#someone was bound to make all the other pieces sooner or later

[sugurubabe]

Selfish (part 1)

Slow burn • angst • eventual romance

Suguru is a popular senior and all star athlete bound for university on the West Coast where he’ll play basketball. Y/n is an introverted and artistic girl who dreams of going to NYU in New York City to pursue an art degree. They bond over their love of art and art history, forming a close friendship, until the day Suguru destroys everything in a moment of cowardice. Eventually, the reunite a few years later while in university in an unexpected way.

-

Running to the train station, you’d nearly missed the train heading downtown. You were always running late, always a mess, and always the one with unlaced boots and messily applied makeup. It was something that irked your parents. ‘Why can’t you just prepare better? Why not get ready a little earlier, or sleep at a decent time so you’re not rushing in the mornings?’ they’d often say. It’s not as if you meant to make your life difficult. You spent many late nights awake painting, perfecting your pottery, and devouring books about your favorite art periods. 

Today, you were on your way to downtown Los Angeles to see one of your favorite artist’s installations. Yayoi Kusama had intrigued you for years, her contemporary works had captivated you from the first moment you learned about them. The Infinity Mirror Rooms were said to be other worldly and you were excited to see it for yourself. The train ride from your small town was about 1 hour and 35 minutes away from downtown so you pulled out your earphones and listened to music while looking out of the window. 

You despise your small town, the way everyone knows each other,and how their entire families seemingly lived in the same area for generations. Your only escape was venturing out into the city, exploring museums, botanical gardens, and soaking in the beauty and culture. You knew you’d leave eventually. Your dream was to attend New York University, or NYU. If everything went as planned, you’d move there next year and pursue an art degree. You were blessed with parents that supported your choice of major, as long as you understood that the money train would end as soon as you graduated with your Bachelor’s. That was fine for you. You weren’t necessarily into art for the money as much as for the satisfaction of doing something with your life that brought you joy. 

The ride downtown passed by in a blur, and sooner than later, you had arrived at your destination. You exited the train and made your way out of the station and into the bustling streets of Los Angeles. Pulling out your phone to look up directions to the museum, you saw it was a 14-minute walk. You watched people go about their day, talk animatedly to each other, rush to work, and food couriers running by with bags of take out. Life in the city always seemed so fascinating. There was so much going on and it offered a sense of anonymity. You’d be less likely to run into anyone you knew here, let alone anyone who knew you. 

You reached your destination; the Broad museum. It was a marvel of a building and worth the long train ride just to see it alone. You pulled your phone out and searched for your reserved ticket in your email before scanning the QR code at the entrance. Walking into a new museum always fills you with a sense of excitement and wonder. The real world didn’t exist here; just you and all the art. You sigh contentedly as you walk up to a Basquiat piece, admiring the vivid colors. Neo-expressionism wasn’t your favorite art period, but you could still appreciate it. You turned to walk away and ran right into someone. 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” you sputtered out in embarrassment before looking up at the face of the person you walked into. Your eyes nearly fell out of their sockets as you looked into the face of none other than Suguru Geto. He looked down at you with an expression of amusement, a corner of his lips upturned in a half smile. 

“You’re in my pottery class, aren’t you?” he asked as he stepped back, putting some space between both of you. You stared at him dumbly for a few more seconds before snapping out of your daze and answering him. 

“Yeah… I’m sorry for my reaction, I just didn’t expect to see anyone I knew here.” You fiddled with the charm on your necklace nervously as you averted your gaze. He chuckled at your nervous expression. Suguru admittedly didn’t know you well. You both attended the same high school, you’d both had some classes together over the years, but that was about it. You were a cute girl, but nothing particularly special that would make him remember your name.

“What’s your name again?” he asked gently, smiling apologetically. 

“Y/n L/n” you replied, blushing lightly as you realized that he didn’t even know your name. 

“I’m Suguru Geto, in case you didn’t know.” he smirked slightly, knowing there was no way you attended the same school without knowing who he was. The smirk on his face irked you enough that you rolled your eyes and nodded.

“Yeah, I know. Impossible to not know the homecoming king, the basketball captain, and the golden boy, huh?” you replied mockingly. 

“Those were your words, not mine.” Suguru laughs, his face set in astonishment at your snarky tone.

“Well, I came to admire the art, not interact with people. So I’ll be on my way.” You moved to walk away when a light hand grabbed your forearm, pulling you back.

“Wait a minute- did you come alone?” Geto looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. You nod, your brows furrowing in confusion.

“I came alone by train, why?” 

“I’m going back home after this. Why don’t we walk through the museum together, and then I can give you a ride home?” he suggested. 

“You want to spend your time at the museum with me?” you asked incredulously. Suguru shrugs, pulling you closer to him. 

“You seem to know what you’re looking at. I like art. I don’t usually have anyone to discuss it with.” he says breezily as you both begin walking together towards another room. You can barely believe this is happening, let alone your reality. Suguru was an extremely popular guy at school. Every girl at the high school you both attended had a crush on him, even you. He was handsome, tall, charismatic, obscenely talented, and wicked smart. He was known for dating many girls and never taking a single one of them seriously. You glanced at him, admiring the elegant slope of his nose and his sharp jawline. You couldn’t help but wonder why this guy would choose to spend his day with you. 

“If you take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Geto quips, winking at you. You snort at this and shake your head. 

“Sorry. I’m just having a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that you’re here. I didn’t take you for the kind of guy who likes art, or who could appreciate it. You always seem bored in pottery class. You usually submit some… pretty abstract pieces.” you explain. Suguru chuckles at your attempt to spare his feelings. 

“Don’t be shy. I know my pottery skills are atrocious. I admire art simply because I don’t have the capability or skill to create it.” he replies as you both stand in front of a Warhol piece. 

“What’s your favorite art period?” you ask softly, looking up at him. He thinks for a while before answering your question. 

“Expressionism and Pop Art. I like color, if you can’t tell.” he says sarcastically, motioning towards his outfit. He’s dressed in a simple black t-shirt and black cargo pants. You hum thoughtfully, smiling at his tone.

“Defensive, aren’t we?” you tease. Suguru eyes you skeptically for a moment before deciding that you’re being playful. 

“What about you, y/n? What’s your favorite art period? If you say Cubism, you can find your own way home.” he threatens jokingly, crossing his arms and turning to you. You laugh at his humor, not expecting that he would be so open to teasing you back. 

“Rococco is my all-time favorite art period. No competition, no if, ands, or buts.” 

“Surprise, surprise.” Geto snarks, walking to another room. You follow him and gasp as you see the line for the Infinity Mirror Room is short. 

“Can we get in line for this? This is specifically what I came to see!” you say excitedly, practically running to snag a spot in line. He looks at you with mirth before acceding and following you to the line. He rolls back and forth on the balls of his feet and his hands in his pockets as you wait for your turn. 

“Do you want to go inside together or separately?” you ask him softly, looking back at him. Internally, he feels giddy that you asked if he wanted to go in with you. Outwardly, he pretends to think it over before replying. 

“We can go in together. That way I can make sure you don’t spend an eternity snapping selfies of yourself.” You scoff at this, turning your face back to the line. 

“I don’t take many selfies. I was simply planning on taking a video. I bet you’re the one who’s going to take selfies to post on your social media for all your groupies to see.”

Suguru laughs heartily at this, his eyes closing from the force of it. He breathes in deeply, looking at you with amusement. “I wouldn’t post a selfie of this to my Instagram. No one even knows I’m here.”

You whip around to look at him, your jaw drops. “What do you mean? Are you embarrassed that you’re here?”

Geto looks ahead to the installation, choosing to ignore your question. His silence was answer enough. He didn’t want his friends and family to know he came here. He was hiding his interests for some obscure reason.

Suguru didn’t know what to make of this girl. She seemed so quiet and docile in class. She didn’t speak much, kept to herself, and turned in her work diligently. He’d seen firsthand how talented she was artistically. He never got around to knowing her name during school, but that didn’t mean he didn’t notice her talent. The girl before him was so unlike the person she was at school. She was witty, playful, and curious. He couldn’t help but wonder how much he could get her to open up for him before the day ended. She intrigued him. 

“Hey! Suguru! It’s our turn!” you waved your hand in his face to snap him out of his thoughts. He huffed as he looked around and realized you’d both made it to the front of the line. The installation attendant notified you both that you’d have two minutes inside and no more than that. You nodded and walked inside the room with Geto. You gasped as the door closed and then you took in the beauty of the room. It was like being submerged in a sky full of stars. Suguru wanted to admire the installation but found himself admiring your expression instead. He smiled as he took in your excitement, the way your eyes were wide and full of life.

You pulled out your phone to take a video, avoiding the side where Geto was. You stopped recording and changed the camera to the photo setting. “I’m going to take a picture, do you want to step away?” you asked quietly, allowing him to decide if he wanted to be in it. He pursed his lips and then shrugged, standing behind you and letting you take the picture. You blushed subtly as you snapped the photo. You placed your phone in your pocket just in time as the attendant opened the door and informed you both that time was up. 

“That was absolutely breathtaking. Yayoi is a freaking genius!” you gushed as you walked out of the installation room. Geto follows closely behind you, listening intently to your ramblings. He finds your voice soothing. 

“What did you think? Did you like it?” you ask him cheerily. He nods, grinning at you. 

“Of course I did. Your reaction was much more interesting to look at though.” he says, glimpsing at you as you walk around the museum. You choke on your breath and cough. You didn’t expect him to say that. He snickers as he slaps your back lightly, trying to help you compose yourself. When you finally stop coughing, you look at him with an expression of annoyance. 

“Don’t try to make fun of me, it’s mean!” you say angrily, walking faster. 

“I’m not making fun of you, cutie. I mean it. Your reaction was nice. You seemed genuinely delighted by the room.” Geto teased her. 

Your heart flutters when he calls you a cutie. You can’t help your reaction and your jaw clenches as the blush spreads throughout your face. He notices your annoyance and lays off the flirting the rest of your time at the museum. You found his company to be very pleasant the rest of the day. He was insightful and knew so much about different artists and periods. As the day came to an end, you felt reluctant to leave the tiny bubble that was the Broad. You knew this was likely a one time thing, and that come Monday at school, he’d go back to ignoring your existence. 

“Come on, I parked in a lot down the street.” Suguru murmurs as he gently pushes you in the direction of the parking lot. You hesitate for a moment before stopping in your tracks.

“Actually, I’m just gonna take the train home. I paid for an all day ticket and I don’t want to waste it. I’ll see you around, okay?” You wave awkwardly and begin walking in the direction of the train station.

Suguru is stunned at your rejection of his offer to take you home. Usually girls would jump at the chance to be alone with him for any amount of time. He contemplates before calling out to you. “Can I at least have your number? You know… so we can visit more museums together?”

Your heart feels like it’s going to fall into your stomach. Suguru fucking Geto just asked for your number. He just asked if you could visit another museum together. You take a deep breath before calling back to him. “Just add me on Instagram! My username is my first and last name. You’ll find it in no time!” you shout before rushing away and turning the corner. 

Suguru watches your petite figure disappear and he laughs to himself. ‘What a peculiar girl.’ he thinks before walking to his car. 

Later that night when you get home, you see it:

Sugu_g has requested to follow you. 

-

(A/N: thank you for reading! Let me know what you think! When I write enough chapters I’ll create a master list. For now, I’ll link part 1 to part 2, and part 2 to part 1, etc)

[heavyhitterheaux]

triplets finding out santa isn’t real😭

🌸

AN: the triplets are 12 in this 🥰

You were in the kitchen getting your Christmas list together for everything that you would need for the party that you and Jack were having when you were startled by Jack coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around you.

“Mmm, you're so warm. Oh, and you smell like cinnamon. If you were a pastry, I'd eat you.” Jack said as he leaned in to kiss your cheek.

“Jackman, you ate me earlier, cut it out.” You said while laughing.

Jack was peeking over your shoulder at the list that you were making and quickly had a suggestion.

“I never get tired of eating you and can you make that salted caramel cheesecake? But just for me though.”

“I'll make two. One for you and one for the triplets.”

Just then the front door swung open and your three oldest children filed into the kitchen with the youngest and middle one in tears while the oldest was doing her best to console them.

Today was their last day before Christmas break and they only had to go to school for a half day.

“What the? What is going on?” Jack asked and all Axel did was cry louder before he went to hug him.

“SANTA ISN’T REAL!” Axel wailed while Autumn's eyes were red and had snot running down her face as Ivy handed her a tissue.

“Oh lord.” You quietly muttered to yourself knowing that this was bound to happen sooner or later.

“Wait, who told you that?” Jack questioned as he was wiping away Axel's tears.

“We heard someone say it at lunch! Now where do our letters go that we write to him!?” Autumn expressed as she came and sat on your lap.

You and Jack looked at each other and all Ivy did was sigh.

“Mommy and Daddy are Santa. They read your letters so they know what to get you. I mean, isn't that kind of weird? A fat white guy bringing us presents and he visits every house in one night? And eat all those cookies? That isn’t even possible. How does Santa not have diabetes?" Ivy confessed, and you simply shook your head.

“YOU KNEW!?” Axel exclaimed while looking at her and she simply nodded.

“Ivy, how long have you known?” Jack asked as he handed Axel a tissue to blow his nose.

“Since I was ten.”

“And you didn't tell us!?” Autumn questioned while looking over at her big sister.

“I didn't want to ruin it for you and Ax, so I didn't say anything. I wanted you to find out on your own like I did.”

“Look at Ivy being a good big sister.” You said and she smiled at you.

“So wait, if mommy and daddy are Santa, then why didn't I get that easy bake oven I wanted last year?” Autumn asked while looking at the both of you.

“Autumn, mommy and daddy have seen you in a kitchen trying to help them and um I’ll just say I'd rather have our house be in one piece.” Axel answered and all she did was roll her eyes.

You and Jack then exchanged a look because said easy bake oven was under the tree at that very moment waiting for her this year.

[kxizoku-ou]

I saw the Sanji was at the top of your list for One piece characters you were interested in tormenting and I got so excited. Most of the Sanji content/head canons I've come across are all about him as a Dom/top (except when he is paired with other men). But I think he (and plenty other one piece characters ) would be a great candidate for your type of writing. If you ever have any thoughts on them, I hope you post it!! I always love hearing what you come up with!

Yeah, Sanji is wayyyy too pathetic for me to see him as a dom (in terms of reader-insert stuff, at least). XD And uhhh... I've had MANY thoughts about him already. Since we're already on the topic of smut, you get a (partial/current) list of his (somewhat concerning) kinks. XD

. . .

• An obvious one, but Sanji's desperation to be useful absolutely ends up as a sex thing for him, too. The idea of wanting fills him with shame and self-loathing, and the best way he's found to swallow that is by making any intimate situation entirely about the other person. Even in his fantasies, he's always the one serving his partner and earning whatever indulgences he's given, his own pleasure coming second to fulfilling their needs (if it's acknowledged at all, even).

• Being extremely susceptible to praise seems to be a near-universal character trait in One Piece, but Sanji has it worse than most. He puts up plenty of emotional walls (especially when kind words come from anyone but a safe pretty woman), but especially once someone's opinion matters to him, a simple "good boy" would haunt him for months. Doing things right was such a foreign concept for most of his life, after all, how could he not still so badly want it?

• Whether his partner actually has a size advantage over him or not, Sanji likes feeling smaller. It's definitely a factor that well-fed people tend to have more weight on them, but even simply being pinned down or manhandled is undeniably (and sometimes embarrassingly) arousing, for potential reasons that he really doesn't want to dwell on.

• Though he's stubbornly refused to entertain the idea even in his most unthinking fantasies, certain parental figure-oriented titles are bound to slip out sooner or later. Yes, both. The "mommy" version comes right from some very emotionally vulnerable parts of his psyche, but even though he dreads acknowledging that, the "daddy" version (rough, physical associations and all) is far worse.

• On that note, Sanji is definitely something of a masochist. Most of the love he's experienced (or hoped for when it wasn't really there) has come hand-in-hand with pain, and that definitely got a few wires crossed in his head. Between that, the adrenaline high, and the subconscious need for self-punishment... yeah, it can get messy.

• It's an entirely hypothetical fantasy (and a vague, emotion-driven one, at that), but Sanji has come back to the thought of being eaten more times than can be considered quite normal. To quote a particular source, Sanji "has a complicated (i.e. insane) relationship with self-sacrifice"— combined with the stranded-on-an-island experience and his overall fixation on food and cooking, it's all added up to a warped sort of fixation on (sometimes erotic) cannibalism.

(^^^Bonus source for that one!)

[whumpycries]

For single word prompt- fervor

thanks for the prompt!

cw: starvation, blood drinking, gaslighting, slavery whump, vampire whumper, human whumpee.

takes place sometime after part 5 (a couple weeks, probably)

Rowan cared for August’s health. Enough to want to keep him alive, at least. But having to use his venom on the prince every time he wanted to feed him was a bit much. Granted, it had only been a few days, but it was starting to get on his nerves. It meant he couldn’t trust him to eat when Rowan wasn’t present. 

So. Incentives. 

It was day four without food. Rowan hadn’t actually drunk any blood from August in those days, of course. But August didn’t know that. 

When Rowan entered his bedroom, August was crumpled on the floor, curled into a ball as much as the chain around his ankle would allow. He shouldn’t be uncomfortable, per say, the rug Rowan had on his floor was perfectly plush and perfectly comfortable. 

But hunger has a way of making people feel not quite so at ease. 

August stirred a bit when Rowan stepped closer to him, lifting his head, his bloodshot eyes slightly unfocused as they settled on Rowan. 

Rowan smiled, crouching down and tugging August’s wrist towards himself. 

August let out a low, whimpering noise, and tried to tug his wrist back towards himself, shaking his head as his eyes widened and his focus sharpened with stark terror. “No,” he moaned, “No, please.” 

His voice was weak, croaky. Very whiny too. 

“Come on, darling. You were the one who wanted to go on a hunger strike. That doesn’t mean that I go on a hunger strike too. That should have been obvious.” 

He lifted his wrist to his mouth, kissing the insides of it, lips pressing over the older, scabbed over bite marks. Sooner or later, August would start looking like a very well loved chew toy. Rowan couldn’t wait for it. But he couldn’t rush it; the prince could be quite fragile at times. Wouldn’t do to overwhelm him so soon. 

“I’ll eat!” August gasped out as Rowan nipped him slightly, not drawing blood yet, “Please, I’ll eat. I- I don’t want to die. Please, sir.” 

Oh, a sir. August was truly learning in leaps and bounds. He’d begged the day before too, but hadn’t used any kind of title for Rowan. 

Still, Rowan pulled on a mask of sternness. “You’re not doing me a favour by eating, August.” 

August flinched at his tone, looking away, and Rowan took that second to let his lips stretch into a delighted grin. He bent his head and bit down on August’s wrist, drawing a gasp from him as he sucked in a big gulp of blood. 

August started crying. 

Rowan didn’t drink more than that one sip, though. Just the way he’d been doing the last few days. One sip, and then nothing. Except his mouth stayed latched onto the wrist, his other hand moving up and into August’s hair, stroking and pulling, not quite gentle, but not very painful either. Distracting enough that August never really figured out that Rowan wasn’t drinking. 

This man had never starved in his life before, he didn’t know how weak one felt after starving. He didn’t have a point of comparison to make, to know whether his weakness was normal for someone being starved and drained of blood at the same time. 

He’d learn, though. Sooner or later, he’d learn. 

When Rowan finally pulled away, licking the wound closed, August’s eyes were vacant, and he was shaking all over. Rowan shushed him, releasing Rowan’s wrist and using the now free hand to stroke a hand down August’s back in a soothing gesture. 

He really was quite afraid of dying. 

He really didn’t know just how much Rowan wanted him. Alive. 

“You can eat,” he murmured in August’s ear, and felt him go very, very still against him. 

“W-what?”

Rowan gestured with one arm to the plate of some fruits he’d brought with himself. Neatly cut into pieces for August’s convenience. Something that would go down easy after four days of nothing but water. 

That had been one thing that Rowan would have force fed down August’s throat if he hadn’t drunk it willingly. Dehydration made blood taste disgustingly thick and unappetising. 

August didn’t take more prompting from him, lunging towards the plate, chain rattling as he grasped it and started shovelling the fruits in his mouth with a desperate fervour. He clutched at it with a white knuckled death grip, quite clearly afraid that Rowan would snatch it away any second. 

Rowan had no intention of doing that; at least as long as the lesson stuck. 

--

next

taglist: @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @whumpy-writings @t0rture-me @octopus-reactivated @whump-queen @pigeonwhumps @whitehairandblood @d-cs @itsmyworld23 @scp-1296 @e-rattt @neverthelass @cuppa-cha

[sommerregenjuniluft]

Need to know what fix ur talking abt in the tags of that corruption post… for a friend ofc

ok so i sent so many voice messages back and forth with elio and i’m listening to them rn and trying to summerize. it’s not a fic yet, more of a vague idea but basically i need you to think full on devotion & loyalty. like no bounds, no limits, just All fucking In.

evan is the leader/heir of a syndicate (mafia/yakuza/crime family whatever) and barty is his feral right hand man aka the guard dog. i’m quoting myself now from the voicenotes: to me barty—even though he shouldn’t or probably actually doesn’t like being controlled (evan will always be the exception)—always carries this devoting/serving energy with himself. in canon he’s like one of the smartest fucking characters we know yet he still chooses to use that to serve riddle. ofc he is getting back at his father like this so there is def some self motivation but it’s mostly For Someone Else. and he’s definitely wreaking the most chaos and having the most fun he can have !BUT it’s always within a line. the line of not being caught, fulfilling his tasks, executing the plan -> serving his master. he’s not stepping a foot outside of it if it means jeopardizing what his devoted is going for, even if he’s dancing on it like a drunken ballerina. and when they first meet barty is lost. he’s feral, he’s fighting tooth and nail to get himself out of the scenarios his big ass can never leave it at good enough mouth is getting him into and he always gets away with it but boy does he get himself roughed up in the process, like he has zero self-preservation. when evan sees him like that he knows he’ll die sooner or later because one day he’ll miscalculate and the injuries he scores won’t be cured by retreating and licking his wounds. he’s in search of a capable, skilled right hand man that has no issues butchering someone to pieces and making them piss scared. someone as clever, amoral and insane like barty and evan knows all it takes is a guiding hand aka an owner. evan to me is a master manipulator: charming, threatening, intimidating, powerful, impossible to see through, (near) unshakable. he’s the heir of a noble family, he’s literally born to rule. he’s a crazy good dueller in canon, doesn’t back down from any challenge. -> insanely capable, incredible leader material. he knows barty will need training and in the fic barty will definitely fuck up to the point where evan will have to discipline him even over points he doesn’t want to reach (because he obv starts developing possessive/protective feelings over barty as well) but he’ll have to actually hurt him because it’s what needs to be done. and he’ll 100% be there in the aftermath to pick up the pieces, no questions asked. taking an example here i told elio that barty disrespects an other syndicate so evan has to give them one of barty’s fingers to keep the peace. elio responded to this with What if evan can’t do it so barty does it himself?? which. yeah holy fuck dude. that level of devotion just- i cant. they make me insane.

[sunlightwoo]

dangerous

pairing: mingi x g.n reader, some of unknown ateez member x reader

genre: angst | warnings: mentions of the bar, alcohol | rating: pg-16 | wc: 830

plot: you wondered what made him change his mind; why did he have to go away so quickly and so easily? was it because it was you?

a/n: idk what this was,,, and it’s been a while since i last wrote, but hopefully you guys like it!! 

song ib: dangerous - madison beer

It’s too loud. 

The familiar setting of you coming to this exact bar at least twice a week hits a little too close to home this time around, and the eerie feeling in your gut cannot pinpoint why it does. You had received a text from a friend of yours that you haven’t talked to in a while, unsure as to why he had texted you out of the blue. It wasn’t like he was obligated to still talk to you, when it was you that had broken things off with his best friend; he should’ve cut you off in the first place. 

Yunho, however, was a man of wild cards as he had called you on his cell phone, incoherently asking you to pick him up and drop him off at his apartment in exchange for a coffee outing in the morning. You think you shouldn’t decline it in the first place, knowing that it’s the last stretch of final exams for the fall semester, and that you were just one semester away from graduating college. 

But you hated this scene. 

You currently stand out in the middle of the bar, looking for the tall man that had called you previously in hopes that you could just grab him and go, but nothing could ever prepare you for the sight that you were graced with. 

In the corner of the bar you see him, the person that you once thought that you were going to have everything with. 

Song Mingi was someone that came into your life almost unexpectedly, gracing his presence into your life at the same time that you had met Yunho. The two had almost come together as a package duo, and the you from years ago would’ve laughed at the idea of you being the one to break things off with the latter. However it was the idea of the future that had scared both you and Mingi that you had finally made a choice for the two of you; to go your separate ways before you can hurt the other. 

The breakup was still fresh in your mind, as it had only been three weeks since you had seen them both and the rest of your mutual friend group. You thought that it would’ve been best to distance yourself from them all so that you could take the time to heal and love yourself better, but standing in the middle of this bar made you feel anything but that. 

There was someone else in his lap, making out with him and he had been holding them closer to him more than you would’ve liked. 

“Are you okay?” 

The three words were said from behind you, and for some reason it comforts you in the worst ways possible. You turn to face an old flame of yours, one that you knew was also a victim in this case because from what you heard, he had recently gotten out of a relationship as well. The girl that he used to be with was someone that he told you not to worry about, but in this moment you realize that it was now him who was on your end of the stick. 

You wanted to laugh in his face at his question, but you also knew that he once knew you on the back of his hand. He knew that you had been hurting inside, because this was quite possibly your last straw with falling in love with someone; and he had known you were dating for the long run, rather than just in the moment.  

“Was it really that easy to let me go?” You whispered harshly, more towards yourself as you looked between Mingi who was now no longer in the spot that you had seen him in, and the person beside you. 

The look of pity mixed in with guilt had said everything that you needed to, and maybe tonight was not the night where you could’ve easily picked up the pieces. Maybe you needed more time to heal, and to be away from them because now that you remember it, they were all in one friend group. 

One was bound to tell the other sooner or later. 

“Y/N…”

“Y/N, there you are!” You hear Yunho say from behind you, and for a moment you think that you were saved by his timing to get you out of the suffocating place, “Are you still okay with driving me back?” 

You looked up at the latter with a fake smile, tugging on his sleeve to guide him out carefully as you left your past behind with all the unspoken words between you both. Maybe if you weren’t in such conditions, you could step forward and hear about all the things that had gone wrong between you two. 

But for now, you think that it’s better to love yourself first, before you find it even more dangerous to fall in love with someone new.

permanent taglist: @viastro​ @bbanghoonie​ @wooyoung-a​ @pwttychannie​ @sunwoahkim​ @karsohn​ @escapewriter​ @wooyeouu​ @0710khj​ @awfullytiredbuthealing​ @fylithia​ @myluv-yeonjun​ @allorysayshi​ @nlnkm​ @jannine00742​ @rebsmoonn​ @jjhmk​ @beomgyugyu​ @ja4hyvn​ @wccycc​ @kurosism​ @ahnneyong​ @bambi-vixey​ @comic-wanda​ @black-rose-29​ @vatterie​ @marsophilia​ @seungkwan-s​ @sunwooskies​ @ashxxkook​  (add yourself to my permanent taglist here!)

cannot tag: @cowboyjaehyun @soobin-chois @kpoploverforever27 @Xoxozainab @allyg-onz @ineedaherosavemenow

[marshmallowprotection]

Hi! Can I get a matchup, please? You can ignore this if you have too many requests at the moment, I understand how the inbox floods.

I'm into heavy punk/rock music and I enjoy dressing alternative! (I like to drift between grunge and goth). I typically enjoy going to indie concerts (the smaller venue the better) and taking walks through my city. I like digital art though I have trouble sharing it with others. I also love video games! Horror, slice of life, indie rpgs, etc are all fun! I wouldn't mind playing co-op with someone. I'm a huge animal person too; when I was younger, I'd go out in the garden after it had just rain and try to catch critters. I specifically love snakes, cats, and dogs. Off topic but I love cryptids too!

I don't like spicy food. Bummer, I know. I just don't have that good of a tolerance. I don't tolerate people who get off to making fun of others for their fashion choices (unless it's offensive). It gives off petty middle schooler vibes y'know? I also don't like people who try to act like they have the upper hand in a friendship/relationship. I usually don't get along well with quiet people either; I would try to get the ball rolling but I can't hold up the conversation by myself.

I'm usually a self-reserved person but I'm not afraid to speak up when I want to. I'm often respectful towards others and I have a tendency to compliment people when they're dressed nice or simply wearing something I know (like a band shirt). My love language is gift giving; I love to spoil my friends and they're usually my first thought when I'm out shopping. I would say physical touch is my love language too but I'm usually not the one to initiate it lol. I enjoy being a dad to my friends such as looking out for them, helping with assignments, or simply making baked goods when they can't make their own lunch. I like being out there for people and being able to take care of them.

I match you with...

Yoosung!

You're the kind of person that knows what's comfortable for you. You like to put people before yourself because it's just easier to take care of things that way. You take a personal enjoyment out of knowing that you can make people smile. It's not that you're not doing things for yourself, it's more so that you put in a labor of love to make sure that the people that you care about are able to see that it's good to be taken care of sometimes. It would be overwhelming for you if somebody did that, but it's bound to happen sooner or later. You need somebody who has a lot of energy but can also take it easy with you at the same time. That's why a good match for you might seem odd when you hear this but Yoosung. At first, you might think that he's looking at you like he admires the way that you can seemingly handle things so easily. It might seem like he's looking at you the way that he looks at Zen.

However, it's definitely different from that because he starts to realize that what he thinks is admiration is actually a burning feeling inside of his chest. Your Independence and passion is something that makes him feel like he could do anything that he sets his mind to. He has goals and determination but sometimes it's hard for him to piece everything together. He can put himself out there and he's quite popular from the way that he manages to easily fit in wherever he goes, but even if he has made a place for himself, sometimes it feels like he doesn't belong. That's why it's nice to have somebody close to him who tells him that it doesn't matter. He doesn't have to fit in. He can just be himself. He doesn't have to worry about fitting in a box.

[yandere-sins]

My Name

Horrortober Day 6: Time “How long has it been?”  

Oh man, first Xiao piece and I??? Really enjoyed it???? When will he come home, I’m desperate for my lovely boy ;;

Warnings: Yandere, Twisted Thoughts, Fighting/Death of monsters, Planning of Kidnapping Characters: Xiao x Reader

How long has it been?

It felt like Xiao waited forever for you to call him. He would have loved to deny that he waited for it… but he did. Ever since he told you to call when you needed him, he had been waiting—hoping!— you would, rather sooner than later. If only he could get a good look at you again, he would feel prepared enough to face his duties again. You were the beacon of light in his life, no matter how harsh he spoke to you or faked disliking you. Your job wasn’t any more dangerous than any other in this world, making you travel back and forth cities to sell your merchandise there. You needed someone who could help you if things went downhill. 

You needed Xiao. 

His fingers were still tingling from the feeling of your body as he held you. Even when you squirmed and flinched in his arms as he defeated the monsters bothering you, you were warm and soft, and you smelled like dirt- But the good kind! Xiao didn’t know how else to describe it. You’ve been on the road for a long time, showers weren’t your priority probably, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind. You were perfect just as you were.

And finally, you called. Or rather, screamed into the disappearing sun on the horizon, for Xiao to come and save you. You fulfilled the promise to ask for his help any time, and he fulfilled his by coming to your rescue. No matter how weak he felt, how much he wanted to vomit at the sight of more and more foes arriving. With you, weakly as you were, leaning into his chest, avoiding your eyes from the death and fight, he would have defeated armies of Hilichurls if necessary. All while holding you, never letting go of his precious sun. 

The toll on his body was tremendous, his breathing ragged. Still, standing in the middle of disappearing corpses, Xiao was victorious. For you. For both of you. He turned his head to look at you, the disheveled hair slick with sweat out of fear and flight instinct. You weren’t made for the outdoors; not as long as they were cruel and dangerous. You wouldn’t have come out of this attack unscathed if not for him. 

Letting go of his weapon, he petted over your head, pushing it down and combing out some leaves. He knew he was rough around the edges, unfit for gentle comfort. But if he could help your shivering to wane, he would have tried anything. You once showed kindness to him; he had to repay it. 

Helping you towards a big stone out in the open, you two were stumbling over your feet while you grew wary, looking up and realizing there was no fight anymore. But Xiao wasn’t about to let you go, much less leave you alone right away. He’d stay. It’s been too long, and the temptation to be close to you too big.

Making you sit down, you folded like a sack of potatoes before regaining some composure. You were fidgeting with your ripped sleeves, avoiding looking up at the dark matter rising to the sky from the dead Hilichurls. Instead, you looked at him, studied him, his hair, expression, the hands that tried to desperately be gentle as they searched for wounds on your body. Xiao didn’t mind. You could stare as much as you wanted at him as long as he didn’t have to respond to it. Silently, he was begging you to look more at him. Just… a little more. Look at him as if he was your hero.

Edgy, you called him after bothering him at the balcony of the Wangshu Inn. No one allowed you to be there; Xiao didn’t want to have company that night. But you couldn’t sleep, and sitting on the roof appeared to be a better alternative than turning in your bed to you. He told you he hated your presence, and you laughed, saying it was fine. Fine. How could it be fine? You told him about your business and your family even though he never asked, and then you asked about him and his past. He… he had been weak. That night, he had fought and conquered and been incredibly weak afterwards. So he told you, and you laughed again, telling him how edgy he was before leaving him behind, confused and irritated by your words.

The next day, you brought Almond Tofu and left him a note, thanking him for sticking with you and be honest.

He didn’t forget about you ever since.

Even Xiao felt stupid for seeing you off when your stay ended. He had no business meddling with you or anyone in your world, but now that he finally saw you again, he was furious for letting you go. What he should have done was hold you back, make you stay longer. But when you thanked him for offering his help, smiling at him so kindly, he let go of your arm, and gone you were. Only to end up battered and bruised, just like he feared.

“How long has it been?” he asked, dragging his finger over a bruise that wasn’t fresh anymore. It was at least two or three days old, yet, no tint lighter than as if it happened just now. Instantly, his throat was clogged with guilt. And though his question wasn’t about the bruise, you answered honestly, confirming the two days he assumed.

“I meant, how long has it been since someone called for me,” he corrected himself in a mumble, a question you were in no place to answer. Years. Decades. So long, he didn’t remember the last time. But now, you did. You. The person he wanted to answer to. Only, he was too late anyway—he couldn’t protect you either.

“You need to be treated,” he worried with a stern face. Anger flitted over his features as you shook your head, wiping away the tears of panic you had produced. “What I need is to get to Mondstadt,” you argued. Thick-headed. Stubborn. A thick-headed, stubborn, weak human, that’s what you were. That’s what you were supposed to be, but his heart throbbed painfully as he cursed you in his mind. Not even his body wanted to think badly about you, much less Xiao himself.

“No,” he denied your idea firmly, placing his arm around your shoulder and hooking the other under your knees. There it was again, that tingling sensation that overcame him when he touched you. You were squirming some more against his actions before you tensed in pain. Bruises would heal. Cuts would close. But if there was something internally, something Xiao could not see, then he didn’t know how to help you. It was him who was pathetic, still knowing nothing about the humans he was protecting silently from the shadows. He was pathetic because he denied getting close to them, fearing they’d make him weak.

And he had been right. You made him weak. Weak in the knees, weak in his head. Gone was his keen mind and tough body. Now there was only the invested, curious, worrying Xiao. Xiao at his worst, and he hated himself for it. Seeing you hurt and in pain made him want to be strong even more. So he could protect you when you would call his name. But he wasn’t sure if you would after he already let you down.

Xiao knew everything about the lands around you. He knew where the closest doctor was, and he’d get you to them and then… then what?

Gnawing at his lip as he waited for you to get better, he stood there in silence, clothed in the darkness of the room you were offered to rest that night. There had to be something he could do. Something only he could do for you. He didn’t have the leisure of traveling like you, and he wasn’t a human that could join you easily either. But he was strong if you didn’t warp his head into the miserable state he found himself around you. He could protect you, but how would he do it?

There needed to be a plan soon. The sun was rising, the day promising to be beautiful for travels. And you would want to go. Because as wondrous and loveable as you were, you were also stubborn and weak. Duty-bound, like him. But both of you couldn’t share this trait, not when he wanted to keep you from danger instead of making you rush headfirst into it. One of you had to compromise, and as the sun was setting, Xiao realized something else.

If he was strong, and you were not. He, an important Adeptus, and you, another human between so many, then you needed to be put back into your place. A place of safety. Somewhere close to him. It was a stretch to assume other Adepti would help him, but they could create realms. Safe realms he could carry with him. Even if he didn’t know how to wager with them, much less address the issue, he knew they played a vital part in the role of keeping you safe. He was almost jealous.

Xiao looked back at you sleeping soundly, your chest falling and rising under the blanket. Bandages were all over your body. The doctor made sure you knew the risk you had taken, traveling alone and vulnerable and enduring injuries you should have gotten checked up. You were careless and ignorant to the dangers of the world, even though, deep inside you, Xiao imagined you were just as scared as anyone else. It would be nice, right? If he could take this fear from you. Keep you safe and sound and with him at all times. He’d do you a favor.

A future without worries and fear, the dream of so many of your kind.

Stepping up to your bedside, he reached out to your forehead, remaining still as you furrowed your brows when you noticed his warmth, but then you relaxed again. Maybe you knew it was him. Maybe, deep down in your dreams, it was him who made you feel safe right now. Xiao wished he was. Still, he disappointed you, but he wouldn’t do it again. He’d make sure that you wouldn’t have to be in pain and scared anymore. For you, and only you, he’d do it.

Letting his hand slip down your face, his fingertips brushed over your cheek and to your lips, his touch lingering a second too long to be appropriate. Flinching away, he scolded himself for touching you there, pink flushing his cheeks as he shook his head. He was busy; there were preparations to be made.

Leaving behind Mora, he had no use for, and a note to the doctor, he told them to keep you as long as they could. Knowing where you were would make his life easier, even though he wouldn’t leave a stone unturned and a monster alive if he had to search for you. There were no lengths he wouldn’t have taken for you. The thought scared him because he didn’t know how to handle this feeling that burned inside of him at the mere thought of you. But it scared him even more to see you like last night, and he wasn’t sure his heart could take it if it happened again.

No, he couldn’t let it happen again.

How long had it been since someone called his name? One night. The next time you’d call for him, how would it sound? Sweet? Affectionate? Thankful? Praising him for his work and dedication for you, accepting his snide remarks, and laughing at him again with that kind voice of yours? He couldn’t know it yet. But with a jump in his step, he would have never thought it could be the complete opposite.

Angry. Scared. Horrified.

[redhoodieone]

You’re so Lucky!

A/N: Hey y’all! Here’s another sexy story that was a request from the amazing @jasontoddslut! Enjoy my peeps!

Warnings: Language, Bad Relationship with Ex-Boyfriend, Smut, Voyeurism, and Jason’s Goddamn Dirty Mouth!!!!!

It was bound to happen. She couldn’t deny this was going to happen sooner rather than later. If she believed they that they could get through their issues and be happy like they once were, then she’s a real fucking idiot.

Gabi still couldn’t believe it though. One minute she was trying to calm Bobby down and the next, he’s screaming at her and telling her to get the fuck out of his apartment. He was in a bad mood to begin with. He’s a mechanic and he’s always tired when he gets home. He was expecting dinner to be ready and maybe have his loving girlfriend of three years rub his back since his shoulder pain is getting worse.

But no. Gabi made the mistake of asking Bobby where he was tonight as soon as he got home.

What set him off was her telling him to calm down. She should have known though.

You should NEVER. EVER. Tell an easily angry guy to calm down.

Because that’s like telling fire to not burn people. Or telling a baby to not cry.

She should have known better though. It’s no surprise Bobby’s into some serious shady shit that the low life Gothamites meet up sometimes at night in casinos or nightclubs. She knows they do illegal shit like selling drugs, ordering weapons from other countries, and maybe even kidnapping young women and children.

And Bobby had participated in the ordering weapons category.

How Gabi found out is another story: she knows for damn sure that Bobby once brought home fifteen state of the art total militia AK-47 guns. Bobby had foolishly asked Gabi to go get some important documents from his huge safe; totally forgetting the weapons were in there about five months prior.

Why would a normal mechanic need such weapons?

Gabi had decided to never bring it up. Bobby would either deny or lie about it. His temper had been getting worse right about then and she knew better.

But he wasn’t always like this. Oh, no. Bobby was a funny, laid back, and loving type who worshipped the ground Gabi walked on before they even started dating. But after two years of living with each other, things changed.

Simple as that. Things changed.

Gabi always wondered how things could just...change. So easily. The fact that it could happen in the blink of an eye frightens her sometimes.

Just like Bobby’s hidden anger. She never knew a hilarious and sweet guy could have the rage of a bull.

Bobby never hit her though. He always made sure to slam his fist against the wall beside her head, though. He was the type to yell and belittle Gabi as if she was a little girl.

But she wasn’t a little girl. She was a 23-year-old woman who moved in with her boyfriend so fast that she began to understand why her parents and friends disapproved of her choices and relationship.

I just had to learn the hard way, Gabi thought to herself.

She doesn’t know why she’s trying to think of sayings that relate to this experience. The point is, Gabi knows she seriously fucked. With Bobby only giving her ten minutes to pack whatever truly mattered to her, she had to hurry the fuck up.

The moment she made it outside the apartment building, all Gabi could do is replay her questions that she asked Bobby.

Where were you tonight?

Were you with someone?

What did you do?

Why can’t you tell me what you did?

Are you hiding something from me?

Are you getting into dangerous things?

No wonder Bobby kicked her out. Gabi should have never put her nose in his business. And now, she’s practically homeless. She knows it would be embarrassing as hell to go back to her parents’ house because of what they told her before getting involved with Bobby. She also knows her friends would treat her horribly, with the “I told you so” stares and lectures. Gabi was certainly running out of options just as the rain began to fall.

There was one person she could go to, who would never turn her away.

However, Gabi hasn’t spoken to this person in about a year because of her relationship with Bobby as well as this person’s own relationship with their significant other.

But Gabi knew Y/N was a good person, a good friend. She was a sweet person, with a big warm heart and she would never turn her away.

With nowhere else to go, Gabi walked alone in the rain all the way down to high class side of Gotham.

By the time Gabi gets to the high-class penthouses, she has to call Y/N to let her inside. Of course, Y/N excitedly tells her to come up, and Gabi immediately starts to feel somehow relieved that Y/N hasn’t changed at all.

As Gabi finally makes it to the correct floor, she sees Y/N waiting by the door, where Gabi assumes is where Y/N lives. Y/N is wearing a red and black flannel pajama pants and a thin black tank top. Gabi also notices Y/N’s barefoot, and her hair’s in a messy bun.

She must have just woken up. I’m so sorry, Y/N, Gabi thinks to herself.

But none of that matters when Y/N meets Gabi halfway in the hall where they collide in a tight, warm-hearted embrace.  Y/N smells like a woodsy, musky cologne, most likely from whoever she’s seeing with now. Maybe they were snuggling up against with each other until Gabi had called and asked if she could come over.

“Come inside. You must be freezing!” Y/N says, releasing Gabi from her hug and pulling her arm towards the front door.

Gabi follows on shaky legs, completely overwhelmed by seeing her longtime best friend. Y/N giggles and leads Gabi inside the penthouse. Gabi instantly is hit by the aroma of vanilla and musk, the smell of intimacy and seduction.  Her eyes take in the red and black walls and décor, some exquisite art pieces, and the big space that is more comfortable and warmer than most homes she’s ever seen.

“Welcome, mi casa es tu casa! Seriously Gabi, babe, make yourself at home. There’s absolutely no rush to leave. You leave when you’re ready, okay?” Y/N says seriously.

“Are you absolutely sure? I really don’t want to impose or put you and your boyfriend out,” Gabi confesses.

Y/N leads Gabi to the long, cherry red couch that is facing a huge flat screen TV. Gabi sets down her duffle bag and takes a seat next to Y/N on the couch.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Jay and I insist you stay here until you figure out what you want to do, okay?” Y/N says, before she turns around to get comfortable to face Gabi.

A vanilla candle is lit on the coffee table. Gabi’s cheeks flush in embarrassment. “I didn’t...interrupt something, did I?”

“Oh, no, you didn’t! I was just setting the mood in the living room to be more...comfy,” Y/N admits, with a chuckle. “Jason just got home a few minutes ago and is taking a shower. He should be done by now.”

As if on cue, they hear someone walking down the hall and towards the living room. He stops near the couch. There in all his glory, well half-naked glory, stands Jason Todd, God’s greatest creation of man...at least that’s what both girls were thinking.

“Gabi, this is Jason, my boyfriend,” Y/N proudly introduces Jason to Gabi. “Jay, this is Gabi, my best friend in the whole wide world.”

Still dripping wet and fresh out of the shower, Jason at least has a white towel wrapped around his waist; hiding his goods that Gabi wanted to see so desperately. He’s really tall, must be 6’2 or something close to that. She takes note that Jason is all man: there’s absolutely nothing that screams “boy”. Gabi inhales hard when she watches his large hand run through his soaked dark hair. The other hand holds the towel tightly around his hips.

“Hi,” Jason smirks at Gabi. She notices his eyes are green, almost like emeralds. He smiles at her, even his white teeth are perfect. “So, you’re Gabi. Y/N’s told me a lot about you.”

“She-she has?” Gabi chokes out. Why is it so hot in here? Why can’t she speak?

Her eyes zero in on the droplets of water running down his strong as fuck built chiseled chest and perfectly sculpted abs that she really wants to lick and bite his skin.

Holy fuck...

Gabi scolds herself for thinking such inappropriate thoughts about her best friend’s boyfriend. Even though Gabi’s never fantasized Bobby this kind of way, she realizes Y/N’s lucked out. Bobby wasn’t in shape or even remotely attractive like Jason.

“Of course, she has. You’re one of her best friends, and I’m happy to finally meet you. I would go over there to shake your hand and properly greet you, but I’m uh...not exactly dressed yet,” Jason chuckles, and almost seems shy now. “I’m gonna go get dressed real quick so we can talk.”

You don’t have to. You can stay the way you are. You can even drop the towel, Gabi thinks improperly.

Y/N smiles softly at Jason as they watch him leave. True to his word, Jason returned in a pair of black sweatpants and a white t-shirt and took a seat next to Y/N. Throughout their comfortable and pleasant conversation, Gabi truly sees the way Jason cares about her best friend. Midway through their talk about what happened to Bobby, Jason clearly was paying attention and rubbed caressed Y/N’s thigh when Gabi recounted the latest scary fight with Bobby. Whenever Y/N looked shocked or worried, Jason made sure to calm her down through touches, forehead kisses, and whispers words along the lines of love, probably.

It almost makes Gabi jealous. Y/N’s life is clearly so much better than what Gabi had going on for herself. Jason seems like the perfect gentleman; always does and says the right thing. Gabi’s never seen a man pay so much attention to a woman before. Not only did he offer Gabi his advice and opinions on getting a better and more affordable apartment on their street, but Jason even voiced his hatred for Bobby, and even went on to criticize the man for treating women so poorly. He even made a joke about finding the man and breaking his legs; making Gabi and Y/N laugh their asses off and making the energy around them fun again.

But for some reason, Gabi couldn’t help but notice that Jason wasn’t laughing as hard as she and Y/N were. It almost seemed like Jason was serious about breaking Bobby’s legs, but Jason wouldn’t do that. She was sure of it.

He wouldn’t, would he?

By the time midnight came, the three of them stood up and decided to go to bed. Jason even surprised Gabi by giving her a hug and telling her that she can stay in their guest bedroom for however long as she wants and needs.

“I’m serious, kid. Don’t even worry about it. You mean so much to Y/N, and so therefore, you mean a lot to me, too,” Jason had said as he pulled back from their hug.

Gabi was speechless to say the least. She didn’t want the hug to end. He felt so good in her arms and he smelled so fucking good.

But it was bedtime now, and once Y/N and Jason had shown Gabi the guest bedroom, they went off to bed to let Gabi get comfortable. It wasn’t long for Gabi to quickly clean herself up and put on some plain pajama shorts with a tank top. As soon as she turned off the light, she was amazed by how big and comfortable the bed was. She figured it must be new and is probably the first person to sleep in here. In just a few minutes, exhaustion took over and Gabi fell into a deep sleep.

Her throat was dry. That’s what awoke Gabi at two in the morning and made her climb out of bed and go search for a bottle of water. She made sure to tiptoe out of the room and walk slowly and quietly to the kitchen.

As soon as Gabi made it to the end of the hallway, she stops dead in her tracks when she hears moaning. A woman moaning.

Her mind registers that it’s Y/N moaning. But why is she moaning in the living room?

Curiosity forces Gabi to peek out into the living room and see what’s going on, despite the logical part in her mind is screaming at her to have some respect for her best friend and her boyfriend.

But being a pervert outweighs being a prude.

Gabi is utterly shocked to her core when she sees her best friend straddling Jason’s lap. On the red couch where they sat a couple of hours ago, Gabi sees Y/N and Jason making out heavily. She couldn’t unsee it; she wants to keep watching them.

Gabi even sees the vanilla candle is lit again, after Jason had blown it out before they all went to bed.

But all Gabi could see is Jason’s fingertips digging hard into Y/N’s exposed flesh from where her tank top is pushed up above her bare tits. Y/N shamelessly moans in between the evident delicious kisses, and grinds against Jason’s apparent bulge.

Gabi quickly notices an isolated leather recliner that’s against the wall near the hallway. She throws herself down, sinks into the chair and watches the practically live porno show in front of her.

Jason pulls back from the deep kiss, revealing his red, swollen lips from where Y/N’s been biting and sucking since the beginning. He rests his head back against the couch and looks up with hazy, lustful eyes as Y/N grins down at him. She bites her bottom lip and pulls up her tank top, removing her top completely from her body.  

“Fuck...what the hell are you doing to me, sweetheart?” Jason asks breathlessly. He runs his hands up Y/N’s back and moves them to her front where he reaches for both her tits.

“I’m slowly...and softly killing you,” Y/N says, closing her eyes and moans when Jason gently grabs both her tits in his hands; her breasts fill his hands perfectly.

“I’d say...” he says, before sighing contently when switches from pinching her nipples to squeezing her tits before he sits up straighter and pulls Y/N’s body closer to lick and suck her sensitive nipples.

“Oh, fuck...oh Jay...feels so good,” Y/N moans louder than before. She whimpers and continues to rub herself against him. “I need to cum...please make me cum, Jay...”

Jason pulls back from her chest and gazes into Y/N’s eyes. “You wanna cum, doll? Do you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, please...I need you so bad!”

“No, I don’t think you need to cum,” Jason teases, before he pulls off his own t-shirt. “Now, I’m going to take off the rest of your clothes, but if you touch your pussy, I ain’t going to fuck you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” Y/N snaps. Her cheeks are flushed from being aroused.

Jason smirks at Y/N’s frustration.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, sweetheart. I’m going to check how wet you are,” Jason explains, as he raises Y/N off his lap to pull down her pajama pants and panties; leaving her completely bare on his lap. “If you’re soaking wet, then I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll be feeling me for days. But if I have to make you wet, then that means I get to do whatever I want to this pussy.”

“But-”

Jason runs his hand up Y/N’s thigh until his fingers glide over her bare pussy. His fingers gently push inside her, he can feel the wetness, but wants to see it for himself.

“Stand up and put your pussy in my face,” he demands.

“What?”

“I want to taste your delicious pussy right now. Don’t make me get up and literally put you on my shoulders to eat you out,” Jason threatens.

Y/N slowly moves to stand up carefully on the couch. Her legs are shaking, but Jason quickly grabs her to hold her steady. He doesn’t waste any time, and he dives into her pussy as if he’s a starving man.

“Oh fuck!” Y/N cries out.

Jason’s tongue on her clit is what she wants the most right now. He squeezes her thigh and flicks his tongue side to side until Y/N fears she’s either going to fall back or fall over him.

Y/N notices one of Jason’s pull up bars is above her. How convenient.

She grabs a hold of the bar to hold herself up just as he decides to slip a finger inside her. Holding herself up allows him to remove a hand from her thigh. He takes the opportunity to slip another finger inside and pumps them in and out fast.

Y/N’s body trembles when Jason curls his fingers and strokes the sensitive wall that he’s mastered so well. He can tell she’s close. She must have been excited earlier when they planned to stay in last minute. He manages to look up at her and he can see she’s barely holding on.

“You’re so close aren’t you, babe? You taste so fucking good that I want you to cum on my face. I want you to be my dirty girl tonight,” Jason says as he finger-fucks her harder and faster than before. “Are you going to be my dirty girl tonight?

“Yes! Fuck yes! Just-just make me cum, please!” Y/N cries out desperately, needing the push that Jason could only give her.

“You are my dirty girl. You love it when I make you cum with just my fingers and mouth. But I bet you want my cock right after, huh?” Jason asks, chuckling darkly when Y/N’s eyes roll back when he speeds up his fingers inside her. “You wanna ride me, don’t you?”

“Yes-yes I do...” she’s panting now.

“Okay, I want you to cum in my face and then quickly get on my lap and ride me. Fast, slow, hard, whatever, you pick. I just want to feel your warm, tight pussy around my dick, okay?” Jason says, quickly shoving his sweatpants and boxers down to his feet. “Fuck...give me your pretty, tasty pussy, sweetheart!”

And then Jason finally gives in. He pulls both her thighs to bring her pussy to his face. Y/N whimpers when he licks all around her wetness, and he hums in approval when he feels her hand stroking his scalp and pulling his hair, while she continues holding herself up with only one hand now.

The vibration from his humming helps her reach her release. He continues to thrust his fingers inside her and sucks her clit until she gushes in his face.

Y/N manages to silent most of her orgasm, but it didn’t help when Jason continued to lick and suck at her clit to swallow most of her juices. Once her body relaxes, she lets go of the pull up bar and drops down to the couch. Y/N quickly straddles Jason’s lap until her pussy is hovering above his hard cock.

“Spit on my cock, doll. Get it nice and wet,” Jason says, as he watches Y/N spit in her hand and stroke his thick cock until he’s nice and ready for her. “How are you going to ride me, sweetheart?”

Y/N slowly looks up into Jason’s dilated, misty eyes. “Deep. Hard. And fast,” she says.

Jason swallows hard but is able to quickly smirk up at Y/N before she takes full control. “Then ride me, sweetheart. Fuck yourself on my cock like the dirty girl you really are.”

Y/N finally lowers herself onto Jason’s cock, all logic and common sense flies out the window. Whenever his cock was deep inside her, they both tend to lose themselves and the world around them. Because whenever they were connected emotionally and physically in their bubble, nothing else fucking matters in the world.

When Jason fills her up completely, they both release a content sigh. They usually take their time in the beginning, mostly because of their fears whenever Jason leaves to work as Red Hood. But since they’re both so horny and want to cum sooner, they’ll have to just take their time during round two.

“Fuck me, sweetheart. Fuck yourself silly on my dick,” Jason moans, but he and Y/N laugh at the “silly” part, when he realizes that’s not very sexy.

But Y/N understands and slowly lifts herself up his lap until just the tip of Jason’s cock is inside her. She keeps a steady pace, lifting herself and lowering herself, until their rhythm flows. Within seconds, Jason helps her by holding her hips tightly and thrusting his hips in time with hers.

“Your cock is so big inside me, Jay. You fill me up so good,” Y/N moans and rides him a little faster; wanting the head of his cock to rub hard and relentlessly against her g-spot. She guides one of his hands off her waist to move towards her pussy, encouraging him to rub her clit. “I wanna cum again, Jay.”

“Yeah? You like ridin’ my big cock, you dirty girl? You want me to fill your pussy with my cum?” Jason asks, watching Y/N’s tits bounce while she rides his cock faster than before. He can’t help himself, he uses a free hand to pinch her nipple and leans in to bite and suck her breasts, until he puts his hand back to her hip to guide her thrusts. “You want me to fill you up with my cum?”

“Yes! Yes, please!” Y/N begs.

“Okay, my dirty girl. I’ll give you what you want.”

Well, Jason knows now that this is going to end fast, but he refuses to let it end without Y/N cumming hard again. He squeezes her hip with one hand and the other hand rubs her clit fast in messy circles. He begins to pull her down to meet his thrusts, fucking her harder and faster with everything he’s got. The squelching sound from his cock fucking up into her wet pussy becomes more noticeable, especially when their skin-on-skin slapping gets louder and harsher that echoes in the living room.

“Fuck...Y/N, you’re getting so tight. You feel so fucking good baby,” Jason pants hard, completely sweating and keeping his fast and erratic pace to get them to their releases. “Fuckin’ cum on my big cock, sweetheart. I wanna feel you cum so bad. Please cum for me, again.”

Y/N keeps her eyes on Jason just as her orgasm hits her hard; she squeezes and gushes around his cock, she calls out his name. Jason thrusts harder in her three more times, as he finally cums hard inside Y/N, calls out her name as quietly as he could. Y/N collapses against Jason’s chest, despite being hot and sweaty, but he doesn’t mind. He wraps both arms around her and holds her while they regain their breaths and can function normal again.

Y/N doesn’t see the loving smile Jason gives her as he kisses her forehead. “I love you,” he whispers, and hugs her tighter.

She looks up at him and smiles. “I love you, too.”

Before Y/N can lie her head against Jason’s chest again, she notices Gabi sitting and watching them. Y/N jumps up and covers her breasts with her arms, causing Jason to jump in panic and turn around to see what’s going on.

“Gabi! What-what the hell are you doing there?!” Y/N cries out in embarrassment. She can feel her cheeks are getting red again.

Gabi slowly gets up from the chair and makes her wave into the kitchen. She finds bottled water in the refrigerator, takes one, and goes back into the living room where Jason and Y/N are still frozen in fear.

“I-I was thirsty,” Gabi answers, even though she knows it sounds like a lame answer. She walks backwards until she reaches the hall. “And-and then I saw you guys, and then I couldn’t stop watching. I’m sorry, Y/N...Jason...”

But before Gabi leaves, she points a finger at Jason and smiles. She even chuckles. “But-but in my defense...he’s really sexy! He’s fucking gorgeous, Y/N, and you’re one lucky bitch! You’re so lucky!”

But Gabi is right about that.

Y/N is lucky...because she has Jason.

[donghyuckcuyhgnod]

let me in

“oh, i’m sorry- hold on just a second,” you said to your friend, her nodding her head in response. you fished the vibrating phone out of your pocket, confused to see that jeno was calling you. jeno never calls me, you thought. with confusion, you answered the call and put the phone up to your ear.

“hello?” you said. the sound of a few other people bickering in the background was heard, before a distant, “dude! she answered!” was heard. you assumed it was chenle upon hearing the voice.

“hello? y/n?” jeno finally said, nervousness in his voice.

“yeah, it’s me. why’d you call-“

“can you come over? something is wrong with jisung,” he said, the voices in the background now quiet. you assumed they were too focused on listening to the phone call.

“what do you mean something is wrong with him? i’m with a friend right now, i can’t be rude and just leave!” you said, which caught your friend’s attention. she shook her head at you, an understanding look on her face as she mouthed the words, “it’s alright, go!”

“y/n, please!” jeno begged. you sighed, looking at your friend as you silently thanked her, blowing her a quick, friendly kiss before standing up and leaving the coffee shop you were in. “i’ll be there soon,” you said, hanging up the call and walking to the nearest bus stop.

—

“i’m here!” you yelled as you walked into the dorms. jeno, jaemin, renjun, chenle and donghyuck came running to you as soon as they heard your voice.

“jesus, y/n! what took you so long?” donghyuck asked, his actions of hugging you like a koala completely contradictory from his sassy tone of voice.

“it’s called the bus, hyuck,” you laughed, affectionately patting him on the head. “now, what the hell did you guys rush me over here for? and where’s jisung?” you said, noticing that the sixth boy of the group, your boyfriend, was missing.

“that’s why we called you here,” chenle said. “he got home from his voice lessons a few hours ago and he went straight to his room. since then, he hasn’t come out and he refuses to let us in. he’s acting really weird,” jaemin said. you sighed, worry now taking over you as you pushed through the five boys, heading straight down the hall and to his room. they followed close behind you, but you stopped them before they could get any closer to jisung’s bedroom door.

“just. . . let me try. he might open it for me, but not if you guys are up my ass,” you scolded them. they nodded, backing away a bit as you turned towards his door. lifting your balled fist up, you sighed as you shakily knocked on the door.

“sung? it’s me, baby. wanna let me in?” you asked softly, the sweet tone of your familiar voice grabbing the said boy’s attention. before you could say another single word, the sound of his lock clicking was heard before another round of silence. looking at the boys, they all urged you to try his doorknob. just as they had suspected, it was unlocked, and you slowly let yourself into his room before closing the door behind you. turning around, you saw your boyfriend sitting on the edge of his bed, his back facing you. his head was down, his hands anxiously rubbing his thighs.

“jisung? are you okay?” you asked, making your way towards the boy. you sat next to him, trying to look at his face but he desperately avoided your eyes. “jisung, you’re going to have to face me sooner or later,” you said, your hand now lightly placed on his thigh in comfort. he sighed, slowly lifting his head and looked at you.

you gasped, a loud screech coming from you the moment your eyes caught his bruised eye and busted lip. “park jisung!” you yelled, “who did this to you!?”

other than a quiet sigh, jisung remained silent. your hand reached up to his cheek (the one that wasn’t swollen and bruised), as you rubbed it gently. “baby, what happened?” you asked more softly this time, his eyes never once meeting yours. for a few moments, the two of you sat in silence. to be quite honest, you weren’t entirely sure what to do. before asking any questions, you decided on cleaning his wounds.

“come on,” you sighed, pulling him up by his hand. he looked at you with confusion in his eyes, and you were pretty sure you heard and felt your own heart crumble into pieces. jisung looked unusually sad, his teary eyes boring into yours, and you couldn’t help but pout at him. his hand still in yours, you forced him to the bathroom where the first aid kit was located.

walking out of jisung’s room, you gave a warning glance to the boys that stood outside of the door. they instantly understood, seeing as jisung was clinging to you like a koala as you walked to the bathroom. his arms were tightly wrapped around your back, his face buried in your neck, causing you trouble when walking. however, you didn’t say anything to him about it.

“sit,” you demanded, pointing to the closed toilet seat. upon hearing your tone of voice, jisung immediately did as told as he watched you fish everything you needed out of the sink cabinets. taking a wet cloth, you dabbed the cut on his lip, wiping the now dried up blood so that you could clean it.

applying ointment to his bruised eye, you sighed. “are you going to tell me what happened?” you questioned, a serious tone in your voice that jisung had never heard before. he opened his eyes, looking at you through his lashes as you stood between his legs. you put your hands on your hips, and for a moment, you reminded him of his mother when she would scold him as a child. you seemed disappointed, and jisung didn’t like to disappoint you.

“well, i. . . i got into a fight,” he trailed off as you looked at him incredulously. “well, obviously! i should’ve rephrased the question—why did you get into a fight? that’s not like you, sung,” you said. you continued cleaning his busted lip, jisung wincing every once in a while due to the sting of the cleanser. he stayed silent.

you groaned in frustration, “jisung, if you don’t tell me anything, i can’t help you! now tell me! what happened!?” you threw the hand towel in the sink, once again putting your hands on your hips as you stared at him. jisung had never seen you mad, and his heart fluttered at the anger in your eyes. this time, however, it wasn’t a good kind of flutter.

“one of the assholes training me was shit talking you! he was saying all these bad things about you right to my face and i lost control! he wouldn’t shut up, y/n! he rambled on and on and on and on about how you weren’t good enough for me! which is bullshit! everything he was saying about you was utter bullshit! how in the hell was i supposed to just sit there and listen to him!?” he finally bursted, standing up from the toilet seat. his voice sounded strained and broken, tears flowing freely out of his eyes as he kicked the wooden cabinet.

your eyes began to tear up as well, seeing the frustration and sadness in your boyfriend made your heart ache. had he really fought someone. . . in defense of you? you sighed, your eyes trained on the now cracked cabinet. you could hear the worried whispers of the other boys just outside the door, the obvious hesitation to go in being discussed by them.

jisung’s breathing was heavy, and although his back was turned to you, you could clearly see his chest heaving up and down. his head hung low in shame, and the sheer thought of raising your voices at each other lingered in both of your minds. it was bound to happen eventually, you thought, but you didn’t expect it to be in a situation like this.

“jisung,” you whispered, and you could see his head tilt towards you in the slightest. “i’m sorry, i. . . i didn’t know,” your voice trailed off. he turned to you, his cheeks red with emotion, his eyes puffy and red.

“why are you apologizing? i’m the one who got into a fight. i shouldn’t have pushed him. i was just so angry! i’ve never been that angry before, y/n. . . i’m so sorry,” jisung admitted, sitting back down on the toilet as he held his head in his hands. you took one big step and reached him, pulling his face out of his hands and up to look at you.

“it’s okay, jisung. i’m not mad at you. i just worry about you. i’m your girlfriend, that’s what we do. i don’t want to see you get hurt,” you sighed, gesturing towards the small injuries scattered around his face, and even on his fist. “this better not happen again, park jisung.”

“i know, i know. i’m sorry. please don’t leave me, y/n. i don’t know what i would do without you,” he said, his eyes tearing up again.

“who said anything about me leaving you? stop apologizing and just calm down, okay? park jisung, i am never going to leave you and you better know it. i’m right here, baby, okay? i’m not going anywhere,” you said, your voice filled with sincerity and genuineness. jisung’s lip quivered, his arms wrapping around your middle as he hid his face in your stomach. your own arms wrapped around him, your fingers tangling in his hair as a method of comfort.

“calm down, sung. it’s okay, i promise.” you leaned down, pressing a loving kiss to the top of his head as you allowed his tears to wet your shirt. he finally calmed down, his eyes looking back up at you. seeing his expression nearly broke your heart, and you simply couldn’t stand seeing him this way. so, instead of letting your own tears fall, you decided to lighten the mood.

“well, did you win?” you said, referring to the fight that initially caused this whole situation. this, like you had hoped, caused jisung to giggle despite the tears in his eyes.

“hell yeah, i did,” he responded, causing you to laugh along.

[luminari-mc]

My Human, My Sunshine - Part 1

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort.

Pairing: GN!MC x Mammon

Word count: 5194

Summary: Mammon finds himself lost in the human world. Meanwhile, MC can't get ahold of Solomon, their phone dead silent.

Warnings: N/A

A/N: My first writing piece for Obey Me! It's kind of a long one so I recommend you grab a snack or two during it. While this part is occupied by a good amount of text messages between Mammon and someone else, I'm already thinking of writing a part 2 which will have way more dialogue. In the meantime, please enjoy this little scenario I came up with after listening to a song that set me in an angsty mood. :)

______________________________________________________

Wet. Cold. Exhausted. And completely lost.

Mammon felt all of those, and yet, his legs kept on marching into the dead of night, his jacket covering his head despite being too drenched to protect him from the rain anymore. Each time a droplet of water came rolling on his cheek, his wrist would come to brush it off, and Mammon would let out an annoyed groan. If only there were any shops open, but the city was definitely asleep. He was thankful for the crashing sound of the rain on the ground around him, along with the smell of the wet asphalt keeping himself awake, otherwise, he surely would have gone crazy by now. The demon had even lost count of how many hours he had been wandering through the streets, how many mailboxes he had checked, how few passersby he had come across, only to receive negative answers to his questions.

And so Mammon kept on walking, not sure where to go next. But he felt sure of one thing: he wouldn't stop moving until he had found what he was looking for. Be there rain, or no rain. Lost or not.

"Tch, the human world's weather really sucks..."

As he walked on the pavement, his brow furrowed from the lack of new clues as to where his destination was supposed to be. His eyes caught sight of a bakery he had already walked by earlier during the day, its gentle light piercing the darkness that had been accompanying him for far too long now. Mammon's brow furrowed slightly at the sight- he knew he had gone in circles time and time again, but seeing it confirmed once more rubbed him the wrong way. Despite that, he decided to walk towards it, and took shelter under the entrance's porch. Surely the owners wouldn't mind him checking his phone for a few minutes, right? Right.

Pinching between his fingers the precious D.D.D. he had tucked under his shirt to protect it from the rain, Mammon looked at the map again. His stomach dropped for the upteenth time upon seeing the address still showing in his search bar, the letters and numbers taunting him. A knot formed in his throat as he tried his best not to scream at his screen.

"It wasn't there, you idiot..."

His mouth formed into an angry pout. Mammon looked into the list of potential addresses he had made throughout the day, and all had been crossed out. He felt his jaw clench- not only was he left with no addresses, no other clues, no humans to help him, but also that stupid rain surely would keep on falling for the rest of the night.

He was truly cursed.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do now?!" Mammon groaned, his free hand reaching upward to grab at his hair in frustration.

Yes... that was a good question. What was he supposed to do? It wasn't like he could ask help from any of his brothers, or from the angels. It had already been a miracle a witch he knew accepted to snuck him into the human world without anyone knowing, but there was no way he'd get any more help from her without offering his own life in exchange. And contacting Solomon was absolutely out of the question, for his own obvious reasons that he still was suspicious of the guy.

For the longest time in a while, Mammon felt alone. More alone than he had ever been before. He had promised himself to go on this search on his own, stupidly thinking that it'd be over by the end of the day, and look where that got him. Lost in the human world, on the verge of catching some nasty human virus from all this rain that had poured on him, and without anyone by his side.

The grip on his phone tightened, the hand holding it shaking slightly as the anger was starting to consume the demon. Even Mammon's patience had its limits, and he was starting to reach it.

"Dammit, where the hell are ya-"

A pathetic yelp escaped his mouth as he looked in fear at his phone, which had buzzed for a very short second in his palm. Wait, was it a notification? But from who? He had taken all the necessary precautions before leaving, so who was still able to reach his number?

His mind ran through all possibilities as he quickly checked his screen, the name of the sender making him open his eyes wide.

Leviathan: Mammon!!

Leviathan: Where are you???

Leviathan: You promised me you'd play this new game with me after coming home from RAD, don't tell me you forgot?? It's been HOURS.

Leviathan: Also the others say they can't reach your DDD and Lucifer is seriously pissed!

Leviathan: And I know you didn't break your DDD, that wouldn't explain why I can send texts now and the others still can't. Even though mine didn't work before.

Leviathan: But do you know how much time and effort it took me to find a way to bypass a blocked number?? Well guess what, the same amount of hours since you broke your promise!

Leviathan: You're reading this, right? Then send something! Anything!

Mammon backed even more into the porch of the shop, his eyes stuck to the screen of his phone. All of the blood rushing to his head suddenly made him forget he was cold in the first place. Of course Levi would be the first to find a way to contact him.

The demon's chest rose as he breathed in heavily, his hands slowly wrapping around the phone. It took him a hot minute to get ahold of his trembling fingers so as to not make any typos, his mind debating whether responding was a good idea or not, even as he hit the send button.

Mammon: Sorry Levi, gonna have to postpone the gaming session.

Mammon: I got business elsewhere and I'm not sure when I'll come back home, if ever.

Leviathan: Ew stop sounding so gloomy, you're almost starting to sound like me and tbh it would be kinda creepy.

Leviathan: That still doesn't tell me where you are! I know it's like a common thing for you to get into shady stuff on a regular basis but even Lucifer seems concerned, and weirdly enough he's not even trying to hide it???

Leviathan: He's been pacing back and forth in the common room for 20 minutes and won't let go of his phone it's starting to creep me out.

Leviathan: Hey huh, if you really were in big trouble you'd let us know, right? Like, even by typing a secret message to let us know that you got kidnapped or whatever?

Leviathan: Nevermind, I really don't see why you'd even get kidnapped, so it HAS to be that you chose to disappear by yourself.

Leviathan: But anyway! It's been 2 months now since everyone's been acting weird and I've seen and heard you enough to CLEARLY see that you're getting worse but finding trouble with witches or whatever won't help you feel better. And yes I know you've been faking being fine the entire time!! Don't think you can fool me!!

Leviathan: Believe me and the hundreds of figurines I bought!! I thought they'd help and it's somehow doing nothing, I feel like the worst fraud of an otaku EVER!!! How can I call myself an otaku when I can't even find joy anymore in the things that make an otaku what he is??

Leviathan: It's like I'm losing my identity! Wait no screw that, it's not just me, we've all been losing it!!

The three dots of a message being typed disappeared and reappeared, and Mammon couldn't do anything but watch the messages of his brother pop up one after another on his screen. A sense of guilt surfaced inside of him, and it only made him frown. It's not as if he hadn't thought about asking Levi for help, before getting himself into this mess... but for both of their sakes, he had decided that it had to be him coming here, and only him.

But suddenly, just as he expected his brother to send another message, the three dots disappeared, and didn't come back right away. Mammon's focus on his phone increased at the unexplained absence of new texts from Levi, and he waited, expecting him to continue the chain of messages he had started. But nothing followed.

It wasn't in Levi's habits to suddenly stop texting in the middle of a flood of texts. The demon gripped his phone tighter, worry beginning to grow within his mind. Was it because they were in different worlds that their phones couldn't reach properly? Or worse- had Lucifer found him out?

His heart almost skipped a beat as the three dots reappeared under his eyes, before letting another message pop up.

Leviathan: wait

Leviathan: waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait

Leviathan: OMG NO WAY

Leviathan: MAMMON TELL ME YOU'RE KIDDING

Mammon: I literally haven't said anything?

Leviathan: YOU PERFECTLY KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT

Leviathan: DON'T TELL ME YOU'RE IN THE HUMAN WORLD RN??

Shit.

How did he even find out?! Well... he could only assume that it wouldn't take a genius to figure out where Mammon could have gone if not anywhere in the Devildom, but still, why did Levi have to type it out? His plan was supposed to be flawless after all.

Mammon: Sorry bro, I can't say where I am.

Mammon: I know Lucifer's bound to check all of your DDDs sooner or later and that's only gonna help him find me.

Mammon: And like I said, I have something to do, so I can't come back.

Leviathan: Wait! I'll delete all of our messages, and I'll even destroy my DDD if it means you tell me why you're there

Leviathan: Actually no don't even answer, there can only be one reason you took that kind of risk

Leviathan: Is it... because of MC?

Upon reading their name again, Mammon felt his stomach sink. The eyes of the Avatar of Greed closed almost instantly as if to avoid reading it, the damp air whistling through his teeth as he breathed in deeply. Of course Levi would figure that out too. Any of his brothers could have.

The demon leaned his head against the wall behind him, his eyes opening and staring into nothing as he contemplated telling Levi about his plan. It wasn't as if he had any backup plans considering the situation he was in, after all. And Levi had the advantage of being at home, and having access to technology and magic that could improve his search further. But the thought of Lucifer figuring everything out still haunted him, making the hair on his skin stand straight.

And yet... At this point, he had nothing else to lose.

Mammon: Ya gotta promise not to tell anyone about this.

Leviathan: Who do you take me for? I'm not a snitch!

Leviathan: Especially if it's about MC.

Leviathan: But huh... what about Lucifer? You know that if when he finds out you went to the human world, he's going to kill you.

Mammon: Fuck Lucifer.

Mammon: I'm tired of hearin' him say he's "taking care of it". He clearly knows something but won't tell any of us and I'm tired of not getting any news from MC since they left the Devildom 2 months ago.

Mammon: And what's with his excuse about them not havin' their DDD anymore to contact us? I call that a load of bullshit.

Mammon: Something weird happened and Lucifer's too stuck-up to let us know what it is.

Mammon: So I'm done waiting around to see when they'll come back, or IF they'll even come back. So I'm going to get them myself.

Mammon: Problem is, I went to MC's place, and they weren't there. Their neighbor told me that they moved out a while ago with, get this, "a guy with white hair".

Leviathan: ??????? Solomon?????

Mammon: I'd bet my Demonio and all the things I possess that it's him.

Mammon: Not only Lucifer's in on this secret thing about MC, but Solomon too. I've already booked him an appointment with my fists if he did anythin' to them.

Mammon: Hell, even Diavolo and Barbatos seem to be in it too, which sucks even bigger time.

Mammon: So that means it's just us 6 who don't know shit. I wasn't about to play nice and dumb for Lucifer any longer.

Leviathan: Mammon

Leviathan: I never thought I'd ever write something like that to YOU

Leviathan: but

Leviathan: you sound super cool rn!! That just makes me wish I could have gone too!!

Leviathan: Pleasepleaseplease let me help!!! I'm also worried about MC and I miss having them here. The atmosphere at the house has sucked ever since we realized we couldn't text or call them anymore and I huh... kinda miss seeing them around the others too.

For a split second, Mammon considered taking a screenshot of Levi's last message to sell it as "the proof that the Avatar of Envy can control his jealousy!", but now wasn't the time for that. He had Levi's approval for helping him find the whereabouts of MC, and that's all he needed at the moment. He hadn't even noticed his lips turning into a small grin upon reading his brother offering his support.

Mammon: Alright Levi listen.

Mammon: All I'm tryin' right now is to find where MC might be.

Mammon: I don't think they left the place I'm at, but I ain't about to search at every damn house there is here. Would take too much time anyway.

Mammon: So can ya use your shut-in powers and figure somethin' out? Like I don't know, catch their human phone's signal or whatever through hacking?

Leviathan: Lol? I'll let you know it's not because I spend my entire days in my room that I know how to find a human phone!

Leviathan: I know how to hack yeah, but I don't know how to hack human technology! Not that I maybe tried once or twice and it resulted in failure each time.

Leviathan: But huh... I could try?

Leviathan: Let me ask Satan if we could use magic too.

Mammon: Satan? Levi, are you stupid? Last thing we want is to get more people to know about what I'm doing.

Leviathan: Oh huh yeaaaah, about that.

Leviathan: I should have told you sooner, but when I stopped answering earlier it's because Satan caught me texting you.

Leviathan: But he actually knew you had left to the human world! So we don't have to worry! He's on our side... obviously.

Mammon: Then the two of you get on it.

Mammon: And don't catch Lucifer's attention.

Leviathan: Yeah!

Leviathan: I'll let you know when we've found something.

Leviathan: BRB!

And then just like earlier, Levi's texts stopped appearing on his screen. A sigh left Mammon's lips as he closed his eyes, and the demon allowed his body to slide against the wall behind him until he was sitting on the ground. As he stretched out his sore body, the second-born finally realized that after two whole months of not getting to hear MC's voice, seeing their smile, getting to touch them... he had gotten closer to finding them, all thanks to his brothers. He had let Lucifer's intimidation get the best of him throughout all this time, but not anymore. No matter whether his older brother would catch wind of where he was, and what he was doing, Mammon would never stop trying to bring back MC where they belonged. With him, in the Devildom, back with the family they had found and grown to love.

Closing the messaging app with his thumb, the picture of MC he had set as his D.D.D. background seemed to radiate like the sun. How dared them all try to separate his human from their first man? From the one who'd they come to whenever they had a nightmare and couldn't fall asleep? The demon who'd hug them as tight as possible in their bed after a long day at RAD? The one who'd had the chance to fall asleep with them, getting the absolute honor of seeing their face so close to his, and who'd protect their dreams from any bad thoughts and scary nightmares?

The anxiety that Mammon had worn on his face all day slowly disappeared, and a small smile was placed upon it instead as his eyes met MC's in the picture.

"I'm almost there. Ya just gotta be patient a little more."

I'll find ya.

Time went on as Mammon waited for any news of Levi and Satan's research. The rain showed no sign of clearing soon, and the demon was starting to doze off after spending his entire day without taking a single break. He could have almost fallen asleep if it hadn't been for the owner of the bakery opening the door to close his shop and asking him to sit somewhere else. So Mammon moved from one spot to another, and took shelter near another store instead.

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting on the stone steps he had sat on, his phone's screen flashed a bright light as a new notification from Levi appeared from the top. Quickly passing his wrist on his tired eyes, Mammon tapped on the new message at the speed of light. The contents made him gasp, and for a second, he had almost forgotten how to breathe, as his now wide-open eyes were glued on the content of the message.

A full-on address, along with a picture of the place.

Mammon instantly stood up at the sight of the picture, the memories of his day resurfacing in a flash. He remembered very clearly seeing this particular building sometime during his search- its height had been making it stand out very easily amongst the other buildings in the city. Nobody couldn't mistake it with anything else.

Mammon: This is it?

Leviathan: Yeah, we placed down a map and confirmed it was there.

Leviathan: Satan actually found a book in his room with a spell that can help find a person's specific item with just some of their DNA.

Leviathan: So we went to MC's room and found some hair that Satan used for the spell, along with his phone so it could narrow down the list of MC's items.

Leviathan: I didn't think Satan's room could look even more of a mess, but he spent 10 minutes shoveling through his collection and now you can't even see the floor or his bed anymore lol

Leviathan: Anyway now that you got what you wanted, go and check if MC is there!

Mammon felt his legs move on their own as he flipped his jacket above his head and stepped under the rain again, a confident grin now brightly adorning his face as he typed on his phone to reply.

Mammon: Thanks Levi. I'll owe ya one.

Leviathan: Find MC and bring them back. Then you can consider us even.

Mammon nodded, a newfound hope filling his entire body and mind. After confirming that Levi had ceased texting him, the demon turned the phone off. He opened his hand to drop it on the wet floor, and let his right foot crash down upon it, the object almost breaking in half. Mammon promptly gathered in his hand the shattered item, now completely unusable, and threw it down a nearby sewer before letting his excitement take the best of him and sprint further in the direction of the building from the picture. At least, now Lucifer wouldn't be able to track him down with it if Levi and Satan got caught.

The more distance he covered, the more Mammon could swear he was about to take on his demon form at any moment. The thoughts of MC began to fill his head even more, as if they were the one pushing him to find them, to get to them as soon as possible. For the first time in 2 months, Mammon felt truly alive.

"Almost there. The Great Mammon's coming for ya, MC!!" he let out in the form of an encouragement to himself, his legs having found their energy again as his form was engulfed further into the city.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Anxiously pacing around the room, their head low and their phone in their hands, MC was growing more and more impatient. They were supposed to receive an update from Solomon about three hours earlier in the form of a phone call, but no matter the amount of messages they'd spent in the hopes of the wizard finally answering them, all they received was a dreadful silence. Grabbing a nearby chair, they let their body fall onto the seat as their fingers typed yet another message. They couldn't really understand how they had come to grow so persistent when it came to getting Solomon to reply to them, but having no other person to talk to ever since they left the Devildom 2 months prior would do that to anyone, they assumed.

'Solomon, sorry, I know I'm sending a lot of texts, but you said you'd visit today and I'm starting to be worried and... honestly a bit lonely. I thought going out today would help, but I just sat in the park for an hour before going back home and not doing much of the day.'

'You were supposed to meet with other wizards today, right? I hope nothing bad happened. But in case you're alright, all I'm asking is just one reply to at least get some sort of human connection. Not that I had a lot of it in the past few months.'

They felt their throat tighten upon writing their last sentence, feeling the frustration spilling out of their own words right back into their face. But who could blame them?

2 months without seeing, hearing, or even texting their friends back in the Devildom. 2 months without receiving a single visit from Luke or Simeon. 2 months spent exclusively with the company of Solomon, who had been acting strange ever since and had made them move out of their home under the excuse that it was to "train them at magic in a more private setting". But more importantly... those had been 2 months without having Mammon around, and MC would lie if they said they hadn't spent several nights crying themself to sleep, wondering how the demon was dealing with their absence.

The memories of their latest departure from the Devildom played in their head like a movie as they placed a hand on their forehead. Everything had seemed alright at the time, with them getting to say their usual goodbyes to the brothers, wishing to see them again once the new year at RAD would start, foolishly thinking that they'd get to spend their time hearing their voices on a daily basis once they were back in the human world. And before they could understand, their DDD had been taken from them, Solomon had been more present in their life than ever before, and for a reason they still couldn't grasp, it was as if the brothers had vanished from their life completely. No news whatsoever. Complete radio silence.

Just thinking back to this period, and how they could have probably caught that something was up as soon as Diavolo asked for their DDD after the brothers had left... it just made them want to puke.

But nothing could make them want to do so as much as the long-awaited reply of Solomon appearing on their screen.

'Hi MC. I'm deeply sorry I couldn't get ahold of you throughout the day. I won't be able to visit you today, since my services are still required here. Besides, it's getting late. I recommend you go have a good night's sleep as soon as possible.'

'If everything goes smoothly, I should be able to come back tomorrow. Then, we'll be able to go walk wherever you want. How does that sound?'

'I need to be going, but I shall wish you a good night. Take care, MC.'

And just as quickly as he had answered, Solomon went silent again. Leaving them in this apartment they had grown to hate, this prison cell he had put them in. A place where no fun could be found for them. MC didn't even bother sending anything else after that.

Their head sunk even lower, until their forehead slowly met with the hard surface of the dinner table. The phone faceplanted onto the wood as MC's hands turned into hard fists, a deep groan shaking the walls of their throat. It was hard not to let the tears escape their eyes, but instead, they opted to punch the table several times as hard as they could, until they felt their anger diminish.

How long was Solomon going to act ignorant towards them? How long was he going to ignore their pleas to get news from the Devildom, anything that would let them know why they couldn't contact the brothers, Diavolo and Barbatos? Even if the lords had been in some sort of trouble... they'd still find time to talk to their human, right? There was no way Mammon, the one they loved, wouldn't try to reach them one way or another... right?

Him who had been so clingy in such an adorable way every time they'd be at the House of Lamentation, he who had revealed to them that there wasn't a single day where his thoughts wouldn't drift to them no matter how hard he tried...

No. No amount of important duties would explain why Mammon of all demons, would ignore them like that.

They missed his antics. His entire being. The warmth he'd bring them each time he'd hold their hand before tucking his face into their neck like a pouting child, desperately trying to sneak one or two kisses in there, in the hopes he'd get to hear that sweet giggle of them. It wasn't for nothing that Lucifer had come to name them the chaotic duo of the House of Lamentation. They were two parts of a whole.

And yet, the world had dared to separate them. And MC was tired, oh so tired of not having their other half near them. The only feeling they had left, was one of pure desperation to see their greedy demon.

"I'm not asking for much... even a single word would do." MC replied to no one as they turned their head to rest their cheek onto the table. They closed their eyes, the anger slowly being replaced by a profound exhaustion. Could they really do nothing but act normal around Solomon, and accept that this was now their new life? No demons, no angels, just... humans around them?

Before they could slap the thought away, a loud banging coming from the entrance door made them straighten in their seat, their head turning towards the hallway in a panic. Their heart pounded inside their chest as the banging seemed to go on forever, until they used the back of their chair to push themself up, their legs shaking.

"S...Solomon?" They asked, way too silently for anyone to hear, and fully knowing that the person behind the door couldn't be the wizard.

As if they were waiting for an answer, MC stood there, their hand grasped onto the chair. The banging was insistent, demanding, angry. At this time of night, there were few reasons they could think why someone would mistreat their door in such a way, and MC wasn't sure they wanted to find the reason for it.

That is, until the person behind the door finally let their voice be heard.

"Oi, MC! Ya can hear me right?! Come on, open the door!"

It didn't take long for MC to let the familiar voice enter their ears, and it took less time for them to nearly stumble over the chair as their legs moved in a hurry to lead them towards the door as quickly as possible. Their hands messily trying to open the locks on the door, they were sure their mind had just played a trick on them, and the person outside was going to leave them completely disappointed, but they didn't care. This voice they could only remember so well despite the time since they had last heard it, was simply inviting them to open the door, to check for themselves whether it was true, or just a nasty joke played by their brain.

But as the last lock was undone, and the door was swung open, MC couldn't do anything but just stand there, their mouth agape.

Mammon kept on drawing breaths, his wet hair stuck to his forehead and drops of rain falling from his clothes onto the floor below, so much so that it had started to create a small puddle underneath him. As if the person who opened the door wasn't the one he expected, the demon took a step back, letting his eyes wander up and down on the human he had in front of him, almost in an attempt to check if it was really them. He too, couldn't stop his mouth from hanging open at the sight.

The two of them just stood there for a few seconds, taken by so many emotions at once that they weren't sure what to do. But right as Mammon took a step forward, his mouth opening some more to let out words that he so desperately had wanted to say for so long now, MC's face contorted into one of pure sadness before they rushed towards him. Mammon greedily welcomed them into his arms as they jumped and wrapped their arms around his shoulders, and their legs around his waist. They buried their face into his neck, the warmth of their tears mixing with the rain on his skin.

His embrace only tightened even more as they mumbled his name amidst broken sobs, the sound ever so close to his ear that even though he had his eyes firmly closed, he might have cried on the spot too. But he had found them. He had them in his arms again. After what had seemed like a million years, finally, they were back where they belonged, and he was back with his human.

Almost as if they were about to be pulled away from him, Mammon placed a hand on the back of their head, wanting to protect their entire being from harm no matter the cost. He still wasn't sure why it had taken so long for him to reunite with them despite the obstacles, but at the present moment, nothing else could matter.

The lord had finally found them, and he wasn't about to let anyone interfer between their happiness once more.

"I ain't letting you go." He whispered through gritted teeth, his head lowering into their shoulder. "Ever again."

[talesofstyles]

Reconcile II

Ok so I know that I wrote the first part with reader insert, but after many, many attempts to keep it that way, it just didn’t work with this one. So I’d like for you to meet Emma. This is my first time writing with OC and wow game changer. I love her and I hope you do too!

Also, I honestly can’t thank my beta queens enough @oh-honey-styles @for-fucks-sake-h 🥺💛 thanks for allll the comments and suggestions and nice words!!! ily both xx

Read part I here

Harry

“So… are we okay now?”

We’re sitting here on the sofa, finally having that very much needed father-daughter date. Granted, a movie night in was not what I had in mind. I wasn’t too thrilled when she said she wanted to just go back home after we dropped George at his classmate’s house for a birthday sleepover. I thought she would hole up in her room instead and ignore me. But she didn’t. I got us pizza for tea, and we’ve got Shrek 2 on the telly. Her animosity towards me disappeared just like that after she asked for a puppy the other day. Of course, I’m glad to have my happy-go-lucky daughter back, but deep down I know that we need to have a proper chat. The change in her behaviour is so abrupt that I know there’s a chance that my daughter is still bitter with me deep down. And that won’t do. I can take a lot of things, but my daughter’s resentment is not one of them.

“Yeah, we’re okay,” she nods as she takes a bite of her pizza. “You’re still getting me a puppy right?”

“I still need to talk to your mum about it, poppet,” I tell her. “Puppies need a lot of attention. It’s going to be hard work and that puppy is going to be a permanent member of our family. We’ve really got to think about it before we decide.”

I expect a little excitement knowing that her mum and I are really considering getting a puppy. But what I get is quite the opposite. My little girl’s gaze drops, her face slackening. Her voice cracks a little when she mumbles, “except… we’re not a family.”

I wince, realising how serious the effect our split has on my daughter. Despite Emma and I putting on a friendly, united front for our children, Minnie is still sad that her parents are not together. 

“Of course we’re still a family,” I assure her, pulling her to me for a comforting side hug. “I’m still your dad, mummy is still your mum, and you and George are still the lights of our lives.” 

“But you and mummy aren’t together anymore,” she points out bitterly. “And you live so far away from us now. I miss having you at home.”

“I know, my love,” I murmur gently, and turn sideways so she can see my face. “It’s killing me too. But you never know what the future holds, right?”

“I guess,” she says glumly.

I wish I can tell her that I’m trying to win her mum back so we can be together again, but I know I can’t do that. This is far too early. I don’t want to get her hopes up in case I’m not successful in convincing my wife to give me another shot. That’ll only break her heart all over again.

Thinking back, I realised that this is the first time we have a proper chat about our split. I fled to LA the next morning after my wife asked me to leave our marital home back in London, leaving her to sit down with our children to tell them that I was not going to live there anymore. I was shocked and angry because I had no idea what I’d done. I thought we were fine. There were no fights leading up to that. I still remember exactly what I told her. ‘You’re the one who wanted to end it, you tell them.’ And then I left.

Just like that. Without a fight.

I swear to God, it’s something that I would never be able to forgive myself. 

“How’s your mum?” 

“She’s sad,” Minnie sighs. “She cries a lot. She thinks we can’t hear her in the shower, but we can.”

Knowing I caused that physically hurts. I rub at the throb of pain behind my breastbone and I think about all those private tears I shed through it. The ones you hope are hidden and silent.

“Can I ask you something, daddy?”

“Anything, poppet.”

“Do you still get sad too?”

I’m not sure how much to divulge here. Does my daughter need to hear that I stopped eating? That I once cried in the loo at Cafe Habana, and once had to be fished out of a bath by Jeff after I turned into a human prune? I was sad. I still wear that hat. 

“I do. It’s the end of something, that’s always sad.”

“I think mum is dating someone,” she says and my eyes widen. “She told us Luke is her friend, but I think he’s her boyfriend. They’re on a date now, aren’t they?”

I can try and deny it, but I know my daughter is smart and won’t buy anything I tell her.

“What do you know about boyfriends?” I tease, my attempt to lighten up the mood. 

“I’ve just turned nine, I’m not stupid,” Minnie rolls her eyes. “‘Sides I’m thinking about getting one of those boyfriend thingies.”

I sit there slack-jawed, and my daughter roars with laughter.

“Minnie Alexandra, you’re going to drive me to an early grave, you know that?”

“Hey, what are you middle naming me for? I was joking!” She says, still laughing as she picks a piece of pepperoni off her pizza.

“How do you feel about your mum dating again?” I ask her.

She pauses. “I don’t know yet. As long as he’s nice and doesn’t put me under the stairs…”

“I’m sure he won’t. In the attic maybe,” I joke.

She laughs again. I’m thinking about keeping that bloke in the attic so my wife won’t date him anymore. Or even better, six feet under my patio. That’ll do.

“It’s gonna be okay, right, dad?”

Honestly, I’m not sure. But I don’t have the heart to tell her that.

“Yeah, Min. It’s gonna be okay.”

***

I see the headlight shining into the front windows as I walk down the stairs from tucking my daughter into her bed. That must be Emma and her date. I pull back the curtain a little to peek outside, and I’m right as I see that bollockface’s car in front of the house. 

You know that saying; curiosity killed the cat? Well, in my case, curiosity fucked me with a chainsaw. 

I’m a bloody idiot. I should have just closed the curtain back as soon as I recognised the car. I mean… it’s the end of a date. What did I expect to see? A high five? I knew I was so sure when they left that he would not be getting anything more than a friendly kiss, but that date must have gone really well, because right now, my eyes may as well fall out of their sockets as I see that bastard’s tongue down my wife’s throat. 

I’m frozen. I’m gripping the curtain so tight that my knuckles are turning white. I stand there—stunned. Watching. I’m not even sure for how long. It does feel like forever. Like an eternity. 

In hell.

And then Emma pulls back, and everything seems like a blur. I have to remind myself that my daughter is sleeping upstairs so I won’t go apeshit and knock that wanker square on his arse. 

I’m still glued to the floor by the door. I’m too shocked to move. I hear the sound of keys rattling before the door swings open, and she looks surprised when she sees me.

And all hell breaks loose.

“What the fuck, Emma?!” She jolts at hearing me shout. I rarely did it. In fact, I’m not even sure if I’d ever yell at my wife before throughout our marriage. “You told me last night you’d never even kissed him. You told me you weren’t ready.”

“I- I don’t know. He caught me off guard. That was-”

“I told you I wanted to make this work,” I remind her, trying to lower my voice so I won’t wake my daughter up. She doesn’t need to see this. “Us. Our marriage. I told you I wanted to fight for you. But I can’t do that with someone shoving their tongue down my wife’s throat, can I?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I see her tear up and I immediately feel regret. That was harsh. But before I can apologise, I can see her lip curls up and I know she’s about to get nasty. It’s a rarity with her when we’ve fought in the past, but I feel it coming.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” She sneers. “You think that if you put a toy down, it’ll still be sitting there when you want to play with it again.”

“That’s-”

“You have no right to be upset at me. We’ve split up for nearly a year now. What I do and what I don’t do on my dates is none of your business.” 

“I want us to give our marriage another shot,” I say in exasperation. “I want to try to win you back, but fuck’s sake you’re not even giving me the time of day.”

“Oh, look how the tables turned,” she taunts. “Sucks, innit? Being the one struggling to find the time when it seems like the other doesn’t give a crap?”

“Cheap shot, Ems,” I retort.

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it, H?” 

Emma averts her eyes, her lower lip quivering. I can’t tell if she regrets her harsh words or not, but she doesn’t look back my way, and she seems to have said her piece.

I knew sooner or later this was bound to happen. We never had our big fight, not even that night when she decided that enough was enough.

“I cannot possibly go through that again. It physically hurts,” she says softly. “I know I was the one who ended it, but when you just left like that the next morning without so much of a fight as if ten years means nothing to you… that really did hurt. You left me alone to talk to the kids about what happened. And sure, you did call every day. But it took you nearly nine months to finally come and see your children?”

“I needed some time. Some space,” I tell her. “Do you think it’s easy for me being there? Away from my wife and kids?”

“You chose to be there.”

“You know I couldn’t stay in London,” I murmur. “It’s too hard. At least in LA sometimes I can just pretend that everything’s okay. That we’re okay. That my wife and kids will be there waiting for me when I get home. I can’t do that in London.”

“That’s a shit excuse and you know it,” she mutters.

“I still love you, Em,” I say with a sigh. I know trying to defend myself further for what I did will get me nowhere. “We can fix this. We can be a family again.”

“Harry, it’s too late.”

“Is it him?” I can’t help but go there, because that’s a possibility. “Do you love him already?”

“Luke is a fresh start for me, H. I may not love him now but at least it doesn’t hurt looking at him. It took me months to be able to get back up again, to get to where I am right now. To finally find a little bit of peace.”

Emma’s head hangs low, and she rubs at her temple with her fingers. I want nothing more than to pull her into my arms. But by how stiff her spine is, I can tell she wouldn’t come willingly. 

“I’m sorry, Emma,” I whisper, resigned. Tears well up in our eyes. There’s nothing I can say that will change her mind because we’re not seeing eye to eye. She’s still focused on the past, not that I blame her because I did hurt her badly, but I know that there is no way we can go anywhere if she can’t see past the harms I’ve caused in the past.  “I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me.”

“I’ve forgiven you a long time ago,” she says, her expression softens. Her thumb runs at a part of her finger where a ring used to be. “Now, I just want us to try and make this separation work. Focus on the kids. Let’s do the right thing by them.”

I nod.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“When did it all start?” I ask, my voice cracks a little. “When did you start feeling like you’re invisible to me?”

“I’m not sure I can point down to one exact moment,” she takes a shaky breath and pauses. “The change was gradual that by the time I realised it, I didn’t even recognise us anymore. I spent days and nights wondering what happened to us. That wasn’t us.”

I wipe that one tear running halfway down her cheek, and as soon as my thumb touches her skin, I lose it. I can’t help it by this point. Tears flow as much as I try to hold them back. She’s crying too. This is painful. 

“And it’d be too easy to say that I felt invisible,” she continues. “Because the truth is, I felt painfully visible. You ignored me on purpose. I wasn’t even sure what I was to you anymore, because the only chance for me to get your attention was by getting you in bed. And that was wrong. It hurts, because it felt like you only needed me to warm your bed.”

I want to deny that statement. I want to yell it’s not true. That I never intended to take her for granted. That she still makes my heart skip a beat like a bloody teenager seeing his first crush. 

But I don’t.

Because she’s right. I’m not sure what happened either, but we’d changed. Maybe it’s our jobs, maybe it’s the endless responsibilities. Domesticity, children, they wore us down. Kisses became perfunctory. Hugs became less frequent. Hell, I couldn’t even remember the last time I took my wife for a date night other than for social obligations.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her again. I’ll spend the rest of my life apologising to her if I have to, she deserves it. “I hurt you badly. I really am sorry, Emma.”

“It wasn’t all you though,” she mumbles. “I never called you out on it.”

“You didn’t,” I reply. “I never worked out why?”

“I swept it under the carpet because it was embarrassing. It felt silly having to ask for your attention. And I don’t know… pride, maybe? And the kids. I didn’t want them to know something was wrong. So I played along and carried on like nothing was happening.”

“When really…”

“It was like a punch to the guts each time. You were an excellent father. You still are, the kids adore you. This may sound insane and it’s embarrassing and painful for me to admit this, but there were times when I saw you with the kids and I couldn’t help but feel jealous. When you couldn’t even be bothered to look at me… it felt like you took a dump over all my love for you.”

“Emma…”

“I wish I could get past that. I wish I could just forget what happened and trust you again.” 

I bring her in for a hug and say nothing. She needs to get this all out. This is part of the process, and I’m here to listen. 

But where do we go from there?

Reconciling a broken marriage is tricky. I am not a violent person but I have never wanted to strangle people as much as I want to strangle those who wrote articles with countless advice regarding this subject, making it seem like it’s easy. Talk it out, get your point across, and you’re out of the dog house. Well, you know what, bollockface? It turns out that listening is not enough. Sod you and your dumb articles. 

All I know is that I can’t rush this. She’s not ready, and that’s okay. Right now, we both have things to work on. She needs to learn to let go of her resentment, and I have to learn not to take anything and anyone for granted ever again. This is killing me, but there is no one to blame but myself. I take solace in knowing the fact that I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. Maybe one day we’ll be back together. Maybe we won’t. 

“Thank you for telling me all that,” I mumble against her hair. 

“Thank you for listening,” she looks up and gives me a sad smile.

***

Emma comes from a big family. 

There’s Jamie, her eldest brother and the only guy. I think the fact that he grew up surrounded by sisters was what made us the closest in the first place. He hates wine, even though he makes a career out of managing his own vineyard. I know, the irony. The next is Suze, sister number one who lives in Sheffield with her husband and three girls. Suze and her husband are both orthopaedic surgeons. Then my wife, the middle child. Then Meg, sister number two who just had a baby. It’s another girl so my George is still the only grandson in the family. And then Lucy, the youngest of the clan who’s still in university. 

They all live nearby, and I knew that all my in-laws hated me a tiny bit for taking their daughter and sister away. They were a hard outfit to infiltrate. You don’t enter into a relationship with one of them, you get a whole gaggle of them. It was hard to get in, but once you’re in, you’re in for life. 

After we’d split, I called my parents-in-law the next morning just before my flight to LA. I wasn’t sure whether or not Emma had told them about what happened, but I felt like it was the right thing to do. After all, they’d become my parents too for a decade. So I explained and apologised. Of course, I didn’t tell them the details because I knew they were between Emma and me, and they respected us enough not to ask. They were upset, but they also understood that these things happen in life. All they wanted was just for their grandbabies to come out of this unscathed. 

Now here I am, walking behind Emma and our children as we step over the threshold into her parents’ home for their monthly roast. Her parents invited me and I accepted. I don’t want to turn down any extra time I have with my kids as I’ve decided to leave today and head back to London. I was prepared to stay longer, take some time off work and fight for my marriage, but since it all has gone to pot, I figured I should leave. The world doesn’t stop even when you’re struggling with marital woes. I’ve got work to do, and I also know that it is best to give Emma space. 

I hear voices as we walk inside.

“If littl’uns are going in highchairs then what’s that extra space for?” I hear Meg’s husband say.

Meg tells him. “Count again, addition was never your strong point.”

“Oh.”

The house is suddenly quiet when they see me. This is my first time seeing the whole family again after we split, and even though my parents-in-law and I are on good terms, and Jamie too, I know the sisters would be a different story. All four of them are beyond close and they’re now looking at me as if they should’ve chucked me in the oven instead of the chicken.

You don’t do that to our sister. You hurt one, you hurt all of us. 

“Uncle Harry!” Freya shouts in excitement. She is one of Suze’s daughters. She and her twin sister Tessa are only a few months older than my George.

Suze, who is sitting on the sofa, looks a bit sullen, not knowing what the right call is to make. Meg and her husband freeze. 

“Alright there, mate?” Jamie greets me, trying to ease the tension. Suze glares at him.

“Are you here to do magic then, Uncle Harry?” Tessa asks. 

I bend down to her level. “Not sure I know any magic, Tessie.”

“Yeah you do!” Freya pipes up. “Because when we were driving here, daddy said you did a disappearing act on Aunty Ems. Show us what you did!”

“FREYA!” Her dad barks.

Meg can barely contain her giggles.

“But we like magic. You’re rubbish at magic,” she says to her dad. He widens his eyes. 

The sisters are now all smiling smugly, knowing a couple of six-year-olds just shamed me on their behalf. Extra roast potatoes for those two.

Lucy, the littlest sister, suddenly enters. That’s definitely not a happy face. “Oh, it’s you. Is that why everyone went so quiet? What are you doing here?”

“Luce,” Emma mutters.

“Because I invited him,” says a voice emerging from the kitchen. My father-in-law. “Harry, glad you could make it.”

“Of course,” I reply. “Thanks for the invitation.”

Lucy stares daggers at her dad, knowing she can’t unleash her trademark rapier wit as she’s surrounded by her little nieces and nephews. That one may be the youngest but she’s the scariest out of all the sisters, my wife included.

“Look, if it’s weird, I can just leave?” I offer.

“Nonsense, you must stay for supper,” Emma’s mum replies.

“Yeah, Harry, stay,” says Emma’s dad, staring at his daughters. “I want you lot to be nice. Otherwise, I’m putting you on the kids table. You hear me?”

The three of them nod in unison. 

“You two look well,” I say, my attempt to make small talk. 

“You know, dad’s been singing this morning,” Emma’s mum chirps, tilting her head towards her husband. “He joined a male choir. They think they’re Westlife.”

We all can’t help but laugh. This is classic mum. The tension seems to ease away. 

Let’s just hope it stays that way.

***

There’s a strange feeling of déjà vu as I take a seat on the steps in front of the cottage. 

I’m all packed up and ready to go. My weekender bag is in the boot of my car. Nothing left to do but say goodbye to my wife and kids, but I don’t go straight inside. 

Not yet. I need a moment.

These steps witnessed a lot of our marriage even though we’d never stayed here for longer than a couple of weeks at a time. We loved to sit out here in the summer. I remember when I first brought my stuff here shortly after we got married, we sat out here with beers, sleeves rolled up, boxes stacked into Jenga-style columns. 

I also remember sitting here last year on Christmas morning. Emma and I were both in our pyjamas and slippers, sipping coffees out of our matching Christmas mugs. We watched the kids ride their new scooters up and down the street. Everything was perfect. I had no idea that my marriage would end in just two months after that.

“Harry?”

I look over my shoulder and I urge her to sit beside me. She comes over and does just that. There is silence. We don’t say a word to each other. A quiet hum of traffic in the distance, puffs of breath cloud the air making me think we should both be wearing coats. Christmas is nearly here again. My heart aches at the thought of this being our first Christmas since everything fell apart.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly.

“I should be the one apologising, Em.”

“I know you wanted to work things out,” I hear the sadness in her voice. “I really loved you, you know that, right?”

“I do,” I nod. “Our marriage, all those years… it wasn’t all bad, though, right?”

“Of course,” she quickly replies. “We had our moments. We have Minnie and George.”

We pause, letting that sink in. In all this mess, those two were and remain everything, some symbol of our marriage not being a complete disaster. 

“There were also times when you were a good husband,” she adds.

“Why do I feel like you’re going to pat me on the head?”

Emma laughs under her breath.

“Your new bloke seemed a nice sort,” I tell her, because it’s true. I may hate the guy with a burning passion, but that’s only because he’s dating my wife. 

“He is.”

“That got legs?” I ask her.

“Possibly.”

“I want you to be happy, Ems,” I tell her. “With or without me.”

“Harry…”

“But I also want you to know that I’ll be waiting for you. No rush, no timeline. I’ll wait for as long as it takes. Because for me, it’s either you or no one else.”

The front door opens and two little faces pop out from behind it.

“What are you doing out here? It’s freezing!” Shouts Minnie.

“Well then come here and give me cuddles to warm me up,” I tell her.

Emma and I take a kid each. She takes George and lets him entangle his legs in hers, cradling himself into the hook of his mummy’s arm. Minnie uses me like a climbing frame. I bop her on the nose as I’ve done since she was a baby, and I like that it never stops being hilarious to her. The sky starts to dim, trees casting shadows onto the pavement. A house down the road has some festive lights that switch on and flicker on and off in strange syncopated patterns.

“This is nice,” Minnie mumbles. “I miss the awesome foursome.”

“The awesome foursome, huh?” I ask.

“That’s what you used to call us,” I hear the sadness in her voice and my heart aches. I know she feels this all a lot more than her little brother. “I still remember.”

“Do you really have to go again, daddy?” George looks at me with sad puppy dog eyes. 

“Yeah, do you?” Minnie asks. “I love having you here.”

“I do, my loves,” I reply sadly. “Be good for mummy, alright? I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“I don’t like seeing you go,” George mumbles.

The emotion is a little unbearable and I see a tear trail down my wife’s cheek. George looks petrified seeing his mum cry. 

“Don’t be sad, mummy.”

“I’m not sad,” she shakes her head, quickly wiping the tear off her cheek. “I’m just sorry daddy and I couldn’t make it work.”

“Did we do something wrong?” George asks, looking at his mum and then me.

“Oh, mate,” I reach out to cup his face, Emma pulls him into a hug. “Of course not. You didn’t do anything wrong. You two are perfect, you hear me?”

“Do you still love each other?” Minnie asks.

Emma looks at me in the eye as she answers our daughter. “I’ll always love your dad, because he gave me both of you.”

“And I’ll always love your mum,” I say, my eyes pinned on my wife. “No matter what.”

Emma

“So… tell me, he a good lay? He looks the sort to have some girth.”

I probably should have warned you beforehand about this sister of mine.

Lucy is my entertainer sister who has done every job going alongside studying. She went to dance school, spent six months on a cruise ship, has been an extra and once did a two-month stint in Les Misérables. On weekends she dresses up as Disney characters and does kids’ parties which means she owns a lot of wigs and always has glitter in her bra. She’s the fun one. I keep her close because as much as I love my other siblings, this one has been a good entertainment through my separation. Mum suggested for her to live with me for a couple of weeks when I first moved back to the Peak, and I’m so glad she did. It was around the time I lost a stone and would spend most of the time napping, crying and staring at the wall, surviving on cups of tea and Rich Tea fingers. She couldn’t cook or clean and she used all my shampoo but she brought some light into the house when grey clouds threatened to consume it. She was also a great distraction because I could live vicariously through her tales of going to gigs and clubs and hear how she’s not slept and got her boobs out for reasons of fun and frivolity.

However, when you talk to her, she always goes there. She’s brash and has no conversational limit. She thinks her purpose is to not only feed me but also revive a pretty dead sex life too. Actually, it’s not just her. After my husband and I split, my sisters think it’s their job to pique my interest in men again. Luke happened after a boozy Chinese takeaway about two months ago when I joked that a spring roll was the most phallic thing I’d had in my mouth for over half a year. I remember a dumpling rolled out of Meg’s mouth in shock, so Suze decided to play the matchmaker and introduced me to Luke who worked at the same hospital with her.

Tonight, we’re having another takeaway night since my parents have all the grandchildren for the weekend. Bless them for entertaining that crew of children we seem to have acquired over the past nine years. We have seven between Suze, myself and Meg, and I just hope that my parents are well stocked with wine. They will need it. 

We all sit around my dining room table with the remnants of a KFC bargain bucket, a selection of Thai food, a giant bag of chips and some battered sausages. I’d admit that we were already a little drunk to buy food sanely. Luke is also here, I thought it’d be nice to give my sisters the chance to get to know him. And it doesn’t take Lucy more than thirty seconds after Luke gets up to take a phone call before asking such questions. 

“I don’t know? I haven’t slept with him yet.”

Lucy looks at me in confusion. “But you’ve been on dates and stuff?”

“We did have a cheeky snog last week but we’re taking it slow.”

“What are you waiting for? Just go shag him. Erase the memory of that wanker?” 

“Hey, he’s your niece and nephew’s father,” I chastise her for calling Harry names. “Don’t call him that.”

“Why don’t you want to sleep with Luke?” Meg, my other sister asks me. “Lucy is right though. He’s really tall, I bet he’s VWE.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Very well-endowed.”

I chuckle. “Honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

Meg giggles and places her head on my shoulder. 

“Last time I had sex was on Valentine’s Day, girls. Do your maths. The next day, my marriage collapsed.”

Both of them huddle into me like penguins. 

“Which is why you just need to get over yourself,” Lucy remarks. “You need to remember what sex is like. It’ll be fun and make you feel good. If you don’t want to do it with Luke, you can have some taster session? I’ve got a uni mate who’d shag you.”

“Lovely. No.”

Lucy huffs. “You’re so boring.”

“Honestly, Em, Luke is fit. Seems like a nice fella, and he genuinely likes you. I’d have a go on him if I weren’t married. You should just do it,” says Meg.

“Yeah, you could shag him tonight,” Lucy adds. “Meg and I can piss off out and then…” 

Then she does a strange rave-style dance as she thinks of her plan coming together. Luke returns from his phone call and Lucy jiggles in her seat. Don’t you bloody dare. 

“Luke, we need more wine,” says Lucy. “There is not enough and we thought you could walk down to the shop and get some?”

Meg and I look at each other for a second, wondering what our sister is up to. 

“Sure, yeah, I could get wine,” Luke replies. “Any other requests?”

If she tells him to get condoms in then I will skewer her with a chopstick.

“Anything you might fancy or need?”

She’s walking an incredibly thin, thin line. 

Luke gets up to retrieve his coat and grazes my hand as he does. This move doesn’t go unnoticed by Meg and she gives me a sly wink. I hand him my keys and he heads for the front door. Meg stares Lucy out.

“Seriously?” She says.

“We need to prepare you if you’re going to sleep with him.”

“Like mentally?” I ask.

“Like have you had a tidy? This will be your first time. You’ll need to at least tidy up the flaps and do a bit of topiary.”

“LUCY!” I gasp and laugh at the same time, holding my hand to my face. Who is this woman? How can you raise five children in the same house and come up with such a random entity?

She stands up and heads for my kitchen drawers, rifling around until she pulls out a pair of scissors.

“Show me your bush,” she orders.

“Lucy! I prepare food with those scissors.”

“And we’ll wash them?”

Meg is in hysterics as she sees this scene unfolding in front of us.

“I’m not getting my bush out in my kitchen.”

“You’re so dull,” Lucy complains. “I’m trying to help here. What are your pits like? Shame there’s no time to tackle your upper lip.”

I put my hand over it instinctively. “I’ve got a moustache?”

“Well, you’re not Tom Selleck but it could do with a bleach.”

“You’re being cruel now, Luce,” Meg giggles. “But I think we do need the comedy of seeing Lucy trimming your bush in the kitchen.”

I stand up reluctantly and unbutton my jeans.

“Ha!” Exclaims Lucy. “You’re wearing nice knickers, you knew this was going to happen. Just peel them back a little and let me have a look.”

“Be quick for fuck’s sake. This is something that no one needs to see.”

“Do you want a shape?”

“What?”

“Yeah, like a heart? It’d be cute.”

“No!”

Meg roars with laughter.

“I’ll just trim the length then,” says Lucy. “Meg, put your hand out.”

“Do I have to?”

“Don’t you love your sister enough to at least hold her pubes?”

I’m not even sure what’s happening here. One sister is very close to my private regions with a sharp object and I hear the creak of metal as she shears away. The other collects the trimmings in a napkin in her palm. This feels like an opportune moment to ring Suze, our other sister, and start a FaceTime chat. That time we all took one for the team so Emma could reclaim her sex life.

“Thanks, Luce.”

“You don’t say this enough I feel.”

“We really don’t,” says Meg.

“Want me to look at yours, Meg?”

“I’m good.”

“What if he’s into weird stuff?” I ask.

“Like?”

“I don’t know… maybe like choking? Stuff like that.”

“Well, no one breaks out all the moves on their first time,” says Meg but Lucy gives us a look like she begs to differ.

“And I’m not on anything. I stopped the pills months ago. What if I get pregnant?”

“That’s what condoms are for?” 

They both give me a look that says I am not fourteen and that I should have an inkling about how reproduction works and the preventative measures that I can put in place to stop myself from getting pregnant. 

“How do I initiate it?”

“Maybe you could dance for him?” says Luce mockingly. “You’ve both had a drink, let it just happen. Planned sex is the worst kind of sex.”

“I planned nothing. You’re the one who’s got the kitchen scissors.”

“I’m done, anyway. Not my finest work but then at least he’ll be able to find it?”

Meg laughs again as she goes to the bin with her napkin of pubes. I do my jeans up and sit at the table, downing what’s left in my glass. What if he can’t get it up? Or worse, what if he doesn’t like my boobs? I have modest boobs. They wouldn’t win any competitions. What if he wants better boobs?

“You’re overthinking,” says Meg.

“I haven’t got any condoms.”

Lucy reaches inside her handbag, pulls out two packets of johnnies and hands them to me. How far ahead has she planned this?

“Any other excuse?” Lucy asks.

“Look, tonight, just get naked with the fella, have some bloody fun. Enjoy yourself.”

I hear the key go in the latch of the front door. That was quick. Crap. Luke enters the kitchen with two bottles of red that I immediately feel guilty about as I’ve got a rack of it in the utility room. He also carries a few packs of crisps and takes the kitchen scissors that were on my table.

“No!” I stop him. “Those need to be washed.”

He looks at me in confusion and I love that he puts them in the sink without any further questions asked. He rips opens the packet of crisps with his hands instead.

“Crisps?”

Lucy grabs a handful of crisps before she grabs her phone, pretending to read some texts. “Bollocks! Meg, we forgot about the party.”

Meg quickly plays along. “Oh yeah, crap. It’s that birthday party, innit?”

I feel awful. I’m sending the sisters back out into the cold so Luke and I can have the house to ourselves. They both keep winking at me which is more down to the fact that they’ve had at least a bottle of wine each for themselves tonight. Luke stands at the kitchen door while I wave everyone off. This feels weird. 

“Have fun, kids!” Chants Lucy as she shepherds Meg away from the house. I shut the door.

And then there were two. I turn around and Luke is no longer at the doorway. I tiptoe into the kitchen to find him stacking plates. 

“Shall we tidy up now?” He asks.

“It can wait.”

My phone on the table lights up with an incoming text. It’s Lucy. Don’t forget to adjust your tits. Make sure they’re facing forwards. Show a bit of bra. 

Does this mean my boobs are not always facing forward? Where are they looking? This isn’t helping at all. I ignore it.

“Alright,” Luke says with a smile that makes me feel relaxed but also on the faint side of nauseated. It’s probably first time nerves. Is it weird that I’m thinking about the cleanliness of my bedroom? Did I pick up yesterday’s bra from the corner of my room? Do I remember how to go down on a man? What if he doesn’t fancy me?

Sometimes I can’t help but wonder whether my marriage ended with Harry because I was terrible in bed. Maybe I wasn’t attractive enough. I’ve had kids, parts of me are stretched and doughy. Maybe I didn’t provide what he needed. 

In the last year of our marriage, I think it’s safe to say that I was mainly the one to initiate things between us and my success rate wasn’t 100%. There’s this nagging thought in my head that maybe even on those nights I succeeded, those were just pity shags.

You know what, sod it. 

I grab him by the collar and kiss him. He stumbles a little but then lets his body fold into mine. I can do this. Crap. He’s lifting me up. He sits me on the counter and I’d like to say the moment overtakes but there’s red wine inches from my arse so I move the glass with my hand whilst still kissing him. We’re kissing. This is weird. It’s different. It’s not my husband’s lips. Why am I thinking about my husband’s lips? 

I shake my head, banishing that image. Harry doesn’t belong in this room with me right now. 

I feel his hands in the small of my back and then he lifts my jumper over my head. I’m in my bra. Don’t overthink it. Oh, the bra is off. My nipples are out in the kitchen. I run my fingers through his hair as he trails kisses down my neck. Is it weird that right now, at this very moment, all I can think about is that his blond, floppy hair looks like a golden retriever?

I gasp and push him away involuntarily when his mouth wraps on my nipple. This is wrong. This feels wrong. I thought it was just first time jitters but now I think this is deeper than that. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, looking concerned.

I grab my jumper and quickly put it back on. “I… I’m sorry, Luke. I can’t. I have to go.”

“Emma, I’m sorry,” his face reads panic. “Did I read the signals wrong? I thought you wanted this. I feel terrible. I’m so sorry.”

“No, please don’t apologise,” I say hastily. “You didn’t. I did want this. Or so I thought. It’s just… I’m not ready. I don’t think I’ll be ready any time soon. Or ever.”

“What do you mean? Are you breaking up with me?”

I have to be straight with him. I take a deep breath. “I want to give you the opportunity to walk away. You’re a good guy, Luke. I just don’t think it’s fair for me to string you along if we can never progress.”

“Is it your ex-husband?”

He’s still my husband. But I don’t say this out loud. 

“He told me that he wanted to give our marriage another shot about two weeks ago when he was here,” I tell him. “I did say no right away. I didn’t think it was a good idea. But…”

“Is it really?” He asks. “You two have a lot of history. Two kids. Why wouldn’t you give him a chance?”

“I’m worried.”

“And what are you worried about?”

“My heart?” I say quietly. “I don’t want to go through that again.”

Luke smiles at me through sympathetic eyes. “Listen to me, Emma. I’m not a cardiologist, but I know that the hearts are the strongest organs in the human body. They can go through anything.”

What happens next feels like a blur. All I know is that by midnight, I’m already halfway down the M1, on my way to London. 

Harry

It was a knock on the door that woke me up.

When I first open my eyes, I’m disoriented. I don’t know what time it is, or how long I’ve been asleep. Then I realise I’m on the sofa, and it’s still dark outside. It’s also raining. I walk towards the door and open it, just in time to catch a figure going down the steps, which doesn’t take me more than a second to recognise. I am in complete shock. Is this real? Is that really my wife, standing in front of my door in the middle of the night? Or are my eyes deceiving me?

“Emma?”

She stops on the pavement and slowly turns to face me. She’s spooked through—her jeans moulded to the curves of her legs, the sleeves of her jumper dripping, her hair flat, lips slightly tinged with blue.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” she says. “Don’t know what I was thinking.”

I open the door wider, and my voice is drowsy and deep when I say, “Come on, let’s talk inside.”

She takes a step back instead.

“I just… I wasn’t thinking. I’m here. I don’t know why,” she sounds genuinely bewildered—even a little panicked.

“Are the kids in the car?” I ask her and she shakes her head. The wind blows, spraying ice-cold drops across my bare skin where my shirt hangs open. “You’re shivering, honey, come inside.” 

She stares at me, so many emotions swirling in her expression. She’s like a skittish kitten who can’t decide if she should let the stranger pat her head or haul up the nearest tree. It breaks my heart.

“I don’t think I can.”

So I go to her. 

The rain is cold and hard, soaking my shirt. Her eyes dart from the pavement, to my chest, up to my eyes and back again, like she’s ready to bolt—but her feet stay glued.

I lean in so she can hear me through the rain. “Do you remember the first time we went to Paris together? When we were young and crazy enough to only rent one electric scooter for both of us, and we rode around the city at night?”

The corners of her mouth tug up a little. “I remember.”

“But then I was going way too fast and we hit a rock, and both of us went flying. I didn’t want to ride anymore the next day, because I was afraid you’d get hurt. Do you remember what you told me?”

“I said…” she begins, her eyes meet mine. “I said we had to keep riding. Because it’s the only thing that made falling worth it.”

I nod tenderly and hold out my hand. “I’m not going to let us fall this time, Emma.”

Her eyes are back on the pavement. “I’m not sure-”

I know she still doesn’t trust me. I know that sadness on her face and how it penetrates so deeply. I know she’s probably better off without me, the bastard who crushed her heart and soul and took her for granted for years. 

We shy away from the things that hurt us. But that’s what scars are for. They protect the wounds. They cover them with thick, numb tissue so we’ll never have to feel that same pain again. The scars that my wife has inside? They’re tough. 

I beg when she continues to stare at my hand, “Please, just come inside.”

Slowly, tentatively, her hand slides into mine. 

And we go in out of the rain.

I take her upstairs to the bedroom that used to be ours. Her teeth chatter as she sits on the edge of the bed. I throw a blanket over her shoulders, rubbing her arms, sliding down to cup her hands. 

“Shit, you’re freezing. How long were you out there?”

“A while. I was walking… thinking.”

“Just some friendly advice. Next time you go a-wandering, stop and buy an umbrella.”

Emma shivers as she laughs. I pull the blanket closer around her and rub her back. 

“So… you gonna tell me what’s this midnight adventure about?” 

Her voice comes out soft and wavering in the dark room. “I was with Luke.”

“Did he do something to you? I’ve watched enough crime documentaries to pull a perfect murder.”

She shakes her head and chuckles. “We were having a takeaway night. Meg and Lucy were there too, but then they left and there were just the two of us and-”

“Please spare me the details,” I beg.

“Nothing happened. I just… I couldn’t get through it. Your face kept popping out in my head and I knew that if I went all the way through, we’d lose our chance. And I didn’t want us to lose our chance. I know this is completely the opposite of what I said to you two weeks ago but it’s true. I wasn’t ready then and maybe I’m still not ready now, but I don’t know about the future and you said you’d wait for me and…”

Her words trail off and my chest clenches with that sublime mix of excitement and trepidation. Of wanting something so much it’s like every cell in your body is stretching, reaching for it, yet there’s a grey shadow of worry that you might never get to touch it.

“Oh, Ems…”

I cup my hands around hers and blow into them. Another shiver vibrates through her. 

For a moment we sit there in silence. Memories of us in this bed come flooding back. Of the kids piling in here bright and early, and us having cuddles and catch ups over the week just gone. Of the two of us and that sacred half an hour we had together before we go to sleep. Where we could have a proper chat without little voices interrupting us every few seconds. Sometimes we’d read together too, and other times when we just couldn’t be arsed, we’d simply spend that half an hour scrolling through memes and having a laugh together.

“You’ve got to get out of these wet clothes,” I say gently, with absolutely no teasing suggestion. We’re right on the precipice. I can feel it. And I have to tread so carefully, because one wrong move could send her away, truly lost to me.

I peel my soaked shirt off and let it drop to the floor. Her eyes move, trailing over my shoulders. I stand and slowly unbutton my jeans, leaving me in black boxer briefs. 

Her eyes follow my every move, looking at me.

I push the blanket off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. I grasp her jumper at the bottom and lift slowly. I wait for her to push me away but she doesn’t. She raises her arms instead. I pull the jumper over her head and it lands with a plop on the floor. I remind myself not to enjoy the view. I’m trying hard not to look.

My chest rises and falls as rapidly as hers. I sink to my knees in front of her and reach out for the button of her jeans. She lifts her hips and my fingertips graze her skin as I slide them down her thighs, leaving the white lace knickers in place. 

“Get under the sheets,” I whisper and she does just that.

She scoots to her side of the bed, and I slide beside her. Without a word, she snuggles into my side. The cool feel of her flesh is a shock at first, but in just a few moments, my heat chases away her chill. Except for her feet. I practically jump when she runs one up my calf.

“Yer a bloody ice cube!”

She laughs kind of evilly. 

We face each other, almost nose to nose. Her hair still drips at the ends and a drop trickles over her collarbone, down her chest, and I’ve got to take a deep breath—because I want to lick it off her so badly.

“Talk to me,” she says softly.

“I’m taking time off work.”

“But you never take time off work?” 

“I’ve got a lot to make up to the kids,” I tell her. “So I told Jeff to bugger off for at least until after New Year.”

I see her smile in the dim light.

“I’m gonna stay up with my mum,” I add. “I’ll only be an hour away from you lot.”

This is something that I’ve been mulling about. If I really do want a chance with Emma, I need to move up there because absence does not make the heart grow fonder. That may be true in secondary school when you went away for the summer. But in marriage, especially in a broken marriage, absence separates people. It creates distance. That’s the opposite of what you’re trying to achieve. You want the closeness back.

My wife’s palm runs over my bicep—tentatively at first—then with a surer touch. “They’d love that.”

“Also, you remember my old mate Stu?” She nods. “We got in touch just earlier today. He’s got a litter of puppies and he offered one for us. I told him I need to talk to you first. So what do you think?”

“A puppy, huh?”

“A puppy.” 

“I think that’s a good idea,” she says. “But I’ve never had a dog though.”

“I can train it first at my mum’s?” I offer. “I’ll get it all settled. Then when it starts sleeping through the night, I’ll bring it over.”

“Does it make me a terrible mum for wishing we had that kind of service when the kids were newborns?” 

“We had that service. It’s called sending them to the grandparents.”

We both laugh, and when the laughter dies down, we’re silent for a few minutes. The thrum of my heartbeat jacks up as her hand continues to stroke my arm. 

“Harry?” Her voice is the barest whisper, like she’s checking to see if I’m asleep. 

“Hmm?”

“I… I’ve missed you. So much.”

And I’m done.

The need to kiss her, to touch her, has been pulling at me like a raging current ever since I saw her on the front step, and with those few words, I let the current take me. 

***

Numerous studies have shown that having sex extends the human life span. At this rate, Emma and I are going to live forever. We probably slept twenty minutes max throughout the night and I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve done it. I’m pretty sure the last time we did something like that was ten years ago on our honeymoon. 

We’re sitting at the breakfast nook. Her hair mussy and she’s wearing one of my T-shirts. She looks freshly fucked, which I know to be true, and I reckon she’d be ready to crawl back into bed with me if I just crook my finger. But I don’t do that. Because this, us, sitting here in the morning sunlight, playing footsies under the table while we talk over coffee is all I’ve been dreaming about every morning.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks when she catches me looking.

“You,” I smile. “You look perfect.”

“No, no more,” she shakes her head frantically. “I won’t be able to walk.”

“You dirty lass, I was trying to be romantic and all that,” I can’t help but snort in laughter. “And you always do that… rebuff any type of compliment I try to give you.”

It’s true. If I tell her she looks beautiful, she waves a dismissive hand at me. If I compliment her mind, she blushes. Even an appreciative look from me has her turning shy like a schoolgirl.

When she doesn’t respond to me, I continue to poke at her. “Why is that? Why does it embarrass you when I tell you that you’re smokin’ hot?”

She wrinkles her nose at me. “Because it’s weird. I feel like you just have to say that.” 

She pretends to go through one of her old magazines from when she still lived here. I reach across the table and bat at it, causing one side to pull out of her hands and reveal her entire face to me. Now she’s glaring. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

And I grin when I see red stain her cheeks.

“And you’ve got the most gorgeous body. I take one look at you naked and I can’t help but get rock hard.”

“Stop it,” she blusters, now blushing all the way down her neck.

I change tactics, but I know this will embarrass her just as much. “You are the most amazing woman. Kindest, genuine and grounded. Funniest too. And you’re the best mother for our babies.”

“Okay,” she snaps at me as she closes the magazine and slams it down onto the table. “You’ve made your point.”

Chuckling, I stretch back in my chair and nudge her foot with mine under the table. “You’re adorable.”

She rolls her eyes, which I find to be beyond adorable. 

Standing up from my chair, I walk around the table and hold my hand out to her. She willingly takes it and stands when I give her a tug. It’s a natural move for her, to walk straight into my embrace and press herself against me. I tilt my head and kiss her on her jaw. “It’s something you need to get used to… compliments from me. It’s never going to stop.”

She moans softly in my ear.

“Want to know what else you’re going to have to get used to?” I whisper as I kiss my way down her neck.

Her fingers come up, tangle in my hair, and fist tightly. “What’s that?”

“My face between your legs.”

***

Some people might not put Quaglino’s into the romantic restaurant bracket, but they’d be wrong, very wrong. In actual fact, it’s quite hard to top. The interior has this 1930’s romance charm with candlelit tables, dark-panelled walls and an adjoining room for dancing to the soft tunes of the piano man singing bluesy versions of classic songs. 

Tonight, I managed to convince Emma to go out to dinner with me before she goes back to our babies. I insist on driving her since I don’t want her to drive alone at night again, which she initially refused but finally agreed.

We finish our dinner and split a slice of cheesecake for dessert. Probably not my brightest idea since I keep having to readjust myself because seeing her slowly swallow a mouthful of white, creamy concoction is a pure kind of torture. But I try to kick those dirty thoughts out of my mind and focus. 

Since last night, we’ve successfully managed to avoid the talk. It feels like we’re in a bubble where everything is perfect and we’re just scared to burst it, but I know this can’t go on. Emma and I need to have a proper chat if we want this to work.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“You and I need to talk, don’t you think?” I begin. 

“You’re right,” she nods. “So…”

“What is this?” I gesture between us. “Are you ready to give us another shot?”

“I think so,” she nods. “But I want us to take it slow.”

“You set the pace,” I assure her. “I want this to work more than I want anything else in my life. So I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

“We’ll see this as a new dalliance,” she adds.

I know this is supposed to be serious so I try hard not to break into laughter. “Okay. I will court you but I won’t ask you to move to an estate in the country. Not right away at least.”

“I’m serious.”

“You sound like Austen.”

She rolls her eyes. “And we can’t tell anyone either.”

“I agree,” I tell her. “And from now on, we talk to each other, alright? I’ll try to make you happy the best way I know how. But if it’s not enough for you, then you need to tell me.”

She nods, but then her graze drops before she asks. “You really do want this right?”

“I told you I want this to work more than anything else in my life.”

“It’s just… when you first told me you wanted to fight for our marriage, I was overwhelmed because it was all so sudden. You told me everything I wanted to hear. Even at that moment, everything in me screamed for us to just fall back into it all the way. But there was also a part of me that thought you were just lonely, and maybe you thought that us getting back together was the answer to it.”

“Not true-”

Emma holds up her hand. “Maybe not true, but it’s my fear. That’s why I kissed Luke that night, because I was desperate. I wanted to push things with him because I knew I’d never love him the way I love you. I knew that if things went to pot, I wouldn’t be half as devastated. But with you? I don’t think I can survive that type of heartbreak again, H. You don’t know how much it killed me to end our marriage. I can’t afford to fall back into something that’s not going to last.”

“Emma,” I reach across the table to take her hand. “I can’t even imagine how hard it was for you. I know for sure it was not a decision you made lightly, nor on a whim. I wish I had fought you on it then… had fought for you then. There was a time when I thought our marriage was over, and I was going to let you go. But I’m not going to do that now. If it takes you weeks, months, hell, Emma… if it takes you years to fully trust my devotion to you, I’m in this for however long it takes.”

Emma nods, biting into her lower lip. I can see her eyes starting to water because every bit of this is overwhelming. She turns her head towards the music floating in from the other room. It’s a Van Morrison cover, Crazy Love.

“Wanna dance?”

The request takes me by surprise since this isn’t like her. But I toss my napkin on the table and move to stand next to her, holding out my hand. The simple delight on her face when her hand slides into mine is everything.

We step out onto the edge of the dance floor. I wrap my arm around her lower back, holding her tight and flush against me. One of her hands rests on my shoulder, playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. The other is clasped in mine just over my heart. We sway, eyes pinned at each other for a few moments.

“Thought you hate dancing?” I smirk.

“Still hate it,” she answers. “I’m just using it as an excuse to be closer to you.”

She sighs, practically sinks into my arms. Emma’s head fits against my chest like she was made to be there. My chin rests against her hair.

“Emma?”

She lifts her head from my chest. “Yeah?”

“You don’t need an excuse.”

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love… 

***

“What the-”

“Oi!” I yell, quickly pulling the duvet over my wife and I. “Heard of knocking?”

“Heard of a bedroom lock?” Lucy challenges.

Last night, we drove up the M1 straight from the restaurant. We took breaks in deserted services with shiny floors and bad lighting where we had coffees and wandered around WHSmith bulk buying sweets even though it’s really not that far. But you can never have too many travel sweets, can you?

And now, here we are, back at the cottage. The kids are still at their grandparents until this afternoon so Emma and I are enjoying the benefit of having the house all to ourselves by having a morning shag. That is until one of her sisters walks in on us. I’m very aware that I’m still inside Emma.

I pull out, roll over to lay down next to my wife, and we both stare at Lucy who is dressed from head to toe like Princess Jasmine from Aladdin.

“Party?” Emma asks her sister. We both try not to giggle as she sashays in to look at herself in the mirror then perches on the bed in her harem pants. Today, she’s gone heavy on the winged eyeliner and shows off a flat midriff. I quite like the pointy silver shoes though.

“No, Tesco,” she says dryly. “Obviously a party.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask her. 

Lucy glares at me. “What are you doing here? Besides rearranging my sister’s guts, of course.”

I don’t even flinch. I’ve been married to Emma for ten years, I’m used to this sister of hers.

“I’m trying to win your sister back,” I say earnestly. I know that Emma and I talked about keeping this a secret, but she literally walked on us shagging. There’s no point in denying it. It’s best that she knows my true intention rather than thinking we’re divorced with benefits.

“Eh, about time,” she replies nonchalantly.

“Luce, please keep this to yourself for now,” Emma begs her. “This is still new.”

“I will,” she nods. “Just a friendly reminder, though, Styles. If you hurt my sister again, I won’t even think twice before starting a business selling voodoo dolls of you. Bet I could make a fortune of that.”

In their girl gang, Lucy is the wildcard, the likeliest to carry a shank. I don’t even laugh because she could be serious. 

“Duly noted.”

“What are you doing here this early?” Emma asks her sister.

“I wanted to ask if I can borrow that giant tiger in George’s room?”

“Feel free to borrow the rug in the front room as well,” I cackle.

“Ooh yeah,” Emma chirps. “Are you going to find a whole new world?”

“Have you got your Aladdin?”

She pulls a face at our mocking. “My mate who’s supposed to be Aladdin is sick so I asked Jamie to fill in and he agreed because he owed me a big favour. But this lot changed their mind and wanted a genie so now I have to go to Jamie’s and convince him to let me do a full blue body paint on him.”

Emma and I roar with laughter. “Please, please, please, take some piccies.” 

***

A month later…

I can only imagine the joy on my children’s faces when they open the door. I’ll be standing there with the pup in hand, but I know I’m practically vibrating with excitement myself. I glance over at the little dog crate that we’d prepared to transport him in. It’s a sweet, nine-week-old Bernese mountain dog. He’s pretty chill, curled into a round ball, but he’s not sleeping. His eyes are open and alert, as if he’s just waiting to find out what’s around the next corner.

The back of my Range Rover is loaded with two boxes of food, dog toys, bowls, a leash, and appropriate treats. Since I’m still crashing at my mum’s, that will go to her place for when the kids and this puppy come to stay. Emma has an identical list at her home, already purchased and hiding until we hand the puppy off to the kids.

I’ve got a feeling that today is going to be a good day. All morning, Emma and I texted back and forth. Some of it was practical, like making sure we agreed on all the dog rules we’d lay down with the kids tonight. Some of it was lighthearted teasing. Some of it was dirty.

I can’t remember the last time I texted my wife throughout the day just for the hell of it. I had fun with it, and I know without a doubt she had fun with it too. Which made me realise what a twat I’d been for never doing something as simple as letting her know she was on my mind in just such a way. 

Pulling into the drive, I cut my headlights so the kids wouldn’t see me approach. I shut the engine off, quietly get out of my side, and press the door closed quietly. On the other side, I open the passenger door, then spring the latch on the dog crate, and this tiny little puppy totters straight at me with tail wagging.

I lift him in my arms. I shut the door and then move over to the patch of grass. I put the puppy down so he will go potty before I bring him in. When I was a kid, we had a dog called Max, but I sort of grew up with him so I didn’t remember when he was a puppy. And Emma never had a dog before, so we’re sort of winging it with this puppy training thing. But I don’t fret about it. I mean, we’ve had babies, they’re harder than this, surely? 

I patiently wait for this little fella to do his business, which includes a few minutes where he attacks my shoelaces and tugs. Shite, he’s cute. 

Eventually, he sniffs around, tail high and then abruptly squats to pee. I thought boy dogs lift their legs when they pee but maybe not at this age. I immediately bend and give him praise with an upbeat, positive tone that makes him excited. Who’s daddy’s clever little fella? You are! Yes, you are! You did well, mate. That was brilliant! He puts his paws up on my shin, accepting my stretches with tail wagging and tongue lolling out the side of his head. My kids are going to fall in love with this little guy. 

I scoop him up in my arms when he’s done and make my way inside. But instead of entering from the front door, I circle the house so I can enter from the back, knowing they must be all in the kitchen as this is usually the time when the kids would do their homework for next week. Walking past the window, I see that I’m right. Emma is at the kitchen island with George next to her and Minnie on the opposite side. My heart starts beating faster at the thought of spending the day with my family—and apparently our new third child in my arms—and I find it almost shameful I have such excitement over it. Shouldn’t I have always been this excited? Or is it normal for things to just settle, and we take them for granted?

I shake that thought off of my mind. I had this important talk with my wife a couple of weeks ago about how we shouldn’t focus on the past. We’re both committed to repairing our marriage, and for it to work, we both know we must commit to living in the present. Because at the end of the day, the present is all we have.

I knock on the door and as planned, Emma will tell the kids to answer it.

In moments, it’s swinging open. I get a flash of Emma walking up behind our kids, but my eyes are pinned on them. They’re both in complete shock, eyes wide open staring at the puppy squirming in my arms.

Both stare at me mutely, frozen, as if they can’t believe that this is real.

Finally, I say, “surprise!”

Minnie’s gaze rises up to meet mine. “Is that ours?”

“This is ours,” I nod, laughing. But still, neither of them move forwards, so I goad them. “Come and get him?”

That’s all it takes for Minnie to scoop this little fella into her arms, pressing her nose into his head and murmuring little endearments. George scratches him and he reacts to their greetings by wiggling frantically and trying to lick both of my kids’ faces. They both laugh in a delighted way I’ve never quite heard before.

I look at my wife and see her tender smile as she watches our littles. I can tell she’s as charmed by it as I am. 

I walk inside because it’s colder than a witch’s tit outside and shut the door. “He just peed outside, but we need to keep a close eye on him. If he starts sniffing around or circling, that probably means he needs a wee. Scoop him up and take him out to the back. After he’s done with his thing, give him lots of praise and affirmation.”

“Got it,” Minnie says as she plops down on the living room floor with the pup. The puppy jumps around, and all three of them start to play.

“Now, what should we name him?” Emma asks.

“Droolius Caesar?” I joke.

Emma laughs. “Jimmy Chew?”

“Sarah Jessica Barker?” I continue. “Wait, no, it’s a boy. Franz Fur-dinand?”

“Sir Barks-a-Lot?”

“Deputy Dawg?”

“Bark Twain?”

We both laugh. We’re shite at this. The kids are too busy with the puppy to comment on our suggestions.

SpongeBob SquarePants is on the telly playing in the background. None of them are watching, but I see SpongeBob scratching his snail pet under the chin before he picks up said pet and says, “I love you Gary. Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary…”

“Gary,” I say. The kids look at me and I point at the telly.

“That’s a ridiculous name for a dog,” Emma cackles. “But I like it.”

“That’s a human name?” Minnie’s brows knit slightly.

“I like it!” George exclaims, then proceeds to baby talk the pup who’s chewing on the end of Minnie’s braid. “I love you Gary. Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary…”

We laugh.

“H,” Emma calls, and my gaze moves to her. She jerks her chin to the kitchen. “Help me set up the table? I’ve got a cold beer for you.”

Minnie and George still completely ignore us as we move into the kitchen. 

It would be natural for me to sit at the kitchen island while Emma gets the beer and checks on the supper, but the kids can see me from where they sit in the living room. So I follow my wife behind the island instead.

Before she can make it two steps, I move right into the back of her. Hands at her hips, I push her all the way forward until the counter catches her hips, then I dip to put my lips to her neck. 

Emma’s head falls back and she utters the tiniest of sighs, one arm looping back to go around the side of my head so she can thread her fingers in my hair. It’s an intimate embrace, but not one to provoke lust. Just a message that I missed her even though I saw her two days ago, and I love touching her in this gentle, loving way.

“The kids,” she murmurs. “They might see us.”

“Oh, the tragedy,” I whisper dryly. “Our children seeing  their parents hugging.”

Emma snickers and pulls away, glancing over her shoulder. “It would be shocking to them. And until we know for sure what we are and where we’re going, we need to keep them in the dark, remember? I don’t want them to get their hopes up.”

“You’re right,” I mumble in a low voice before moving to the island. I glance back at the living room and see the puppy on George’s back, trying to climb up. “No touching around the kids.”

She smiles and hands me a beer. She’s got one in her hand, and we tap bottles. She then moves to the oven, where she bends to take a peek through the window. Obviously, I stare at her arse as she does.

“It’s done,” she announces, opening the oven to pull the pan of shepherd’s pie.

“Need help with that?’ I ask, noting it looks like it probably weighs fifty pounds.

Twisting, she grins. “Sure. I made a double batch to send you home with some leftovers.”

That gets me. Not only she made one of my favourite meals, but she’s also sending me home with leftovers. I pop off the stool, round the island and take the two potholders she’s holding out to me.

After I carefully lift the pan from the oven, she shuts the oven door. I set it down on the two trivets she’s placed on the counter.

Bending over, I inhale the scent deeply. “Smells fantastic.”

Emma bumps her hip against me. “Well… you’ve been pretty amazing these last few weeks, so…”

I bump her hip back before sliding my hand around her waist. Bending my head, I murmur. “Admit it… it’s for the orgasms I gave you after the school run the other day.”

She chuckles with a sly smile. “Possibly.”

Leaning in closer, I touch my temple on the top of her head, lowering to a complete whisper. “You do know that I can give you that any day you want, right, Em? All you’ve got to do is ask.”

“Oh, I will,” she teases.

“What’s going on here?” Minnie says from behind us.

Emma and I jump apart as if we’d been electrocuted by each other. We spin to see Minnie standing there, with George next to her holding Gary in his arms. These two must have worn that pup out as he is still, watching us curiously.

Minnie’s expression, on the other hand, is condemning and suspicious.

“Nothing’s going on, poppet,” Emma says, her voice a little squeaky in panic. It’s adorable.

“Your mum and I were just talking,” I calmly explain.

“With your arm around her waist and whispering,” Minnie challenges. “Looks more like flirting to me.”

“Are you upset about it?” I challenge back. I knew she was upset when we separated and she struggled with it for a long time. 

Her brows knit together. “I’m just confused.”

Emma’s expression indicates she has no clue what to say. I can’t say I’m any more well equipped, but I’m going to take this one. I give my wife a subtle chin tilt, silently telling her I’ll handle this and relief evident in her eyes.

“Come on, you lot. Help me sort Gary’s stuff,” I say, herding them towards the garage. 

All three of them follow me into the garage, Gary still cosy in George’s arms. 

I immediately spot the stack of supplies, which includes a dog crate similar to mine, as well as bowls, a soft dog bed, food and toys. I pick up the soft bed towards the door that leads back into the house. Minnie turns to precede me, but I stop her. “Hang on there a second, poppet.”

When she pivots to face me her expression is guarded. “You asked about your mum and me. What do you want to know?”

“Were you two flirting with each other just now?” She demands. Crap. She’s nine. She’s not supposed to know that stuff. 

I can’t believe I get a little warm in the face at such a question, but I nod. I know it’s probably too soon to tell them but there’s no point in denying this. Both of my children are smart, and they deserve to know what’s going on. 

Her eyes narrow. “So are you… what… getting back together?”

“Does it mean you’re gonna live with us again, daddy?” George chirps.

“Not yet, nuggets. It’s not that simple.”

“It kind of is,” she replies. “You left for months. You didn’t even come during the summer. Then once she started dating Luke-”

“What’s dating?” George turns to his sister.

“It’s when you like someone and they like you back and you become boyfriend and girlfriend then you go out to eat together and do other stuff,” Minnie explains, then she continues. “Then once she started dating Luke, you’re suddenly coming around more often. And then she told me that Luke wouldn’t come over anymore and now you two are making googly eyes at each other.”

We lapse into silence for a moment. I need to think carefully about what to say next. George beats me. “I think I’m dating someone.”

“You what?” My eyes widen.

“Yeah. I asked Poppy in the playground to be my girlfriend the other day and she said yes. Then after we were done playing on the slides we got hungry so she shared her raisins with me. I also let her take a sip of my Ribena.”

I try hard not to break into laughter but Minnie doesn’t even crack a smile. 

“Okay… so here’s the thing. I was very upset. I know that was wrong of me to just leave without saying goodbye, and it was wrong of me for not visiting sooner. I needed time to let it go, and to accept what your mum wanted. But not once during that time did I not want to come back home. I’ve always wanted my family back.”

“Then what changed?” Minnie asks.

“Your mum and I spent some time apart because we both thought that was the best decision. But we were wrong. Because we realised that we didn’t want to be without each other. So now I’m trying to prove that I’ve changed. That I’m a better man, and I’m ready to be a better husband. The one your mum deserves.”

“See,” Minnie murmurs, her expression filled with confusion. George dips his head and rubs his cheek against Gary’s head, who seems to be on the verge of falling asleep. “I don’t get it. You and mum always seemed to get along great. You never argued. I never understood why you left.”

I move in close to my daughter and brush a lock of hair behind her ear. “A lot of that stuff is private between your mum and I, poppet.”

George asks. “But why can’t you just move in now, daddy?”

“It takes time, mate. Your mum and I need more time to sort ourselves out. But I promise you two that we’re trying our hardest here, okay? We need you both to be patient. Can you do that for us?”

They both nod in unison. Gary blinks twice.

“I can’t wait for us to be family again,” says Minnie.

Grinning, I bend to kiss her head. “Me too, poppet…”

***

Emma

“Gary! This way, Gary!”

Harry and I look at each other across this rather windy hilltop. The kids and Gary are exploring the neighbouring bushes and pathways as we perch ourselves on a rock nearby. We take in the view, the breeze biting at my cheeks.

My husband turns to me. “Tea? I put some whisky in it.”

“Hell, why not.”

Harry pours the tea out and we clink mugs. He brushes his thumb across my nose for no absolute reason. I was born and raised here, but this is something I’ll never tire of: these swooping hills and valleys, infinite skies and bracing breezes. As much as I loved London, I’m glad we’ve traded that life with this simpler one. There is no taxi nor Tube in sight but our kids are somehow a little bouncier and carefree. They’re happy here, and that’s all that matters. 

 “Ey up,” greets Harry at a group of people walking past us. They are obviously tourists as they have no way to respond and one of them is wearing bog standard Reebok Classics.

We hear the kids squeal in the distance and we both smile at each other. Getting that pup was probably one of our best decisions.  

“Do you remember when we first dated?” Asks my husband. “You brought me up here.”

I nod. “I do.”

“The view was decent,” he grins. 

“I know you’re not thinking about the view.”

“I was thinking about what happened when we got to the top of the meadow…”

“That was some decent shag,” I chuckle. “Nowadays, I’d worry about getting ticks on my unmentionables.”

We laugh.

I stare over at my husband taking in the view and sipping tea noisily. He always pauses for a moment on any walk to drink it all in. He rustles in his bag and gets a packet of biscuit out, opening the packaging awkwardly and offering it to me. 

“Did you know that you’re supposed to call it ‘niece’ and not ‘nice’? Apparently, they’re named after the French town.”

“That’s proper pub quiz trivia knowledge right there, Styles,” I tease.

We stay up here for a little while, but since it’ll get dark soon, we start our walk back to the car. The one thing you forget about taking kids up mountains (small hills) is that for all that experience of green space and fresh air, eventually, you will have to bring them down. Despite having an entire packet of biscuit (with a whole lot of why did you bring this one? This is rubbish. You could’ve brought hobnobs), we failed to remember to pack enough snacks and a fine drizzle is now scratching at our faces. It takes George much persuading to keep walking and by the time we return to the car, the sun is dipping behind the clouds and the twilight sits in the air. 

Harry decided it was fine to park in a deserted car park in the middle of nowhere to escape the throngs of regular walkers and tourists but strangely enough, when we get back there, we are one of six parked up.

“Come on, mate. Literally, just to the car. Like twenty more steps,” Harry begs our son to keep on walking. 

“You lied!” He complains. “You said that twenty steps ago.”

“I’ve got Haribo in the car.”

He progresses to a light canter. 

“Where did all these cars come from?” Harry asks as he approaches our motor cautiously.

“Maybe you’re not the only smart one here and people are following your lead.”

A car flashes us. 

I look around at all the cars. People are sat in them. What are they waiting for? You see this sometimes when waiting for the rain to pass or when people decide to eat their lunch in the car. 

Suddenly, I hear a car door open and a gentleman approaches us. His footsteps are low.

I know him. It’s Patrick. He’s our postman, so, yes, we have our very own Postman Pat. It was the first thing that tickled Harry when he found out years ago. And even better, the joke is not lost on Pat. His wife even got him a stuffed black and white cat for his cherry-red van window. I smile at recognising him, as do all of the occupants in our car.

“Emma, Harry, kids. Fancy seeing you here, of all places.”

“We’ve got a new dog and we were just taking him for a walk,” I inform him.

“Oh, lovely. What’s his name?”

“Gary,” the kids say in unison.

“Have you got a dog, Pat?” George asks him.

“No, my wife’s a cat lady. But funny you should mention dogs. This place here, people like to come here for that reason.”

“Gary seemed to like it,” pipes in Harry. “I think it’ll be his favourite.”

“That it is. People come here all the time for walking and with their dogs and other such endeavours.” His face looks slightly ashen at this point, his eyes darting towards the other cars. “And the other sense of the word… I just thought I would mention it as you have the littl’uns and it’s getting darker. I think someone just flashed his lights to warn you.”

Harry and I realise what he means exactly at the same time. “OH!” we say at the same gobsmacked volume. 

“Dogg…ing…” Harry mumbles. “We should-”

“Leave, like definitely leave, like now,” I say finishing his sentence.

The kids appear confused. I look around and shield my eyes. I should shield the children’s eyes. Pat’s wife waves from the passenger seat.

“Give our regards to June,” I say.

“Will do.”

He salutes us and returns to his car. The kids have all the questions. “People come here to look at dogs?” George asks. “Where are the dogs?”

“Get. In. The. Car.” Harry mouths very deliberately.

I slink into the passenger seat. Our eyes dart in different directions trying to divert focus from any of the cars ahead. We’ll be good if Harry doesn’t drive us off a cliff face. He turns on the wipers, the engine roars to a start and he pulls away slowly.

“We could have stayed and seen the dogs,” says George, a little despondently. “Gary would’ve loved to see his mates. Wouldn’t you, Gary?”

I throw a packet of Haribo at him. Harry and I are silent. We’ve just strolled our children and our very young dog into an outdoor sex hotspot. We are terrible parents. 

“Who fancies chips?” Harry says as he changes gear. He finds our littles in the rear-view mirror and studies their faces. “There’s a decent chippy down road.”

There’s a chorus of approval from the back seat. My husband smiles. He then moves his hand over from the gearstick to find mine, fingers interlocked, the sky glowing a thousand different colours.

***

“Are you calling my turkey dry?”

I look over at my older sister Suze in the corner of our family kitchen wondering where on earth she had the courage to come out with a comment like that. Even her husband stops washing up to absorb what his wife just said to our mother. I mean, you think it, but you just douse it in gravy and make do. Such is the joy of white chalky meat like turkey. Why do this now? Now she’ll harp on about the bacon she puts on the breasts and all the goose fat. But it’s Suze. She likes the challenge. I secretly think the only way she believes she can have a relationship with our mother is to spar with her regularly so they at least have one line of communication.

“It was a lovely dinner, Mum. Did you make the mince pies?” Suze winks at me.

I shake my head at her and bring the plate of mince pies through to the living room. Amidst my mother’s wreaths and tinsel wrapped around the lampshades, it’s a familiar tableau: Pop, my grandfather, asleep in the armchair in the corner, a holy green paper hat covering his eyes. Small children crawl on the floor and make angel shapes with their bodies amidst remnants of old glittery wrapping paper.  I hope Mum’s made a trifle. My other sister Meg and her husband snooze on a neighbouring sofa, catching on much needed sleep since they just had a baby four months ago and I still remember four months sleep regression is hell. I like this part of Christmas where bits of old crackers litter the floor and twilight takes over.

I take a mince pie and escape to the last vacant spot on the sofa. George rests his head on my knees. “What are you eating, mummy?” I look down at his bright green eyes and wonder how he can still be hungry as he must be ninety per cent roast potato at this point.

“A mince pie.”

“With cow mince?”

“No, like fruity bits,” I pick out said fruity bits and drop them into his mouth like a baby bird. He pulls a face, tasting it, and then walks away.

Harry smiles at me from the bottom of the Christmas tree. He’s laying down on the floor with one of my nieces. He’s always been great with kids, long even before we have our own. My niece has her palm out, and Harry runs circles in it as he sings, “round and round the garden, like a teddy bear…”

She smiles and laughs, poising her fingers, ready to bounce. 

“One step, two-step, tickle me under there,” he pretends to collapse into giggles and my niece’s little face broadens into laughter before she rolls over and walks away to play with her cousins.

Finishing my last bite of the tiny pie, I roll under the tree to join my husband. He looks at me as I cosy up next to him, the lights reflect off his eyes.

My mother likes a real tree for Christmas. It’s the smell, you can’t beat the smell. I like to think you can get that real pine smell from a good supermarket brand toilet cleaner but I don’t say that out loud for fear of incurring her festive wrath. And so there’s always a real tree and like we endured when my siblings and I were teens, there’s still a daily rota of vacuuming up the needles as we watch that bastard go crusty and brown as it’s shoved up against the radiator. 

We lay there in silence, looking up at the branches and my mother’s multicoloured lights twinkling in some erratic fashion that my eyes can’t quite handle. I’ve been to raves that were less of an assault on the senses. It’s an overwhelming memory of our childhood, lying in silence wigging out on mum’s trippy disco lights, absorbing the magic of the season. 

“You’re drunk aren’t you, tipsy-tits?”

“You were the one who poured double shots of Baileys in our coffees this morning,” I cackle.

“That’s called Christmas milk.” 

“What are you doing here?” Minnie asks, her head nestling into my shoulder. I rake pine needles from her head.

“Nothing…” Harry replies. “Where’s yer brother?”

“Here,” George suddenly appears, rolling under the tree next to his dad to join us.

“Looks like the awesome foursome is back, huh?” Harry grins.

Minnie and George hum in agreement. I can see my babies smiling. 

It’s time.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” 

I take a deep breath. “Will you come back home with us?”

-

tag list: @gohometoacactus @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @kikisparadise18 @2am-2pm @rogersdirty-louse @harrys-cherriesss @icycoldbeanieweanies @niallbestie3 @peakascum @coucoukayy @awesomebooklover17 @sunflowerryvol6 @stylessugarhigh​ @umadirectioner​ ​

[hurting-fictional-people]

This one is for the anon who asked me about a part three to the Whumpee betrayed Caretaker pieces. So sorry it took me so long to post this, but inspiration refused to come sooner... I hope you're still around Anon! And that you like it <3

Continued from here

-

Cold air tickles Whumpee’s bare torso, blows on still aching wounds exposed to the world, but they don’t dare say a thing. They know better than to talk without being talked to.

Whumper walks around them, arms crossed in front of their chest and face disturbingly blank.

“Did you tell Caretaker?”

Everything trembles at the words, from Whumpee’s hands to their lips to their heart, they tremble. “What?”

“You know what,” Whumper hisses, narrowing their eyes. “Why are they calling your name and asking my guards what I did to you, Whumpee?”

No. No, no, no. “I d– I didn’t say anything!” But both of them can hear the crack beneath the words, the terror. Would someone innocent be this terrified? “I don’t know why they want to see me, please Whumper.”

“And you dare lie to me above everything else? I thought we’d come to an understanding, dear. Guess I was wrong.”

“Please, please, p-please,” they mumble, wishing their hands weren’t bound above their head so they could kneel, show their submission. Twin waves of shame and horror at the thought break against them, but dread is quick to subdue both at the glint in Whumper’s eyes. “I didn’t say anything, please.”

“We made a deal, Whumpee. You don’t tell Caretaker how I got you talking and I don’t hurt you again. But a deal only stands if both sides hold on to it. And whatever you did, Caretaker didn’t fall for our game and that makes me upset. Do you know what happens when I get upset?”

“Please, please, please–“

“When I get upset, love, you suffer.”

“Whumper, please, just, p-p–“

“Please what, Whumpee?” It’s said in such a calm voice, so distant from the raw desperation enveloping Whumpee’s every breath, it brings tears to their eyes.

“Please, not the whip,” they whisper.

Their back is still healing, still pounding and aching each time they move and the sheer thought of having it open again– 

“Fine.” All the whines and pleads die in their mouth, swallowed by shock. Whumpee hangs in silence, sobs muffled at the answer, relief fighting fear inside their chest. Whumper smirks and tips their head to the side. “I’ll oblige you with this, just this once.”

And then they turn their back, and Whumpee uses the moments without that penetrating gaze boring into them to gulp down deep breaths, hoping that fresh air is enough to calm their racing heart. 

“If you don’t want the whip, we’ll have to mark you another way,” Whumper says, crouching down in front of the fireplace across the room and playing with the fire poker. “You know, Whumpee, I always knew you’d fail. Not strong enough to hold on under torture, not strong enough to protect your friend… I just knew you wouldn’t be strong enough to keep a secret. I’m glad I’ve prepared.”

The tears burn their eyes as they roll down their cheek, marking not their fear but their guilt.

Whumper turns around, wolfish smile splitting their face, holding the scorching fireplace poker that isn’t a poker at all. 

“Had it made especially for you, love,” Whumper croons, delighting in the choked yelp that leaves Whumpee’s lips, their eyes locked on the bright red tip of the branding iron, on the letters carved there. 

Whumpee thrashes. They haven’t fought in so long they barely remember how to, but their body is quicker to respond than their mind, and they can’t help but pull against chains that barely move, whining like an animal, all air stolen from their lungs by the sight of each of Whumper’s slow steps toward them. 

When they finally stop in front of Whumpee’s quivering figure, there’s a kind of sadistic satisfaction on their expression that steals Whumpee’s words as well, not even their desperate pleads left to be stuttered out. Only sheer panic.

“Don’t forget you are the one who asked for this,” Whumper murmurs, placing a deceivingly soft finger under Whumpee’s chin to tilt it up, forcing them to meet their gaze. “You know you deserve this, don’t you Whumpee? It’s why you aren’t even begging me to stop. You know it as well as I do.”

They don’t have time to answer before the blazing iron is pressed against their heart, and Whumpee’s world melts into searing pain.

Whumper’s eyes twinkle as Whumpee writhes and sobs and screams, long and ragged, voice breaking in millions of pieces as their skin is burned, charred, incinerated. They try to form words, but all their lips do is tremble and choke on pleads they can’t force out between their cries.

It spreads throughout their whole body, lava seeping into vein and muscle and bone. 

They can only weep when Whumper pulls the brand away and the pain doesn’t abate.

“You look beautiful like that, love. So consumed by agony you can’t even think. Crying and screaming,” they smile, so horribly delighted. “I think this is what you were born for. To hurt. No one who wasn’t would look this good in pain.”

Whumpee sobs, heaving chest that refuses to breathe, feet scrabbling against the floor, searching for support they didn’t even realize they’d lost. It still burns. Even without the brand, it burns, too much, too big, too painful to think through the tears and the shock.

“Want to see it?” Whumper asks, so cheerful it feels like just another hit Whumpee barely even reacts to anymore. And then there’s a mirror in their hands, held in front of Whumpee, displaying the wrecked skin above their heart. The angry crimson letters crossing their chest, the word forever marked there.

WEAK

It isn’t a lie, and that might be the worst of it all. 

Whumpee grits their teeth and screams the little voice they’ve left, shaking and hoping it can all just stop. 

“P-p-ple-please,” they moan, eyes stuck to the grotesque thing their chest has become. “H-h-hurts, p-please.”

“I know it does,” Whumper says, stroking their cheek, spreading the tears. “Don’t worry, I think I know someone who’d be happy to help you.”

Whumper moves, and Whumpee isn’t strong enough to hold onto consciousness for long after that. Too weak to even stay awake, they faint as they are lowered to the floor.

Awareness returns way too soon. The world is filled with pain once again when Whumpee wakes in the hands of Whumper’s guards, and gasps at their return to the world, to sensation they’d trade anything not to feel, as they are dragged through hallways they don’t bother trying to recognize. 

Whumpee drifts, between peace and hurt, agony and calmness, until a scream cuts through the haze of fire they’re trapped in. A scream that doesn’t belong to them, for once. 

They are dropped on the floor, and a broken howl parts their lips. Old and new wounds burn alike, but they can’t remember a time when it wasn’t like this.

“Whumpee.”

A pitiful sob slips through chapped lips at that voice. They should’ve known. 

Tears roll down Whumpee’s temples when Caretaker’s pale face appears above their broken body, taking in the brand disfiguring their chest, the scars that had been hidden when they’d seen each other before. 

“W-what happened?” Caretaker chokes out, covering their mouth with trembling hands. 

Whumpee can’t find any voice left to answer. It was all wasted with pointless screams and useless pleads. Silence fills the cell, only their ragged breaths cutting through it, and all they do is cry. It’s all they can do, but even that becomes too much as their chest moves and the burn along with it and even the tears hurt.

Suddenly, soft fingers touch Whumpee’s hair, and they freeze, holding still like they were taught to, as their head is lifted just to be lowered a moment later on something softer. They open their eyes to find Caretaker, shirtless, kneeling by their side with a lost expression they’ve never seen before on their face.

“I, I’m sorry,” Whumpee all but whimpers, so low they think for a moment they weren’t heard.

And then Caretaker nods, hands reaching out for their arm and retreating when Whumpee winces and yelps at the pain the movement brings. 

“I am going to kill Whumper,” Caretaker whispers.

Whumpee only cries and hopes to pass out soon. 

[peachy-panic]

WHUMPTOBER DAY 3: “WHO DID THIS TO YOU?”

This is the next chronological piece of Do No Harm, continued directly from this chapter.

Tag list: @whumpervescence  @shiningstarofwinter @distinctlywhumpthing @whumptywhumpdump

WARNINGS: Medical procedures, referenced/implied noncon, slavery setting, the usual.

The young doctor seems a bit skittish and far less cruel than the other Facility employees, and that comes with the dangerous notion that perhaps he doesn’t plan on hurting him. But that notion requires a naivety of which Jaime is no longer capable. He, of all people, is aware that cruelty can disguise itself in many shapes and sizes. Just because it isn’t obvious doesn’t mean it isn’t there, and that only makes it all the more dangerous.

There’s no use in hoping either way, he decides. Dr. Tate will either hurt him or he won’t, will either touch him or he won’t, and Jaime can’t — won’t — react. He has already made that mistake once today and will certainly pay for it later in ways he doesn’t want to think about now. He would do well to remember that he doesn’t hold any power here. Not in this room, this building, this life. And that, despite any arbitrary written rules, Dr. Tate is free to do as he pleases. 

At least he had removed the restraints from his mouth and wrists. Jaime can console himself with this small mercy. 

Those had always been the worst part of nights with Mr. Torley, on the all-too-frequent occasions he decided to use them. He was clearly very into them, and even more into Jaime’s fear of them. In addition to the claustrophobia they stoked in him, the use of restraints in bed had always felt something like a mockery. What use was it to restrain someone who can’t fight back regardless? The binds on his wrists and ankles were nothing more than accessories. The shackles in his mind did all the work to keep him still. And Mr. Torley knew that.

He does his best not to think about that now. Not to think about Mr. Torley at all, since that was what had gotten him in trouble in the first place. Distantly, he wonders how long the influence of his first Keeper will continue to stain Jaime’s existence beyond the termination of their six-month contract.

Dr. Tate, who has been buried in the cabinets above the sink for several minutes, turns back to him sporting bright-blue gloves that adhere tightly around his slender hands. He meets Jaime’s eyes for half a second before his gaze darts somewhere just to the left of his shoulder. 

“We need to run a couple of tests,” he says in a detached, clinical voice, all notes of lightheartedness from earlier removed. “I’ll need to collect some samples from you.”

Jaime nods once in acknowledgement, squeezing his fingers tightly, unconsciously around the edge of the table. There’s an unnatural pause in his cadence, and Jaime when looks up, he watches a slight twitch of movement in the doctor’s jaw. 

“Please remove your pants and underwear,” Dr. Tate says, his voice taking on a lower pitch. “You can leave them on up to your thighs, if you’d like.”

The slight shift in demeanor sets Jaime on edge, but he doesn’t hesitate at the command, even as a familiar panic claws at the inside of his throat. He drops forward from the table, his legs taking his weight. His thumbs hook the waistband of the thin, cotton pants he had been returned in, and he doesn’t allow himself a moment of hesitation before pushing them unceremoniously off his hips. He takes Dr. Tate up on his merciful offer to keep them partially on his body. The cold, sterile air inside the clinic is sharp against his exposed skin.

Jaime’s eyes find the ceiling as he prepares for the touch he knows is coming. He doesn’t look to see whatever tools and instruments Dr. Tate is laying out on the silver tray beside the exam table. He doesn’t have to. “We need to run a couple of tests.”  Whatever foolish hypotheticals Jaime once held in regards to WRU — what they did and didn’t know about the treatment of their wards — had long been shattered. 

Of course they needed to test him for sexually transmitted diseases. They can’t have a Domestic Companion spreading something to the next paying customer that buys their time and exposing their innocent charade. 

There’s a pause in Dr. Tate’s movement, but Jaime doesn’t look away from his spot on the ceiling tile.

“I’m going to touch you, now.” Dr. Tate’s voice is low and measured. “I need to examine you for bumps or sores, any abnormalities.” He clears his throat. “And I’ll take a swab from your urethra. It might be uncomfortable, but it shouldn’t hurt you.” Another pause. “Please, tell me if it does.”

Jaime’s grip on the table tightens, but he otherwise doesn’t react. Distantly, he is grateful for the warning, the bare explanation, mortifying as it is. He knows that the doctors here are not obligated to explain anything to the Companion patients, to seek consent in any form. Their consent was implicitly given in the contracts they signed at intake. He just as easily could have left Jaime gagged and bound to the table and gone about the procedure without so much as a word to him. Jaime is glad he hadn’t. 

Instead, Dr. Tate’s touch is light and professional. His gloved hands don’t linger, they don’t poke and prod to get a reaction from him. It seems, even, that he touches him as little as possible. Almost as if he is as eager to get this over with as Jaime is, which doesn’t feel quite possible. 

The fluorescent strip of light next to his focal point on the ceiling burns at the edge of his vision, but he doesn’t look away, using the mild discomfort as an anchor to hold himself steady. He concentrates on that instead of the gentle touches, gritting his teeth against any traitorous urges his body might provoke. Mr. Torley had loved that about Jaime — his responsiveness to touch — but not as much as he loved using it against him. 

His stomach sours at the memory, fresh humiliation creeping into his cheeks at the idea of something similar happening now. He doesn’t think Dr. Tate would tease him the way his Keeper had, but he still doesn’t relish the idea of becoming physically aroused in front of this young doctor, who couldn’t have been more than a few years older than him and, in another life, Jaime might have found pretty. 

The thought is gone almost as soon as it comes, too painful to linger on. The idea of another life. A normal life. A life at all. These are thoughts Jaime is forbidden to have. The phantom sting of an electric shock lights up the column of his throat and Jaime winces.

“Sorry,” Dr. Tate said quickly, misunderstanding the movement and withdrawing his hand. Jaime’s eyes finally fall to his as the doctor takes a step back, inserting the long swab into a glass tube and sealing it with a cap. “The worst part is over.”

Jaime is numb all over, but he nearly laughs. He knows that having stepped foot in this facility again, the “worst part” has not even begun. 

“I’ll need to collect another sample from your mouth,” Dr. Tate continues, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves, and Jaime absently wonders why they even bother wasting extra product on the patients here. “And we’ll draw some blood—” 

Something catches his voice mid-sentence and Jaime’s eyes flick up to his again. Dr. Tate looks at him, and then pointedly, hurriedly away. Jaime swears he can see his pale cheeks reddening.

“You can— We’re finished with that part.” He stumbles out. “Feel free to cover yourself up.”

Jaime does as he’s told, finding it somewhere within himself to be grateful that the doctor had kept the procedure professional. He couldn’t say the same thing for every encounter he’d had in the facility clinic before. 

********

Sebastian knows what happens next, and that’s why he finds himself taking his time with the rest of the visit. As soon as he’s completed the mandated intake exam, he is supposed to mark the patient as cleared in his chart and alert the handlers to come collect him. To take him back into the part of the facility where Sebastian has never set foot; the “residential” wing where the unclaimed Companions are housed between contracts. On all the promotional advertisements, it’s depicted as a dormitory-like accommodation. Now that Sebastian knows just how little truth exists behind their lies, he can only imagine it’s nothing of the sort. 

His mind conjures images of iron-barred cells and concrete rooms, of medieval dungeons with chains and darkness and filth. It’s a sensationalized version of what he assumes is probably the truth, but that doesn’t mean the reality is any less horrible. After what he’s seen in his time here and everything he’s heard, he has no doubt that the people who are forced to reside here between Keepers are subject to the company’s own brand of horror. Frankly, he’s in no hurry to turn his patient back over to their hands a moment sooner than he has to.

The boy is silent and entirely pliable throughout the whole exam, allowing himself to be moved when necessary and not so much as flinching when the needles for the blood draw break his skin. Sebastian is glad when the more… invasive parts of the exam are over. The boy had been no less compliant during them, maybe even the opposite, but Sebastian hadn’t missed the subtle changes in his posture, the way the muscles in his hands clenched and released around the edge of the table as he touched him as little as possible. 

He had looked up at the ceiling instead of at the wall behind Sebastian, as he had done previously, and Sebastian had silently prayed that the position wasn’t intended as a way to hold back tears. He doesn’t know how he could live with himself if he made this kid cry.

When the blood has been drawn, the test samples submitted for lab processing, and a full physical performed, Sebastian has run out of ways to delay the inevitable. He closes out of the boy’s patient profile on his screen and turns to him, hands folded professionally in front. 

“I’ll need to alert the handlers that your intake exam is complete,” he told him, probably unnecessarily. He hadn’t looked to see how long he had been in the system, but from his behavior, he assumes it’s been long enough to break his spirit. He probably knows these protocols better than Sebastian ever wants to. “They’ll come and escort you back to the residential quarters.”

110750 nods once without looking at him. “Thank you,” he says flatly. Then, there is a moment of pause before he lifts his eyes and seems to level Sebastian with something more sincere. “Thank you for… for letting me get cleaned up.”

Sebastian feels like shattering into pieces all over the cold linoleum. Instead, he tries for a smile and lands somewhere in the realm of a tight, thin line at his lips. “Sure,” he says, a bit mortified to hear the crack in his voice. 

He watches 110750 take slow, measured breaths as Sebastian makes the call he desperately wishes he didn’t have to make. He tries not to stare as they wait in tense silence for the handlers to arrive. Of course, Sebastian could leave the room if he wants. The intake procedure is done, and so is his minimal obligation to patient care. But something feels wrong about leaving him. More than that, something feels utterly wrong about this boy being taken out of the clinic, away from his line of sight, where he can’t see what will happen next. He only knows it won’t be good. 

A split second before he hears the clinic doors whoosh open, Sebastian steps closer to his patient, lowering his voice to a quick, urgent whisper. “Keep an eye on that broken nose,” he advises. “If you have any trouble breathing as it heals, please don’t hesitate to let your assigned handler know that you need medical attention, okay?”

The boy hitches in a breath but doesn’t respond. Sebastian takes half a step closer. 

“Look, you have a right to medical assistance,” he says, the words feeling like treason on his tongue despite knowing their written truth. “Even here. Even now. You can always come see me here if you need to. They can’t legally prevent you from requesting care. Do you understand?”

Unexpectedly, something dark flashes in the boy’s eyes. Something less like the fear and dread he had witnessed earlier, and something much more akin to anger. Anger at Sebastian?

Before the interaction can go any further, they are interrupted by the unceremonious swing of the exam room door. The same two men who had brought him in - one with a fresh bandage on his face - push their way in, stepping between Sebastian and his patient. 

“Up you go, 7-5-0,” Handler Hernandez barks, and the boy is on his feet before he can finish the command, his hands behind his back, head bowed. 

“Oh, look who finally decided to behave,” the other one - Smith, maybe? - taunts as he sizes him up in a way that makes even Sebastian’s skin crawl. Just as he had prior to the visit, the man shifts his gaze to him, a sneer permanently embedded into his expression. “Does he get a lollipop for good behavior? Maybe a sticker?”

The boy doesn’t look up at him, but Sebastian thinks he sees his throat move. He feels a swell of rage rise into his throat, coming to a boiling point for the second time since he entered the room with this boy, but he swallows it back, keeping as level an expression as he can manage. 

“He was perfectly agreeable,” he responds tightly, refusing to play into whatever mockery he’s initiating. 

Smith answers him with a dismissive snort, turning his attention back to the boy like a predator who just found fresh meat. “What do you say, sweetheart?” He asks, the thick rubber of his boots squeaking against the tile as he takes a step too far into the boy’s personal space. “Think we can go the easy way back, or would you prefer to do things the hard way again?”

The beat of silence in the room is painful as they await his response, which comes eventually in a subdued voice, through slightly gritted teeth and with his eyes on the floor. “The easy way. Sir.”

A snort from Hernandez breaks the tension. “Yeah,” he says. “We’ll see about that.”

With that, he is escorted from the room and seems to take with him all the air in Sebastian's lungs. Naively, desperately, he hopes for the briefest moment of eye contact before he’s taken away from him. But his eyes stay downward, even as a large hand curls around his bicep and makes him stumble in his gait as he’s yanked forward. Sebastian watches helplessly as he disappears from sight, one singular thought slicing through his mind on a loop:

Who did this to you?

[yanderesleepybutwriting]

Pain Without Love || UshiTen x Reader

_____

Pairing: Ushijima x Reader  |  Tendou x Reader

Summary: Soulmates meant to find each other with a link, bound by pain.  Tendou and Ushijima thought they had it easy when they found out they were each other's soulmates. Until they started finding injuries not caused by either of them. It turned out a piece was missing from their puzzle. You.

Notes: This started off so small and I just couldn’t stop. I have no explanation. Just poly yandere Ushijima and Tendou here for you.

[Part Two] 

_____

When Wakatoshi and Tendou first met, they thought the search for their soulmate was over. It wasn’t hard to figure out. The pain they shared constantly lined up. The stinging on their arms and hands from constant blocking and receiving. Whenever Tendou got hurt, Ushijima felt it, and vice versa. It couldn’t have been easier. Until one day, Tendou skipped out on practice to take a test after school, while Ushijima stayed and worked with the rest of the team in the gym.

Ushijima was mid serve when suddenly he felt a random pain on both his hands and knees, causing him to swing too late and miss the ball completely. While his teammates poked fun and teased him, Ushijima’s thoughts went to his other half. 

He must have fallen. 

There was no more pain after that, so Ushijima assumed he was fine and returned his attention back to the court. It wasn’t until he met up with Tendou after practice, that he brought it up.

“Tendou, you should be more careful. I can’t focus on practicing if you keep getting hurt. It’s distracting.”

Tendou looked up at his partner confused. “What do you mean? I thought that was you.”

And then it clicked. The boy’s eyes shot up to one another, sharing the same shocked, yet knowing expression. They weren’t done. Not by a long shot. There was a piece missing from their otherwise perfect puzzle.

You.

“How could we not realize sooner!? We’re the worst soulmates ever. They’re out there right now, Waka!”

“I’m sure they’re fine. We’ll find them.” Ushijima tried to reason with his frantic partner. This news was definitely a shock to the both of them, and while Tendou grew more agitated, wanting to find you as soon as possible, Ushijima remained calm and collected, going for a more reasonable approach. “We just have to wait. They’re our soulmate after all. They’ll come into our lives sooner or later.”

What they hoped would be sooner, turned out to be later. Much later. Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months, and eventually months turned into years, with still no sign of you. The only reassurance they got were random pains brought on throughout the day. A small reminder that you were still out there. That you were still waiting. And it was driving them both crazy.

The older they grew, the more desperate they grew. While Ushijima remained calm, knowing one day they would find you, Tendou grew angrier, unsatisfied until he had you. It wasn’t until a few years after they knew you were out there that they found you when they were least expecting it.

There was a competition for a few of the schools in the area. Boys teams, girls teams, high schools to colleges. If you played volleyball, you were welcome to compete and improve your skills. And while their school wasn’t participating, they thought it was a good idea to watch and scope out the competition.

The boys watched intently at the matches before them, making small comments of improvement as the players went on. Neither was a school that either of them had ever heard of, but they still watched with interest.

“Next up, we have a boys vs girls match-” The announcer began, but Tendou didn’t wait to listen. Already starting to get bored he began leaning over to Ushijima.

“Wanna head out after this match? It’s getting kind of late.”

Ushijima said nothing. Only nodded before turning his attention back onto the court. Both teams showed promise. Giving it their all to throw back every ball hit their way.

“Hey, their wing spiker’s not half bad,” Tendou praised.

“He has power, yes. But no control. Only about 20% of his spikes actually make it within the boundaries.”

As if to prove Ushijima’s point, the spiker hit another ball, this time right into one of the opposing players’ faces. While most of the crowd cried out in shock and worry. Ushijima and Tendou cried out for a completely different reason. They cried out in pain. As soon as the ball made contact with your face, the two boys felt it, as if they had gotten hit as well.

“Ow, ow, ow… fuck! That hurts.” Tendou cried out, palm placed over the side of his face where you got hit. Ushijima was more silent, while still in just as much pain, he was less vocal and just groaned. Wincing and hoping the stinging would die down a bit as the seconds passed. As realization sunk in, both of their heads shot up to make sure you were okay.

They panicked slightly seeing you curled up on the floor, your teammates and coaches gathered around to make sure you were okay. When you finally stood up, they released a breath they didn’t even realize they were holding as relief flooded through their bodies. You were okay, they reassured themselves. After a short huddle with your team, and what looked like a lot of arguing on your end, you walked back onto the court as if nothing had happened, and continued on with your match. 

“They’re not going to check in with the nurse before continuing?” Tendou shouted out, confused by your rash actions. “Why is their coach letting them continue? They need to be checked out. They could have serious injuries.”

“Maybe, they’re okay to continue.”

“You and I both know they’re not okay. Fuck, it still hurts. How can you even focus on a game when you’re in this much pain? It’s obvious they don’t know when to quit, Waka.”

Ushijima was never one to laugh as often as others, but he had to admit it was slightly amusing to him, watching Tendou worry about you so early on. They hadn’t even met you yet, but he was already scolding you for not taking better care of yourself. He’s not going to lie, Ushijima is also concerned, just not as vocal about it as Tendou is. He couldn’t help but worry at the thought of you being hurt, it wasn’t his fault. The three of your soul connections were strong. He was certain that you were the one. They both were, and they couldn’t wait to finally meet you.

As soon as your match ended. Both men made their way to the gym doors to greet you upon your exit. For a second they thought they were too late. Finding no sign of you, or your team. Luckily their height had its advantages as they were easily able to look over everyone until they spotted you stopped at a water fountain further down the hall.

You continued drinking, completely oblivious to the two giants that stood towering behind you. Patiently waiting for you to finish up. When you did finish, taking a deep inhale to catch your breath, and quickly wiping the spare liquid off of your lips, you were more than surprised when you turned around. Being caught completely off guard, by the two intimidating strangers.

Ushijima was the first of them to speak up. Probably picking up on your slight confusion and looking to calm your nerves.

“That was a great game you played. My name is Ushijima Wakatoshi.” He spoke up, extending his arm. You smiled, giving his hand a quick shake and responding with your own name. His hand was much larger in comparison to your own. After introducing himself, he motioned to the redheaded man next to him, “This is-”

“Satori Tendou,” the man cut in, “That was one nasty hit you took out there, shorty,” Tendou smirked, leaning down a bit so you were making direct eye contact. “How’s your head feeling?”

“Oh, it didn’t hurt as bad as it looked,” you laughed, embarrassingly rubbing at the back of your neck. Both men gave each other a quick glance, each one thinking the same thing. Liar.

“Thank you for your concern,” You bowed, “but if you’ll excuse me, I should get back to my team. Our next match will be starting soon.” As you went to dash off in the direction of your court, you were pulled to a halt when Ushijima’s hand wrapped around your arm, holding you firmly in place.

“You shouldn’t jump back into the game so soon. You need time to heal and make sure you don’t have a concussion. Let us walk you to the nurse’s office.”

You were caught off guard by this stranger’s interest in your well being but ignored it. Chopping it up to him just being a nice guy. “I really am okay. Thank you. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

Again with the lies. They knew it still hurt. Fuck, they still felt the pain from where the ball made contact with your face. It slightly diminished from the beginning, but it was definitely still there.

“Listen. If you get checked out, and the nurse gives you the green light, then we promise to let it go. Plus, you won’t do your team any good if you play with a head injury. You’ll only hold them back, so it would be better for everyone if you just play it safe. The faster you get checked out, the faster you’ll get to jump back onto the court. You can trust us. We’ve been in the game for a while, and I’d be lying if I said I haven’t gotten a few balls to the head myself,” Tendou joked.

You stood quiet, glancing at the ground as the two men stood patiently awaiting your response. You sure were a stubborn one.

“Okay.” You nodded, allowing the two to lead you in the direction of the nurse’s office.

“Wasn’t really a choice, but we appreciate your cooperation nonetheless.”

The office wasn’t too filled, so you actually got helped faster than you thought you would. Which was great since you were eager to get back on the court.

“Any head pain?” The nurse asked sweetly. To which you shook your head.

You heard the sound of someone clearing their throat and looked over to see Ushijima and Tendou looking over at you sternly from the corner.

“Umm… maybe a little.” You corrected, sheepishly.

The old lady smiled. “Okay, hun. Can you do me a favor and hop up and try to walk in a straight line for me?”

You got up. Following her directions and trying your best to walk as straight as possible, but found yourself losing your balance ever so slightly.

“Alright, go ahead and take a seat for me again, and I’m going to check your pupils real quick.” The second the light met your eyes you felt yourself flinching away, finding the small flashlight to be almost blinding.

“Well, I think that settles it, my dear.” The woman frowned. “It seems you have a slight concussion, but don’t stress too much. Nothing some over the counter pain meds and rest can’t fix. Unfortunately, that does mean no volleyball for at least a few days. Your brain is going to need some time to recover and we can’t have you worsening your injuries.”

You didn’t even look over at the two boys, already knowing a look of ‘I told you so,’ would be clear across their faces. It really sucked that one good hit would take you out of the game. Especially since you were really hoping to get the practice in with competitions starting up again soon. You hung your head low, making your way out of the office, and heading back to the gym.

“Where are you going?” A deep voice questioned from close behind.

“Back to the gym. Even if I can’t participate. I still want to cheer them on.”

“Did you even listen to what the nurse said?” Tendou sighed, clearly frustrated by your lack of ability to follow directions.

“I did, but I’ll be fine! I don’t even feel the pain anymore,” You argued.

“Why do you keep on lying to us? We know it still hurts. We feel it.”

You froze. Looking back and forth between the two men as the weight of their words slowly began sinking in. “...you both...the two of you…”

“Yes, we know this must be a shock Y/N, and your concussion probably isn’t making this any easier for you,” Ushijima began, before Tendou came in. Abruptly cutting him off.

 “But we are your soulmates. So there’s no point in trying to cover up your pain because we know how you feel.”

You definitely weren’t expecting this when you woke up. You knew you would find your soulmate eventually, but you weren’t expecting to have two. Sure it’s not unheard of. In fact, you’ve seen quite a few people with more than one soulmate, but that being said, you never thought that you would be one of them as well. Especially not now. 

You didn’t have time for a relationship. Not when you're gaining such a steady momentum in your volleyball progress. Plus you were never a big believer in soulmates, to begin with. When you were younger, sure. Who didn’t dream of getting swept away by their future love? But as you grew older, reality started coming more into light, and you learned that however bright one's love can glow, it can also go completely dark just as quickly. 

You’ve even seen it happen to one of your friend’s first hand. They were so happy when they found their soulmate, they looked like they were on top of the world. But as time progressed, their soulmate fell in love with someone else, and their once unbreakable love for one another slowly began getting chipped away at with every small fight. Until both of their hearts completely shattered. It hurt you to see them go through that, and you never wanted it to happen to you.

“Y/N?” Ushijima questioned

“I-I’m sorry. Did you say something? I spaced out there for a second.”

“Umm,” Your soulmates shared a look of concern as they glanced over at you, “I think it would be best if we took you home. You don’t look too well.”

Of course, you didn’t look well. Your head was pounding and you just found out that these two men you thought were strangers are actually your soulmates. You were surprised that you were still managing to stand considering how badly your head was spinning with this new information.

“I appreciate your concern, but I don’t feel comfortable going home with two strange men, I’ve only just met.”

“Strange men?” Tendou repeated, sounding shocked and slightly offended, by the use of your words, “Were not just some strange men. We’re your soulmates!”

Tendou was starting to get frustrated. While he and Ushijima were in a panic trying to find you, you seemed completely unfazed by the arrival of your soulmates. Were you ever even looking for them?

“Listen, I’m sorry, but I’m not looking to find my soulmates. The main focus in my life right now is volleyball, and school, so I have no interest in, or the time for forming a relationship at the moment. I think it would be best if you just forget you ever met me. I’m sorry, but at least you have each other, right? Isn’t that enough?”

Your words felt like a punch to the gut. How could you brush them aside so casually? Did they really mean so little to you?

...No, this wasn’t you. You weren’t thinking straight after that hit to the head. You don’t know what you want. You don’t know what you need.

“You’re right. We understand.” Ushijima lied, gripping Tendou’s shoulder so he would play along. “However, with your concussion, it would be far safer if you let us take you home,” Ushijima tried to reason.

“I’m telling you, I’m okay!” You tried to explain, turning to head back to your team, but you barely made it a few steps before losing your balance. You didn’t connect with the floor. Ushijima and Tendou not even giving you the chance before they were each at your side. Holding you upright.

“I’m sorry,” Tendou teased, the smirk he wore, obvious in his tone, even without looking at him. “You were saying what exactly?”

“Y/N, we just want to make sure you get home safely. We won’t even go inside if that’s what you’re afraid of. We’ll just walk you to your porch.”

You felt hesitant, but at the same time maybe it was for the best. Your teammates we’re already in the middle of a game, and there was no way you would feel okay with stealing one of them away to take you home. You also wouldn’t feel comfortable taking the train or bus home this late. Especially with your concussion leaving you extra vulnerable. Maybe letting them take you home was the best option.

“Okay.” Your soulmates grinned, and after you shot your teammates a text, saying you’d be going home early, you headed in the direction of the parking lot. Ushijima started the car up, while Tendou opened the back door for you, making sure to close it after you were settled. 

Maybe this was a dream. A weird long dream. Maybe that ball knocked you unconscious and you're really in the hospital right now. That would somehow make a lot more sense.

“Seatbelt.” Ushijima’s deep voice cut in, snapping your attention back to reality. “You need to put on your seatbelt.”

You obeyed, clicking the belt in place, then giving your address to Tendou so he could type it into his phone.

“Try to get some rest. We’ll wake you when we’re close.”

You didn’t know if it was the concussion or the fact that you played three volleyball matches in a row, but you felt exhausted. Already feeling yourself dozing off as you placed your head against the car door.

As you slept soundly in the back seat, Ushijima and Tendou stayed silent in the front seat so as not to wake you. Your words from earlier echoing through their brain like a broken record stuck on a constant loop.

‘I think it would be best if you just forget you ever met me. I’m sorry, but at least you have each other, right? Isn’t that enough?’

Did you even hear the words coming out of your mouth? Of course, it wasn’t enough. How could they go on with their lives as if they had never found you? They already felt such a strong connection to you, that it would be nearly impossible for the two of them to just forget about you completely. Yet, you say it so casually. As if it would be so simple to just walk away. But what you were asking for was just not in the cards. They needed you. And you needed them. You just didn’t know it yet. But that’s okay. They could help you realize just how much you needed them too.

[pleasantanathema]

Graves into Gardens | Reiner Braun x Reader | Chapter One

Chapter One: Living Ghosts

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader 

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Modern AU, spoilers up to season four, slight manga spoilers (only by including characters met later), captivity, mentions of violence, enemies to lovers, angst, and eventual smut (don’t worry, it’ll come sooner than you think).

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Here’s chapter one of my multi-chapter series for Reiner— chapter two is already ready!

A very special thank you to @present-mel​ , and @whats-her-quirk​ for encouraging me to take the plunge and create this monster (I’ve got a lot planned for this fic and I’m so excited for it) 💕

Masterlist | Next Chapter

           You were having that same dream again, the one where you felt like you were dying. Your shoulder ached with the memory of bursting pain, but there were warm hands there, holding you, pressing down to keep the bleeding at bay. You could never recognize the face, never identify the voice, your ears still ringing from the sound of a piercing gunshot. It was always the same; a delirious memory warped into a nightmare. Sometimes the dream ended in the hospital, other times with you staring at the inside of a coffin, or in a shallow grave.

           But this time, you were waking up, eyes flickering open to meet harsh fluorescent lights and clinking, cold handcuffs around your wrists.

          A white-hot sense of dread pooled over your body.

          You knew where you were. You knew how you got here. And suddenly, you wished you were dreaming again.

          You could still see it all, still hear the deafening blades of the helicopter whirring above you. None of your team had expected the Marleyans to be in the warehouse; they hadn’t been on the soil of Paradis in years. They’d caught you off guard and sent your escape plan into action sooner than expected. You’d tried to follow Mikasa and Armin, but Jean was in your way. The lines of your vertical movement gear had tangled with his as you both hurriedly attempted to ascend and meet Levi in the aircraft, sending you spiraling back into the window, back into enemy territory.

          Someone kicked you in the skull when you landed, you could still feel your head throbbing with the soreness. That must’ve been what did you in, what made you easy pickings to become a captive to the Marleyan government.

          You sat up, taking note of your surroundings: of course, they’d put you in a cell, one void of a bed but thankfully containing a fucking bucket. How considerate. Just outside the iron bars was a table scattered with broken pieces of your gear, undoubtedly torn apart to be studied and to keep you from using it to escape.

          Anger brewed inside your chest, a familiar feeling of betrayal returning that you hadn’t felt in years. There were faces here you didn’t want to see, enemies with broken facades that still haunted your thoughts at night. People you’d trusted, people you’d loved.

          You knew they would show themselves soon. If you were still alive, it’s because there were questions that Zeke Yeagar wanted answers to, tendrils of doubt and duplicity that he wanted to sink into your mind.

━━━─── • ───━━━

          Reiner felt sick. He’d never wanted to see you again, yet he’d been the one to carry your unconscious body through the compound, to cuff you and leave you on the frigid concrete floor. He’d stood over your figure for a while, heart pounding his chest out of fear that you’d wake up and flash that scrutinizing gaze of yours toward him again. But you’d just laid there at his feet, small, vulnerable, like a lost memory washed back upon the shores of his life.

          And of course, now that you were awake, you weren’t talking, refusing to take Zeke’s bait.

          He watched the older man pace around the room, glasses glinting as he wrung his hands. Truly, Reiner had been surprised that Zeke didn’t kill you on the spot, instead opting to transport you all the way across the border to their headquarters, insistent that you be treated like precious cargo. Though, it had been hard to keep Porco from poking at your body in the floorboards of the armored truck. Reiner had tried to keep his gaze away from you, eyes glued to the dark horizon outside of the rain smeared window. Maybe if he had stopped looking at you, you would have disappeared.

          There was something pressing Zeke, something worrying him that he wasn’t sharing with the rest of the warriors. He thought you knew something, or perhaps that you could be valuable in some way.

          Reiner knew that if you were to live, you needed to speak, needed to give them a piece of information to work with. He placed his head in his hands at the table, palms rubbing at his eyes. He shouldn’t—he didn’t—care if you took your last breath here. You were the enemy, someone who’d once held a knife to his throat when his true intentions within the ranks of The Scouts were revealed. He almost wished you’d killed him then, that you’d ended all the years of misery and regret that still clung to his mind like a poisonous leech.

          “Maybe she’ll give in to someone she knows,” Zeke stopped his pacing, attention turning to Annie Leonhart who sat across from Reiner, “why don’t you give it a go?”

          “Absolutely not,” she rejected, long legs crossing at the ankles upon the table.

          “Bertholdt tells me that you two were quite the comrades during your reconnaissance mission.”

          “I wouldn’t say that. We just found each other tolerable. Bertie was always sweet on her, though.”

          Zeke sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Bertholdt is kind to everyone, he’s as soft as they come.”

          Bertholdt, per usual, stayed quiet in the face of Zeke’s remarks.

          Porco Galliard chuckled at that statement, straightening his shoulders before he spoke.

          “Which is exactly why you should’ve sent me to Paradis instead, Chief. I could give her a go. You were being too easy on her, anyways. Once you start ripping off fingernails people really start to give in, you know.”

          Reiner’s gut twisted at the thought.

          “You’re not allowed anywhere near her, Gailliard,” Zeke crossed his arms as a smirk settled into the lines of his beard, “she’s far too pretty, you’d break down and grovel to her before it was all over.”

          Galliard huffed, a pink tinge dusting his cheeks as he shrunk down in his seat.

          “Reiner—”

          He had an inkling that it would come down to this. There would be no point in disputing it, he’d have to come face to face with his past, with sins he thought he left behind four years ago.

          He stood before Zeke could complete his thought, heavy knuckles rapping at the wood of the table.

          “Well, looks like we finally have a volunteer.”

           Every inch of Reiner’s skin bristled as he marched down the corridor to the prison cells. His footsteps were jarring, heavy, like he was determined to leave prints in the floor to mark a final walk of shame. Some part of him hoped you’d be gone when he opened the door, that you would have used your wits and crawled through some air duct and run away from this, from him.

          He almost didn’t turn the door handle. He felt invisible, burdensome hands pulling at his shoulders, calling at him to run. He’d always been a coward, especially when it came to you. He hated you, loathed you because he knew you pegged him as fraud from the beginning. You never threw a kind word in his direction, always looked at him like he was below you, like his pride meant nothing to you.

          Reiner just wished that you had meant nothing to him. Even when the opportunity had presented itself, he couldn’t even find the strength to kill you like his orders demanded. He wondered if you remembered it at all, if your memories had finally flooded back after all this time. Something inside his heart wouldn’t let him that night, some unknown, egregious feeling that by some means overshadowed his hatred. 

          That feeling returned when he entered the room and found you sitting with your back to the wall, your tightly bound hands in your lap.

          He took in a deep breath as he averted his gaze, teeth gritting at the sight of you awake. Zeke was right, four years had done you justice; time had only made you more beautiful than before, and he worried he might fall to his knees before you.

          “Reiner.”

          Sometimes, he just really wished people would stop saying his name.

━━━─── • ───━━━

          A strange relief settled into your stomach at the sight of him. Reiner was as hulking as ever, broad shoulders stretching the threads of his shirt to their limits. But he was different, older…demure, in some ways. He didn’t hold his head as high anymore, didn’t immediately cross his arms across his barreled chest to appear larger. He took tired, golden eyes less intense than you last remembered. His fingers rubbed at his lips, at the facial hair that adorned more pronounced cheekbones.

          You hated to admit that he appeared even more handsome than you remembered.

           There was a red armband tied around his bicep, an insignia emblazoned on it that you’d never seen before.

          “Do I make you nervous, Braun?”

          You caught his attention then, made his eyes look at you as you leaned your head back against the stone wall.

          “Tough question from the one behind bars.”

          His voice had changed, too. He sounded more stoic, more serious. There used to be a hint of glee under that tongue of his.

          “Why am I here?”

          “I’m supposed to be the one asking you things.”

          You shrugged, biting at your cheek as you wiggled your toes to try to make them feel again. Your limbs were starting to ache, your head too, body feeling like it was starting to cement to the floor. You didn’t want to be Zeke Yeagar’s plaything, but you knew that if you were alive, there was something they wanted. There was some leverage you held, but you weren’t sure what it was just yet. You had hoped they would send Bertholdt in to talk to you, you always could get under his skin.

          Reiner was a more difficult case for you. He always coated himself in arrogance, made it harder for you to chip away at his armor. He never let anyone in, just always grinned, acted like he had everything under control. But before you was a man with cracks, a man that time and guilt had eroded. You almost felt sorry for him, almost. A man like him deserved to bear the weight of his burdens.

          “Listen, if you don’t start talking—”

          “You’ll what? Kill me?”

          “We’ll torture you.”

          He said the words with a weight that knocked you back a bit, stole the last breath of gusto you were holding onto. You expected as much, but hearing it said aloud made fear crawl up your spine, made the cuffs around your wrist feel even more strained against your skin.

          “What do you want to know? I could tell Yeagar was prodding for something tangible to use against Paradis.”

          “I just want to know what you know about us, if you know anything about what Marley has been doing in the last few years.”

          “You’ve been fighting a war, that much I know.”

          And he looked like he had been through battle, been through hell in trenches and gunfire. Your intelligence agents had reported that Braun had been promoted to be Vice Commander of the Warrior Unit, and the hardline of his frown told you he’d seen more horrors than you wanted to know about.

          “Tell me something you don’t know from news headlines.”

          Levi had trained all his scouts for this situation once upon a time ago. You could still hear his voice in your head, commanding you to give up as little as possible, learn what the enemy wanted and then give them something else to cling on to. You had a few things you knew you could feed to them, beneficial tidbits that would satiate their hunger and keep them from feasting upon your teammates. But relaying any kind of information was a death sentence within itself; give the dogs a treat and eventually they’ll want more.

          And you knew that Reiner, that Zeke Yeagar, was a very greedy host.

          You stood slowly, releasing the aching tension in your lower back. Reiner didn’t flinch away from his place beyond the rusting iron, instead eyeing you like you were some exotic thing in a cage.

          There was a nostalgia of being in his presence, even if the atmosphere around him was contrary to what you were used to perceiving. He still made your blood boil, still made your fighting instincts come alive in the back of your mind. You still felt small in his shadow, but there was still a lingering feeling, a fleeting memory, about how being around him once made you feel safe.

          Your bare feet moved toward him, toes stinging against the cold of the floor.

          One of your hands wrapped around a bar to your prison, the metal of your handcuffs clinking against the barrier.

          You could catch his scent from being this close, and at least that much stayed the same—he always smelled like cedarwood, earthy and sweet, like the spice of the forest floor after a fresh rain. It was almost funny how smell created memories more frequently than any other sense. 

          Suddenly, you felt like you were back home, like nothing had changed, as if his deceit had never been revealed. Your mind’s eye flashed images of your old training camp, of Reiner lifting Connie onto his shoulders after the small boy had successfully managed to triumph over Jean in his marksmanship practice. He’d used one of the tricks that Reiner had taught him. That once sweet memory turned sour as you remembered just why Reiner was always such a good shot.

          You tilted your chin up to look at him, to come face-to-face with the imposing penumbra you thought you’d warded off. He was a living ghost brought back to haunt you once again.

��         “You seem pathetic, Braun, like you’ve lost all that bravado that made you so special.”

          He took your words, let them bounce off his chest like you hadn’t even spoken them.

          “Why did they send you in here? Did they really expect I’d crack under such pitiful pressure? You’re a deplorable, miserable—”

          His fist wrapped around your hand, crushing your fingers between his might and the metal bar you’d secured yourself to.

          You hissed at the pain, but…there was something you had missed in that touch of his; he felt warm, worn, like there were secrets being pressed into your skin.

          “Be. Quiet.”

          You expected his fingers to flex, waited for him to crack your fingers under his pressure. But he kept his strength at bay, electing to keep a steady, continuous tension against your knuckles.

          “Talk, or tomorrow will be your last day. You wouldn’t want to die at the hands of a pathetic, wretched man like me, would you? No, you’re too proud for that.”

          He took a step back, releasing his bruising grip before turning on his heels to leave.

          A string of panic began to uncoil inside you, snapping as his arm extended towards the exit.

           “Reiner,” you called, “tell me something. How much do you really know about Zeke Yeagar?”

           “I know enough.”

           “No, you don’t,” you were starting to sound worried, you could hear it, “there’s something I know that you don’t, and I’d be willing to give you information in return for you answering a question for me.”

           You could feel your heart beating in your chest, every pump within your ribs like the ticking of an oppressive clock. He was silent, steady, back still turned away from you. You noticed that his fists were clenched by his side, a vein starting to appear up the exposed length of his forearm.

           “I’ll consider it. Depends on what your question is.”

           He still didn’t turn to look at you.

           “Reiner…tell me what happened to Marco.”

           The door was slamming shut before the last syllable of the dead man’s name left your lips.

Next Chapter