc x reader

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lunapwrites · 2 months

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You'll Understand

It was an eyeroll-evoking statement, even then: you'll understand when you have your own. If anything, Lily thought, she understood far less.

When Harry had come screaming into the world - full-chested bellows, really, very healthy the midwife said - she didn't feel the swell of transcendent love her own parents had promised. She felt... unmoored. Confused, even. Where did you come from? her body seemed to say - far from a rejection, but more curious than accepting, even as she gathered the still-sticky infant to her breast. He had gazed up at her with unfocused eyes, sharp little nails clawing gently but insistently at her bared flesh, as James had sobbed openly beside her and she simply stared. Ten fingers, ten toes, and a wild mop of dark hair. A tiny rosebud mouth that sucked at the open air, searching. Hers, and yet his own.

She was no stranger to exhaustion - not during a war - nor to overwhelm, nor to her temper getting the better of her. The newness was more in how she bore it - with a patience she did not know she possessed. It was in how her body felt, in the way it moved. She ached. She bled. She watched her breasts in fascination as tiny beads of pearl white liquid pooled up at the tips, dripping at a single warbling cry from her son. And that, too, was new - her son. She had a son.

And her son - her Harry - was a tiny, needy thing. Always wanted to be held. Needed to hear her heartbeat as he slept. He'd fussed and cried and she cried because she couldn't distinguish hunger from gas pains from a cry for comfort, screaming until they were both red in the face.

For his part, James had stayed up all night with the baby Harry her son!. He fixed breakfast in the mornings, and supper in the evenings. Laundered the nappies and the blankets and the tiny babygrows with impossible amounts of stains on them. He'd forgotten to eat or sleep the first few days. He'd gotten rather sharp with the cat for trying to lick the baby's face. Ready, even then, to protect him.

For hers, Lily had begun to learn what she was capable of. The limits of her patience. Her ability to juggle - sometimes literally. Her pain threshold tried and tested by the crush of labour, by the angry inch of once-torn flesh that she could swear still stung, by the sharp stabbing agony of an improper latch, delicate flesh gnashed in deceptively strong jaws - and yet still, she had held him gently. Cradled him as he tore at her, howling in pain. The instinct to clench, to jerk away from the source overridden by... something. A need to shield him, no matter the cost to herself, that came as easily as breathing.

It terrified her, the way her body seemed to move of its own accord now. The way she could be Lily in one breath, and Mother the next. The way she could be the lamb and the knife and the hand that held it all at once. The way the stories had it all wrong, that she had made this tiny God in her own image, carried him beneath the cradle of her ribs, and every atom in her body still ached to put him back: safe.

And now, a year later, there were new terrors: a crooked length of bone-white wood leveled at her heart - at the tiny boy shielded behind her (outside her body, not safe.) The knowledge that this man - that anyone - would, without hesitation, snuff out the life she had so carefully preserved through so many (not enough) tear-filled days and long, sleepless nights. The thought of the one thing she could not, would not bear.

(She didn't think about what it meant that he was here, in the nursery, and James was not. She couldn't; there was no time.)

Lily reached behind her back blindly, her hand finding five little fingers wrapped around the bars of his crib. One last moment to marvel at him, to wish for him to grow healthy and happy and strong. To run her thumb over his knuckles, still damp from chewing his fist. She felt him reach out with the other, gripping the back of her nightshirt as he whined, as she willed a silent apology into his soft skin, as her unwilling mouth opened of its own accord and the last words she'd ever speak spilled into the merciless night.

"Take me instead."

#lily evans #harry potter #we are in our feels today folks #lp writes #hp #this may have taken several weeks lol

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 1 year

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Pairing : Seungmin/Minho x F!Reader TW : arguing ; reader feeling unwell ; reader depression (Minhos) ; reader fainting ; reader su**ide attempt (Minhos) ; hospitals ; IV's (Seungmins) ; the boys being jerks honestly (this is obviously not an accurate depiction of them) ; very angsty ; fluff at the end but it's like a sad kind of fluff??? ; Word Count : combined - 6.3k (Seungmin - 2.4k) (Minho - 3.8k) Request : Anonny : Can u write a VERY angsty drabble(?) but with a fluff ending when seungmin/minho argue with reader on how they don't take care of the house and don't let them explain, but the reader was extremely sick and out of the sadness they try to clean and end up fainting, wake up when seungmin/minho come and fluff at the end? A/N : OF COURSE I CAN MAKE IT VERY ANGSTY! THIS IS WHAT I LIVE FOR! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REQUEST!! I HOPE YOU LOVE IT!!

Seungmin

Seungmin had been staying at the dorms for a while since his schedule was so packed, and usually you’d be begging him to come back home because you missed him, and it’s not that you didn’t miss him, quite the opposite actually. You had gotten ill, and at first, you thought that it was just a minor bug that you’d get over in a couple of days. You didn’t expect for whatever it was to completely take you out of commission, leaving you bed bound for what felt like forever.

You weren’t the type to whine to anyone about being sick though, especially not Seungmin, not because you thought he didn’t care, you knew that he did, he cared far too much sometimes, and you knew that if you had told him, he’d try to juggle looking after you and taking care of everything at work at the same time and he’d end up just as sick as you. You’d hate to pass whatever it was that you had onto him, and potentially even the other members when they had so much to work on, so you took care of yourself, and honestly, it was easier that way.

You didn’t know how long he’d be gone for, and you really thought that you’d have more time. Time to get yourself feeling better, time to get healthy enough to get back on the chores that you had abandoned for a bit just to take care of yourself. It’s not like the house was in complete shambles or disarray, there might have been a few dishes in the sink and the rug hadn’t been vacuumed in a few days. There was some laundry that was most definitely building in the hamper, but it’s not anything that couldn’t be started and finished in the span of a few hours once you were feeling like yourself once again.

“For Christs sake…” You heard Seungmin mutter to himself before you had even registered the sound of the front door unlocking. “It’s a pigsty here. What the hell has she been doing?” He continued to talk to himself as he made his way through your shared apartment, and you could hear the dishes being moved in the sink, rather loudly, only further worsening the headache that you had. Before you had the chance to even get out of bed to explain, he walked into the bedroom, finding you laying down, surrounded by pillows and covered with so many blankets you should be overheating. “Wow!” He exclaimed, shaking his head as his tongue tsked in disbelief.

“Minnie…” You sighed, trying to push yourself upright, the motion causing your head to spin and your stomach to tighten. “I’ll… I’ll get on the things that need to be done… I just haven’t been feeling well and-” He scoffed loudly, cutting you off mid sentence. “I’m serious… I-”

He cut you off again, not even letting you finish before he started to talk. “How convenient that you get to lounge around and be lazy while I’m working to pay the bills. All I ask is that you clean up after yourself. You’re filthy.” He spat the last word at you, and if you weren’t so exhausted from being up all night coughing, you might have had the energy to start crying. All you could do though was stare at him, confused and wounded by the words that he threw in your direction. “I’m glad that you thought you could take a vacation though while I’m busting my ass all week.”

Your head shook quickly, only making you more sick. “That’s not… I’m not on vacation I’m… I don’t feel good… I’m so tired and… I think that maybe I should-” He laughed loudly, although the sound was more sarcastic than anything. It had you wanting to sink down into the mattress, disappear into the thick foam and hide away from him.

“You think I’m not tired? I shouldn’t have to come home thinking I can finally relax after working for a whole week and then have to clean up after you.” He snapped, and you wanted so badly to argue with him, but he wasn’t going to listen, he was already pissed off and he didn’t want to hear what he thought to be excuses. “You know what? I can’t… I’m going back to the dorms. You’re just… ew. I can’t.”

Your mouth stayed shut as you watched him walk out of the room, then the front door slammed shut. He had left. You hated when he was mad at you, you wished he would just listen, but you knew well enough how he got when he was irritated. You wanted him home, you missed him dearly, you loved him. In his mind, he had every right to be mad, and while what he said wasn’t the nicest, it had come from a place of his own exhaustion and annoyance.

“Sorry…” You muttered, not to anyone in particular, but you wanted to get the word out, the word that you had been holding onto for so long now. He’d come back if the house was clean, that’s all you had to do, and while your body was run down from being up all night and any slight movement had you feeling like you’d throw up at any moment, you needed him there with you.

You pushed yourself to get out of bed, your legs wobbling once they hit the floor, but you hoped that you’d get better if you just started moving. The AC had been turned off and the heat had been cranked up, but you were still shivering, just another sign that the fever hadn’t broke yet, but maybe moving around a bit would help… You weren’t sure how, but you could hope.

It was a miracle that you had managed to start the laundry, the constant bending over and standing straight back up to throw clothes in the wash had your balance absolutely shot, but a couple seconds of leaning against the machine had you feeling a little better, or at least like your equilibrium had balanced out enough for you to move onto the next task. All you had left to do was vacuum and do the dishes.

To run the vacuum would require too much movement, and you didn’t want to jump into that, not yet at least, so you opted for, what you thought would be, the easier job. You made your way into the kitchen, just the small walk had you out of breath and hunched over the sink as you tried to keep yourself from puking. Your hands shook as you turned on the tap, it felt like you were shivering, but it was far worse, you couldn’t get it to stop. Your vision seemed to black out constantly, like you were blinking a little bit too long and far too much.

It was like lifting weights, getting the dishes out of the sink to wash them, and even though the water had steam coming up from it, your hands felt like ice. The room was spinning at this point, and you couldn’t keep yourself upright, the exhaustion from everything, the fever, it had all taken a hold of you at once, and before you knew it, the glass that had been in your hand was shattering against the floor and you crumbled down right next to it.

His phone vibrated in his pocket nonstop, he knew it was a phone call, and he assumed that the first two times it happened that it was you asking him to come back. It wasn’t until the third call came in, throwing him off during practice that he yanked his phone out, prepared to tell you to stop bothering him until he saw the number.

“Hello?” He answered, confusion lacing his tone. He could hear in the background of the call a slight commotion, and while he usually wouldn’t be one to worry about things like that, there was something about the feeling of urgency, the fact that this random number had called him 3 times in a row that had a certain sense of panic creeping up on him.

“Yeah, I’m on the phone with her boyfriend right now.” The person on the other end responded to someone nearby, and Seungmins stomach dropped. What the hell was going on? Who was this lady talking to? Obviously it was concerning you, and now he was extremely concerned about you. “Sorry, uhm… Your girlfriend, she uhm… She had an accident and…”

He was already grabbing his jacket off the hook and pulling it on, his feet ghosting him through the practice room doors and down the hall. “An accident? What kind of accident? Is she okay?” He rushed out the questions, sprinting now as his stomach rose into his throat. Had you tried to come to the building to talk to him? Was it a car accident? Were you okay?

“She fainted… There’s glass everywhere and… The paramedics are making sure she isn’t cut up or anything…” Those words only had him panicking even more. Glass? You fainted? Had you been driving and passed out? He didn’t hear any cars in the background, and he didn’t hear any emergency vehicle sirens. “Her fever is really high… They’re uhm… They’re taking her to the hospital… Right now? Yeah… Right now…”

The lady was obviously talking to the paramedics in between trying to give him any sort of information, and it was extremely frustrating to have any sort of details being relayed to him through the phone. “Is she gonna be okay?!” He shouted, his mind in a haze now as he stood outside the building, probably looking like a madman as he ran his hand through his hair trying to figure out what exactly to do and where to go.

“I’m not sure.. They’re loading her onto the gurney right now… They said… She’s breathing… But the fever is too high, she… She might have an infection or something? I don’t know… I’m sorry.” The lady spoke as fast as she could, and Seungmin tried to listen to the voices that were coming in through the background, but they were muffled and grainy and he couldn’t make anything out.

“I’ll meet them at the hospital. Thank you.” He was sure that he probably sounded inconsiderate, and when he had the chance, he’d apologize to whoever the lady was for being so short. Right now though, he just wanted to get to the hospital that you were being taken to and make sure that you were alright.

One text to Chan and his hyung was racing out of the building, clearly confused and worried by the vague “I need to go to the hospital” text that Seungmin had sent him. It was hard to explain everything during the ride considering Seungmin had not an inkling of an idea of what was actually going on himself. All he knew was that you were there and the last things he had said to you were nothing short of awful. The guilt was eating away at him and he knew that if anything worse happened while you were in there, he’d never forgive himself.

“Are you gonna be o-” Chan began to ask as he pulled up right outside the emergency doors, but Seungmin was already out of the car. The thing is, he didn’t know if he’d be okay. It all depended on you, how you were right now, whether you’d be able to leave the hospital with him. He wasn’t okay right now though, he was far from it.

A fucking kidney stone. It explained everything, but it also sucked. They had to do emergency surgery to get it out since it was becoming septic and apparently you were pretty damn close to dying. It was a good thing that you had dropped the glass and that the person in the apartment directly below you was so nosy. If it hadn’t been for her rushing up to see what the loud bang was, you probably would have died on the kitchen floor. At least, that’s what the doctors said.

“Hey… sweetie…” Seungmins voice came from beside you, and you could have been angry, you should have been angry at him. If he had just listened, you probably would have been in the hospital a lot sooner and you wouldn’t have had to almost bust your head open on the kitchen floor just to get the attention of someone.

“I washed the laundry…” You whispered, because even though you should have felt nothing but rage at him for being so rude, instead you felt nervousness. Would he berate you still in the hospital? Of course, you should know that Seungmin loved you, that he’d never mean to hurt you, but right now, after everything that you’ve been through, you just weren’t sure.

He sighed softly, reaching out to grab your hand, gently and making sure to not touch the IV that was poking out from the vein in the top. “You shouldn’t have done that… You were sick, Y/N… Really sick.” His head shook as he scooted the chair closer to the edge of your bed, his other hand moving up to cup your face, his thumb brushing along your cheek. “You didn’t text me… You didn’t call me to tell me that you were feeling so bad… If I had known… Why didn’t you tell me?”

Your bottom lip jutted out into a small pout, refusing to look at him as you averted your eyes to the TV hanging on the wall. “I didn’t want to tell you… I didn’t know what was wrong… I didn’t want you or the guys to get sick…” And even though you weren’t looking at him, you still felt comfort with his hand in yours, and you intertwined your fingers with his own.

“It was a… a kidney stone, sweetie… That’s not contagious, it’s deadly…” He murmured, his tone, although quieter now, still holding the same urgency it had when he had first found out from the doctors what was going on. “I could have lost you… I…” His breaths were shakier now, just the thought of being without you had him on the verge of tears. He wasn’t the best at displaying emotions, not unless it was done in a teasing manner, but he knew that right now wasn’t the time for that. “I love you… And, for the love of God, if you’re feeling any type of sick… Tell me. Please, just tell me. I don’t care if it’s something contagious, I don’t care if I get it myself. I’m your boyfriend, I’m here for you, I always will be… You just have to let me. Can you promise me that? Promise that you’ll let me take care of you?”

Minho

It was that time of year. There wasn’t anything specifically pleasant or unpleasant about it, it was just… that time. Seasonal depression was just something that you had, and as much as you tried to find happiness in the things around you, it was hard. There wasn’t a particular reason why you were so down, your mind just had those days, or moreso, months, where it made you think and feel this way. You had looked it up, it was actually a common thing, although it usually happened more around the winter holidays, but there was no set time for one's mind to decide that it didn’t want to produce the serotonin that it needed. Your mind just decided that right now was the time.

You never told Minho about it either, you didn’t want him to think that something was wrong with you, you didn’t want him to leave you or feel like your emotions were a burden, so you had kept it to yourself, hoping that you’d be able to hide the symptoms of your depression from him when he was around. The thing is, him being around in general just helped, his presence alone kept your mind off of everything, he made you happy. If he knew that though, he’d push himself to be with you more often, and you knew that his career, his members, they needed him more.

Thankfully and unthankfully he was on tour when your bout of depression kicked in. He wasn’t there to be that ray of light that you needed when that dark cloud above your head started to pour, but he also wasn’t there to potentially find you sitting in the bathroom crying because you had accidentally spilled a drop of tea on the counter after just cleaning it and it made you feel like an absolute idiot. Maybe it was better that he wasn’t around for things like that, it would only worry him or confuse him or push him away from you, all things that you didn’t want.

Some episodes were worse than others, and this one wasn’t bad in the sense that most people would think. You just didn’t want to do anything, you didn’t want to get out of bed, you didn’t want to move. The only thing you had managed to do in the days that you had been laying in bed was cry, because ironically enough, you felt useless and worthless for being so lazy but you didn’t want to get out of bed so it just made you cry more because you didn’t even understand yourself sometimes.

The only thing that you made sure to do was feed the cats and make sure they had fresh water and that you cleaned out their litter pans. It wasn’t their fault that your brain was fucked up, and you loved them like your children, the least you could do was take care of them, especially since Minho had trusted you to look after them. As soon as you were done making sure they were cared for though, you would retreat back to your shared bedroom and climb under the covers, your mind running rampant just thinking of things that would send you into another fit of tears.

“Lovey, I’m home!!!” Minhos voice sounded through the entire house, and your heart sank, your own worries taking over. You thought that you’d be over your episode by now, but it had only seemed to get worse the longer he was gone. The only optimistic thought you had was that maybe his presence, his own happiness would rub off on you and pull you out of the slump that you were in. “What’s that… Oh my god, ew…” His footsteps carried him further into the home, but he paused right where the litter pans were, and you realized that you had fucked up. You hadn’t cleaned them yet today, but you made sure to feed the babies, and give them the water. You just weren’t in the right headspace, you forgot about the litter. “Leave her in charge for 2 weeks and she can’t even keep up on this…” He grumbled, and then his steps sounded out once more.

The words already had you going into a state of panic, your throat closing up and your chest rising and falling faster as you held back your tears. You didn’t want him to see you like this. “Shit… Shit shit shit…” You mumbled to yourself, quickly trying to get out of the bed before he had the chance to come through the door, but you had been a little too slow, the bedroom door flying open and hitting the wall, causing you to fall back against the pillow, pulling the blanket over your head. It was childish, it was foolish, but maybe if you hid yourself he wouldn’t yell at you.

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” He muttered, moving closer to the bed and yanking the blankets down. The look of disgust on his face, the way his eyes rolled with his annoyance, it hurt far more than he’d probably ever understand. “Did I wake you?” He questioned, but it wasn’t genuine, it was snarky and rude and you knew that he didn’t actually care if he did wake you or not. “Is this the only thing you’re good at, ‘cause it sure fucking seems like it. You can’t change the litter pan? You don’t even have to change it everyday, all you have to do is sift it most of the time.”

Your eyes squeezed shut, looking at him only had you falling silent, and you thought that maybe if you didn’t see him you’d be able to explain. “I… I have been cleaning it… I just forgot today… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it…” You practically whimpered, trying to pull the blankets back up, hoping to find some sort of refuge or comfort under the familiar sheets, but his grip on the fabric stayed tight and the covers wouldn’t budge.

“Does your brain not work? You can’t just forget a day, Y/N. They’ll be shitting all over the house. I clearly see that you don’t mind living in filth, but my babies actually like to be clean.” It was insult after insult, and you knew that he had a right to be mad, his cats were everything to him, but he didn’t understand, and maybe that was your fault for not being upfront with him about what was going on, but it still didn’t mean he had to be so mean. “Can’t believe I trusted you with them. You can’t even take care of yourself, I mean… Jesus, look at you, it’s pathetic.”

You were trying so hard not to cry, he’d only find you more disgusting if you did, so you held it in, your lips pursed tightly shut as you held your breath. You knew that you didn’t look the best, you were wearing one of his hoodies and a pair of sweatpants, your hair hadn’t been brushed in days, you hadn’t been keeping up on your skincare routine, you had let yourself go. Instead of finding something concerning about all of that though, he immediately jumped to degrading you.

“I’m gonna take them to my parents. Enjoy your vacation.” The words were spat at you and you were too scared to say anything, too scared to open your mouth, knowing that once you did you’d just start sobbing and you’d make a mess of yourself, although he already saw you as a mess anyway.

You waited for him to leave, the sound of the carrier crates being loaded with the cats who he apologized profusely to as he put them into them. It was your fault, everything was your fault, you just couldn’t do anything right. You didn’t deserve to be with someone as amazing, someone as hardworking as Minho. To be honest, you weren’t even sure how you had gotten with him to begin with. You remembered it, but you didn’t understand how someone like him could find someone like you even worthy of his presence, let alone his love.

As soon as he left, making his exit audibly known by the loud slam of the door, you were up out of the bed, making your way into the bathroom. You were like a zombie, and when you looked at yourself in the mirror you could only see yourself the way he saw you laying in bed. You looked awful, you looked horrendous. Your hair was knotted and mangled in the back of your head where you had been laying on it for far too long. Your skin was extremely dry and blotchy, your lips were chapped and your eyes were red and puffy from crying so much. You looked like a monster, certainly not someone that Minho would be proud to stand beside.

Your thoughts were worse now than they had ever been, destructive and demeaning as you stared at yourself in the mirror. He thought you were pathetic, he thought you were useless, he thought you were ugly… And you couldn’t help but believe all of those things. How could you not?

With shaky hands, you grabbed the first bottle of pills that you could out of the medicine cabinet, carelessly shaking them into the palm of your hands, not even bothering to count out how many you had before throwing them in your mouth and washing them down with a cup of water. He might think all of those things, but the cats… they didn’t understand, did they? Maybe you could just… show them… show them that you weren’t as pathetic as you and Minho thought you were. You at least wanted to show them that you did care, you cared about them, you loved them, even if Minho didn’t think that you did.

You grabbed a garbage bag from under the sink and started cleaning out the boxes, your head already spinning and your vision blurring, but you were hell bent on getting this done, at least one of the boxes if you could. You heart was running like a train, the sound of it filling your ears as you lifted the litter box into the black bag, trying your best to empty the contents of it, but you felt so weak, so tired, and you couldn’t breathe and everything was getting dark and all you wanted to do was sleep. You couldn’t stop yourself from falling back, it was like you couldn’t control your own body, and before you knew it, everything went dark.

His leg bounced nonstop as he stared at his phone, sitting on the couch in his parents home with his babies surrounding him, but he didn’t feel right, you weren’t there with him and he wasn’t in his home, he wasn’t with you. He had texted you repeatedly and you had yet to respond, something that worried him immensely considering you were the quickest texter he knew.

Maybe you were mad at him… No, not maybe… He was 100% sure that you were mad at him, and he knew that you should be. What he said was out of line, it was uncalled for. It’s not like the litter pans hadn’t been cleaned for days, it was simply one day and he had blown it out of proportion, he had said things to you that shouldn’t have been said at all or even thought about. You were the love of his life, you meant everything to him. He didn’t want to lose you because he overreacted, and it’s not like you hadn’t been actively taking care of his cats the entire time he had been gone.

Now that he was alone with his thoughts, he could see how ridiculous he had been, how rude, how shitty what he did was. You just hadn’t gotten around to cleaning the litter pans yet, it made sense, it wasn’t the best job to do, it surely wasn’t fun. He had blown up on you for no reason and he hated himself for being that way with you. He had taken the time to cool off, and while he was most certain that you probably didn’t want to see him right now, he wanted to apologize, he wanted to make the first step in setting things right and hopefully helping to heal the wounds that he caused you.

“I gotta go home real quick… I’ll be back to either spend the night or pick them up.” Minho called out to his mom, giving her a quick goodbye before leaving and climbing into his car. Thoughts raced through his mind about what you probably thought. Did you think he didn’t love you anymore? That he was possibly cheating on you and that’s why he had acted so horribly about something as simple as the litter? Did you think he was trying to push you away?

His fingers drummed anxiously against the wheel as he made his way home. He tried not to go too fast, knowing that it would only be worse for him if he got pulled over, but he wanted to get back to you, he wanted to tell you, show you how much he truly loved you, how much he regretted every single word that left his mouth this afternoon.

Your car was still in the driveway when he pulled up, you clearly weren’t out or busy, so you were either sleeping or just actively ignoring his texts, both of them seemed plausible and respectable considering the way he had left you. He had stopped off at a flower shop on his way home, and it felt like the first date all over again, his hands trembling around the bouquet as he walked up to the front door. Would you blow up at him when you saw him? It only seemed right, and he’d take every single word that you threw at him if you did.

Unlocking the front door, he saw that all of the curtains in the living room had been drawn shut, the same as they had been, practically blacking out the entire room once the light from outside had been blocked out when he shut the front door. “Y/N…” He whispered your name, his nerves wired as he thought about how you’d react to seeing him. Would you tell him to leave? Would you scream at him? Would you just continue to ignore him as if he wasn’t there at all?

His hands searched the walls to find the lightswitch, not wanting to trip on any cat toys as he walked through the house, and once the lights came on his eyes scanned the room. Everything was the same way it had been when he left, the only difference was the black lump in the middle of the floor. Truthfully, his eyes had darted right over it at first, the shape of it looked more like a blanket that had just been left out, especially since the light that he turned on hadn’t really illuminated that spot well, but when he walked over to the shape and his eyes finally adjusted to what it was, it was like his entire world stopped.

The flowers that he had been holding fell to the floor as he dropped down next to you, his hands immediately wrapping around you to pull you into his lap. “Y/N!” He shouted, his hands actively working to grab your wrist, his thumb pressing down to feel your heartbeat, and his own began to pick up in pace when he felt just how slow yours was. “Fuck… Baby please… Don’t do this to me… I’m sorry…” He was already crying, his tears falling into your hair and on your face as he fumbled in his pockets to find his phone.

It was only made worse when his screen illuminated with a picture of him and you together, your smile so beautiful that he couldn’t help but fall in love with you all over again whenever he saw it. He could barely get himself to dial the number for the police, and his voice was weak, shaky and choked out when he tried to speak. “I need an… An ambulance… My girlfriend… Please… Help… Help me!” Those last two words were shouted to the operator as he became more desperate, your body practically lifeless as it lay heavily against him.

Everything was crumbling, his heart, his life, his universe was just falling down around him and he didn’t know what to do. He held you close against him, his cheek pressed against your forehead as he continued to cry, heavy sobs shaking his body as he rocked back and forth on the floor. “Don’t leave me… You can’t leave me… You promised that you’d be with me forever… You promised me that…” He whispered, trembling lip kisses placed across your face between each sob. “Just wake up… All you have to do is wake up… For me… God, don’t leave me… Don’t…” He begged, tears pouring from his eyes like rain.

He refused to leave you, to let you go, even when the paramedics knocked on the door, and they had to enter the house themselves and pry you from out of his arms. “Is she dead… Don’t tell me she’s… She’ll be okay… Won’t she?” He was on his knees on the floor, his legs weak and unable to let him stand as he watched the men load you onto the gurney, but no one answered him.

The hospital room was too cold, it was too bright, there was so much wrong with it, but the biggest problem was the fact that you were the one laying in the bed right now. They had managed to wake you up, and luckily it had just been a fainting spell instead of anything worse, but he heard… He knew what you had done, and while he was angry with you for trying to take yourself away from him like that, he was even more angry with himself for being the one to cause that reaction in you.

He had just started to doze off on the couch, something that he hadn’t been able to do in days despite his exhaustion. The doctors had to keep reminding him that you were going to be okay, and the only reason you were still in the hospital at this point was to rest and to make sure all you didn’t have any other side effects to the medication that you had taken. He was thankful for that, but he wanted to take you home, he wanted to be the one who took care of you.

Sheets being rustled and the sound of disoriented grumbling had his eyes opening slightly, blinking the sleep out of them before turning to see you trying to get out of the bed. “What are you- Lay back down!” He practically shouted, stumbling over his own feet to get to you. Just the look in your eyes as you dropped back down onto the uncomfortable hospital bed was enough to show him just how much damage he had inflicted with his words. “Baby… Love, I-”

“Why are you here?” You whispered, fumbling with the edge of the scratchy hospital blanket that you had pulled up around yourself. “You don’t have to be here… I probably look more disgusting now than I did at the house…” Your eyes glanced around the room, your eyes rolling as a heavy sigh left your lips and your head fell back against the pillow. “I don’t need to be here…”

“Y/N…” He whispered your name, not wanting to raise his voice too high, afraid of upsetting you right now when you were clearly already not in the best state of mind. “You need to be here… You do… I need to know that you’re okay.” Not only did he need to know, he just needed you to be okay in general, although he was sure you didn’t want to hear that right now. “I love you, that’s why I’m here, and I’m sorry… I’m sorry for the way that I left…”

You pursed your lips, your eyes focused on the painting on the wall that didn’t look to be anything in particular, but maybe you found something beautiful in it. “You’re not wrong… You weren’t wrong when you left… I’m useless, and I’m pathetic and-” His hands were on your cheeks, cupping them firmly yet not too hard, his lips crashing against your own, leaving you in a state of momentary shock. “What was that-” You had begun to question when he pulled back, but you were cut off once again when he kissed you.

“I don’t want you to say that about yourself, I don’t want you to think that… You’re perfect, you’re amazing and… God, how could you possibly be useless when you do so much for me?” Your eyebrows lowered, casting shadows over your eyes as you shot him a questioning glance. “Don’t you know? How do you think I’m able to get through hard days and excruciating practices? It’s you… I just think of you and how great it’ll be to come home… To be with you… You’re the light at the end of the tunnel, and you’ll always be that for me.”

You swallowed thickly, turning away from him to blink away the tears that had begun to form in your eyes. “There’s something wrong with me… I’m not good enough for you… Or anyone…” You mumbled, trying so hard to keep your voice from wavering, but it was pointless when he was listening to you so intently he could hear the slightest crack. “I just… I didn’t want to not be with you… I didn’t want to be here if you… Didn’t love me and…” He shushed you quickly, his own eyes brimming with tears when he heard the thoughts that had played out in your head that evening spoken so sadly by you now. What had he done? “No… No, baby… No…” He cooed, his hands actively wiping away your tears and his own that were falling at a rapid rate down both of your faces. “You’re more than good enough for me… You’re too good for me. There’s nothing wrong with you… I think you’re absolutely perfect, and there’ll never be a day that goes by that I won’t love you.” He carefully scooted you over on the bed, making room for himself to climb in beside you which seemed uncomfortable for him, but he also didn’t seem to mind it either. “I’m not leaving you… And you’re not allowed to leave me either… Promise you won’t do something like that again. You don’t know how scared I was… I can’t lose you, not like that… I love you too much to let you go…”

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goblinontour · 1 month

Text

Can I Come Over?

it was her, and him, and miles kane

warnings: dad!alex, just some cute stuff

word count: 4.2k

The phone rang out, a shrill, persistent sound that echoed through the quiet house. Almost simultaneously, the familiar wail of his daughter crying reached his ears, her small voice filled with distress. Alex sighed, rubbing a hand over his tired face as he tried to figure out which of the noises to attend to first. You weren’t home, and the weight of managing everything on his own was pressing down on him.

She’s not a baby anymore, he thought to himself, though the realisation did little to ease the moment’s pressure. It wasn’t like he could be in two places at once, and while the phone call could be important, the kid should be the obvious choice.

He quickly made his way down the hall towards his home studio, which had doubled as her playroom ever since she started crawling and showing an interest in being wherever he was. It wasn’t the perfect setup, but it worked. He’d learned to share his space with her, even if it meant that his creative sanctuary now had bright-coloured toys scattered between the equipment and instruments.

But as he pushed open the door, a pang of guilt hit him. There she was, sitting on the floor amidst a sea of toys, her little face scrunched up in discomfort. Her cries had softened to pitiful whimpers, her cheeks flushed. The source of her distress quickly became apparent, one of her tiny fingers was caught between the strings of his electric guitar, which he’d left on the floor after his last session, too careless to put it back on its wall stand where it belonged.

“Ah, shit.” he muttered under his breath, cursing himself for not being more careful. He hurried over, his heart squeezing with regret. Kneeling beside her, he gently freed her finger from the strings, trying to soothe her with soft words.

“Shhh, there you go. It’s okay, love. I’ve got you.” he cooed, his voice tender as he scooped her up into his arms. The tears that had been brimming in her big eyes began to subside as she clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder. Her little hands gripped onto his shirt, seeking comfort in his warmth.

He kissed the top of her head, holding her close as he stood up, already mentally punishing himself for the lapse in judgement. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. That was daddy’s fault.” he murmured into her hair, feeling the softness of her curls against his lips.

He glanced back at the guitar, still lying on the floor. The phone rang again, more insistent this time, dragging his attention away. Still holding her close, Alex made his way downstairs, his steps quick but still careful. He reached the living room just as the ringing stopped, the silence almost mocking him.

Sighing, he shifted his daughter slightly, freeing one hand to grab the phone from where it had been abandoned on the coffee table. He saw the missed call notification and frowned. It was Miles. He’d have to call him back in a minute, but for now, his daughter needed him more.

He set the phone down and turned his full attention back to her, rocking her gently as he settled onto the couch. She was calming down, her breathing evening out. Her small fingers clung to his shirt, her wide eyes still a bit teary but starting to flutter closed as she relaxed against him.

“There we go…” he whispered, rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles. “You’re alright now.”

He felt a rush of love and protectiveness swell in his chest as she snuggled closer, her tiny body fitting perfectly against his. It didn’t matter how tired he was or how many things he had to juggle at once. He promised himself she would be his priority, always.

As she drifted off into a light sleep, her soft breaths warm against his neck, Alex found himself smiling despite the little incident. He kissed her head once more, grateful for the quiet, however fleeting it might be, before he’d have to return that call and get back to everything else waiting for him. But he’d just hold her a little longer for now.

He watched her, unable to tear his eyes away. She looked so peaceful, her long eyelashes resting softly against her cheeks, her small mouth slightly open as she breathed deeply. The warmth of her little body against his chest brought him a sense of calm that was hard elsewhere.

He reached down and brushed a few stray curls away from her forehead, careful not to wake her. The way her face relaxed into sleep, her little fingers still curled into his shirt, made his heart swell with in disbelief. She was already three years old. He couldn’t believe it. It felt like just yesterday that he was pacing the floors with her as a newborn, unsure and nervous, but utterly in love.

The thought hit him suddenly. How much he had missed when he was away on tour last year. She was barely two then, and he’d had to leave you alone with her for weeks on end. He remembered the phone calls, how you’d try to sound cheerful even when he could hear the exhaustion in your voice. He felt a pang of guilt, a new kind of understanding washing over him. It was hard now, with you gone for just one day, and he had six more to go. He wasn’t incompetent or incapable, but it was definitely harder than he’d anticipated. And to think that you’d done this while he was on the other side of the world...he felt a bit of guilt for not fully realising it sooner.

As she slept in his arms, he reached for his phone, careful not to jostle her too much. He opened the camera and framed the shot. Her tiny form curled up against him, her peaceful expression softening the lines of his own tired face. He snapped the picture, already thinking about how he might send it to you later if he remembered. Maybe he wouldn’t mention the little incident with the guitar strings. Only one day without you, and he’d already let something go wrong.

He sighed softly, tucking his phone back into his pocket as he continued to watch her. Poppy. It wasn’t short for anything, just Poppy. He remembered the discussions you both had before she was born. You weren’t the biggest fan of the name at first, thinking it was too cutesy or too simple for a first name, so you agreed it would be her middle name. But once she arrived, it was the only thing that felt right. The name just fit her so perfectly that even you had started calling her Poppy from the start. Now, it was hard to imagine her being called anything else.

As he was lost in thought, his phone buzzed in his hand, snapping him back to the present. He glanced at the screen—Miles. Right, he needed to call him back. Carefully shifting Poppy to one arm, he swiped to return the call.

Miles picked up after just a few rings. “Hey, mate. What’s up?”

“Hey, sorry I didn’t get to the phone earlier. Poppy was crying, and I had to take care of her.” Alex explained, his voice quiet so as not to disturb the now-sleeping little girl in his arms.

“No worries, Aly. It’s not a big deal.” Miles replied casually. “Just wanted to see if you were up for going out tonight. Been a while since we’ve had a proper catch-up.”

Alex hesitated, glancing down at Poppy’s sleeping form. “I’d love to, but I can’t tonight. I’ve got her all to myself. Her mum’s away on a trip, so I’m on full-time duty.”

“Ah, right.” Miles said, understanding dawning in his voice. “Well, in that case, how’s she doing? She keeping you on your toes?”

Alex smiled, the warmth in his chest spreading. “Yeah, she’s good. She’s getting so big now, though. I can hardly believe it sometimes. She’s really into drawing lately, keeps trying to ‘help’ with my music too. She’s got a good ear for it. I think.”

Miles chuckled. “That’s the spirit. Start ‘em young. You know, if you’re up for it, we could go for a walk in a bit. I haven’t seen Pop in a while.” he paused, deliberately shortening her already short name, as he always did, “I’ll bring Maxie, too. You know how much she loves him.”

Alex considered it, picturing Poppy’s sleepy face lighting up at the sight of Maxie. She adored that little white dog. “Yeah, alright.” he agreed with a smile. “Sounds like a plan. Where do you want to meet?”

“I’ll come over to yours.” Miles offered. “Give me twenty minutes?”

“Perfect,” Alex replied, “See you then.”

As he hung up the phone, Alex carefully shifted Poppy again, adjusting her so that she was cradled more securely in his arms. He stood up slowly, heading toward the stairs. There was still time to let her rest a bit longer before Miles arrived, so he used that to get dressed.

When he came back, he gently shifted her, her little body still heavy with sleep as he moved to sit her up. He kissed the top of her head, his lips brushing against her soft curls as he murmured, “Poppy, wake up, love. Mi is coming to see you.”

She stirred at the familiar name, rubbing her eyes with tiny fists as she blinked up at him. “Mi?” she mumbled, still drowsy.

Alex smiled, nodding as he smoothed down her bedhead. “Yeah, Mi’s coming over. And guess who he’s bringing?”

Her eyes brightened instantly, the sleepiness fading as she asked, “Maxie?”

“Maxie.” Alex confirmed with a grin.

That was all it took. Poppy wriggled out of his grasp with surprising speed, her little feet hitting the floor as she started to shuffle away. Amused, Alex watched her for a moment before calling out, “And where do you think you’re going, Miss Poppy?”

She looked over her shoulder, determination set on her small face. “I want to get ready!”

Alex couldn’t help but chuckle at that. His independent little girl. “Okay, then.” he said, pushing himself off the couch and following her down the hallway to her room.

Poppy led the way, and when they reached her room, she made a beeline for her little chair, the one that sat in front of her small dresser. It was all part of the routine she knew so well.

Alex watched with a fond smile as she climbed onto the chair, already sitting still and patient as she waited for him to do his part. She was already dressed, which made things easier. He couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at how grown-up she seemed sometimes.

He grabbed the small bottle of sunscreen from the dresser, squirting a bit onto his fingers before kneeling down in front of her. “Alright, close your eyes, love.” he instructed gently.

Poppy scrunched her eyes shut, tilting her face up toward him. Alex carefully applied the sunscreen to her face, making sure to cover every spot. When he was done, he leaned back with a satisfied smile. “All done.” he announced, wiping his hands on a small towel.

But Poppy wasn’t having it. She opened her eyes and immediately reached for the bottle of sunscreen, her tiny hands stretching toward him. “I want to do you too, daddy.” she insisted, her expression serious.

Alex chuckled, unable to resist her request. “Alright then.” he said, holding out the bottle so she could take a small amount onto her fingers.

Poppy concentrated hard as she dabbed the sunscreen onto his face, her little fingers patting it in with more force than was probably necessary, but Alex just smiled through it. She was so focused, her tongue sticking out slightly in concentration as she made sure to cover his cheeks, nose, and forehead. When she was satisfied with her work, she looked at him with a proud grin. “All done!”

Alex beamed at her. “Thank you, Poppy. Now we’re both ready.”

She nodded seriously, as if this task was of the utmost importance. And to her, it probably was. Moments like these—where she got to take care of him in her own small way—seemed to mean everything to her. And, he realised, they meant everything to him too.

With the preparations done, he stood up and offered her his hand. “Shall we go wait for Mi and Maxie?”

Poppy hopped off the chair, slipping her tiny hand into his. “Yeah!” she chirped, excitement bubbling in her voice.

“Yeahh!” Alex said in turn.

They waited in the living room, Poppy’s anticipation palpable as she fidgeted beside Alex on the couch. She kept glancing at the door every few seconds, her excitement barely contained. Alex smiled down at her, rubbing her back soothingly, but he couldn’t help but share in her eagerness. It had been a while since he’s seen Miles, and he knew how much she adored Maxie.

Finally, the sound of a knock echoed through the house, and before Alex could even react, Poppy was already on her feet, dashing toward the door. “Poppy, wait-” he called out, but she was too quick, her little legs carrying her across the room in a hurry.

Alex got up and followed, but by the time he reached the door, she was already standing there, her small hands barely reaching the handle as she tried to open it. He chuckled, stepping in to help her. “Let me get that for you.” he said, lifting her slightly to give her better leverage.

As soon as the door swung open, she squeezed her way in front of him, her eyes immediately locking onto Maxie, who was wagging his tail excitedly at the sight of her. “Maxie!” she squealed, dropping to her knees to hug the little dog. Maxie licked her face in return, his tail wagging even faster as she giggled, completely enamoured.

“Careful, Poppy.” Alex reminded her gently.

With her occupied, Alex turned his attention to the tall figure standing in the doorway. Miles grinned at him, his eyes warm with familiarity. “Long time no see.” Miles greeted, stepping forward.

Alex pulled him into a hug, patting him on the back. “Good to see you, Miles.” he said. There was something comforting about having him around, a steady presence that had been in his life for years and years now.

As they pulled back from the hug, Alex glanced down at Poppy, who was still engrossed in her reunion with Maxie. Miles followed his gaze, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “She’s grown, hasn’t she? Last time I saw her, she wasn’t even up to my knee.”

“Tell me about it.” Alex replied, shaking his head in disbelief. “She’s a proper little person now.”

Miles chuckled. “She’s still got that same smile, though. Just like you.”

Alex smiled, warmth spreading through him at the compliment. He couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride whenever someone pointed out the similarities between them. “Yeah, she does.” he said softly, watching as she continued to play with Maxie, her laughter filling the hallway.

Maxie was now rolling onto his back, paws in the air as Poppy scratched his belly. She was completely absorbed, her earlier sleepiness forgotten.

“Maxie missed you too, Pop.” Miles said, leaning down slightly to ruffle the dog’s fur.

Poppy looked up at him with a wide grin. “I missed him more!” she declared confidently, making both men laugh.

“She’s got a point.” Alex said, looking at Miles with a smirk. “Maxie is a tough competitor, but Poppy’s got him beat in the missing department.”

Miles grinned back. “It’s a close call, though.”

As she continued playing with Maxie, Alex and Miles exchanged another glance, both of them silently agreeing that this little visit was just what they all needed.

Miles straightened up, giving Maxie one last pat before looking over at Alex. “So, you all ready to go?” he asked, his tone light but with an undertone of understanding. He knew Alex had been alone with Poppy for only a day, but sometimes that was enough to make anyone feel a bit out of sorts.

“Yeah, just need to grab my bag. Won’t be a sec.” Alex replied, giving a nod toward the hallway.

“Alright, we’ll be here.” Miles said, reaching down to unclip Maxie’s leash from his belt loop, letting the dog roam freely in the small entryway as Alex disappeared down the hall.

Poppy was still thoroughly engrossed in him, who had rolled over onto his back again, clearly enjoying all the attention. Miles watched them with a smile. There was something grounding about moments like these, seeing his best mate’s kid happy and healthy, playing with his dog like nothing else in the world mattered.

It didn’t take long for Alex to return, slinging a small bag over his shoulder. “Alright, let’s go.” he said, his eyes flicking down to Poppy. “You ready, love?”

Poppy nodded enthusiastically, but didn’t let go of Maxie’s fur, still holding on as if he might disappear if she released him.

Miles chuckled, clipping the leash back onto Maxie’s collar. “Come on, Max.”

The three of them headed out, the warm afternoon sun greeting them as they stepped onto the pavement. They didn’t venture far, just down the street and into the park that stretched out right near Alex’s house. It was a quiet, familiar spot, with a small playground that Poppy loved and plenty of space for Maxie to run around.

They strolled along the path, Poppy happily trotting beside Maxie, occasionally glancing back at the two men as they talked. They kept the conversation light at first, catching up on what Miles had been up to, how things were going with the band, and how he was feeling about everything. But eventually, he couldn’t help but admit the truth that had been bubbling up inside him all day.

“You know…” Alex began, his voice a little lower, more serious. “It feels like I’m already going a bit crazy on my own. It’s only been a day, but…it’s harder than I thought it would be. Respect to her for handling this as well as she does.”

Miles glanced at him, understanding in his eyes. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re doing fine.”

Alex sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked ahead, watching Poppy chase after Maxie who had taken off toward a patch of grass. “Yeah, but still. I didn’t expect to feel like this, you know? And she’s not back for another six days.”

“Why don’t I stay over for a bit?” Miles suggested, his tone casual but sincere. “We can hang out, have a couple of beers, let Pop tire herself out. Might be good for you to have some company.”

Alex turned to him, a grateful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You sure? I don’t want to impose or anything.”

“You’re not imposing. I wanted to see you anyway. Besides, Maxie’s loving it, and I wouldn’t mind spending some more time with Pop. And you, obviously.” Miles added with a teasing grin.

Alex chuckled, feeling a bit of the tension lift from his shoulders. “Yeah…that would be nice. Thanks, Miles.”

“No problem. It’ll be like old times…with a few more responsibilities thrown in.” Miles said with a wink, making Alex laugh.

They eventually made their way back to Alex’s place, the sun beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the neighbourhood. Poppy skipped ahead, still holding onto Maxie’s leash as they reached the front door. Alex unlocked it, letting her and Maxie rush inside before turning to Miles.

“Hey, I think I might still have some food for Max from the last time you stayed over.” Alex said, rubbing the back of his neck a bit sheepishly. “If you, uh, want to stick around for a while…like, even stay the night if- if you wanna.”

He caught himself stuttering over the last part, a slight flush creeping up his neck. It wasn’t like him to be uncertain around Miles, but something about asking him to stay made Alex feel a bit vulnerable. He wasn’t used to admitting he needed company, especially when it came to something as simple as getting through the night with his kid.

Miles noticed the shift in Alex’s tone, a small smile playing on his lips as he clapped a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “That sounds perfect. Don’t worry about it. Maxie and I can crash here. No trouble at all.”

Alex let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. “Thanks, Miles. Really. It’s…I appreciate it.”

Miles just gave him a reassuring nod, and together they stepped inside, closing the door behind them. Poppy and Maxie were already in the living room, the little girl laughing as she threw a soft toy for the dog to chase.

Alex watched them for a whole before he moved into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge and grabbing two beers. Popping the caps off, he handed one to Miles as he joined him. They stood there for a moment, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Miles took a sip of his beer, glancing over at the living room where Poppy and Maxie were still happily playing. “You’re doing great, you know.” he said, his voice calm and steady. “She’s a good kid, and you’re a good dad.”

Alex looked down at his beer, swirling the bottle in his hand before taking a long drink. “I just don’t want to mess it up, you know? I didn’t realise how much…how much she depends on me. And on her. It’s different when you’re here alone, trying to keep it all together.”

Miles nodded, understanding the unspoken thoughts behind Alex’s words. “That’s why you’ve got me here tonight.”

Alex smiled, feeling more at ease. “Yeah, you’re right. Feels good having you here.” He glanced over at Poppy and Maxie, his heart swelling with affection for his little girl. “And I think she’s pretty happy about it too.”

They both chuckled, clinking their bottles together before taking another sip. The evening stretched out before them, the soft sounds of Poppy’s laughter and Maxie’s playful barks filling the room.

They settled onto the couch, the evening’s warmth lingering in the cosy living room. Alex stretched out, feeling more relaxed than he had in days, while Miles sank into the cushions beside him, their beers still in hand. Poppy toddled over with wide, curious eyes.

“I want to drink with you too.” she announced, her voice full of determination as she pointed at their beer bottles.

Alex chuckled, shaking his head. “Your mother would kill me if she knew I gave you beer, P.”

Miles, always quick with a playful idea, leaned forward and proposed something to her. “How about we have a tea party instead?”

Alex raised an eyebrow, his voice tinged with mock disapproval. “A bit late for tea, don’t you think?”

“Come onnn, Alex.” Miles persisted, dragging out his words for effect.

“Come on, Alex!” Poppy echoed, her voice sweetly insistent as she imitated Miles.

Alex shot Miles a mock glare, trying to keep a straight face. “Great, now you’ve got her calling me Alex instead of dad.”

Miles leaned back, unable to resist teasing further. “Come on, daddy.” he drawled, adding a cheeky wink that made Alex roll his eyes.

“Oh, shut up.” Alex shot back, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips.

Poppy giggled at their banter, her eyes sparkling with the joy of being included in their little game. She climbed up onto the couch between them, looking expectantly at Alex, who let out a sigh that was more amused than exasperated.

“Fine!” he said, conceding defeat. “How about we have a ‘pretend’ tea party, then? No real tea, though.”

Miles nodded, playing along. “Sounds like a plan. But, Poppy, I think your daddy might need some practice with his tea party skills. He’s a bit rusty.”

Poppy nodded seriously, and Alex couldn’t help but laugh at how effortlessly Miles could charm his way into any situation, even turning a bedtime tea party into something fun.

“Okay, let’s do it.” Alex said, setting his beer down and leaning closer to Poppy. “But remember, no actual tea this late. Just pretend, okay?”

She climbed off the couch and ran to grab her toy tea set, leaving the two men to exchange a knowing look.

As she returned with the tiny cups and teapot, Miles shot Alex a grin. “You’re a natural. I’m impressed.”

Alex gave him a playful shove, but his eyes were warm. “Yeah, well…I’ve had some good influences.”

They both settled into their roles, letting Poppy pour invisible tea into their cups as they humoured her with exaggerated sips and polite conversation. Alex might have been tired, and maybe even a little stressed, but he knew it would be fine, despite his doubts about himself sometimes.

a/n: i don’t know what this is i just felt like writing it

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #alex turner fluff #alex turner fic #alex turner fanfic #fluff #goblinontour #dad!alex

100 notes · View notes

hisui-dreamer · 8 months

Text

we are one

Characters: Trey, Ruggie, Rook, Sebek

Synopsis: You shared a night of passion with your lover before you left for the other side of the mirror, but fate's cruel hands strike once again as you realise you have to raise his child alone in your original world. Thankfully, your child is incredibly drawn to magic, and they opened a portal...?

Tags: slight angst, fluffy end because im a sap, fem reader, reader gives birth to a child, reunions

Word count: 4.5k+

Notes: im sorry this took so long lol, but part 4 is finally here!!

Part 1✧Part 2✧Part 3✧Masterlist

A few months passed as you settled back into your routine at home. Eventually, with the noticeable changes in your body, it dawned on you that you were with child—his child, your lover from the other side of the mirror whom you could no longer reach.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turn into months. You had adapted to the trials and tribulations of parenthood. Juggling the responsibilities of work, childcare, and household chores was no easy feat, but you found solace in the small moments of your child's growth and development.

Your child was a true joy to behold, a mirror image of their father in many ways, and you often see the ghost of your past lover in them. Having inherited his magic, your child experimented with their powers, leaving you to support them with what limited knowledge of magic that remained from your NRC days.

On one such experiment, your environment started to shift as a wave of magical energy engulfed you. When you opened your eyes again, he was there, right in front of you—

Shizuka (靜菓) with 静 meaning "quiet, still, calm" and 菓 meaning "confectionery, sweets, pastry"

your daughter had silky green hair the colour of fresh matcha and golden yellow eyes that were reminiscent of fresh honey

you named your daughter after her father's dislike of noise and his culinary abilities that never failed to amaze the whole of Heartslabyul

she's rather a quiet child, not very loud but too quiet either

she gets along with other kids perfectly fine, and she doesn't mind sharing or taking a step back at all, always choosing to go with the flow and not get worked up over small things

honestly she's really a mature kid

also just really good at being a peacekeeper and stopping other kids from getting into big fights

buut she does have a mischievous side and may tease her friends when she's in the mood to

at home, she's pretty obedient and will listen to you, but there are moments when she sneaks around

loves helping you with cooking, and her eyes sparkle when she's baking with you

she loves sweets and desserts, but thanks to your warnings about her dental health, she does stop herself from eating too much sugar

is slightly freaked out about cavities so don't you worry, she'll never need any reminding about brushing her teeth or late night snacks

when it comes to school, she doesn't put in too much effort, but you can tell she'd be excellent if she cared more about her grades

which is clearly shown when fixates on learning magic, always so focused that you'll have to call her twice before she snaps out of her trance

you can't blame her for giving it her all though, after all, you've never seen her more excited than when you told her how amazing a person her father is, calm and soothing like a gentle summer rain

once she puts her heart to it, there's really no stopping her

so on another normal evening, as you were cooking dinner while she was studying on the kitchen counter, you found yourself enveloped by a soft light

when you open your eyes, you find yourself standing outside a charming bakery, the fragrance of roses engulfing your senses

and peering through the bakery windows, was the man you had yearned for all these years

It was just a normal day of running the bakery for Trey. With the sun on the verge of setting, he began preparations for closing, when the soft chime of the bell announced a new customer's arrival. He turned around, catching sight of you. His eyes widened in surprise, mirroring the disbelief in your own.

Before words could be exchanged, Trey rushed past the counter. The warmth of his embrace enveloped you as he pulled you close. The years melted away, and the two of you were transported back to a time when you always had each other.

"Is this real?" he wondered aloud, your hearts pounding in sync.

You nodded into his shoulder, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. He pulled back slightly, brushing away your tears as his gaze softened, a warm smile gracing his lips.

"It's been a long time," he whispered. "I missed you so much."

he's just holding you tight, crying as he thanks the heavens for being so lucky to have you in his life again

trey returned to his hometown after graduation, helping out and eventually inheriting the family bakery

he loved incorporating your favourite foods into the store's selection, adding some new desserts from your world that you taught him, and always reminiscing on those tender moments when it was just the two of you in the kitchen

he always knew you had to go home eventually, but that didn't stop him from wishing you could be his life-long partner, supporting each other through thick and thin

so he's beyond grateful and excited to know you and his daughter(?!) shared the feelings even though you were apart

he's rather surprised about said daughter, but there would be no denying how similar they looked

shizuka is a bit nervous, tugging your skirt as she stares curiously at her supposed father

but Trey very quickly makes her feel at home, his warm smiles and even warmer hugs melting away all her nervousness!

he closes the bakery for a few days to help the two of you settle down a bit

this involves reunions with friends and of course, the clover family, who welcome you and their granddaughter with open arms

the clovers are just really really glad their son finally has someone in his life and that he seems a lot more energised now

Shizuka is very quickly introduced to uncle riddle!! who is very surprised but delighted by the behaving little girl who seems to stick to him a lot

uncle deuce and ace also get along with her wonderfully!! especially when Shizuka wants to play around with riddle for a bit hahaha

don't forget uncle cater who flies instantly to meet his new adorable niece and show her off on magicam!!

the three of you settle into a nice rhythm and you help out trey at the bakery now

Trey is very very affectionate with you always, pecking you on the cheek or nuzzling into your neck any chance he can get

Shizuka loves helping out whenever she can too!! she loves learning from her papa and sometimes will just spend hours watching him work

all in all, a blissful, simple family that Trey had always dreamed of, but never would he have believed he was so blessed to have the two of you come back to him

Trey gazed at the young girl, her silky green hair catching the light in a way that seemed surreal. With a heart full of emotions, he approached her hesitantly, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"Shizuka, was it?" he spoke softly, the name lingering on his lips like a prayer. "It's so nice to meet you."

Shizuka's gaze flickered from Trey to you, seeking reassurance. With a gentle nod from you, she turned her attention back to him, her eyes studying him intently.

Trey knelt to her level, his heart racing. "I know this might be a lot to take in, but I'm your father."

She took a small step forward, cautious but curious. Trey extended his hand tentatively, offering a warm smile. Without a word, Shizuka reached out, placing her small hand in his.

A soft smile graced her lips, mirroring the warmth reflected in Trey's eyes. With a tentative but genuine embrace, Trey enveloped his daughter in his arms, tears cascading down his cheeks. Shizuka, feeling the sincerity in his embrace, wrapped her arms around him as well, a sense of belonging beginning to bloom within her.

Kenji (賢至) with 賢 meaning "intelligence, wisdom, cleverness" and 至 meaning "to arrive at, to reach, to come to"

your son had the softest hair the colour of wheat, and blue eyes that reminded you of cloudy skies

you named your son after how clever his father was, and his endless determination to reach his goals

he's a really sweet kid, always eager to help around and even others when he notices they're in need

you've heard about the many experiences his father had when he grew up, so you've tried your hardest to make sure Kenji wouldn't have to go through them, knowing it's what your hyena would've wanted

but even then, he's never complained about not having enough, there's a subtle wisdom to him that really mirrors his father

though he differs from him in that he's always willing to share, because he knows not everyone can be so lucky

he may not be too good at haggling prices, but his puppy dog eyes work just as well!

he loves doing chores with you, always smiling and laughing that familiar laugh as he helps you sweep the floor while he tells you about his day

he loves cuddles and kisses!!! his favourite part of the day is climbing into your warm bed to wrap his arms around you, asking you for a goodnight kiss and sometimes even bedtime stories

his ears and tails are a bit of a problem, so you keep his hair a bit long to hide the ears, or just say they're fun accessories

you've told him how his father's determination to support his family and community shined through even in unfortunate circumstances, the resourceful and intelligent man he became and you fell in love with

his blue-grey eyes almost resembled a clear sky when he listened to you, asking you more and more questions about this amazing person

he'll try learning more to be like him, but his kind nature stops him from being too schemey

he's not exactly academic weapon material, but he's pretty quick at absorbing information and putting it into practice

and with lots of determination and practice, he somehow manages to manifest the very thing the two of you wanted, and before your eyes was the man who never failed to make you laugh with him

As Ruggie's eyes adjusted, your figure slowly came into focus, revealing the very person who took his heart with them. "Prefect...?" He whispered, his voice a mix of disbelief and overwhelming joy.

His usually carefree expression shifted to one of disbelief, and then a bittersweet smile spread across his face as the tears welled up in his eyes. Without a second thought, he rushed towards you, sweeping you into a tight embrace.

"You're here... You're really here, right?" Ruggie mumbled, his voice choked with emotion.

You nodded furiously, comfort washing over you at his touch. "Yes, Ruggie, it's real. I'm really here."

His hand reached up to thread his fingers through your hair, cupping the back of your head. "I'm so glad... So, so glad..."

he's holding onto you as tightly as he can, so afraid that you'd disappear into the light if he let you loose for even a bit

after graduation, Ruggie followed leona to become his official attendant, what with him knowing how leona likes to get things done, and his ability to pick up etiquette cues

he's also a great information gatherer, so he's perfectly able to assist leona with his foreign affairs

it's leona's voice that finally breaks the two of you out of your trance, him rushing over to investigate that weird light

the two of you pull back and you almost wouldn't notice it, but leona's smile has softened a bit from the image you had in your memory

Ruggie never expected himself to be a father, and things are going a bit faster than he'd like, but there's no denying he's absolutely grateful to have you and your kid at his side

almost immediately the next day, he takes you back to his hometown so you and Kenji can meet grandma and the neighbourhood

grandma bucchi welcomes the two of you so warmly, she even gets a little teary eyed when she sees Kenji, with him looking so similar to the very hyena she raised

leona and Ruggie delegate a room for you in the side palace, where they also live, so you'll be able to see familiar faces often

Kenji loves following his father around, picking up his mannerisms and wanting to learn more about being more schemey

Ruggie's a bit conflicted his angel of a son wants to learn his ways but even he can't deny those puppy dog eyes

uncle leona and guard jack also love spending time with him! though one of them pretends it's annoying

leona shows him magic tricks and jack will teach him how to fight! he'll be getting great lessons all around

Kenji is very eager to learn more and explore this world, so sometimes you'll have to hold him back a bit just in case he gets hurt

but you suppose with the splendid man his father is, you don't have to worry too much

Ruggie's schedule can be a bit hectic and he pulls a lot of late nights, but he always tries to make time for his family

they're the most precious thing to him in the entire world, did you think he'd let them go that easily?

"Dad!" Kenji exclaimed, darting over to grasp at the fabric of Ruggie's pants. "You're my dad, right?"

Ruggie blinked in disbelief, shifting his gaze towards you. "Is... Is he?" he asked, hope saturating his voice.

You affirmed with a nod, and Ruggie redirected his attention to Kenji. "Yeah... I'm your dad..."

Instantly, Kenji wrapped his arms around Ruggie's legs. "Yay! I've always wanted to meet you, Dad!"

Ruggie couldn't help but marvel in awe at the bundle of joy now clinging to his legs, realizing that this spirited kid was the product of your love.

Ayaka (斐佳) with 斐 meaning "elegance, beauty, grace" and 華 meaning "flower, splendour, brilliance"　

Ayato (斐斗) with 斐 meaning "elegance, beauty, grace" and 杜 meaning "forest, grove, woods"

maybe a part of you should have expected it, with how unpredictable your beloved hunter always has been, but you ended up having to raise twins

the two had luscious golden locks that rivalled sunlight and sharp green eyes akin to the forests in the summer

you named the two of them after their father's love for all things beauty and his love for forests and nature

the two are well-behaved children, though they can be surprisingly sneaky and mischievous

Ayaka is more outgoing and is always fascinated by the pretty things in her vicinity

while Ayato is more introverted and quiet, often silently following his younger sister and nodding along to her ramblings

he definitely appreciates beauty, but he's less vocal about it

and whereas Ayaka is more fascinated by gems and cute plushies, Ayato is more interested in nature, finding beauty in the moss, the trees and the insects

the siblings are just really really curious about the world and they love observing the little details, from catching beetles to keep as pets, to planting flowers they found on a hike

they really do reflect your hunter's wide range of appreciation

the twins love sticking to each other and they're rarely arguing

though they do fight a bit over who helped you more with chores or who you love more

they're very helpful and efficient, and though they may complain about not wanting to work because the other twin is lazing, they'll still get the job done

they love watching tv shows and dramas, often acting out scenes in the shows or in fairytales

and oh the way their eyes sparkled when you told the fascinating man their father was, a man who could control his own heartbeat, keep track of time so accurately, and with such incredible eyesight, who devoted himself to spreading joy and beauty

almost immediately they doubled their efforts in studying, wanting desperately to meet the man to learn his ways and see for themselves just how interesting he is

and just like that, the dazzling light gradually subsided, unveiling a world that you thought only existed in your dreams

you remember the villa, it's where he took you on vacation for the first, and supposedly last time

You hesitantly knocked on the weathered wooden door of the villa, the echoes of your anticipation mingling with the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. As the door creaked open, memories flooded back to the first time you entered this place with the man who had captured your heart.

Rook's usual stoic expression shifted, replaced by a mix of surprise and unspoken emotions. "Mon amour... You're really here," he murmured, his voice a tender whisper that hung in the air. Without uttering a single word, he enfolded you in an embrace, as though afraid you might slip away like a fleeting dream.

"I missed you so much," you whispered back the tears flowing freely now that you've felt as you savour the warmth of his touch and the comforting scent of his cologne.

He pulled back, soft brushes of his fingers wiping your tears, his eyes lingering on your face as if trying to capture the essence of the time that had passed. "I missed you too, so dearly..." he admitted as tears threatened to spill from his eyes, a rare vulnerability in his gaze.

this was the most emotion you'd seen from him, even when you said goodbye he kept a smile on his face

he's holding you so delicately, as if you were going to fade away if he applied just a bit more pressure

he's surprised by the children, but he instantly warms up to the idea!

he's remained a pursuer of beauty even after graduation, sponsoring artists while he makes a living through hunting and his film critique

he was taking a break in the family villa for old times sake, but it's almost as if the universe planned it all along

he's very affectionate with you, even more so than before, which you didn't even know was possible

always a warm hand on your waist, an occasional peck on your cheek, and every once in a while he'll feel the urge to pull you in for a hug

he tries to do everything for you so you don't even have to lift a finger, breakfast in bed, waking the children, even cooking and cleaning

he loves spending time with the twins!! teaching the two of them how to hunt and explore the forest safely

he'll show them pretty plants, and interesting fungi, all while explaining what properties they might have and whether or not they're poisonous

the twins are so fascinated by everything, their excitement and energy are seemingly endless

and who's a father to deny his children? he spoils them rotten

he also loves showing the kids a certain idol he's supported...

as well as films of vil!! occasionally talking over the movie to express how perfect a scene is or how flawless his acting is

and when the twins get to meet the vil schoenheit, they're beyond thrilled

asking questions, throwing compliments, all directed towards vil, but they're quiet the moment he tells them to shush

uncle vil loves talking to his niece and nephew, but only when they're... calm

uncle epel also loves popping by and giving the twins some apples so they'll get proper nutrition!

really, you'll have to step in to prevent your kids from being spoiled rotten

but you'll indulge Rook for a while, he's just blissfully happy with his family after all

"Are these...?" he began, his voice trailing off as he looked at the children with a mix of awe and wonder.

"Ours," you answered, a gentle smile gracing your lips as you delicately wiped away the tears that had welled up in your eyes. "Meet Ayato and Ayaka."

The hunter knelt down to their eye level, his usual face softening into a loving. "Ayato, Ayaka," he said, his voice gentle, "It's so nice to meet you. I'm your father."

The children exchanged glances before Ayaka stepped forward. "Hello father!" she exclaimed, throwing her tiny arms around him.

Ayato, the quieter one, followed suit with a nod, a shy smile on his face.

The hunter embraced them both, a warmth in his eyes that spoke volumes. "Such angels... Mon amour what a blessing you've granted me...," he sighed as he held them close.

Atsuki (惇貴) with 惇 meaning "sincerity, loyalty" and 貴 meaning "precious, valuable, honourable"　

your son had curly hair with the softest shade of light green, and piercing golden eyes with slits that reminded you of reptiles

you named your son after the chivalrous values his father had devoted his life to

he's a rather loud and excitable child, always forgetting to control his volume when he gets too emotional

doesn't really get along with other kids, but it doesn't affect him much, he's just happy to have his mama with him

if he's done something wrong, you don't even need to yell at him really, most of the time he's already holding back tears at the thought of disappointing you

very into sports and is also really good at several sports, he's earned a couple of medals and trophies already

he's not the best at magic, and you're also not too sure how his dark fae blood affects that, but he's still pretty good at making progress

he really is just a good kid who tries hard at everything and tries to make the right decisions, but he's quick to get disappointed when things don't go his way, and suddenly you're faced with a very familiar and endearing puppy dog face

so a lot of times, you'll just have to pull him in a hug, and remind him things almost never go the way we plan, and it's okay to accept defeat and learn from it

but there's nothing he's more motivated about than learning more about his dad, who in his mind, is an honourable, talented knight straight from the fairytales who devotes his life to protecting the people important to him

so much so, that you'll find him swinging around the toy sword you got him for training

he'll also start putting even more effort into learning magic, wanting to connect to his amazing papa in a way

and then on one night, you're not sure what triggered it, but he's incredibly emotional and crying about how he can't help you and you're always taking care of him and he just wants to have his dad in his life and it's all so unfair why his mama is alone and-

he starts emitting bright light, so bright you can't keep your eyes open, but you reach to hold him in your arms

when you no longer feel the bright light, you tentatively open your eyes, only to find yourself standing in the dark, spacious throne room of Briar Valley

and standing there, right next to the throne, was your knight in shining armour

Standing next to the grand throne, was your knight in shining armour, Sebek. He, along with Silver, stood in positions of defence, but the moment his eyes met yours, the mask of composure crumbled, and he rushed toward you with an urgency that mirrored the longing that had lingered in his heart during your separation.

He enveloped you in a fierce embrace, his arms securing you but also gentle to not hurt you with his armour.

"I thought... I thought I lost you," Sebek's voice was a shaky whisper against your ear, his grip on you tightening as if trying to confirm that you were indeed real.

"I'm here, Sebek. I found my way back," you reassured him, feeling the softness of his hair against your cheek.

"I never thought I'd see you again," he admitted, his words a whispered admission of the fears he had harboured, pressing his forehead gently to yours.

he's a mess the instant he sees you, and he melts completely when you're finally in his arms

malleus and silver are also immensely happy that you're back, calling lilia to join the family reunion

Sebek's pretty overwhelmed with your presence on its own, so silver and lilia have given him a gentle push to actually function and introduce himself to Atsuki

he's grown to be less awkward with his affection, and particularly with how long you've been away, he doesn't hold back too much

his hands are always inching closer to touch you, his forehead resting on your shoulder every once in a while, it's all really endearing

but his parenting style is a bit awkward

Atsuki really admires him, but that also makes him ever so slightly afraid of him

meanwhile, Sebek is nervous because he doesn't want to do anything that ruins the image of a perfect knight for his son

so they're a bit awkward, but with you as the middle person they can get along pretty well!

they bond over training, with Sebek teaching him sword fighting (with you reminding him not to push him too hard)

Atsuki also really enjoys sparing with uncle silver, who always lets him him, but Atsuki just wants him to fight for real, so it's just silver being "this is real??"

uncle malleus taking him out for gargoyle studies (Sebek is jealous lmao)

and of course, uncle lilia who cooks extremely nutritious meals that always end with Atsuki puppy dog eying you to save him

sebek's family is also very very happy to have you two!!

grandpa baul grumbles around a lot, but he keeps note of Atsuki's favourite foods to prepare them when he visits

also comments on his sword fighting and stance when he feels like it

mom and dad also adore you guys!! mrs. zigvolt loves giving you gifts and talking about sebek when he was younger haha

all in all, sebek's so incredibly grateful you could come back to him, and though he's still awkward with his affection sometimes, he'll never stop trying his best to love the both of you

Atsuki's eyes widened as he took in the sight of his father, the mythical figure he had only heard tales of until now.

Sebek's gaze shifted from you to Atsuki, and his breath caught. His eyes softened as he knelt down to be at eye level with the child who was undeniably his son. "Hello," he said, his voice trembling with a mix of joy and uncertainty. "I... I'm your father."

Atsuki's eyes flickered with a mixture of awe and excitement. "Papa?" he questioned, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sebek nodded, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out to gently cup Atsuki's face. "Yes, little one. I'm your papa."

The room seemed to hold its breath as father and son locked eyes for the first time. Atsuki, still processing the enormity of the moment, broke into a wide, joyful smile. "Papa!" he exclaimed, launching himself into Sebek's arms.

Sebek, overwhelmed with emotion, held Atsuki close, a mix of laughter and tears escaping him. "I've missed so much, haven't I?" he murmured, his heart swelling with love for the son he never imagined to exist.

Part 1✧Part 2✧Part 3 ✧Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #trey clover #trey clover x reader #twisted wonderland trey #ruggie bucchi #ruggie bucchi x reader #twisted wonderland ruggie #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #twisted wonderland rook #sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #twisted wonderland sebek

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bveckers · 2 months

Note

please write more Morgan omg I’m so obsessed with her 🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗

Dark red

I just hope she don't wanna leave me

morgan cheli x fem! reader

synopsis: Lately you've been prioritizing school and morgan is feeling neglected warnings: angsty fluff??? this is my best attempt at fluff wc:1042

NOT SPELLCHECKED!

The brightness of the lamp gleamed down on you. It was late at night but this assignment was due tomorrow and you simply couldn't risk not getting it done. You had spent all your recent time focusing on schoolwork, engineering was not an easy major and with the school year finally picking up this meant you were met with a pile of homework every day when you got home, much to your girlfriend Morgan's dismay.

She was very understanding of the situation being usually very busy herself juggling(get it) basketball and school but lately, she had felt a shift in the relationship. Morgan always did her best to make time for you regardless of how busy she was. Even if she came home exhausted from practice she would still ask you to come over to spend time with you.

With all the assignments piling up you barely had any time to hang out with her. You had grown comfortable in your routine, once you got home you would call her and usually one of you would come over depending on who was more tired or bombarded with tasks to do. However one day you had come home so tired that you forgot to call her and immediately fell into bed.

This led to a change in your routine. At first, Morgan didn't think too much about it. She was aware of the fact you were probably asleep so she had come over and made you something to eat before putting it in the fridge and watching TV until you had woken up.

She hadn't started to worry until you continued to skip calls for a couple days. It had now been almost a week without you guys having had a real conversation that wasn't over messages or apologizing for being busy.

Morgan was beginning to feel a little upset with you. She didn't like feeling this way but she couldn't help but feel a little resentment towards you. Every time you guys had gotten into a fight or argument Morgan was always the first to apologize even if it wasn't her fault, this being one of the many things you loved about her.

As you sat there working on your assignment you couldn't help but feel slightly dread. Your gut was telling you something bad was going to happen but you pushed it aside and continued to do your work.

Long after you had finished your assignment the feeling lingered. Suddenly you came to the realization that you hadn't spoken to your girlfriend all day. You felt the pit in your stomach grow as the realization set in.

You felt like an awful girlfriend. You were aware of the fact that you had been neglecting her lately but that was because of school it wasn't your fault right? Pushing these thoughts aside for now you decided to text her being pretty certain of the fact she was still awake.

You were glad that she was coming over. It had been a while since you had properly hung out and it was definitely taking a toll on the both of you which you could easily tell from just the messages alone.

Making your way to the living room you decided to tidy up a bit before she arrived. You made a cup of her favorite tea and made sure to grab a snack for yourself before setting the items down on the coffee table and clicking on her favorite show.

You wanted to show her that you cared because for the past couple days you had done the exact opposite. All you wanted was to make her happy, you felt the tears well up in your eyes from the disappointment in yourself. Your greatest fear was always and always would be losing morgan.

Taking a deep breath You did your best to calm down before opening your phone to check Morgan's location. You saw that she was already at your apartment so you put your phone down and as you did you heard her keys unlocking the door.

When she sat down next to you, you immediately wrapped your arms around her and profusely apologized.

“What” she questions looking confused

“I'm sorry for ignoring you” you reply looking up at her with tears in your eyes that you hope she doesn't notice

“it's okay baby I understand you were busy” she says looking down at you sympathetically

The truth was that Morgan had come over ready to argue with you but as soon as she saw your glossy eyes staring up at her she felt guilty like she was the one that had messed up. She felt that it was a mutually shared problem. While you had failed to make time for her she had become upset and pushed you away unintentionally enabling your behavior which had led to this heartfelt confession.

Rather than dwell on the argument of sorts you both made a silent agreement to never do anything like that again. You both had always been able to understand what the other was thinking by simply looking at each other. You had always believed it was because you had known each other since you were practically born but now you believed it was because Morgan was your other half.

As corny as that might sound, you felt that it was the truth. You cuddled up next to her before mentioning the tea you had made her. She smiled and thanked you before wrapping her arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your temple.

It was simple actions like this that made your heart flutter. You had always been on the more domestic side. Tonight was something different. You felt so seen and understood by Morgan in a way you never had before.

Usually, you guys would have argued a little before coming up with a compromise or solution. However today you had both decided that it wasn't worth arguing and hurting each other. Neither one of you wanted to risk losing the other so you had made the compromise without the argument. And as you drifted off to sleep you felt the happiest you had ever felt with the tall brunette also fast asleep next to you

#morgan cheli #uconn huskies #wcbb #uconn wbb #morgan cheli x reader #morgan cheli fic #uconn women’s basketball #uconn x reader #morgan cheli x fem! oc #morgan cheli x fem! reader #uconnwbb #uconn basketball #uconn lives #uconn

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alchemistc · 3 months

Note

okay….. can I ask about Buck in the hockey au?

Buck was a middling college player who got drafted in the third round after his team missed the Frozen Four, and he kind of labored in obscurity for a few years in the AHL before his current team picked him up trying to unload cap space to buy out a problem players contract.

Buck plays four regular season games with his new team before he gets sent back down. The company line is that he's just Not Ready but in actuality he's been hooking up with girls in visitor facilities and once in the team bus. His coach (the coach is Bobby I'm just still working out the details) tells him he sees a lot of potential in Buck, and he could make it if he could just find a way to get his head on straight.

Buck gets his head on straight. He kills it with the affiliate team, runs a point streak through twenty-three games as a defenseman, quarterbacks the power play to the point that fans of the NHL team are up in arms that he hasn't been called up.

They're playing with numbers, trying to give Buck as much ice time as possible while they lose the weight of one of their underperforming D-Men - the usual contract juggling. Then they call him up. He has a few good games, scores a few goals, has a wicked wrister from the blue line. He also scores an own goal against Chim his fourth game up and keeps taking stupid penalties. It's 2-4 penalty minutes a game for too many men or delay of game because he keeps getting too overexcited and slinging the puck over the glass instead of along the boards.

Abby works for TNT, and Buck catches her eye while she's between the pipes for a national broadcast game. She's got enough pull to get his number and they start up a phone based relationship.

Buck's team makes playoffs his first year, and gets slaughtered in the first round. Abby's mom dies and she takes a break from sports casting and Buck, not that she really lets him know that.

During the off-season Buck's team trades for a defenseman who's been in the KHL for a few years. His name is Eddie Diaz.

Buck hates him for about half a day. He feels like he's being replaced. He's worked so fucking hard to make it and now there's this guy who just gets a spot right away?

(They're best buds by the end of the week, and by the time the regular season starts they're playing 25 minutes a night as the top D-Pair)

Buck's career comes to a screeching halt in the second round of the playoffs that year when he gets tripped on a breakaway and slides awkwardly into the boards.

(No one makes the connection at the time, but the player who trips him is the same one one of their old wingers, Deluca, saved from the bottom of a dogpile years ago when a skate got way too close to his neck)

The injury isn't an easy one. There's no quick recovery time. Buck is just sort of stuck in limbo for a while. And then when he's cleared to return they find out there were complications. Coach Bobby benches Buck.

And Buck has been nothing but hockey for most of his life. It was the only way to get his parents to pay attention to him. The only outlet for all his anger. And he's good at it. He's the best. He could be the best, anyway.

Buck takes to twitter during his 'recovery' time. At first he's just posting stupid shit, but then people start paying attention to him. The PR dept does Not Like the way Buck calls out bullshit and trolls on Twitter. The GM gets involved, things blow up. Buck is reluctantly allowed back at practices and quickly jumps into game readiness.

And it's clear he's come back better.

The team toils for years in first and second round exits, and some of their stars are coming close to contract years, and they just can't break out. Buck places third for the Norris a few times, and he and Eddie are often talked about as one of the best Defensive pairings in the league, but their team is fast and light and they get beat to shit every time playoffs roll around. Eddie's feisty, he'll talk shit until the opposing bench is FUMING, he'll get scrappy along the boards, he'll duke it out when necessary, but he usually has to keep a lid on that because he can't let Buck down by getting injured.

At the end of year six for Buck, after a heartbreaking out, Buck's end of year presser goes viral when he talks about how he's been in the league for six years and hasn't won shit.

The fanbase panics because he's in his second to last contract year. If they can't contend, they're convinced he's gonna want out before the All-Star break. (None of them are aware that Buck would rather re-break his leg than leave this team he considers family, and his agent would like to keep it that way)

The team has a banner fucking year. They've got record game winning streaks and record point streaks and their aging goalie has never played better. He has four shutouts in the first half of the season. And Buck was never planning to leave so no one really broaches the contract thing. They'll figure it out in the off-season. Buck's got games to win.

With the trade deadline looming and Buck's team looking like a shoe-in for top of their conference, the front office makes a... strange move early in. They trade for Tommy Kinard. He's a bruiser, real old school type, skates like he's got bricks attached to his ankles but will knock a motherfucker down for looking sideways at his guys. He hasn't announced he's retiring at the end of the season, but he's planning to hang it up either way.

The team is hesitant about that, at first, once they know. He and Chim played together for a few years, and Chim welcomes him to the team by filling his car with golf balls. Pointed, maybe, but Tommy laughs it off, and retaliates, and the team starts to grow fond of him. BUCK starts to grow fond of him. Buck has a Cup run to worry about but Tommy is there, playing five minutes a night and knocking dudes on their ass that would normally be going for Buck and Eddie so consistently that Buck and Eddie feel a little invincible. People are second guessing whether or not they want to risk incurring the wrath of Kinard for a meaningless late March game.

And that is where I leave this because I'm actually seriously considering writing this fic now and that's about where I'd start it.

#bucktommy #bucktommy hockey au

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mondaymelon · 9 months

Text

MERRY CHRISTMAS !!! gifts ensue.

he really went. blep. hi user @ilyuu. im proud of this one so congrats wanderer takes home first gift wooo

lmao id like to apologise in advance as this was brought on because of me but I got super burnt out drawing like 20 of these over the course of 2 days... if you see the quality of the drawings declining ( which you will ) please don't mind it!! thank you.

@anonbinaryweirdo. sigh. i get whiplash whenever you're super nice and then in the span of the next three seconds immediately do something vile

@soleillunne. we don't talk much but from what I know you are such a sweet person omg !! and your works??? dies inside (in a good way). the way you write xiao maks me so. puddle like

@realkavehgf. we agree on one things (amongst others) and that is that kaveh is. kAVEH IS. MALFUNCTIONS PERISHES.

@emphasisondrvgs. you scare me. please take your ranpo and quietly see yourself out LMAO /j

@pjsk-writin. AMIMI ONE OF MY FIRST EVER MOOTS !!! im so proud of mikoto. sighs. straitjackets are smth else to draw .. BUT HES SO. MMMMMM !!!!

@circyexistforcontent AAAHHH HI PRECIOUS. I LIKE YOU BUT I DONT REALLY LIKE DILUC SO. TAKE THIS... quietly throws up

@whats-it-mean. puka puka. head empty. puka puka. please stop your affairs with my mother.

@falors. UGLY SOBS. UGLY CRIES. I LOVE YOU /P SM. WAAHHHH TEARS TEARS TEARS you are the most talented person ever I S T G gRAAAHHH YOU BETTER GET 18412409128410948 FOLLOWERS THIS YEAR OR I WILL RIOT. mwah.

@dustofthedailylife. omg. hi dust... tbh ive been so concerned for you recently with how much life is running you over with a pickup truck so wishing for your improved health soon !! alhaith is a smort guy what can I say

@the-white-void. DEAREST. literally one of the first people I ever interacted with on this platform and you're actually. like. literally one of the sweetest people I have ever met. KLEE IS SUCH A CUTIE FJSFJDK

@kaeffeinee. OMG. m..my kitten- woah WHO just said that. wild shit right there. have something you don't like?? have something that's been pestering you for far too long?? no worries. its the official nag seal of mendokusai !!!!

@lillonvia. sobs. I didn't do the man justice.loud sobs. DFSDDSF YOUR ART MAKES ME WANT TO LIKE DISENTAGRAT INTO GLOWING BALLS oF FUZZ AND FLOAT INTO THE HEAVENS I DONT KNOW HOW ELSE TO DESCRIBE IT. WE ARE SO DELULU oVER XIAO. FOAMS AT THE MOUTH

@absolutelyobsessedkiya. HELP WHY IS MINORI SO BRIGHT.... she's literally shining what. we need to talk more pspsspsp I just now found out that you're a fan of milgram!! remember like last year I was all 'whose that pretty pink person on their pfp??' AND NOW I FINALLY KNOW THATS ITS MUU RAHHHH

@auroratumbles. meow. cat. what a sweetie. I don't even know what my art style is doing here anymore Istg what even. what even BYE LETS TALK ABOUT XIAO LATER !!

@papiliotao. mwah. a kith for you. mWAH. ANOTHER KITH. SJFKSDJFLS GRAHHH YOU ARE THE SW E. E T E ST AND YOUR THE SWEETEST AND YOUR CAT IS THE SWEETEST AND YOUR VOICE IS MAKING ME WANT TO ELEVATE INTO THE CLOUDS AND YOURE SO SILLY EVEN THOUGH YOU DONT LIKE AKITIO SHINONOME

@yinyinggie. hihihi ying !! it honestly amazes me how you're able to juggle so many events and servers at once. im actually in awe. always look at xiao he's so emo and short

@solxima. GRAHHH HI. I DONT LIKE HOW JINGYUAN LOOKS IN THIS BUT. DLJFLSDJ DIES> I CANT DO THIS AN Y M O RE. your honor. hes so cat coded hes so cat coded he's so PERISHS

@yelshin. WAIIIIT NO YOUR NAME GOT CUT OFF> iM SORRY. I don't know why he looks... so r e g a l in this but its definitely giving off oRAtRice MecAnIquE DAnAlySe CARdiNAle .

@vennnnn-diagram. LOUD SCREAMING N O . YOUR NAME GOT CUT OFF TOOOODJSKFLSD JGAIJFAD JKLJFD:LFS. anyways. I need to see nahida smiling more she deserves everything and then some. aranaras are so silly giggles

@lume-nosity. I hold the slightest bit of guilt for putting your angsty ish drawing right next to happy lil nahida buT AHAHAH IT MAKES IT HURT MORE IG. took some inspo from your blog title... mwah ily lume. I WAS SO SCARED TO TALK TO YOU AT FIRST WHEN I SENT YOU THAT MOOT ASK BUT I AM EVER SO HAPPY THAT I DID !!!

th end. im actually so dead lmao my fingers actually were starting to bleed afklsdjfaskdjfklsdjflkasdjflksjflkjowejtoij enjoy your Christmas gifts mooties !! if anyone asks why I haven't been posting fics as promised. this is why. ill be in a coffin for a while please let my soul rest

OH AND FORGOT TO MENTION I DREW THESE BASD ON THE MOOTIES THAT COMMNTED ON MY THINGY LIKE LAST WEEK WHICH ASKED WHICH CHARACTER THY WANTD I LOVE YOU ALL PSPS I PROMIS

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gretavangroupie · 5 months

Text

The Ripe and The Ruin (Chapter 4)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader, OC x Reader

Word Count: 18.0k

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Anxiety, Embarrassment, Lying, Sexual Themes, Kissing, Oral M! Receiving, Oral F! Receiving, Protected Sex.

Find the Playlist Here: Apple Music | Spotify

A new series in collaboration with my talented co-writer @gretavanmoon.

"Like all good fruit, the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin."

AMSTERDAM, NETHERLANDS

HER POV

Thirteen hours.

It had been thirteen long hours since you last saw Jake, leaving your room in a hurry of flustered nerves. You were dreading it, but he was nowhere to be found this morning, not a sight or sound from him since late last night. It had been ten hours since his text, coming to you far too early in the morning for your liking. He was sorry. Of course he was sorry. The text came so early in fact, that part of you wondered if he was just arriving back to the hotel from the amp situation, or if he was tossing and turning in his bed in much the same way you were. You loaded into the van bright and early with Wes and Paul, secretly wondering where he was or if he was going to show up at all, but if you had to guess he was likely passed out in his bed five floors up.

Your market list today was short, only a few things for Josh and Sam and the noticeable absence of normal requests from Jake. You didn’t think much of it, getting what you needed before making the trek back to the venue. You took the spare second to give Ruth a quick run down and she was just as confused as you were. For once in her life she had nothing to say. She was speechless and you didn’t blame her.

She insisted you reply to Jake’s early morning text, but you couldn’t. You had no idea where to even start. You wanted to move forward and forget it ever happened, and in order to do that you needed to leave last night behind you. Right? You know that when you do see him today though, things will be tense. Maybe even a little awkward. You take solace in the fact that you will be busy the entire day, making it fairly easy to avoid him and forget about everything, you hoped.

You made your way back into the crew area, flashing your shiny laminated badge to security as you juggle the paper bags in your arms. You navigate the winding corridors of the venue hearing the sounds of rumbling bass and guitar echo through the halls, finding yourself smiling at the fact that this was a sound not many people got to experience. Jake must have made it here after all. Familiar voices laughing a few feet ahead of you snap you back to reality. You see Mia and Lyla hanging out in front of the greenroom, looking at something on one of their phones just as they spot you.

“Y/N! Hey!” Mia shouts, waving you over, “C’mere!”

You turn to head over towards them, stopping short as Lyla grabs one of the bags from your arms. “I’ll take one of those!”

“Oh, thanks!” you smile, feeling Mia place her hand on your arm.

“We just were talking a little while ago about how much fun we had with you yesterday. I know you don’t really know us that well yet, but you are welcome to hang with us whenever you want. Seriously. We want to get to know you, we need another girl on our side!”

“That’s so nice! Thank you so much, I appreciate that, really,” you answer, adjusting your grip on the bag in your hand. “I will take you up on that, yesterday was really cool.”

“Yeah, so what did you get into after we went back to the hotel?” Lyla asks, tilting her head a bit.

“Oh, I just…I went to my room and hung out for a while, went and did a little sightseeing of my own and ordered room service and fell asleep. I was pretty exhausted after walking all day,” you say, bending the truth just a touch.

“Huh, well, call us next time, hate for you to go out all alone,” Mia says, raising an eyebrow as she turns to Lyla. It almost seems as if she's waiting for you to correct her.

It strikes you as a little suspicious but you know better than to play into it. “Yeah, absolutely. But hey I have to go get this set up, they will be looking for it any second.”

“Yeah yeah, no problem, go, I know how Sam gets,” Lyla laughs, handing the bag back to you.

“Thanks again, I’ll find you two later!” you shout over your shoulder.

You rush into the greenroom, furiously arranging the food and drinks before soundcheck finishes. You want to get things set up, done, and be gone before they ever step foot in the room. Sure you told yourself you were going to be mature about things, but you weren’t going to put yourself in the line of fire. In fact, you had yet to see any of the guys today, and part of you was thankful. Trying to make awkward small talk with them was the absolute last thing you wanted to do right now.

You wipe your hands on your pants as you finish placing the drinks into the cooler, feeling your phone buzz in your back pocket.

Paul

3:43PM: Need another case of Topos and a bottle of soda water please

Fuck, where was this text an hour ago?

You

3:44PM: No problem, be back soon.

—

Two stores and thirty minutes later you are walking back to the venue, braving the cold with the case of drinks and bottle of soda water in hand. Your jacket is zipped all the way up to your neck, and still the wind is whipping right through you. You can see the venue gates a block away but the wind is making it feel like ten. Again you flash your badge to security, the burly man opening the gates to let you into the back parking lot. As you turn the corner to approach the entrance, you’re stopped in your tracks. Standing outside the doors, leaning against the brick wall is Jake. Of course.

He doesn’t see you, not yet at least. His back is turned a bit to cut the wind. Clad in only a t-shirt and his corduroy jacket, you know he is freezing. The smoke billows from his lips, whooshing away quickly as the wind whips it into the air. His lips. His perfectly pink, heart shaped lips that were all over your body last night. Kissing and biting and… No. Stop it. You try to compose yourself, gripping the items in your hands as you head toward the door, prepared to say as little as possible to him, and walk straight inside.

That of course, did not happen.

“Have any trouble finding it?” he asks, turning to meet your eyes as he rolls his smoke out between his fingers, dropping the burnt tobacco into the grass.

“Oh, um, no no, all good,” you answer nervously. Which was also a lie, you were kinda sweating finding the Topos for a second.

Your eyes catch on his jacket, your mind swirling with the memory of his cologne that lingers in its fibers. You feel a tinge of happiness in your chest at the fact he is talking to you, though, why wouldn’t he be? You didn’t do anything wrong. You watch his lips twitch a little, and you can tell that he seems almost nervous to talk to you.

“When are you ever gonna ask me for the things you want?” you ask playfully, trying to ease his anxiety. It never happened, remember?

He turns his body completely, crossing his arms over his chest as he smirks at you, “Well, the last time I texted you, you left me on read. So I figure I will just get my own things, now.”

Fuck, okay that plan backfired.

You bite your lips together and look down to the ground, unsure of what to even say to that. He drops his hands to his sides as he looks at you, and you feel your body temperature start to rise under his gaze. The wind blows his hair across his face, in turn sending the smell of his cologne barrelling past you. You feel bad for him, of course…if the roles were reversed, you wouldn’t even be speaking to him right now, let alone be acting even the littlest bit flirty. You shiver a little, from the cold or the smell of his cologne, you aren’t sure.

“I need to get this inside,” you stammer, at a complete loss on how to respond to that.

He nods his head and grabs the door handle, pulling it open and gesturing for you to go, but thankfully, he doesn’t follow you.

Fuck. Okay. Okay. It’s fine. It’s totally fine.

You rush back into the green room, finding Sam and Danny playing around with a mini golf toy.

“Here you go Sam! Sorry! Had to go to two places to find the kind you like,” you smile, ripping the box open.

“My hero!” he shouts, rushing over to you and wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

You smile as he sets you down, tossing a can to Daniel, and then cracking the lid on his own. The two of them saunter back through the greenroom doors, leaving you alone to throw the rest of them into the cooler.

You pull your phone from your bag, bringing up your text thread with Jake and staring at his last message. Maybe Ruth was right, you should respond. Now especially after that, after knowing he was still beating himself up over it. You type, delete and retype your message several times before finally landing on what felt right, and even more, you really mean it.

You

4:33PM: You have nothing to apologize for, Jake.

JAKE POV

As you continue to stand outside the venue and let the wind cut you in two, you wonder if your plan to play it smooth actually worked. She didn’t fully ignore you, she didn’t cuss you out, she didn’t laugh in your face… but she did speak. Only a few words, but you’ll take what you can get. It was hard to even say those few words to her, the instant courage you had to muster to speak to her after seeing her so unexpectedly almost threw you for a loop, but somehow, your words came out smoothly, concisely, and without sounding like you were a complete buffoon.

You relax a little as you know she is inside doing her duties, and you busy yourself pacing around the back exit to keep warm. The pre-show nerves start coming about this time of day, and sometimes it feels good to step out into the blistering cold for that extra shot of adrenaline to get your blood pumping. You jump up and down, shoving your hands in your pockets as you wait just a few more minutes… wanting to avoid having to make any more awkward conversation with her than you already had.

As your hand hits your pocket, though, you feel your phone buzz. You pull it out, seeing a notification that she has finally texted you back.

Y/N

4:33PM: You have nothing to apologize for, Jake.

You read the text no less than fifteen times, smiling from ear to ear before anxiety sets in, making you think that maybe she is just being nice. But you do have something to apologize for. You were the reason for a completely failed night, a shitty end to the perfect “date”, left her pissed and unsatisfied, the absolute worst. All you’ve been able to think about all day long is how you are going to explain everything, and make it up to her. You know you can’t until after the show, but just the little bit of contact from her makes you feel like you could move mountains. Progress is progress.

You’re pacing the hallways going back and forth between backstage and the green room, keeping yourself busy before you head to jam a little with the guys.

“Hey, man. You good?” Sam asks as you’re brushing past him in a doorway. His tone is more inquisitive than normal, and the volume of his voice is the one he uses when he’s unsure, or in this case, concerned.

“Yeah, I’m good. I mean… I wasn’t, really, but I am now,” you answer, pushing your sunglasses back up on your head. You watch his eyebrows furrow at your answer, wondering if you caught onto his loaded question.

“I heard about your amp, what happened?” he asks.

“I’m not sure, something with the wiring. Had a gash in the cabinet but the harness was all damaged to shit. They’re getting a rental, though… should be here soon,” you glance at your watch to double check the time, praying that you will have enough time to check it before tonight.

“Mmm, maybe not…” Sam stops in his tracks, and turns the opposite way to go back out to the stage. “Let me take a look at it.”

You’re surprised by him, but follow his quick steps anyway. You’re close behind him as you navigate the narrow halls, passing crew and staff left and right. And of course, one of them just happens to be Y/N. Her eyes widen as she sees the two of you.

“HEY!” Sam yells at her, grabbing her by the shoulder. “Daniel told me to tell you thank you for the soda water and that he appreciates it,” Sam cheeses a giant smile at her as she cups her hand over his, still squeezing her shoulder.

“No problem at all, Sam,” she giggles. “Man, you guys are really nice, no one has ever thanked me for getting them things this much,” she narrows her eyes at you, pursing her lips into the smallest smile. Mental note, thank her extra for whatever she decides to bring you to drink tonight…

“Well I mean we’re all assholes but we at least have manners,” he replies, starting to head toward the stage again. You part ways, but just her eyes meeting yours again was enough to make your heart flutter.

Sam skips every other step as he climbs the metal stairs to the stage, making his way over to your damaged amp that has been set to the side. “Alright, let’s see…” he squats down and pulls the back off, and starts to fidget with the wiring inside. “Oh, shit, yeah. I see now…” He pulls up the flashlight on his phone as you watch him think. Suddenly he stands and runs over to your cabinet, grabbing two handfuls of tools before making his way back and dropping them by your side. He then hops over to his own setup and pulls the back off of one of his own amps, pulling a few things from it, too. What the fuck is he doing?

He returns a minute later with some of the guts of his own amp, and pieces of it that you are sure you’ve never even seen before. He kneels back down and grabs a screwdriver, going back to work.

“So, you say you’re good now, but you weren’t, right?” he asks. “You’ve been acting kinda backward lately.”

“No I haven’t,” you kick back.

His eyes quickly scan to yours as his hands work at a quick pace. “Yeah, you have. I’m not stupid.”

You sigh, knowing that he isn’t gonna give it up. “I’ve just… got some other shit going on right now, I’ll–I’ll explain it all later once I get it dealt with,” you lie. The half-assed explanation will have to do for now, there is no way you are going into detail about all the good and bad happening in your life, especially since Lyla may be giving Sam a completely different story than the one you would give him.

You watch as he effortlessly completely replaces the wire housing, splicing the old wire at the perfect spot before tightening it back into place again. “There, that should do it…”

“Does your amp not need that stuff?” you ask, leaning your hands on your knees as you watch him.

“Eh, yeah, but I think this will be okay,” he says. “Alright, fire it up!” he yells at the techs, and you take that as your cue to grab your guitar to test it out. You plug the wire in and wait for Sam to get the thumbs-up from the booth. You play a single chord, hearing it ring across the arena with near-perfection.

“Holy shit Sam, how did you do that?!” your jaw is hanging slack as you make your way back over to him. “The techs couldn’t even figure it out…”

He wipes his hands against each other and stands with his hands on his hips like a proud father. “Eh, been watching Mark for a long time, now. Youtube deep-dives, ya know. Picked up on a few things.”

“Shit, I’m impressed,” you laugh. And you really, really were.

“Yeah, ya know, sometimes finding the root of the problem is the first step in making things work out how you want them to, know what I mean?” He bumps your side with his elbow. Yep. His first question was definitely loaded.

You nod slowly. “Yeah… thanks…”

“No problem.” He walks a little closer to you, barely twisting a peg on the headstock of your guitar. “There, now you’re tuned, too.”

You glance at the stock, seeing that he was right, the little fucker. You watch as he skips down the stairs again, throwing one finger in the air above him, screaming, “Cancel the rental!”

—

You and Sam decide to wander around the empty venue for a while, checking out the view from the top row of seats, enjoying a shared blunt as time ticks by. You don’t get to spend much time with just Sam, but every now and then you find a moment like this. You’re close with Sam, in a different way than you are with Josh. He understands things differently than Josh, and for a moment as the smoke swirls through your veins you consider asking him for advice about Isla.

You know it's a dangerous game, but without the influence of Lyla you think he would answer truthfully. Passing the blunt back to him you start to speak, but are quickly interrupted by your phone buzzing in your pocket. You pull it out, seeing a name on the screen that you’d been waiting for for a few days.

“Hey, let me take this, I’ll meet you back in the green room?” you ask, hoping he will catch the drift.

His face twists up in confusion, “Huh? You never answer your phone.”

“It’s Chris. I’ve been waiting on this call. Let me grab it,” you say, flashing the screen towards him.

“Oh, oh. About your new band with your new friends that aren’t me and Josh and Daniel. That's fine, yeah yeah take the call,” he says playfully.

“Old friends Sam, and don’t be like that…” you chide.

“No, it’s totally fine, cheater, answer before he hangs up,” he smiles, elbowing you as he stands up. You tap the green icon as he starts to walk away, clearing your throat and stifling back a smile.

“Chris…” you answer.

“Jake…” he answers, a happy lilt in his tone.

“I’m guessing this means we’re doing it?”

You hear him laugh on the other end of the phone, “Oh yeah, we’re doing it.”

—

“Jake, you good?” Danny asks, standing up from his practice kit.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m feelin’ really good actually,” you answer truthfully. You stand, placing your guitar into the stand and shaking out your hands as Josh steps up towards you.

“Drink?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Followin’ you…”

You do follow him back to the greenroom, needing a drink to get your blood moving and to shake those pre show jitters. As you step over the threshold you spot Y/N sitting on a couch talking to Lyla, Ty, and Mia. You wonder for a second if she has mentioned anything about what happened last night, but from the happy look on their faces you know it’s likely they know nothing about the two of you or what transpired last night.

You walk over to the drink table, Josh already getting started on making a drink for the two of you. You laugh at his heavy handed pour, but accept it graciously. You can hear the rumble of the crowd, the opener finishing up their set this very minute. Your eyes flick over to Y/N, catching her looking at you for just a second before looking away. The feeling of her eyes on you has your chest warming up, no alcohol needed.

In all reality you were ready for this show to be over. You knew that as soon as you got the chance you were going to whisk her away to talk about last night, explain things, and hope she understood. You just had to get through this show.

You grab the drink from Josh and make your way over to the empty couch across the room, sitting at the very end and crossing your leg over your knee. You know you’ve got about thirty minutes until you need to walk, and you still need to change, but a quick drink would do you some good so you enjoy the few moments listening to Josh ramble.

Just as you start to relax you notice Y/N standing from her place on the couch and walking over towards the corner of the room. You try not to stare, knowing Mia and Lyla’s eyes are on you but you have an idea of what she may be doing, so you sit back and watch to find out.

You hear her walkie talkie chattering from across the room, the time until stage is growing smaller and smaller. As she stands back up she turns around and looks at you, letting her eyes linger on you for just a few seconds before she walks out of the room with your bottle of wine in hand. You stifle back the smile on your lips as you think about her going through your bag again. It’s strange, you’d never allowed any of the other runners to do that, but she was different. You found yourself excited at the idea of her touching your things, finding your wine and readying your drink for the stage.

You turn back to Josh who has his eyes locked on you with a knowing grin. He clears his throat and makes sure that no one is listening before he speaks, “Are you two good, then?”

You nod your head inconspicuously, sipping at the drink in your hand. “Seems that way.”

He pats his hand on your thigh harshly, “Good, go get changed. We’ve got a show to play.”

Just then, Paul ducks his head through the door looking frazzled as usual, “Boys, twenty minutes.”

Josh tilts his head to you, and you stand up heading for the dressing rooms. You quickly change into your suit and slip into your boots, ready to swipe on some eyeliner before you hit the stage. You hear your phone buzz on the countertop, and it zaps all of your attention. You are practically stumbling over your own feet to get to it, hoping to see something from Y/N, and much to your delight, it is.

‘Y/N Added A Song to Your Shared Playlist: 🐥’

Oh fuck, a song.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, you want to open it immediately but you know you have to get this eyeliner on first. You grab the pencil and pull your lid down, swiping on the dark black liner, smudging it out with your finger the best you can before repeating it on the other side. All you can think about is what song she added. Will it be happy? Will it be sad? Is she telling you she doesn’t want to do this anymore? That you fucked up?

You cap the liner and toss it into your bag, running your fingers through your hair and adjusting your suit jacket in the mirror. You look good, you look really good, and you know that a spray of cologne probably wouldn’t hurt. You snatch your phone off the counter and make your way back into the greenroom, finding everyone else dressed and ready to walk.

You make your way to your backpack, crouching down in front of it searching for the small glass bottle of cologne you know is floating around at the bottom. You pull it from the bag and give yourself a generous spray. It calms you, in a way, breathing in the familiar scent. It centers you and reminds you of home.

Unable to wait a single second longer, you tap the notification on your screen bringing up the shared playlist, scrolling to the very bottom. Your heart leaps in your chest when you see her addition, and you know that you are about to play a good show because of it.

You tap the song, letting the sweet and sentimental notes of ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You’ by Frankie Valli ring through the air. You turn the volume up probably a little louder than it should be, but you don’t care. It’s not long before Josh notices, peering over at you from the rim of his paper cup.

“Jake, is that Frankie Valli? Holy shit, wait, do you like good music now?” he teases, throwing you a wink.

The chorus echoes through the room, Sam and Lyla obviously enjoying the song as he dances her around the room. He pops a few grapes into his mouth as they spin and you can’t help but to notice that this song alone has brightened everyone's spirits in a matter of seconds. She definitely had that effect on you, but now her magic was being cast on others. You almost wanted to thank her, and you would, tonight. With extra thanks…

You quickly pull up your texts with her, deciding to let her know you saw it without saying too much.

You

8:31PM: 😎

You know it’s risky but you don’t care. You also know the chances of her replying to that are slim, because in all honesty what do you even say to that? But she continues to surprise you, your phone buzzing in your hand before you can even put it back in your bag.

Y/N

8:32PM: 🎸

You can’t seem to shake the smile from your face and you’re glad you are still crouched down in front of your bag, because you know everyone would have a million questions the second they saw your shit-eating grin.

“Let’s go guys, time to walk!” Paul shouts, pulling your attention away from the little guitar emoji. You toss your phone in your bag and straighten out your suit, trying to get your mind back into the zone to play this show. Get through this, then you can talk to her.

Your heart is beating fast though, knowing that at the end of this hallway she is waiting for you. You know you have to play it cool, you don’t want to seem too eager. You clear your throat and fall to the back of the group, saving yourself for last.

You’re fine Jake. Just act natural, be cool.

—

HER POV

The tequila cocktail… the Topo… the spiked hot tea… and…

The shadowed figure is bringing up the rear like the tail end of a parade of sequins and sparkling material, dressed in black satin and glittering in the dim lights, hair flowing back from his shoulders as his right hand falls to his stomach as he walks. His face is contoured by the flashing lights of the stage, showcasing the smudged black eyeliner carefully but heavily painted over the eyes that were boring into you, now.

You feel your hand begin to shake on its own accord, trying not to spill the chalice of white wine that it was, in all honesty, about to drop to the floor below you. You swallow harshly as he makes his way toward you at almost slow-motion speed, his eyes dark and hollow as his presence approaches. Your hand shakily extends the cup, glancing up to him again as he bites his cheeks in, suppressing a smile that reads more like a judgment on behalf of your probably flustered state. Why are you reacting this way? This man literally gave you one of the most awkward exchanges of your night last night…

His fingertips are nearly on fire as they barely graze yours, taking the cup with a quickness.

“Good luck,” you mutter, probably barely audible over the opening orchestral.

He flips his hair out from underneath the strap of his guitar with his free hand, side-eyeing you as he walks toward the stairs to the stage. “Mmm, don’t need it, babe.” As if the pure adrenaline wasn’t already enough to knock you over, his bold act of cocky audacity steals all the breath directly from your lungs, leaving you standing with your mouth agape and your hands dropped at your sides. God damn, why is he like this?

“I don’t know… I’ve seen you with stage fright before…” you retort, suddenly feeling bold enough to joke about what happened the night prior.

“Ohhhh, is that how it’s gonna be?!” he laughs, bumping into your shoulder. “Hope you know that’s not normally how those kinds of nights go for me…” he yells back over the deafening music, avoiding eye contact with you as he takes the first sip from his wine.

You cross your arms over your chest. “Oh, it’s not, is it?”

He shakes his head a little as he begins to ascend the metal stairs. “No. Most definitely not.” Your heart is pounding out of your ribcage as his words ring through your brain, replaying the utter humiliation of last night, followed by his overwhelming acts of confidence in the past minute. “Thank you, though, seriously. For taking care of us.” He leans over the handrail of the steps, leaning down to speak closely in your ear. “But for taking care of me, especially. I plan on returning the favor, don’t worry…”

He stands back up and glides onto the stage, holding his wine up into the air as if to salute your efforts. Your mouth goes dry as you find yourself in a puddle of excited emotions. You can feel your mouth hanging open still from his words, your lips unable to close simply from hearing him say he wants to try again. It's all a conundrum, and now you’re full-on staring at him as he crosses the stage to stand with his brothers, fluffing his hair a little as he pulls a pick from the inside of his jacket, biting it between his front teeth. He turns back to you and winks, placing his own hand under his jaw, signaling for you to pick yours up off of the floor.

—--

Minutes later you’re still standing at the base of the stairs, watching as they begin their night of revelry. Jake’s amp sounds perfect again, and you can tell that his worry of finding a replacement and anxiety of it not making it on time was all for nothing. He treats the stage like it’s his second life, a place where he can release his true inner self, or, maybe, an alternate version of the man that he is. You’re not sure yet, but you have a deep feeling that you will be experiencing it, soon. The thought of that makes your insides feel like they’re blazing with hormones, watching his performance pick up and slow down with each passing second. Yeah, you know for a fact last night was a fluke. Had to be. There’s no way he can’t really actually…nevermind.

You pull your phone from your pocket, hoping that you have enough service to facetime Ruth. You don’t even bother doing the math to see if you’ll be waking her up or not, but you also know that she absolutely won’t care, if this is what she gets to wake up to. You press the green button, watching as it connects with only a little bit of blurriness from the reception.

You plaster a smile on your face as you watch her answer, realizing exactly where you are, and what you’re in the middle of doing. You can’t hear each other, but you turn the screen around, giving her a full view of the show happening from side stage. You watch her face light up, and an ‘OH MY GOD’ form on her lips. You take the time to zoom in on each member, of course, saving Jake for last. He’s the closest to you, so you don’t have to use much zoom at all for her to really see him. ‘That’s him! That’s him, isn’t it?!’ you watch her mouth. Her hand snaps up to cover the lower half of her face as you watch her squirm with excitement. ‘Last night wasn’t real, you gotta let him try again!!!’ you read her lips, and you turn the screen back to yourself.

You roll your eyes, mouthing back an enunciated, ‘I know!’

You let her watch for a few more minutes before the crappy reception disconnects you altogether, and she shoots you a quick text filled with nothing but a long string of random letters, letting you know she was fully freaking out.

Right before the end of the show, you rush back to the green room to clean up the mess of whatever is left behind, replenishing and rearranging everything that needs it. You know the crew will be coming in to collect snacks and waters before their job begins tonight, and you’ve learned to put out almost every single food item that you can, knowing that none of it will go to waste.

As you hear the encore coming to a close, you grab the four black towels waiting for you in your bag, rushing back out to side stage to hand them off to the guys. You find Paul waiting too, ready to give them encouraging back-pats of congratulations. Just like they entered, they exit the same, Jake bringing up the back as if he planned it. You’d been kind enough to hand Sam, Josh, and Danny theirs with sweet words of compliments and praise, but switched it up at the very end, tossing Jake’s towel into the air above him, forcing him to reach high and catch it in mid-air.

The sweat is pouring from his every pore, pooling on his upper lip and center of his stomach. Your mind goes to a dark place for a second, wishing you knew exactly what it would taste like if you were the one to lick it from his lips. He quickly pulls the towel across his face and stomach, finishing off by wiping the back of his neck with it. He then tosses it back in your face, and you catch the smallest breath of his scent filling your nostrils. “You can keep that, all yours,” he jokes as you pull it off your face, responding to him with a look of annoyance.

“You asshole,” you laugh, tucking the towel under your arm as you follow them all backstage. He turns around, yanking the towel back out from your grasp. You watch as he takes two ends and twists them up, wrapping the damp towel in a tight coil. Oh god, he’s not gonna…

You stop, lifting your leg and outstretching your arms in defense of your body. You just know he is about to snap it at you. “Jake, no, please don’t!” you squeal, backing away.

“Don’t worry, ‘m not gonna get you, unless you’re into that kinda thing…”

Son of a bitch, he said that fairly loudly, as you’re surrounded by his brothers, their girlfriends, the crew, your co-workers… fuck.

Your eyes widen as big as they will go as he laughs, continuing to make his way down the hall. You pick up steps again, following him in a flustered mess of confusion. “I’m gonna get Daniel, watch…”

You burst into the greenroom right behind him, the towel still tightly wound and held in his right hand. He makes his way straight for Danny, twirling the towel in the air as he approaches him.

“No, Jake! No!” Danny yells, running away and launching himself onto the couch, but not before you hear a perfectly loud snap of the towel connecting with Danny’s thigh. Danny yelps out in stinging pain as everyone else laughs, Jake taking his time to roll the towel up into his makeshift whip again. “What the fuck?!” Danny yells, trying his best to hide behind Mia. Everyone is running away from him at this point, worried they will be the next victim.

Jake makes contact with Danny’s leg again as he squeals. “That’s for not cueing me into Farewell like we practiced, you asshole!” Jake yells at Danny with a giant smile across his face.

“Leave me alone!” Danny laughs, laying all his weight onto Mia. “I forgot, okay? Fuck!” You can’t help but join in the laughter of everyone filling up the green room, watching their playful display. You feel a sudden strong warmth fill your chest, realizing you get to be a part of this, seeing it all firsthand.

Jake stops, folding the towel back into a nice neat square as he makes his way back to where you stand, handing the towel to you with both hands. “Anyway, told you you could keep this,” he reiterates as you take it from his hands, giving him another glare of petty aggravation.

“Wonderful show guys, as always!” Paul claps his hands together. “This venue has an early curfew, so get your showers and shit together, no lollygagging around, alright?” he barks, popping a pretzel into his mouth before dashing back out the door.

Sam’s the first one out the door to the showers, pulling Lyla behind him. “You guys make the afterparty plans, we’ll do whatever, we don’t care…” he yells over his shoulder as the door slams behind Lyla.

“It’s balls cold out, I know Ty’s not gonna want to go walking around in this shit. And to be honest, I don’t really want to either,” Josh says, taking a seat on the couch beside Ty. “Am I right?” he asks him.

“Yeah, fuck this cold,” Ty responds.

You try not to listen in on their conversations as you know they don’t apply to you, but you most definitely are curious to see if Jake decides to partake in their plans. You busy yourself with a giant box of various crackers to fill the time.

“Let’s just go to the hotel bar. I noticed it’s kinda secluded, not very big,” Josh suggests, earning a nod of agreement from Danny and Jake.

“Sounds good to me, make sure Dean knows,” Jake says as he pulls his drenched jacket off, hanging it on a wire hanger. Shit shit shit don’t look don’t look.

“Sounds like a plan. Hey, Y/N, you gonna join us?” Josh’s voice saying your name pulls you from your daydream of thinking about watching Jake take his jacket off again and again, causing you to perk up.

“What? Sorry…”

He laughs. “When you’re done here tonight, meet us at the hotel bar, yeah?” You watch Jake’s head snap your way out of your peripheral.

“Yeah, Y/N, join us…” Mia adds, the smallest bit of songlike quality to her voice again, just like earlier.

You push the flyaway hairs away from your face, blowing a puff of air on them as you tuck the cardboard box of crackers back into the plastic tote. “Uh, yeah, sure. If I can get everything cleaned up in time, I’ll be there…” you answer on the fly, feeling as though you can’t turn the offer down.

Jake stays silent as he picks up his backpack and heads out the door toward the showers, flashing his devious eyes at you before the door shuts behind him.

—

JAKE POV

You only had to dodge the curious eyes of a few fans as you slipped around the corners of the hotel to the bar, being the last one to arrive, like always. Josh is seated at the bar with his back to you while Danny and Sam are standing at a table off to the side with Mia and Lyla. Thankfully, the bar is empty for the most part, only a couple unsuspecting older folks closing out their tabs. You pull out the heavy mahogany chair to the right of Josh, taking a seat as the bartender approaches you.

“Hi, uh. Soda water with lime, please?” you ask, and he nods and flits away. “Where’s Ty?” you ask.

“On his way down in a few minutes. He um, he’s actually walking Y/N down…” he responds, flicking his eyes behind the two of you.

“Oh,” you respond, surprised. “Is that right?” You fold your arms across the bar top as the bartender sets your drink in front of you.

“Yeah, he actually stuck behind a little to help her clean up the green room and get everything put away,” Josh explains further.

You smile as you place your hand on his back. “You’ve got yourself a gentleman, brother. Must say.” Josh grins at your sentiment, pulling his straw between his lips.

“Most kind hearted person I know,” he says. “Speaking of, seems like you and her are on a little better terms now, since we spoke last,” Josh looks behind you again, making sure you are out of earshot from the other guys.

You huff through a breath, not sure whether or not you want to go into much detail of reliving one of the most humiliating nights of your life, thus far. But, maybe talking about it will put it in the past where it belongs. “Yeah, you could say that, I suppose. Had to fuckin’ work for it though…” you laugh through your nose.

“What does that mean?” he asks.

You swallow down a rather large drink of your soda water, running your tongue over your teeth as you contemplate an answer. “Let’s just say we… had a less than eventful night last night, and I… wasn’t able to…” you take a fast breath. “Too many beers, too many phone calls from my tech, too much bullshit from Isla, I just…” you clench your jaw, trying to say it all without really saying it.

But Josh nearly chokes on his drink. “Ex-fucking-scuse me? Wait, no no no…” he waves his hand in your face as he turns in his seat, running his fingers over his beard. “You seriously couldn’t…”

“That’s right Josh.” You stare straight ahead of you at the mirror behind the top shelf of liquors, finding your defeated reflection staring back at you. You glance at him in the mirror, watching him cover his face with both hands as he silent-laughed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he cries after a few seconds of laughing at your expense. “It’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not funny. It’s humiliating, and a little sad, actually,” you say flatly. “Go ahead, laugh away, get it out of your system.”

He slaps his palms across the bar top a few times as he catches his breath, trying not to laugh so loud that he causes a scene. “Fuck. Has that ever happened to you? What was…?”

“No, god dammit. It’s never happened. I was sloshed, my phone was ringing incessantly, between Isla’s name popping up on my phone and knowing the crew needed me, I just… she was perfect, man. Beautiful, confident, everything was there, except…”

“...Except… you,” he finishes your sentence.

“Yeah,” you respond with a breath. “It worked out for a few minutes, surprisingly, and fuck if it wasn’t…” you held up the A-OK sign with your fingers, popping a ‘p’ sound. “But then everything went to shit.”

“And that’s why you’re having soda water tonight?”

“Eh, yeah. Just feel like if we’re gonna have a chance to have a conversation about it all, I want to be completely present,” you admit. Suddenly you feel the presence of Danny standing behind the two of you, ordering another round for Sam and the girls. You turn your attention to him. “Speaking of… hey asshole, why the fuck are you still buying Durex condoms? You’re a grown man with money, for god’s sake, use the good shit,” you ask Danny quietly. “You’re not 15 anymore.”

For your sake, so far Danny has done a good job of keeping your secret for you after you went running to his room last night in search of protection, just in case.

“Jake, what the fuck are you talking about?” Danny asks with wide eyes, looking between you and Josh.

“Don’t worry Daniel, I’m already informed. The youngest of us is not, though, so keep your fuckin’ mouth shut to him, you hear?” Josh defends you.

“Jesus Christ, Jake. Listen, I don’t want to know what the fuck is going on with you and whoever, I’m not asking any questions,” Danny says as the bartender hands him their beers. He leans in closer, whispering between you and Josh. “But I haven’t used a fucking condom in almost a year. You had me digging in my reserve stash… it’s all I had, ok? Sorry if an XL wasn’t the size you needed…” Danny backs away, laughing with his tongue out.

“OH fuck you!” you howl back. “It was a piece of shit, just do yourself a favor and get the good kind, ok?” you whip your head back around as Danny rejoins the others.

“Anyway…” you say as you finish off your soda water. “It was a night I want to forget, honestly. But I’m gonna redeem myself. I have to. I can’t leave it like that…”

“Maybe you should turn your phone off the next time you get an opportunity, just in case…” Josh suggests, and you nod in return.

Just then you see a pair of arms wrapping around Josh’s neck, and you turn to see Ty and Y/N walking up behind you.

“Hey, guys!” Josh says. “Please join us…” he pulls out the seat next to him for Ty and stands to give Y/N his own seat, before she puts a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Thanks, Josh, but Paul, Wes and Corri are coming down, too. Dean’s coming, I’m gonna sit with them for a little while. Thank you for walking me down, Ty,” she flashes the three of you a warm smile, and you want to speak to her, but it's almost as if all the air has escaped from your lungs. She looks absolutely stunning, a little fixed up, but not too much. You can tell she looks as tired as you all do from the show, but you’d hardly know it. She has on a tight low-cut t-shirt dress with an oversized denim jacket over top, her hair a mess after being up all day. Her makeup had been re-done, and you’d be lying if you said the way her legs looked in that dress didn’t have you imagining things that were still a blurry memory from last night.

“I’ll be back later…” she says, making eye contact with you. Again, you’re at a loss for words, so you give her a sweet nod.

“I really like her,” Ty speaks up, filling the silence that has fallen over the three of you as soon as she’s gone. “You should dump Isla and go out with her, Jake.” The straw you had been chewing falls from your mouth and straight onto the floor.

“What? What did you say?” you ask him.

He shrugs one shoulder as he takes the seat next to Josh. “She’s cute. No bullshit, smart, and can obviously handle all the shit you guys have been throwing at her since she got here…”

You look to Josh, who seems just as surprised as you are.

“I dunno. I mean I like Isla, don’t get me wrong, but. There’s just something off about her, and I don’t know what it is,” he continues, and you feel Josh’s widening eyes find you, telling you he has no idea where this is coming from, either. Ty reaches his hand across Josh to sit on top of yours. He looks you directly in the eye before speaking again, “Jake, I have an excellent read on people. And I’ve never steered you wrong, have I?” he asks.

You slowly shake your head back and forth.

“That’s right. No. And I’m here to tell you, that girl likes you. A lot. She didn’t even have to say anything to me, and I can tell. She froze up when I mentioned your name earlier. And from all the time you spent on our couch the past couple of months, I know there’s something going on. Just know I’m here to talk about it if you feel like my partner here isn’t hearing you out, okay?”

You swallow hard as you take in Ty's words. He’s right, he's always been an excellent confidant for you, even letting you come to him a couple of times in the past for advice on different subjects. You love Ty just like you love your twin, and you never once have doubted his judge of character.

Josh nods slowly, agreeing with every harsh word Ty has just delivered to you. Ty pats your hand as he releases it.

“Take my advice, Jacob. I know Isla isn’t making you happy, and that girl…she just left your talkative ass completely unable to speak.” He smiles hard, turning his attention to the bartender, ordering a round of shots for everyone. You finally have a free second with Josh again.

“Guy knows what he’s talking about…” Josh suggests. “Maybe you should listen to him.”

You bite at your cheek as you nod your head. You know he’s right, of course he’s right. But you also know it’s just a little bit more complicated than that. The bartender slides you a fresh soda water, and as you pinch the lime between your fingers you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You drop the lime into the bubble water and take a quick drink as you pull your phone from your coat pocket.

Y/N

11:46PM: Not drinking tonight?

You look over your shoulder knowing she is watching you, and you catch sight of her sitting at a cocktail table a couple of feet away with Wes and Corrine. Her eyes are locked on yours, a skinny straw between her teeth. You send her a playful smirk as you turn back to your phone, replying to her message.

You

11:47PM: Not tonight, I have other plans…

You look at her as you pocket your phone, watching her face twist into a mischievous smile as she turns to look at you. You shrug your shoulders and grin before turning back to continue listening to Josh and Ty. You can feel her eyes on you and you have to admit it feels good. You feel like things might actually be okay between the two of you if you can continue to play your cards right.

“So do you wanna hit up that one place with the crazy wine list when we get to France? It was in Paris Metro, right?” Josh asks, tapping your arm with his hand.

You know the exact place he is talking about, but right now your mind is somewhere else completely. “Oh, yeah yeah, it is. It was close to that tiny ass venue, remind me and I’ll look it up tomorrow on the flight.”

“Anywhere else you want to go? I think we have a day or two off while we’re there,” he asks, still trying to grab your full attention.

“Um, maybe I’ll stop in to that rarity shop, see if they have anything interesting this time around,” you answer, doing your best to focus.

“Oh shit, yeah, that’s where you got that crazy old guitar, right? From like the early 1900’s or whatever?”

“Yeah, exactly. Had to completely unstring the fucker to get it home without it snapping in two,” you laugh, remembering the hassle.

“Any…other plans while in the city of love?” he croons, bumping shoulders with Ty.

You look over your shoulder to check your surroundings before answering. You place your hand roughly on his shoulder and shake him a bit, “I guess that will depend on tonight, now won’t it?”

The two of you laugh as you notice commotion at the end of the bar. You turn yourself to look, only to find Lyla walking towards you with her phone to her ear.

“Jake?” she says, stepping up to you in a huff. She pulls the phone away from her ear and holds it out to you. “It’s Isla, she said you aren’t answering your phone, and I know I just saw you on it?”

Fucking hell Isla.

You know you have to take the call, because if you do it now, there’s no chance of it happening later. You snatch the phone from her hand, holding it to your ear and exhaling an aggravated breath. “Hey, what’s up?”

“What’s up? I don’t know, Jake. You tell me what’s up! You aren’t answering any of my texts, you turned off your location days ago, you said you’d call me and you haven’t! Tell me what is going on!” she shouts into the phone.

“Nothing is going on, Isla! I am at work, working, on tour. You know the thing that pays the bills? Also, I’m in a different country, a different time zone. But you know what, I know you aren’t stupid. You know all of this, so what’s up? What is so important that you had to call someone else to get ahold of me?”

You see Josh push past Lyla, grabbing you by the shoulders, “Hey I need you to do me a favor,” he says, pushing you backwards. You pull the phone away from your ear to hear him. He stares into your eyes, silently telling you to go with it.

“Oh, I have to go Isla, sorry. Here’s Lyla,” you say, pushing the phone back into Lyla’s hands.

Lyla is staring you down as Josh finally stops, letting go of your shoulders. “I uh, I need you to go run an errand for me. Well, I need Y/N to go run an errand for me, but I need Dean to stay here to field those girls in the lobby, so I was wondering if you could accompany her?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

“What?” you ask, admittedly very confused.

“Yeah, just walk with me,” he says, walking you over towards the tables. “I need you to go run this errand—” he pauses, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone was close enough to hear him. “Okay, yeah there is no errand.”

You send him yet another completely bewildered look.

“There’s no errand, just…I don’t know, get out of here before someone asks questions. Go. Take her with you. She already knows and she thinks there is an errand,” he smiles smugly, “You can thank me later.”

For a moment you hesitate, unsure if you should go with his harebrained idea, but you decide to do it, knowing that he really only has your best interest at heart. He pretends to show you something on his phone, and you nod like you understand. You exhale a breath and nod towards him, “Yep, I’ll take care of that for you.”

“Yeah, perfect. Make sure you do a good job,” he quips, the meaning definitely not lost on you.

You toss your hand towards him as you walk away, locking eyes with Y/N who is waiting near the door. You swallow down your nerves and make your way towards her, ready to make amends.

“You uh, ready to go?” you ask, playing along with the charade. You pull the door open and allow her to step out first into the dimly lit hallway of the hotel lobby.

“Yeah, I just… Did he tell you what he needed or anything?” she asks, a confused look on her face. You laugh to yourself and purse your lips before answering.

“Well, he doesn’t need anything. He kinda… bent the truth a bit to give us a chance to leave alone,” you answer honestly.

A hum leaves her lips, as she stops in place turning to face you, “And how do you know that I want to leave with you?”

There's a playful grin on her face, but there's also a tinge of truth to her tone. You can’t read her, but you give it your best shot.

“Well, I have a pretty good feeling about it, but please enlighten me if I am mistaken,” you answer.

She rocks back onto the heels of her shoes, turning to continue walking, “I see, are these those ‘other plans’ you were talking about?”

You bite your lips together and turn to look at her, “That remains to be seen, I suppose.”

The two of you start to approach the elevator bank, and you know you need to make your move. She hasn’t said much, or really given you any indication of whether she is into this playful little game or not, so you decide to cut your losses and leave the ball in her court.

“I’m gonna go up to my room for the night. You can come up and join me for a night cap, or you can head back to your own room. Completely your choice, but if you decide to join me, I’m in room 507,” you finish, stopping just shy of the elevators. You give her a smile and nod your head before continuing to walk to the waiting elevator.

Your heart is racing as you step inside, wondering if she is going to follow you, or better yet take you up on your offer. You press the button for floor five and watch as the doors close, a rush of nerves spreading through your body. You shake out your hands and pull your phone from your pocket seeing a myriad of missed calls and texts from Isla. You muted her notifications after everything last night, and you know that’s what prompted her call to Lyla.

You tap your keycard to the door and step inside, the cool air of the AC hitting you like a brick wall. You step over and turn on the heat, needing the room to be at least a few degrees warmer. You take all of your things out of your pockets and deposit them on the nightstand, deciding to take Josh’s advice and power off your phone completely. You toss your jacket onto the small couch, removing the hair tie from your finger and tying your hair up into a knot. You reach for a bottle of water from the mini bar, downing what had to be half of it as you start to pace the room.

You wonder if maybe she’s texted, or added a song, anything to give you some kind of indication of her answer, but you know that your phone is off and that you’re just going to have to wait this out the old fashioned way. You kick off your boots and push them to the side of your suitcase, digging around inside of it to change clothes, but deciding to wait just a little bit longer, just in case. You unbutton your shirt though, letting it hang open on your body as you step away from your suitcase.

You sit on the edge of the bed, looking at the flashing clock on the nightstand and watching as the numbers flash as they change. Fuck, maybe she really isn’t coming.

You lay back, completely spread across the fluffy white sheets letting out a sigh of exhaustion. The past two days have drained you. Mentally, physically… You felt like you could sleep for three days straight given the opportunity. You let your eyes flutter closed for just a second, and that's when you heard it. The tiniest knock on the door. Any softer and you wouldn’t have heard it, chalking it up to your brain playing tricks on you.

You sat up instantly, listening for it again, and sure enough another set of small knocks echoed through the room.

Holy shit, she came.

You shoot up from the bed, smoothing out your hair and shaking out your arms. You were nervous, you’d admit that, but you were also bound and determined to make tonight better than the last. You’d thought of nothing else, since.

—

HER POV

The sound of a little bit of rustling inside the door causes your heart to pick up speed, the sudden clarity of what you’re doing hitting you across the face. Sure, last night you’d been in a similar circumstance, but tonight…things feel different. Your second set of knocks on his door has finally jostled him.

You hear the door knob turn and Jake opens it, hiding a little bit behind it as he invites you inside.

“Hey,” he says, his voice raspy. “Didn’t think you were gonna come up.”

You walk inside the room, smelling the remnants of the cologne he spritzed on before he came down to the bar still lingering in the air. “I almost didn’t, but, I think…we need to talk about a few things…” you reply, awkwardly holding your hands together at your stomach as he closes the door behind you. You feel your breath hitch in your throat as you finally catch sight of him, his black button-down undone all the way, and his hair tied back in a low knot at his neck. Jesus Christ, he’s a sight, even when he isn’t even trying.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” he agrees, patting the half-made bed for you to sit on. “You want a drink?” he asks, motioning to the mini fridge.

“Ah, no, I’m okay, thank you,” you reply, finally setting your purse down on the bed beside you. Things feel a bit different now as you’re both sober and serious, about to discuss something so inherently embarrassing it was almost too painful to even think about. But it has to be done, suck it up, and get it over with so that you can get on with the night…right?

“Yeah, me neither,” he agrees. You watch as he pulls a pair of sweatpants from his bag. “Care if I go change real quick?” he asks, erring on the side of etiquette for some reason, when last night you both saw more of each other than you’d really planned on.

“No, go ahead,” you say, and he slips into the bathroom. You take this second to take off your thick denim jacket and hang it on the back of a chair, and also remove your shoes and socks and place them neatly beside the door. You’re left in the comfy tight t-shirt dress, and you try to remind yourself that last night never even happened. It wasn’t real. Be cool.

You relax back on the pillows a little as you strive to get comfortable on the bed, not wanting to seem too relaxed but also be nonchalant, like this conversation was about to be the simplest thing you’d ever done. You tuck your barren legs up underneath you, leaning on your elbow against the thick white pile of pillows.

He finally emerges, now clad in a pair of dark gray sweatpants that are hugging his hips, and he’s completely devoid of a shirt at all. Before you can drink him in all the way, he’s sitting on the bed in front of you, crossing his legs and reaching for the remote, muting the TV.

You sit up to meet him, suddenly surprised at the amount of attention he’s paying you. He takes both of your hands into his, clammy but warm on your skin, and brings them to gather in his lap.

“Y/N,” he begins, “I don’t want to talk about this just as much as you probably don’t, but… I think I have some explaining to do,” he starts, his voice just a tad bit shaky as you know he is about to bare it all.

“I feel absolutely terrible about how things ended up last night. That was…not me, at all. I’d had too much to drink, and my phone was being the annoying piece of shit that it is… anyway, I’m not trying to make excuses.” He squeezes your hands and scoots himself a little closer to you, still staring directly into your eyes. “I know we’ve only known each other a few days, but. You’ve got me caught up, and…it’s not something I’m used to, Y/N,” he giggles, making you smirk back.

“Last night should have had a different outcome completely, and I blame myself for it. You can blame me for it, too. I just want you to know I’m sorry, and you were… fuck, you were beyond perfect—”

You cut him off, “You’re sure it wasn’t anything I’d done?”

“No! No no, you were fucking…flawless, Y/N. My vision may have been a bit blurry but you had it all. You have it all. Absolutely everything. And I feel like such a fucking dick that I didn’t get to…repay you. Give it back to you… you deserved more, and I’m…mortified. Humiliated over it. I wanted to dig a hole and cover myself up and never ever come out of it, honestly. I still do. It’s like the worst thing that can— anyway, you deserve to be treated right, you deserve to be shown the same kind of effort you were showing me last night…” you feel his hand come up to caress your cheek, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip.

You lean a little into his hand, the feeling of his touch making you flutter with butterflies. “…And I haven’t thought of another goddamn thing since.”

You giggle a little. “Come on now,” you say shyly. “You’re a famous rock star, there’s no way your mind’s been taken up with me all day. I’m probably the lowest on your list of past flings.” You’re honest in your admission of feelings, but you secretly hope it will just fuel him to keep talking.

“No, think again, Y/N.” His voice suddenly deepens. “That’s absolutely untrue.” His fingertips trickle to the back of your neck. “The way your hips felt in my hands, the way you took over control and put matters into your own hands…fuck. And your mouth…” his thumb is pressing a little harder, now. “Yeah, I haven’t had a clean thought all day, if we’re being honest,” he laughs. You pull one hand away from his grip and place it on his knee, squeezing it just a little as your bodies slowly inch closer and closer in toward one another.

“I’ve never met another woman that’s captivated me so quickly before,” he continues, his breaths now shorter and chopped as he speaks. “You came in and fucked my whole world up, Y/N… You make me feel things I haven’t felt in years. You make me nervous…”

Your faces are within inches now as you return his gaze, listening to him talk. Your hand drifts higher on his thigh, gently squeezing at the muscle as it climbs. His hand is still firmly gripping your face, the ends of his fingertips now tickling at your hairline. You can feel the tingles going up and down your spine like flashing lights, each word that escapes from his mouth setting the next one on fire.

Finally you speak. “Look, Jake, you don’t have to explain anything else to me. I realize that something was off last night, and that isn’t how things probably go for you normally. I’ve felt our chemistry, and there’s something…there, ya know? And honestly there for a few minutes, we actually had things going, and I think we had it figured out. You felt…” you bite your lips together, feeling a little shy. “You felt really fucking good. But I don’t want you to be embarrassed or upset with yourself. We’re adults, and I’m aware that shit happens. Not every time can be perfect. You were still on my mind all day long, today. Been hoping you would text me, something,” you go on, feeling his fingertips grip and release your hair every few seconds.

A sly smile creeps to his lips as you watch his eyes squint. He looks relieved, but there’s also something else. “I hope you know that I’m more than capable of…making you feel good, and I’d really like it if you’d give me a second chance to redeem myself. I wanna prove it to you.”

You can do nothing but nod your head, feeling the magnetism of his pull bringing you forward, both of your chests heaving with want for each other now. You’re absolutely dying to touch him, reach out and feel the electricity radiating from his body, but you stop yourself. You’re going to let him make the first move.

You exhale onto him, letting the thick, hot air from your lungs dance across his lips as he releases your other hand, letting it come up to cup your other cheek. Your foreheads balance on one another’s, and you can feel the palpable tension building up second by second.

“Thank you, for hearing me out,” he whispers onto your lips, before gently pressing them onto yours, an almost featherlight peck. You both pull back for a second, taking a final look at one another before you crash into each other’s mouths again, heated, fiery, and wanting.

Your other hand grips his thigh, and you’re almost unable to stop yourself from pouncing on him, laying him back into the sheets and devouring him, but you hold back. You want to take your time, and you know he wants to do this the right way.

The kiss deepens, your tongues reaching far to taste every bit that they can. His hands slowly drift from your jawline to your shoulders and finally to your chest, lightly letting his fingertips descend before resting again on your hips. You’re both still sitting cross-legged on the bed, your knees touching each other’s as you each lean in. You want to make the next move, but again, you want to let him steer this ship as much as he wants to.

So for the moment, you let yourself enjoy his kiss, concentrating and honing in on committing every detail of it to your memory. He’s not forceful, but he doesn’t hold back, either. It’s the perfect mix of control and submission, and you haven’t even moved past the most basic part yet. His hands move again, sneaking under your legs to pull you up onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist as you sit on his lap.

Your chests are pressed together now, heaving and already breathless. You can feel that he’s excited below you; thankfully things are already going way better than they were last night. You continue to devour one another, touching and feeling and pulling every piece of him that you could, and him doing the same in return. A quick visual pops into your mind- you’d worn a skimpy little red lace thong just in case, and now you’re silently thanking yourself for the choice, knowing that when the time comes, he’s going to go absolutely insane at the sight of you in it.

You take a second to pull away, grinding yourself down onto him as you trail lovebites down his neck and shoulder, and the sounds that growl from his chest make your nails dig into his skin. He hisses a little bit, but you’re more than positive that he likes the sensation. His hands grip your hips, pulling you down onto him again, making you take complete notice that he wants you just as badly. He leans his neck sideways as your tongue drifts from his collarbone up his jugular, the artery pulsing hard beneath your lips. You bite it lightly before continuing up to his ear, gently taking his ear lobe between your teeth.

You feel him pull back and laugh a little through his nose, and you’re sure you’ve found a sensitive spot. You grind yourself onto him again, this time pulling a full on groan from him. You leave your mouth hovering over his ear, blowing tiny bits of cold air onto the trail of saliva you’d left behind.

“I feel you, baby…” you whisper, allowing yourself the satisfaction of using a pet name for the very first time. His body language shifts, all his muscles tightening as you speak. “Wanna feel you more…” you mutter quietly, making his dick twitch between your legs. You could feel your warmth on the bulge of his sweatpants, and you secretly wish he would get on with it.

“You wanna do this…” he whispers back, his voice tight and gravely.

You nod hard, completely positive that you were going to go ahead with this second chance. “Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t…”

Finally, he reaches down to grip your thighs, squeezing his palms over them before gripping the hem of your dress, rolling it up over your hips, your chest, and finally over your head. Your arms fly up to help him remove the dress completely before he lets it fall to the floor beside you. His eyes black out with lust, his jaw falling open at the sight of you only in your bra and panties. He saw you like this last night, of course, but things are different now. Each of you has something to prove.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous…” he says, immediately burying his face between your breasts, rolling his tongue just beneath the thin fabric of your black bra. “Who knew you had all this hiding…” His hands reach up and grip the material, pulling it down to reveal your tits, bouncing and standing at attention for him. His hands waste no time rolling across them, kneading the muscle as your head falls back. His fingers massage your nipples and pull at the skin, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core. God, you swear you could get off just from this…

He puts his right hand at the center of your sternum, pressing you back gently until you’re laid out on the bed. He scrambles to his knees, finally hovering over you a little. He lets his fingers glide from your chest down your stomach, finally hooking in the hem of your thong. He doesn’t pull it off, though… Instead he runs his fingers along the hem, around your hip, and to your asscheek, using his leverage and grip on the muscle to yank you back down toward him.

Your knee bends on its own from the motion, causing your legs to part a little as your core hits his knee. He bends down, laying sweet kisses to your stomach and hips, causing you to buck up and whine with every tiny little touch.

“Please Jake…” you think you might go insane if he doesn’t touch you soon, your core absolutely throbbing with want for him. Last night, you felt these same feelings. You felt this pull to him, this need. But after how it all went down, sitting there on your bed staring at the wall was the only reaction that seemed plausible… no post-sex afterglow, no blissful body aches… just an unsatisfied and discouraged feeling of letdown.

But now, twenty-four hours later, as you feel your body being pulled into him and touched by him again, you want nothing more than to replicate those few minutes of really good sex that you’d been able to achieve last night. Your body was practically begging you to let him have it.

You hear the air kick on in the room, and though you know it’s the heat, you still feel the blow of the fan forcing air across your nearly nude body. You feel chill bumps cover your entire body as you shudder a little.

“Fuck, got cold in here, didn’t it,” Jake breathes, shivering a little bit himself. “Come on, let’s get under the covers.” You don’t argue with him, feeling a chill diving down deep into your bones.

You sit up as he stands, pulling the heavy white linens back for you to get under. “Wait,” you say, walking on your knees back toward him. You hook your thumbs into the waistband of his pants, returning to kissing him hard as you pull them and his boxers all the way off. He smiles onto your lips, falling sideways a little as he trips over them around his ankles. His arms wrap around you, pulling you in for a tight embrace as your hands tangle in his hair, gripping into it as you pull him back down onto the bed with you.

You both slide underneath and cozy up, letting the warmth come over you and calm you back down again. It’s the sight of him, though, crawling into the bed with his eyes trained on you, fully nude with his bottom lip tucked into his teeth that sends you over the edge. Suddenly your chest is heavy and your eyes are glazed with lust, that blinding feeling of carnal need setting into your lower abdomen. You don’t feel this feeling much, but when you do, you know that what you’re about to experience will be nothing short of mind blowing…it’s like the universe knows you need to let go of all human emotion if you’re going to let your body experience the interaction just as it is.

Suddenly you find yourself flipped up and straddling his legs, pulling the comforter over your head as you descend down his body. “Whoa whoa, where you going?” he smirks, his smile crooked as his hands balance by his head.

“You can prove the rest to me in a minute. I never got to finish this part last night…” you say, disappearing into the darkness of the covers. You hear his laugh fall out as an exasperated huff, but he knows better than to stop you. You put your fingertips on the insides of his thighs, pushing them away from one another as you lightly tickle your nails up them, stopping short as you take his fully-hard dick in your palm, slowly working it from bottom to top.

“Thereeeee you are…” you sing in a teasing tone. Fuck yeah, there he is. This is what you felt that night in the bathroom. This is the him that wasn’t out to play last night.

“Shut the fuck up,” you hear him laugh lowly, gently patting a hand against your cheek. You can’t see him, but you know the exact expression that’s probably on his face right now.

You squeeze him as you work your hand, gently letting your lips graze his head as you stick your tongue out a little, barely wetting the tip. You taste his saltiness on your tongue, a tell-tale sign that he is absolutely ready for whatever else the night has to bring. You let the flavor sit on your tongue for a second before you take him down completely, knowing that if he has any memory of you doing this last night, it was probably spotty, at best.

“Fuck, baby…shit…” he says from the head of the bed, his thighs clenching together a little as his hands dip under the blankets to tangle in your hair. You begin to go to work, feeling halfway happy you are hiding away, able to perform without his watchful eye, but also a little sad he isn’t getting to see the show you’re putting on for him.

Like he can hear your thoughts, he speaks again, “What, you not gonna let me watch you?” He asks with a little demand in his tone, pushing the sheets up over your head to finally make eye contact. You decide to capitalize on it, fluttering your eyelashes as you take him as far as he can go, letting his tip graze the back of your throat. If he wants to watch, you’re going to give him something worth watching.

His reaction is warranted as you see him lose composure for a second, letting his head tilt back into the pillows as his jaw falls open and he lets out a cry that will be playing in the back of your mind until you fall asleep tonight. His hand tightens in your hair while the other one scoops up what has fallen in front of your face, moving it away from your mouth. His teeth grit hard as his hand pulls your hair, lifting you off and back down onto him just a little bit.

Your imagination starts to soar; it’s been a while since you’ve had a good romp, and after the letdown of last night and Jake promising to give you a good run tonight, you decide to keep the show rolling. You pop your lips off of him letting him drop your hair, spinning yourself around backwards to straddle him that way. Again, you thank yourself for the everything shower and shave this morning, knowing that now, the thin strip of red lace fabric is the only thing covering you as your ass is fully on display in front of his face.

Is it an invitation? Kind of…he said he wants to show off for you…right?

“God damn, girl…” he says through another rasp, his hand gripping your asscheek as you take him in your mouth again. You sway your hips side to side, arching your back to give him a full view of you. You feel the slightest tinge of embarrassment at your somewhat bold switch up, but after feeling his reaction and the actual pounding of the blood pumping through his dick, you know it’s all worth it.

Finally, after a string of curses from his mouth behind you, you feel his fingers slip under the thong, pulling it to the side as his fingers begin to explore you. First soft and gentle, but then switching to more of a rhythm as he feels how soaked you are. You moan onto his dick, letting your stomach fall into his as you lean back into his touch.

“Fuck, you’re so wet baby, just like last night. Gonna take care of you, I swear it…” he grumbles. His thumb finds your clit after pulling your wetness down to coat it, his digits slipping and sliding as he uses more pressure.

You whimper loudly without warning, the fire burning in your belly finding you more quickly than you’d anticipated.

You pop your mouth off of him for a breath, and he takes the second of separation to grab both of your hips, pulling you backward toward him. His tongue swipes once from your clit to your opening before he slides himself underneath you in one quick motion, pulling you down to be completely seated on his face.

Oh, there we go…

Should you do it? Should you go all in?

You only have a few seconds to toss it over in your mind before his hands are wrapped around your thighs, pulling you down onto him even more. Yeah, he wants you to. His mouth is immediately connected to you, his tongue outstretched and licking over you as your hands balance on his stomach. “Fuuuuccckk…” you whine at a high-pitched tone, letting your head tilt back on your shoulders.

He’s wasting nothing at all. No time, no contact, no area of you goes untouched by his mouth. You begin swirling your hips, picking up a little every few seconds as you grind onto his tongue. It’s hot, but you still feel the chill of the air in the room, causing you to break out in another rush of goosebumps from the air and the pleasure. You catch a small glimpse of the two of you in the hotel room mirror, the visual more than you can bear as his tongue flicks across your sensitive bud again.

“Jake…shit…if you keep doing that…” your nails dig into his pecs again as you begin to feel your knees burning, your hips swirling and bouncing as he holds you steadily connected with his mouth. Even when you try to pull off to give him a breather, he pats your thighs with his fingertips, telling you to come back down.

“Mmmhm…” he agrees, shaking his face against you, the slight prickle of his mustache a blissful roughness on your sensitive spots. “Lemme have it, baby…” he works out, bending one knee up to sturdy himself. You can hear the pants of breath he’s taking as he talks before yanking your body weight right back down onto him again.

Your vision is beginning to blur as you feel the tightness forming in your stomach, every inch of you on fire as you feel the release building and building. Your movements become chopped and faulty, and just as you’re about to lose all composure, Jake grips the back elastic of your thong, letting the stretchy material snap back against your skin. The tinge of pain sends you toppling over the edge, your entire body shaking and trembling as everything goes white. He continues his work, his tongue still snaking and swirling in the most animalistic way, letting you ride through it until you’re back on earth.

When you’re finally able to breathe again, you lean forward onto all fours so he can sit up all the way, and instead of crashing back down beside him, all you want to do is give him more. Let him give you more. That was just a preview. Now…you want him. You need to feel him inside of you again.

You turn in the bed, catching sight of his face covered in your slick…his lips pink and blotchy as he runs his hands across his face. You inch your way back over to him, using your own palm to wipe from his forehead down to his chin, twisting your fingers over his chin to bring his face crashing onto yours again. You let your tongue sink into his mouth, tasting yourself as you kiss him with everything you have.

Your hands are all over each other as he takes you in one arm, pulling you back underneath the covers with him again. “I can’t fuckin’ wait any longer, Y/N…I need you right the fuck now.”

You’re lying beneath him now, still riding the high of your overwhelmingly good orgasm, but quickly making your way back up to arousal again with the sight of him so wanting for you. His state is almost pathetic, the look on his face pitiful but commanding as his jaw clenches over and over again.

Your hands are attached to his sides as he reaches into the floor for his pants from earlier, pulling out a little square package. You notice it’s a different kind than the one he had last night, and you’re thankful he’s switched brands.

“Hurry, Jake…” you say, your heart pounding in your ears. You watch as he rips the wrapper in half with his teeth, removing the colored condom and spitting the trash onto the floor. He’s sat back on his haunches and you perk up onto your elbows, using one hand to help him slide it over himself, completely hard and ready for you.

You feel like you could spontaneously combust at any second, the need for him stronger than anything you’ve felt in a long, long time. The way he looks sitting between your parted knees, adoring every inch of you as he swallows down any inhibition or doubt that he’s still holding onto from the embarrassment of last night.

He takes a second more to place his hands on your knees, letting them drift down between your legs as he connects his two middle fingers to swirl your clit again. Your legs part even further as he kisses you again, finally towering over you completely before removing his hand, grabbing himself and lining up with you.

“Show me again…” you whisper into his ear, his hair completely falling all over your face. It’s mere seconds before you feel him gently press into you, only an inch or two before retracting his hips, letting out a calming exhale before he presses forward again, this time a little further. The stretch is blowing your mind already, your nails traveling down his back to grip his ass, willing him to fill you to the hilt.

“Easy, baby…just take it as I give it to you,” he growls in your ear, and his commanding words make you cease your movements altogether, releasing your strong grip on his back.

“No no…keep doing that, though…fuck, keep doing that…” he begs, touching his forehead to yours. His brows are pinched together, his tongue darting out to lick his lips every few seconds as his eyelids flutter open and closed. You do as he says, digging your nails into him as he thrusts slowly, each time a little further in.

The sensation is overwhelming, taking away every single one of your senses and directing them toward what he is making you feel right now. The noises you already can’t stop yourself from making are bouncing off the walls as you look behind him, watching his hips move the covers as he fills you, over and over until he finally bottoms out.

“God…fuck, Jake….” You both make pathetic sounds as he pauses there, letting himself feel you wholly. He pulls up, taking a rutted breath as he makes desperate eye contact with you. You grab the back of his neck and pull him into another kiss, eliciting a high pitched wail from him as he starts picking up a pace.

He breaks away after a second or two, “‘m not gonna go easy on you, baby…let me know if I need to slow down…” his words rip through your chest as if you’d just gotten a shot to the heart. You shake your head side to side.

“Lemme see it, come on…” you pant, already feeling your muscles doing their best to pull him in as far as your body will let him.

He picks up the pace now, jutting his hips deeply into you. The feeling is making your head feel cloudy and dense, but the pleasure filling your bloodstream is the only thing keeping you tethered to the here and now. He pauses, sitting up a little to toss your leg over his shoulder, slowing down just a little bit as he hits from a different angle. This one is deeper and titled a little, and you can feel the tip of him grazing your cervix with every push.

He can tell your facial expression has changed as he slows down again, almost to a complete stop. “What baby, you okay?” he asks.

“No no, yeah, don’t stop…please…” you motion with your hand for him to continue, the sickening pleasure mixed with the tightening pain, a blissful concoction that is hard to admit you love. But you do. You love it all.

His pace becomes furious again as he picks up where he left off, your leg draped over his shoulder as he has one hand over your knee, and the other gripping into the muscle of your thigh. He’s squeezing so hard, and his hips are pounding at such a forceful pace that you’re sure he is leaving bruises, but they’ll be bruises that you accept without argument, admiring them as you look in the mirror tomorrow.

He’s everything, right now…his eyes delving deep into yours as you drink him in, letting your sounds let him know how good he’s making you feel. How perfect you fit, how much better this is going than it did last night…

Suddenly he pulls all the way out of you, lifting your body to flip onto your stomach. His hands are under your hips, pulling them back again just the same as he had done earlier, but this time he hops to the floor, pulling you back again to meet him on the edge. “Hold on, baby,” he instructs, and you do, gripping the sheets tightly in your fists as you feel him enter you from behind, this time.

The height couldn’t be more perfect as this new position makes you drop your face to the mattress, fully surrendering yourself to him. You haven’t felt anything like him before, each and every move he makes is making your nerve endings burn with fire.

He lays a harsh smack to your ass, and you grunt in rebuttal, letting the delicious pain surge through your muscle. His pace quickens again, and his hand is on the back of your neck, pinning his fingers to either side of your throat from behind. “Fuck yes…” you breathe out, your eyes beginning to fill with clouds.

You hear the smack of his lips, knowing that he’d just wet his finger, and suddenly his other hand quickly finds your clit again, swirling tiny circles on it and sending you into a whole new wave of satisfaction. Your cries push out with every thrust, and you feel like you’re on the verge of tears. It’s all overwhelming and encompasses your every thought, the sounds of your bodies hitting together making it all even more devious when you close your eyes, imagining the scene.

He continues this way for a minute or so, the sounds of your bodies smacking together building up your second orgasm on their own.

Then, he’s pulling your torso up, your back meeting his chest as he slows the pace of his thrusts, but never letting up on the swirl of his fingers. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N…so perfect…” his words are calm now as he begins kissing your neck, still pumping in and out of you. His arm wraps around your front, pulling you back into him so you don’t collapse forward. He can tell you’re close.

“Jake…I’m almost…” you breathe, and you feel his dick twitch inside you.

“Me too, baby. Keep squeezing me just like that…” he asks as a whisper in your ear, his mouth still connected to your neck, his other hand gripping your tit.

With a particularly pointed flick to your clit, and a deep thrust, your entire world is crumbling beneath you, your body falling to pieces as you let it all go. His fingers squeeze your nipple hard, sending that sensation into overdrive. He isn’t far behind as his grip tightens all over you, his pace now rutted and messy as you hear him groaning in your ear. The entire world goes quiet for a minute as you hit the peak of your highs together, rendering both of you speechless as you hold your breath.

“Motherfucker…” he says as he finally comes back down, releasing you to fall forward onto the bed. All of your muscles are limp and lifeless as he collapses beside you, both of you too sweaty now to care about cuddling back up together.

“Yeah, mother fucker,” you laugh, pulling away a few strands of hair from his sweaty forehead and cheek. “That’s was…you were…” you open your mouth to find the words, but they simply don’t come.

He props up on his elbows, kissing a sweet peck onto your shoulder. “I don’t know what you were going to say, but I agree…” he chuckles. “You’re near goddamn perfect, Y/N.”

“Near?! What do you mean, near?!” you joke, shoving his mouth off of your shoulder.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Fuckin’ amazing, is what I meant. Flawless in every single way,” he says, his cheeks turning the sweetest shade of crimson.

You take turns in the bathroom cleaning up, and you can’t wipe the smile that’s permanently plastered to your face. He’d done it all, he’d proven himself to you, in the most mind-blowing way you could have dreamt up. You don’t want to admit it, but you can see yourself getting caught up by Jake just as he admitted he is caught up by you. And after sex like that, well…

You begin to pick up your things from the floor and redress just as he is coming out of the bathroom. “No no, where are you going?” he asks, his tone a little let down.

“I’m…going back to my room…” you say, caught off guard.

“No. Stay here, please? After that I– I don’t know, I don’t want you to go,” he says. “Please stay.”

You laugh, tossing your shoes back into the corner. “You sure? You won’t like, get in trouble or anything?”

He scoffs. “The fuck would I get in trouble for?”

“I’m your employee, Jake…” you remind him.

His face contorts up. “I don’t like how that sounds, remember.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a large white t-shirt, tossing it your way. You pull it over your head as he flips the light off, pulling the disheveled sheets back again for you both to climb into. You have to admit, you’re glad he asked you to stay, as you’re not sure if your tired muscles would have liked walking down the long hall to the elevator.

He pulls you in to spoon him, turning on the TV to the guide channel. His body feels perfectly aligned with yours as his hand rests on the outside of your thigh, the other propping his head up above yours.

“You’re a woman that I’ve taken a keen interest in, and am enjoying pursuing, and well, occasionally sleeping with every now and then. Who sometimes goes on errands for us,” he says in retaliation, making you giggle.

“…and your company also signs my paychecks,” you retort.

He hisses in a quick breath. “Ehhhh yeah, I guess you’re right. But just, I don’t like how it sounds. So quit saying it like that.” He leans down and presses a wet kiss to your cheek, sealing in his words.

“Okay, okay,” you agree.

After a few minutes, he speaks again through a yawn. “So, did I prove myself? Was my attempt at redemption enough to make you forget last night ever even happened?” he asks.

You close your eyes as you press your ass into his groin again, making him hop back a little in surprise. “Jake, I told myself last night never even happened as soon as you left my room,” you admit, and you are telling the truth. “I knew there was no way…”

You hear him huff a tiny laugh, “You had some faith in me, baby?”

Your blood runs a little hotter every time he calls you baby, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t completely enamor you.

You twist your body beneath his hand to lay on your back. You fluff the pillow beneath your head, feeling his free hand move to assist you in finding the perfect position. His right hand doesn’t leave your body though, sliding just under the hem of your shirt to rest on your bare stomach. “Maybe just a little.”

JAKE POV

Her skin is warm beneath your hand, her body still cooling down after the activities of the last hour. It was perfect. Every single thing you ever wanted it to be and even a little more. She is perfect. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest when you saw her grabbing her things, there was no way you could let her leave this room thinking that this was just sex. I mean, yeah maybe that was your intention tonight, but there was something else. You know that the sex wouldn’t have been what it was if there wasn’t something more lying beneath the surface. You wanted her to stay here with you. You wanted to hold her and be with her and enjoy the afterglow.

Even in the dark room you can’t take your eyes off of her. The way the TV is flashing blue light across her face she almost looks angelic. You let your fingers trace tiny circles into her skin as you look at her, completely enamored with every single detail of her. You reach for the remote flipping through the channels looking for anything you could mindlessly fall asleep to.

“Should I pick something and show you what a good movie looks like?” you tease, tickling your fingers into her stomach.

“I know what good movies are, thank you very much,” she quips, turning her head to look at you. Her eyes are shiny as they look into yours, lingering for just a second before flicking back to the TV.

Her hand reaches up to cradle your jaw, your face falling into her touch on its own accord.

“Hey…” she whispers, waiting for you to look at her. “Tell me why you were so in your head yesterday.”

Fuck. Do you tell her? Do you tell her the real reason? Do you risk ruining this moment with the truth?

“Ahh…It was a lot of things. Tour, traveling, the drinking, obviously. Also just a lot of pressure to do this and do that…or, don’t do this, and don’t do that. It’s hard sometimes, living this lifestyle. It’s incredibly isolating, and after a while you almost start to lose touch with what’s real,” you answer, skirting around the real reason.

She rolls to face you, not letting her hand leave your jaw as she presses a soft, delicate kiss to your lips. You feel your whole body relax into her, feeling a peace come over you that you haven’t felt in a long time. A kiss that told you she understands.

“I’m here, and this is real and you don’t have to feel isolated anymore, if you don’t want to,” she breathes.

You kiss her again, pulling her into you just a little closer. “I don’t want to.”

“Good,” she whispers, her lips brushing yours.

She drops her hand and nuzzles her face into your neck, a soft sigh falling from her lips. You know she’s tired, because you’re tired. You let your own head fall back onto the pillows, your arm wrapped around her shoulders as she snuggles into your side. You can’t help but let Josh’s words from yesterday float through your mind. You wonder if what you are doing is wrong, if you should make sure Isla knows you two are done before pursuing Y/N any further. Though, it’s a little too late for that.

You push it away as you feel Y/N drifting off to sleep on your chest, but now your mind is racing and you need to quiet it. You reach over, grabbing your phone from the nightstand and powering it back on. You’re immediately met with about ten missed calls and too many texts to count. You quickly open them, clearing out the notifications but paying no mind to what they say. Instead you open your shared playlist, the perfect song coming to mind.

You sneakily add ‘Are You Satisfied?’ by Reignwolf to the playlist, knowing she will get a laugh out of that when she sees it. You turn your face to her head, letting your lips brush the crown of her head as you breathe her in. The feeling of her next to you and her deep rhythmic breathing is starting to slow your busy mind. You lock your phone and place it back on the nightstand, turning off the TV and letting your eyes close. You replay the night in your head, every perfect second of it, praying that it will make an appearance in your dreams tonight.

—

You aren’t sure what woke you, maybe the heat of the room, or the slamming of the door in the hallway. Your eyes pop open, scratchy and dry as they adjust to the darkness of the room. You immediately feel Y/N next to you, no longer on your chest but her legs still tangled with yours. Your heart swells at the vision of her curled up in the bed next to you.

You reach out for your phone, tapping the screen to see what time it is. 4:46AM.

You see that a new song has been added to your shared playlist, and you smile knowing that Y/N must have woken up sometime during the night and saw your addition. You tap the notification and bring up the playlist to see what she added, letting a small laugh leave your lips as it loads. ‘Whatta Man’ by Salt-n-Pepa was added two hours ago. She’s so fucking cute you could hardly stand it. You had half a mind to wake her up and show her all over again just how much you wanted her.

However, when you close out of the playlist a new round of missed calls graces your screen, along with a seemingly endless string of texts from Isla. You let out a sigh as you tap the message icon to see what she could possibly need this badly.

Opening the messages you see a link to Danny’s close friends story sent at nearly one in the morning. You furrow your brow and tap on the video, seeing Sam and Lyla taking tequila shots together, but of course in the background of the video just barely noticeable, is you leaving the bar with Y/N.

Goddamnit Daniel.

Isla

1:12AM: Who the fuck that girl Jake?

Isla

1:25AM: She’s cute, nice!

Isla

1:30AM: Is this why you’ve been so “busy” all the sudden?

Isla

1:41AM: Does she even know about us or is she just some whore you found while you’re there

Isla

1:52AM: Nevermind! It was almost too easy to find her profile, this her? Y/N?

Isla

1:55AM: Oh my god, she works for you…

Isla

1:56AM: Management is gonna love this. ❤️

Isla

1:58AM: How about you just call me tomorrow

Mother fucker. Motherfucker.

You debate getting out of bed to call her right now. You know how she is and you know what she is capable of, and you’d be goddamned if that woman was going to ruin this for you. You start to type, the fury boiling in your veins as your thumbs swipe across the keyboard, but suddenly you feel Y/N stirring next to you and it’s as if all the rage you were holding in disappeared. She rolls towards you, her hand coming to rest on your arm as she snuggles her head down into the pillow. You felt yourself relax under her touch, and instantly the message on your screen didn’t seem to matter. You deleted everything you typed and closed out of it, placing your phone back on the nightstand.

You looked at her, sleeping so peacefully next to you and decided that all of that could wait. You knew that it would only be a matter of time before Isla made her move, and when she did she would strike to kill. You grabbed Y/N’s hand and pulled her into you, feeling her fit so perfectly, so naturally into your arms that it made you weak.

You knew there was a chance that this night, this one night, may be all you get with her, and you were going to enjoy every single last second of it, knowing that morning would come, and with it a likely very nasty conversation between you and Isla. But more than that, it brought the promise that Y/N’s face would be the first thing you would see, and that alone had you closing your eyes ready to face another day.

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