#sorry it's all allusions to more but Act 1 be like that

[with-ink-and-quill]

The Sound of Your Voice

Pairing: Astarion x Tav

Tags: demisexual Tav! (they/them) mostly flirting and sass, but brief mentions of rejection trauma, Act 1 compliant

Summary: It was supposed to be a quiet morning, but a short, bitter exchange between Astarion and Shadowheart has Tav paying just a little too much attention to how words are shared.

Word Count: 4999

AO3

A/N: Yeah I don't have much for this, it just kind of happened lmao please enjoy and if you want more uhh drop a like/reblog and hopefully my brain will throw out more ideas

The sky was still tinged with the dusty colors of dawn as the camp slowly woke up. Gale was sleepily digging through the collected rations, stifling yawns as he gathered ingredients for breakfast. Karlach was still snuffling out soft snores by the fire, the embers smoldering closest to her. Shadowheart was perched at the water's edge, pressing cold water to her face to chase away sleep. Lae'zel was beginning her morning stretches, the shining greatsword making slow sweeps through the air to cut down her imagined foes. Wyll was sitting by the fire near the sleeping tiefling looking barely more awake than her, but trying to encourage some life back into the wood. Astarion was still missing, assumedly out hunting or stealing some few quiet moments in the sun for himself. Tav was wearily sitting up in their bedroll, trying to rub the sleep from their eyes and cringing at the ache in their neck.

It was partly from sleeping on the ground and partly from the bite mark still healing from a few days ago. Shadowheart had offered to heal it properly the day it had happened, an unhappy slant to her mouth, but they had brushed her off with a smile. It was important to know the price, after all, and they had chosen to offer themselves. It didn't feel right to wave it away. They had relented to let the cleric properly dress the little wound, all too aware of the eyes staring down the vampire as it happened. The group had only been together for a few weeks, but everyone seemed a bit protective of Tav and a bit too ready to turn on the offending pair of fangs. No one had made more than a passing remark about it, at least, thanks in no small part to their insistence that they encouraged Astarion. That they trusted him. The man himself had been all smug smiles and shrugging confidence, but his gaze had been fixed on Tav through it all as if they were a queer puzzle; as if calculating where his next flash of teeth or dripping affections should be placed. It had sat uncomfortably on their shoulders ever since.

With a creaking yawn and shivering stretch, they rolled up their bed and plunked themselves next to Wyll. A murmuring good morning was exchanged, both of them equally half hearted in the attempt but smiling. They let a little bolt of fire spring from their fingers, properly igniting the logs the warlock had carefully propped back into order and he let the flint drop gratefully from his hands. They warmed themselves in peaceful quiet for a moment before the man was called over by Gale. Something about catching some fish for a refreshing breakfast and how the wizard could collect them himself with magic, but it was such a nice morning to ruin it with carnage. Tav smiled, huffing a quiet little laugh as they drooped forward on the log, eyes sliding closed. They were simply still tired from waking so early, that was all.

The log shifted as someone sat next to them and they started slightly, jerking awake as if preparing to get scolded. Shadowheart was perched next to them, doing a poor job to hide a laugh at their reaction. Her hair was neatly braided, not a single sign that the cleric had been resting even ten minutes prior. Her face was the usual mask of distant interest and hidden thoughts, but her eyes were fixed on the white bandage at their neck. They ran a hand almost nervously through their hair.

"Are you still exhausted, Tav?" She asked, not bothering to waste time with the check in this morning. "I confess little experience with such bites, but it worries me that you're still affected days later. Are you sure I can't heal it properly? We wouldn't want you to drop in battle over it."

They held their hands up defensively, shaking their head. "It's fine, I'm fine, honestly." They smiled, trying to disarm her worry. "I think it's just because of the last few days. Infiltrating the goblin camp has been a lot and letting that follower of Loviatar perform his, erm… ritual right after the bite was probably a poor idea on my part."

She huffed slightly, crossing her arms. "You didn't let me heal you after that, either. I am a competent cleric, you know. You don't have to rely on potions to fix everything."

"I know, I know!" There was a soothing tone to their voice, an almost sheepish look on their face. "I just… think there are better uses of your magic than fixing my choices. If we had gotten caught trying to find the druid, I figured it would be better if you had every option available in the fight. Being a little woozy isn't enough to take me out, anyways."

A heavy sigh escaped her as she shook her head. "You're hopeless, you know that? Our leader shouldn't be unsteady on their feet in a fight because they thought it was a good idea to let a vampire spawn use them as a snack." The term had fallen from her lips with venom, disdain obvious.

"Don't." The word snapped out before they caught themselves, a surprised look plain on their face before they rushed forward. "Um, please, don't call him a spawn. Not like that."

Her brows were furrowed, confused and a little annoyed. "Why ever not? It's exactly what he is."

They floundered for a moment, a hand spinning in the air as they tried to detangle their thoughts from a sleep addled mind. "It's, um, it's the way you said it. Like he's some gross creature instead of our companion."

She snorted, "Well…"

"I don't like it." They murmured, their mouth forming an unhappy line and eyes downcast. "We don't pick what we are or what our past was like. Maybe it's a little optimistic or soft of me, but if nothing else this whole situation is kind of like a new beginning, you know? We get to define ourselves again. I don't want to judge you all based on things that already happened, on ideas that others forced on us. You're all my dear companions and we're in this together. Our choices from here on matter more, right?"

"You're right, that is very soft." They both jumped at Astarion's voice coming from behind them suddenly, a wide grin on his bloody lips as they both turned to look at him. Shadowheart let out a little noise of disgust at the sight. "Do forgive my lack of decorum, I couldn't help but overhear you two on my way to wash up and felt the need to weigh in." He pointed a single delicate finger at the cleric. "You can call me whatever you like, I don't care. I'm honestly more surprised you can remember such disdain towards creatures like myself than I am offended by your tone considering the mess you let your dear goddess make of your head."

"Astarion!" Tav hissed, worry creasing their face as their eyes darted between the two.

Shadowheart's shoulders had climbed towards her ears as she pulled in a sharp breath, a look of thunder in her eyes. "Don't you dare try to talk to me about my holy mission. At least I have a purpose besides being a leech."

"At least I know what I'm about, darling." He countered smoothly, the smile on his lips all sharp edges.

"I didn't know slowly killing your own leader was such a strong identity to you." The cleric smirked, for all intents and purposes looking down on the vampire despite the height difference.

"Guys, please-" Tav tried to step between them, pleading, but they leaned closer together, sneering at each other as their voices rose.

"Careful, pet, I might try sampling you next. I do so enjoy a meal with spirit." His eyes were pure hunger as he loomed, a dire sight with blood still smeared around his mouth.

"Oh, do try. It'll be so fun to burn you to ash while you scream." Shadowheart was all cold angles and frigid looks, like a moonless night.

Tav was desperately trying to be heard over their barbs, frustration causing tears to prick their eyes. Why weren't they listening? This wasn't helping anything, but it was like nothing else existed beyond their vitriol for each other. A hand clutched at their shirt collar, trembling as they struggled to find the thread that would defuse the two before a large figure suddenly rose beside them. Karlach had woken up. They took a step back as she grabbed the offending party members by the scruff of their shirts and hauled them apart. She was quick to let go before her touch could properly cause harm, but it had been a sudden and very hot point of contact. They both yelped slightly, startled.

"It is too fucking early for you two to be yelling." The tiefling groused, voice thick with sleep still. "Can you go be school children out in the woods or something? Or better yet, stop freaking Tav out." They both snapped slightly guilty looks at the adventurer. "Great, good talk. I'm going to harass Gale for food now and if I hear yelling from either of you, I'm going to give you something to scream about."

As the warrior trudged over to where the wizard was cutting up veggies the two shot glares at each other. Tav was worried they were simply going to continue the fight, albeit a great deal quieter. They were about to bodily put themselves between them, but then Shadowheart let out an annoyed tch.

"This isn't over, Astarion." She snapped before smoothing out her rumpled shirt. "But Karlach is right. Besides, you aren't worth the breath."

He bodily rolled his eyes. "'Not over,' she says. Darling, it's been over before you even started swinging." And then he was suddenly too close to Tav, a finger hooked in the bandage around their neck and pulling gently. "Isn't that right, my sweet?" His voice was husked, dripping with smug affection and they couldn't help the blush that sprang to their cheeks as they slapped a hand over his. He laughed, eyes darting to the cleric. "You could just tell her instead of dancing around it every morning."

"Tell me what-" But then she stopped, realization dawning and her hands formed fists at her side. "Tav, have you been letting him feed from you this entire time?"

"I- um, well-" they stuttered, suddenly feeling very warm and lightheaded. "I mean, uh, sometimes- yes." The affirmation slipped free quietly as they deflated, defeated.

Shadowheart was pinching the bridge of her nose now as Astarion grinned devilishly at their side. "Oh, darkness preserve me," she muttered before rounding back on Tav. "I would have liked to know that. I can't make you stop indulging the spawn," and the word fell like another curse from her lips, "but I can at least counteract the effect. Next time, you are telling me and letting me heal you. I am not having this bastard be the reason you get hurt out there."

It wasn't a request, more of a demand, and they nodded numbly. "Okay. Sorry." They paused, almost vibrating with embarrassment. "Thank you, Shadowheart. For, um, caring, and trusting my decision."

"I think it's an incredibly stupid one, but we need all the help we can get, even from such pests." She hissed at Astarion before sighing, turning towards her tent. "And do wash up, Astarion. You look abysmal like that."

"Maybe to you! Tav seems to like it well enough." He was grinning wolfishly at them, eyebrow cocked.

They smothered a distraught noise in their hands, hiding. "Why did you do that?" They whined. "Now everyone knows."

"Are you ashamed, darling?" His tone had been jovial, teasing, but there was an edge in it.

"I mean, no, not exactly. It's just… we had a nice system and no one knew. They wouldn't say anything about it…" They were struggling again to sort out their feelings.

"Pet, they were going to notice the bandage never being taken off and always freshly applied." He was patting their head much like one comforts a sulking cat. "Besides, that was a far more fun reveal than letting them slowly piece it together."

"Then why do I feel mortified?" They groaned, dragging their hands over their face.

"You're a sweet, innocent creature unused to having such a devilishly charming specimen like myself showering you with affections." He offered brightly, linking an arm with theirs and leading them towards the water's edge.

"You are incorrigible." Tav sighed, begrudgingly letting themselves be pulled away from the warm fire.

"In all the best ways." He winked, flashing them a brilliant smile.

They nudged him playfully with their elbow and he laughed, the sound fresh and crisp to their ears. It caused their unease to melt instantly, a happy hum escaping them. They lingered a few steps behind him on the pebbled shore, perching on a rock as he knelt down. A hand hovered over the water, almost nervous, before he pressed it into the cold current. They thought idly how it must be a wonder for him, being in the sun and enjoying moving water without pain or worse. How the world must be so much fuller than he was used to. As he pressed handfuls of water to his lips, ruby streams washing away, they simply watched. The morning sun danced as silver light through his hair, glimmering in his crimson eyes, and shimmering in the water droplets he was wiping clean. He was dazzling in the daylight. It was easy to understand how so many had become his victims. There was a nagging worry in the back of their mind, wondering if they were simply his next mark. But then he was looking at them, that knowing smirk on his lips and crooked brow taunting and they couldn't help but smile.

"Enjoying yourself over there?" He teased, running a wet hand through his curls. "I am a rather distracting sight, aren't I?"

"The sun suits you." They murmured, lost for a moment in thought. "You're beautiful in its light."

He blinked at them, the usual charm melting away from the blunt compliment before it reasserted itself. He mimed an exaggerated swoon, grinning. "You can call me whatever you like if you keep showering me with such glowing compliments." Their mood seemed to fall at that, brows furrowing, and he let out a questioning hum as he stood to face them. "What is it, darling?"

They wrapped their arms around themselves, as if finally feeling the cold morning air. "Doesn't it bother you?" Their voice wavered slightly as they tried to delicately pick their words. "How people call you such terrible things, with such ugly sounds?"

He sighed, propping a hand on his hip as the other waved in the air. "I stopped dedicating so much energy to that decades ago. I'm achingly gorgeous and it's obvious they all know it, I see it in their eyes, hear it in how their hearts skip in my presence. What do I care if they call me spawn or leech when I know they're furious over how beautiful I am?" His free hand came to rest under his chin, framing his face as he fluttered delicate eyelashes at them. "I'd love it if they would simply flatter me like I deserve, but with their own bodies betraying their want, the scathing names can be just as enjoyable."

They were searching his face as he preened, trying to peel back the honeyed words to find the core of the feeling. There was a hollowness to him that they just couldn't quite place. A mechanical touch to his every move that was steadily confusing them the more time they spent together. It felt like a front of sorts, though they didn't quite grasp why he was always throwing it up. They wanted to reach out to him, cradle his face with tender hands and soothe whatever roiling ocean thrashed below his surface. They wanted to understand why he was always on the defense, dancing around them and keeping them at arm’s length.

Their mouth moved silently, awkwardly trying to form the desire into words. But their heart stuttered with fear, afraid that questioning him would cause him to dance further away, to melt into the sunlight and disappear. So instead they bit their lip, head bowing slightly as their hands tangled together in their lap. "It bothers me." They offered meekly. "We're supposed to be a team, helping each other get through this, but still they resort to such… such name-calling and bitterness. You haven't done anything to deserve being dismissed with spawn. You aren't a leech for needing blood to live. You aren't a pest simply because of your concern for yourself. Being different," their voice faltered, quiet, "doesn't make you less than others."

The rocks hadn't made a sound as he closed the distance between them, the only indication of his presence the shadow he cast and the cool touch of his hand on their cheek. He kneeled before them, ducking his head to theirs so his crimson eyes could meet their gaze, half lidded and searching. His thumb swept over over their lips, a smile gracing his own. "I do not care what they say. What need have I for their opinions when I have such sublime notions for me falling from your lips? Their praise is hollow compared to my name on your tongue. Your smile banishes all their petty jealousy like the sun banishes the rains. The world pales in comparison to your divine laugh." He was leaning in closer now, head tilted to the side slightly, mouth almost brushing theirs as his voice fell to a hush. "If I could have you, my sweet, then I would want for nothing."

They didn’t move as he kissed them, his hand sliding to the back of their head to press more firmly. They were too overwhelmed, too baffled at this turn of events. He was a helpless flirt, but he was like that to everyone. They weren’t special, they hadn’t thought they were so special. Yet it still felt like a performance, like he had rehearsed those lines in the mirror for a month straight before offering them up. As his fangs nipped at their lips, his tongue searching to pass them, their face contorted unhappily. Their hands pressed against his chest, pushing back against his advance as a displeased hum vibrated through them. He pulled back sharply, a mess of emotions on display. Foremost was sheer terror before it instantly warped into confused anger, indigent at their response. It was as if he had never been denied before.

It caused them to pause, their annoyance melting to panicked realization. He would misunderstand, had misunderstood. They hadn’t meant to walk him down this road, not like this. They never did. Their hands scrambled on the rock as they pulled themselves to their feet, taking large steps back and gulping for air. His own motions were slow, measured as he stood, head tilted in accusation and a sharp glint in his eyes. He pressed a hand to his chest, bowing ever so slightly as the other swept away from him.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He husked, an almost uncertain lilt to his voice. “I can be slower, gentler if that’s what you want.”

Something about the way he said want rang with a sour note to them. They shook their head adamantly, hands held up in defense before them. Rocks ground under their foot as their weight shifted, anxiety buzzing through their skull as they struggled against the turmoil brewing in their heart. He seemed to falter slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching in disbelief.

“Did you want me to be more forceful?” There was a purr now to his voice, a fascination.

Their whole body almost shook with their abject refusal, one hand holding up a finger begging him to just wait. They needed a moment to find the key for the locked door their voice had fled behind. He let out an almost exasperated sigh, his shoulders jumping with the breath before his hands were perched back on his hips.

“Well, what do you want then?” He was almost whining now, pouting at them. “I’m very flexible, I’ll have you know. Whatever you desire, I’m sure I can manage it.”

“Stop.”Their voice was so small, barely above a whisper as they trembled. “I want you to stop.”

And he did. He froze for a moment, blinking in the morning light, mouth slightly agape before the gears began to turn once more. He held his hands up this time, taking a step back and dipping his head towards them. “Of course, pet. Whatever you want.”

Still, still, it struck them as wrong. They screwed their eyes shut, forcing out long, agonizingly slow breaths. They brushed their hands over their face, tangling their fingers in their hair before letting out a last lengthy exhale. They were still trembling, but their eyes were firm as they opened and fixed on him.

“I didn’t mean,” they started slowly, voice shivering, “to make you think I wanted that. I…” And they trailed off as a wall went up in him, a cold wave washing through them. “I’m not like other people when it comes to this. I’m not- not disinterested, I just…” They floundered, a hand churning the air. “People usually are interested so fast in each other, right? Love at first sight and bodies aflame for each other. I don’t… I don’t experience that. Not like others. It’s…” They pulled in a gulping breath, eyes skittering to the ground so they wouldn’t have to see his expression morph like all the others. “I don’t fall like that. I’m- I’m slower. I need more time. I need to know you better before…” Their voice failed, bitter memories bubbling up and they blinked stinging eyes. “People don’t like waiting, usually, on a maybe. I understand if you’re upset-”

They jumped as his hand was back on their cheek, startled at how quickly and silently he was back in front of them. “It doesn’t have to be love.” He murmured. “It can just be physical, if you want.” He was cradling their head in both his hands, holding their gaze up to his. He was leaning down again and they shook. “Let me take care of you, repay you.”

Their hands shot back up to his chest, pushing sharply as they pulled their face away. Realization shot through them like they were a tree in a lightning storm. Things started to fall into place, his words and tone suddenly making sense. Repay you. The performance, the words, the touches, they were meant as a transaction. What in the world was he hoping to buy from them? What made him feel like he owed them? He was scandalized again, this time anger showing true on his face, but there was a desperation in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” they babbled instantly, so, so scared he would leave, “I’m sorry, Astarion. I…” They were lost in his hurt gaze, struggling to find land in the roiling ocean. They swallowed thickly, blinking away tears. “You don’t have to repay anything. I’ve done nothing…” They faltered, a hazy memory of a night, days prior, coming back. This is a gift. It was like a floodgate opened in them, their words coming too fast, too numerous. “Oh, Astarion, no. No, no, no, it’s not- you don’t have to do anything- I gave my blood freely!”

“Nothing is free.” His words came out sharp like a dagger, cutting, before he softened. He almost crooned. “It’s easier like this, isn’t it? I promise, you’ll have a night you’ll never forget.”

“Will you forget it, then?” The question fell unbidden from their lips, regret causing their hand to cover their mouth instantly. A strange look came over him and they were back to apologizing on loop. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I-,” they paused, taking a breath to try and silence their thundering heart, “I don’t want you doing something you don’t want because you feel you owe me. I’ll always let you have my blood, even if you never speak to me again after this. You’re a dear friend to me and I want to help. Honestly, I just like having you around so if you need to pay me back somehow, then can you just… stay?”

“Stay?” He echoed, a curious grin pulling at his mouth. “What do you mean? At your side or in camp, or-”

“Just stay, here, in general. Don’t disappear one day and never come back. Don’t- don’t go so far into yourself that you never return.” They almost hiccuped in the next breath, a bitterness spilling free in their chest. “Don’t just nod along and then abandon me. Don’t leave me alone. Please.”

His head tilted to the side, faint confusion in his eyes. “And that’s what you want?”

They nodded mutely, hands clenching and unclenching at their side. “A-and maybe, later, in the future, if I decide I do want you like that, that I want more, then we can… if you also want it. If you’re okay with maybe.”

He stood in silence, eyes drifting from head to toe of them before he let out a dramatic sigh, shrugging. “Then I suppose I am yours in maybe.” The playful charm was quick to return to his eyes, his grin flashing fangs. “But I will not be relenting in my attempts to charm you into a memorable night. You’re too much fun.”

A nervous laugh bubbled in their throat, gaze falling to the ground out of embarrassment. “Now that I know of your interest, that… that’ll change my reaction.” And they scrubbed a hand over their face as he laughed in pure delight at their flustered reaction. “And, if drinking my blood makes you feel… like you owe me, then, I don’t know… Maybe we can find another way to sate you that isn’t so guilt ridden?”

This time his laugh was all breath, rumbling deep in his chest. “I think you will find I am very hard to sate, pet.” They couldn’t help the blush his tone caused and his grin was wolfish. “But, if you aren’t too squeamish, I could simply take a bite out of the next vagabond that draws their weapon on us. They’re dead either way.”

They weren’t especially keen to see just how vicious a vampire bite could be, but it was a good fix. Plus the party wouldn’t be so mad at him for using them as a snack. They bobbed their head. “That should work. But!” Their hand shot out to catch his sleeve, tugging slightly. “But, if you can’t get to someone in a fight, then you can still ask me. I don’t want you to go hungry. We can figure out ‘payments’ beforehand if you want. I just…”

He crooked a hand under their chin, his other wrapping around to the small of their back and pulling them snug to his chest. “Darling, you don’t have to say. I know you enjoy getting bitten. You were shaking so adorably last night it was hard not to notice.” He tilted their head to the side before ghosting a kiss to their neck, just above the bandage. “I may sneak a nibble from time to time, if you permit. You are simply too delectable to ignore.”

They let out a nervous laugh, gently pushing him away. “Okay, but does it always have to be the neck? This thing is itchy.”

His hand traced down their throat, fingers dancing along their pulse. “You could always just let the world know you’re mine.” They flapped a hand at the contact, shivering, and he let his hand drop to theirs. He pressed their palm to his cheek, placing a kiss on their wrist. “But yes, I could bite elsewhere. There are more discreet places, even, if you take me up on my offer.”

“Oh gods, you’re terrible.” Their free hand was trembling at their temple as they tried to look everywhere but at the vampire’s eyes. “I trust you won’t take advantage of me?”

He paused, brow furrowing for a second before the emotion was smoothed away. “Only in the ways you let me.” He let their hand fall free, smirking still. “Only as you want.”

They huffed at him, shaking their head. “You know what I want right now?” He didn’t answer, his eyes simply narrowing slightly, waiting. “Breakfast. I can smell it cooking. And since you already ate… whatever you found today, you can’t fault me for wanting my own meal.”

The usual taunting smile was back on his lips as he turned back towards camp, an arm crooked invitingly to them. “A stray wolf, separated from its pack and too close to the camp, considering how useless their presence makes our resident cleric. I elected to remove the problem before everyone woke up to her screaming.”

“And then you picked a fight with her and woke Karlach up anyways.” They sighed, taking his arm.

“Hm, well, she was being very rude and it’s fun to needle her.” He hummed, eyes crinkling with his amusement.

“So you do care, just a little, what they think of you.” 

“Just a little.” He conceded before a wicked grin spread across his face. “And if you tell anyone that, I’ll start revealing every little bite I give you.”

They let out a strangled whine and banged a fist weakly against his arm as he laughed, letting him lead them back to the fire where their companions were starting to settle down for a proper meal together.

[ratatoastwrites]

Playing house

Spencer Reid x gn!reader

[this was specifically written with s2 bratty(suffering from withdrawal)!Spencer in mind 🧚‍♀️]

Synopsis: “has a PhD in engineering and thinks that Ikea manuals are for stupid people” boyfriend vs “isn’t really a good handyman but is determined to follow the rules” s/o get into a bit of an argument 🫢

a/n: it’s me woo! did y’all miss me? 🌝 ofc u did!! 🥰 jkjk but umm i was inspired to write this bcuz i actually got a new chair from ikea a few days ago and i almost ripped out all my hair by the time i managed to put it together ✨ i was listening to the Like a Prayer EP from deadpool & wolverine for the whole two (2) hours it took me to put it together as well lmao 🪑 also, the pic on the left of the moodboard is my own ikea manual on the exact page i messed up!! fun 🧚‍♀️ also, did u guys like that i included a synopsis this time? i hope u did ;)

cw: light angst, arguing about something that shouldn’t really be a cause of an argument, reader has one (1) violent thought but doesn’t actually mean it and also doesn’t act on it ofc, allusion to Spencer’s addiction/withdrawal, some kinda unhealthy thoughts, Spencer is a bit 🤏 of an asshole in the beginning, mostly fluffy ending, also kinda rushed ending which is my bad :( sorry

“This is stupid. And you’re doing it wrong.”

You scoffed in exasperation at your boyfriend’s complaints, but otherwise kept your focus on the task at hand.

You’ve been trying to assemble your new desk chair for the past half hour, while Spencer loomed over your hunched figure, like an unhelpful little devil on your shoulder.

“Well, why don’t you do it then?”

You mumbled under your breath, not necessarily wanting him to hear. He did anyway.

“Well, I would. If you weren’t so insistent on using the manual.”

You could quite literally hear the eye roll in his tone, and while you usually didn’t mind his bratty attitude, right now it wasn’t helping your already frustrated mood.

“Oh, right. Silly me, using the manual that tells me how to assemble this piece of- furniture.”

You had to try your hardest not to start cursing, not wanting to let this swedish nightmare of a chair get the better of you. Spencer sighed behind you, and you were secretly hoping that it was a sigh of resignation.

“I have a PhD in engineering, do you really think that I don’t know how to assemble a chair from Ikea?”

Your hopes were proven to be futile, just like every other time you found yourself not seeing eye to eye with your boyfriend. You took a deep breath, not wanting to turn this petty argument into an actual fight.

“I don’t know, Spencer. And I’m not interested in finding out. I just don’t understand what you’re trying to prove by refusing the very idea of using the manual.”

Your tone became a little sharper by the end, although it wasn’t actually aimed at him. As you read over the manual again, you realised that you messed up the last step, cursing quietly under your breath as you had to undo the last eight screws in the armrests.

“Good thing you were using the manual.”

You were seriously contemplating throwing the screwdriver at your boyfriend’s smartass head after his smug comment. However, you just slowly put it down instead, before standing up from your place on the carpet, ignoring the crackling in your knees as you turned around to face him.

“Spencer, I love you more than words could describe, but you’re seriously getting on my last nerve right now. I’m going to make myself a cup of tea, do not follow me please.”

You told him with eerie calmness, before walking out of the living room and towards the kitchen.

You tried to ignore the guilt gnawing at your stomach at how annoyed you’d gotten over something so trivial. You knew that he was going through a rough patch in his life, and you couldn’t blame him for being more annoying than usual. But you couldn’t always have the patience of a saint, and you were already quite worked up about that stupid chair.

‘I just need a few moments of peace. Then I’ll go back and pretend like everything is okay. As per usual.���

You tried telling yourself, blocking out the voices saying how unhealthy that sounded.

You went through the steps of making your tea, doing your best to silence the myriad of emotions swirling in your chest. By the time you finished your hot beverage and put your cup in the sink, all your previous frustrations were gone, replaced by only tiredness. The weight of the day weighed on your shoulders as you dragged yourself back to the living room, although the slight aching in your muscles quickly faded to the back of your mind when you took in the sight waiting for you in there.

“Wh- Spence?”

You were dumbfounded as you looked at your boyfriend, who was standing next to your -now assembled!- chair with a sheepish smile.

“I, uh, put it together for you. All according to the manual, of course.”

His tone was almost shy, and he gave you the sweetest puppy dog eyes imaginable, which never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

“But I thought the manual was stupid.”

You stepped closer to him, still feeling a little confused, but your gaze softened in fondness as you looked at him. He shuffled on his feet a little, glancing between you and the chair awkwardly.

“It is. But it doesn’t matter. According to the studies, most healthy relationships are based on compromises. I guess I just realised that I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately.”

You frowned at his words, stepping even closer to him, until you were almost toe to toe. You didn’t like it when he talked about himself like that, and he quickly understood your expression.

“You know it’s true. You’ve been nothing but patient and accepting since I… And I can’t even swallow my pride for an hour to help you put together a piece of furniture.”

He continued before you could argue, and your heart broke as he trailed off mid-sentence. You knew that it was hard for him to acknowledge what he was going through, and you really wanted to tell him that it was okay, that he didn’t do anything wrong. But you knew that those empty words of comfort wouldn’t do your relationship any good.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. But Spence, I don’t want you to think that me being there for you is a chore, or a sacrifice. I’m being patient and accepting, because I love you.“

You told him, reaching your hands out to hold his, interlocking your fingers as you smiled at him softly.

“I can’t even imagine what you’re going through. And you being a little annoying about a stupid chair doesn’t make you a bad boyfriend. Not to mention that you ended up putting it together for me.”

You nodded your head towards the aforementioned furniture next to you, squeezing his hand a bit tighter as you smiled at him fondly.

“I don’t deserve you.”

He said softly, tilting his forehead against yours.

“Negative. You deserve only good things in your life.”

You told him, before capturing his lips in a gentle kiss.

The two of you didn’t always agree, and you could both be incredibly stubborn. But at the end of the day there was nothing you wouldn’t do for your beautiful, intelligent, sweetheart of a boyfriend, no matter how much he tested your patience. And you knew that he felt the exact same way about you.

🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️

Bonus badly edited pic of Spencer in my new chair ✨

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Co-Stars pt.2

Callum Turner X Actress! Reader

Summary: All the time Callum and Y/n were together in a movie.

Warning: Allusion to sex/ swearing/ kissing/ mention of being naked

Word count: 1.1k

A/n: The movies I selected are not starring Callum (except the only boy living in New York), and the other movies do not have the same actress, so use ✨️imagination✨️

The first time they were in a movie together was in The Only Boy Living in New York, she was playing Tomas’s best friend, and they needed to kiss multiple times. They had chemistry. That was one of the first things the directors told them. It was said in multiple interviews. After the movie came out, they stayed friends, talking to the other, telling each other what they were in. When they got cast in another movie together, as love interest, they were over the moon. Y/n had got the first role, and Callum got the sexy bartender role. The movie was called Burlesque, Y/n had to sing, and Callum thought she was amazing. The interviews that followed the movie were filled with teasing and flirting.

-

‘’Now, you guys already played love interest in the only boy living in New York, what was your reaction when you learned that you got to do that again?’’ the reporter asked. ‘’For me, I laughed. I was happy that it was him. This movie took me out of my comfort zone and to know that my co-star is one of my best friends was really soothing and yeah, and he’s good looking, so I couldn’t complain’’ she joked. Callum laughed. ‘’It was really fun, she was amazing, her singing was amazing. But yeah, we come as a package now, you want me, you get Y/n’’ he said, laughing. ‘’2 for the price of 1’’ she added to the joke.

-

The first time she was cast in something that Callum wasn’t in was in the remake of Footloose, she played Ariel. She was confident for this role, but without Callum, it was going to be weird. But the director had a surprise for her.

-

‘’Uh, sorry why does it say Callum beside the name of Bobby?’’ she asked. Bobby was supposed to be Ariel’s dead brother, but it had flash back scenes. As she said that, Callum entered the room. ‘’Holy shit!’’ she screamed in joy as she got off her chair to run in his arms. ‘’You two come as a package, I couldn’t separate you guys’’ the director said, laughing. ‘’It’s not a lot of scenes, but I thought this might be fun’’ he added. ‘’Thank you so much’’ Y/n chuckled.

-

Then, Callum and Y/n were cast as voice actors for a movie. The movie was Inside out, Y/n played Disgust and Callum played Fear. They had fun doing their voices, it was something new for the both of them. But the real surprise was when they both got cast in Master of the Air.

-

‘’Now, guys, ready to meet Callum’s love interest?’’ Tom Hanks asked the actors. They nodded and Y/n entered the room. At first, she was confused, but when she saw Callum, she started to laugh. ‘’No fucking way!’’ she laughed. ‘’The pair strikes again!’’ Austin Butler says, laughing. ‘’Who’s the pair?’’ Anthony Boyle asks. ‘’Them, they’re like the new Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter’’ Bary says. Y/n walked up to Callum to hug him, they were both giggling and blushing. ‘’We’re happy to say, that the cast is now complete! Welcome to the madness, Y/n’’ Steven Spielberg said. When they were shooting their scene, it was always amazing. They almost never had to do more than five takes. The only time they had to do more than five takes was their love scene.

-

‘’Action!’’ yelled the director. She was in a white dress, so when she would step underwater, it would become transparent. ‘’Rose, what are you doing here?’’ Callum said, in an American accent. Her turned around to look at her, he was in the shower. She entered the shower, still maintaining eye contact. ‘’John, I can’t keep acting like ahhhh’’ she yelled as she slipped in the shower, almost falling, but Callum catches her before she fell on the ground. They both started to laugh as the director yelled cut. ‘’Y/n are you okay?’’ She nodded as they continued laughing. ‘’Yeah, I’m okay, I’m sorry!’’ she said, calming down. They calmed down and put themselves in their characters again. It was their fifth take, they had to get it right. ‘’Action’’ They redid the scene they did before Y/n almost fell. Now, she was in the shower, soaking wet. In a now completely transparent dress. ‘’Are you going to kiss me, Major?’’ she said, with a flirting voice. ‘’I’m going to do more than kiss you’’ Callum said, with the American accent. Y/n slightly opened her mouth, but it was enough for a drop of water to go straight in her throat, making her chock on it. She started to cough really hard. ‘’I’m (cough) so sorry (cough)’’ she apologized. She felt bad for ruining the scene, but she was literally choking on water. ‘’Do we need a medic?’’ Tom Hanks asked. Callum started to gently tap her back, to help her cough. ‘’She’s still breathing, she might need a minute’’ he said. ‘’I’m (cough) choking on water (cough) it’s ridiculous. (cough)’’ she said. ‘’Stop talking, try to get the water out’’ Callum laughed.

-

The bloopers of Master of the Air got out and the moment where Y/n chocked made people laugh. So, when the were interviewed, people wanted to know more about it and what happened.

-

‘’Julie wanted to know, what was the hardest scene to shoot?’’ Josh asked. The cast started to laugh. ‘’For me, it was the shower sex scene. I mean, people have seen the bloopers. And the take before that I almost fell because it was slippery. And before Callum kissed me, I started to choke on water. So, I was like’’ she got up her chair, putted her hands on her knees, like she was out of breath. ‘’I’m okay (fake cough). I’m sorry (fake cough) I’m okay (fake cough). And Callum was tapping my back like: No she’s not!’’ she said with a fake British accent at the end. Callum started laughing even more, and so did Anthony Boyle. ‘’I was watching them, and Tom Hanks said to me: Do you really think she’ll survive this?’’ he laughed. Y/n came back in her seat and laughed more. ‘’We never had a boring day on set with those two. It was always fun’’ Austin said. ‘’At first, when she started choking, I thought, is it my fault? But when she said she was choking on water, I started to laugh, but I didn’t want to because she was coughing and it was serious, but she was so funny’’ Callum said. ‘’And I was almost naked! Cause I was wearing a white blouse that was supposed to become transparent, so I was coughing and trying to hide my tits. It was a really funny day on set’’ she added. The crowd was laughing and screaming. ‘’And you specify the place of the sex scene, is it that you guys have multiple sex scenes?’’ Josh asked. Callum and Y/n looked at each other, and they laughed. ‘’Well, maybe we don’t want to spoil the fans!’’ Callum exclaimed. Y/n hid her head in her hands and laughed again. Then she brought the mic next to her mouth. ‘’We saw in the trailer that we had, I think we have in total like 5 sex scenes’’ she admitted. The fans yelled and expressed their happiness. ‘’Next’’ Y/n said, red as a tomato.

[ferrstappen]

the second time we broke up l Lando Norris series

a/n: HELLO, I really like this concept and hope you enjoy it enough so I can come up with a third and final part that I have in mind <3 thank you for your messages, sorry for the delay on the requests, but I promise I'll get through them and announce the 1k celebration! <3

PART ONE HERE

pairing: Lando Norris x female!reader

words: 3.7k

warnings: teeny tiny allusions to sex, wear words.

genre: angst and some fluff <3

summary: there were reasons to try again, but maybe not enough.

You mourned the relationship, your first relationship, the classic way: crying, ice cream, sad love songs, getting drunk, bashing him with your friends who trash talked him with you, more crying, trying to get back up, realizing your worth. 

Learning to live with no Lando, your dorky friend and loving boyfriend. 

On the other hand, Lando was angry. He didn’t let himself cry, feel sad, be sorry for himself, be apologetic. He was resentful. Did you feel superior to him? How could you do better than him, a Formula 1 driver? 

Maybe it was his bruised ego talking, acknowledging you actually could do better than an immature F1 driver who couldn’t give you stability, the comfort you deserved, the attention he couldn’t (or didn’t want to) reciprocate.

He simply let go, detached himself from the situation and simply forgot about it; rolled his eyes whenever friends from home brought you up at the same time he was getting acquainted with other people. Lando Norris was just realizing the world was his and had to take advantage of it; he was wanted, he was desired, and he let it go to his head while walking the streets of Monaco, letting his eyes trace the silhouette of women who dedicated him a flirty smile.

He spent more time discovering Monaco’s night life, going out with other drivers and their social circles, leaving the club with a stunning woman by his side, gaining the experiences he lacked because everything he got to know was you. 

This went on for the entire break, he rapidly left the family home after Christmas under the excuse of clearing his head, feeling comfortable in his new home, new country.

It all lasted until the season was supposed to start, but it didn’t.

In the blink of an eye, he was cloistered; no more night life, expensive champagne, exotic cocktails, waking up with a different figure every morning before gently letting them know it was time to leave. 

For the first time he was realizing the hotel room was empty; one suitcase, one phone charger. The bathroom only had the miniature hotel goodies, there wasn’t a shampoo bar, some Lush shower gel (that he always used), no hair left in the tub, YLS perfume on the counter. 

The next day he noticed Charles had a new girlfriend, Charlotte he heard, and he saw a bit of you in her; she was shy, educated, wealthy family, an outfit that could’ve resembled yours whenever you blessed the McLaren garage with your presence, and she was also carrying her laptop in order to get some reading done while supporting her boyfriend.

That was the moment Lando noticed you were missing.

He didn’t know what to do at first, what are you supposed to do to regain contact with your ex-girlfriend with whom you didn’t have the friendliest of break ups? It’d only been a couple of months, but he was aware he was different and of course you would be as well. 

He tried to subtly ask Max whenever he flew over to Monaco (pretty much every weekend). His best friend only fed him small details here and there, knowing exactly the intentions of his friend, even if he tried to act all nonchalant and recounting his experiences with girls here and there.

But there was only so much Max could take.

“Mate, what’s the thing with (y/n)? Why do you keep asking me about her?” Max asked, Lando caught unprepared for the question (or outburst) of his friend. 

“What do you mean? Of course I want to know about her, she’s still my friend,”

Max rolled his eyes. “Mate, you’ve rolled your eyes during the last month whenever someone brought her up, behaving like a child throwing a tantrum and now you’re all interested?” Max questioned his best friend, trying to use an understanding tone so Lando wouldn’t shut down. “I can’t help you unless you tell me, mate.”

Lando took a deep breath. 

How was he supposed to tell him he missed you?

No, that was too simple, too ordinary, I miss you couldn’t begin to express the turmoil of feelings wanting to burst out of his lips after being muted and ignored for so long.

He enjoyed silence, but he missed your quiet humming. 

He had fun meeting new girls, but he craved your body under, on top, against his own, like two pieces of a perfect puzzle knowing what the other needed. 

He got annoyed sometimes when you asked him to keep his voice down while streaming, but he missed the scattered papers, books, class notes on the living room table, eyes closed and hair scattered over the table.

He hated his closet, full of hoodies, not one trench coat, denim or leather jacket, thick sweater. 

He despised his kitchen, only watching his trainer approved food, no ice cream, hidden Maltesers as to not tempt him, bland orange Jaffa Cakes he’d always laugh and call you a grandma for having them. 

He missed your careless figure, only a bra and thong or boy shorts roaming from the bathroom to the bedroom over and over again, always missing a t-shirt, a skin tint, a brush, a hair pin. 

He hated himself for forgetting to call his mum, being used to you reminding him to FaceTime her.

And so he told Max everything; the void on his chest, the shivers in his arms, the empty side of the bed, the rose scented shower gel, the tingling on the palm of his hand, the exhaustion of trying to find you in other people when he knew there was no one like you, the desperation of thinking of you with someone else, the fear of not living the future he made up in his head.

Of course, after he let it out of his chest his best friend was staring at him as if he grew an extra head. Why didn’t you say this before? Lando answered he hadn’t realized, he wasn’t aware of his feelings, eyebrows rising when Max snorted; half mocking, half shocked at Lando’s cluelessness. 

“Mate, you have to be honest with yourself if you even want a fighting chance,” Max knew if he didn’t tell Lando, he’d never be aware or liable of his actions. “Mate, she’s fine now, but it was such a low point, her parents didn’t want me to see her at first because I’m your best mate,”

Lando threw his head back in surprise, squinting, asking Max whatever he meant, because he was well aware of his feelings and what he longed for.  

I cannot be the one to break it to you, mate. Those were Max’s words, and Lando was getting annoyed. 

“Fuck’s sake, Max. what do you want me to say? That I’m sorry? She’s the one who broke up with me!” Lando exclaimed with a raised voice.

Max groaned, an annoyed, i-can’t-believe-i-have-to-be-the-one-who-tell-you-this groan. 

It’s your fucking ego, Lando. It got so fucking big don’t even know how a body as small as yours could handle that incredible vision of yourself when you couldn’t bring yourself to go back home and have some pints together, you didn’t care on calling for our birthdays, we got some fucking McLaren merch you told someone to send us, nothing. Max felt as if he was slowly emptying his chest. 

Lando was shaking his head, the events he was hearing weren’t veridic, Max created a scenario that never happened. 

Max continued, ignoring Lando’s denial.

And we are your friends, (y/n) was your girlfriend. Mate, you forgot about her and she didn’t even have to tell any of us because she was making excuses for you. Of course you were busy, mate, but so was her and you couldn’t care less. Bob, I’m telling you this because you are my best mate, but please hold yourself accountable. Yes, she was the one who announce the break up, but it wasn’t because she wanted to.

Taken aback, trying to come up with a response, Lando realized his walls were crumbling, his heart was aching, his brain was making the connections, bringing back the actions he knew were wrong.

Fuck you, mate. I’m still putting on a good word and try to come up with something, but fuck you, Bob.

Nothing a hug, a pint and Call of Duty couldn’t repair. 

Three weeks went by where Max prepared the field for his friend, making sure every friend was on board, slowly settling ideas on their friends.

We all have free next weekend?

It’s been long since we’ve all hung out together.

We’ve all been studying and working so hard, we deserve to have a little break. 

Do any of you have any ideas?

Lando told me we are all welcome at McLaren for Barcelona, two more weeks. 

That’s when Max’s efforts and intentions were clearer. Lando wanted to make amends or bring back the group? Did he need something? Probably not, it still didn’t make sense. 

Your friends agreed with very little hesitancy, probably assuming if Max was proposing the idea chances were you were in the loop of sharing a space with Lando, especially after the circumstances. 

After everyone left you asked Max why would he put you in that position, knowing being back on the paddock would be full of awkward interactions for you, asking whether or not you were back with Lando, your name being thrown around on social media, strangers paying just a little more attention at you in classes, righ after you’d gotten over it. 

But were you truly over it? The situation, yes. The wave died, only focusing on your well-being, learning to be without him. 

Now, were you over him? Of course not. You missed his teary laugh, his messy curls in the morning, the glint in his eyes when he saw you get off the plane with your bag, the flutter on your stomach whenever he smiled at you, unafraid of letting you know how much he loved you. 

It was two weeks, but felt just like a couple of minutes, boarding a crowded British Airways flight to Barcelona, using the excuse of having too much to study in order to not pay much attention to what was going on, Apple Music choosing the worst song choices for your state of mind.

But God, you couldn’t have cared less about someone who loved you more

I’d say you broke my heart, but you broke much more than that

Now, I don’t want your sympathy I just want myself back

This was a terrible idea, your thoughts of getting up and announcing you didn’t feel so good so the plane couldn’t leave the ground. You weren’t ready to face Lando and all the feelings it’d bring back. 

And don’t you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded?

Don’t you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing?

Ugh, and fuck this song as well. That’s the last thought on your mind before angrily opening a Maltesers family sized bag, preparing your nostrils to feel his perfume again, your hand to touch the soft fabric of his hoodies, your check for the courteous and familiar peck on the cheek. 

The hotel was the same, papaya t-shirts walking all directions before going to the track, with some people not knowing you, others trying to hide their surprise before saying their heys. 

And the rest was a blur, completely. 

He saw you, you saw him. 

Lando put on his best façade, a relaxed expression on his face, usual smile, normal stance. Neither you nor Lando lingered on the first hug, make eye contact after the greeting cheek contact, announcing you’d all go out on Sunday, Carlos would bring some friends and whatever. 

Max expressed his frustration to Lando, noticing he didn’t do anything to even get close to you, with the driver telling his best friend he was paralyzed, his mind betraying him and not letting him think straight; your perfume too familiar, too starved of your touch, too drunk on your voice. But he tried his best, supported by his friends, Carlos patting his back before directing him towards you, using the excuse of you catching up with Isa.

Isa ad her boyfriend quickly fell into a quiet conversation, trying their best to give Lando and you the space required while both of you updated each other on whatever happened since you last saw each other. 

And you were weak. 

Weak for the veins showing on his arms, the grip of his hands on the bottle, the light stubble on his chin, Lando throwing a joke on the only reason behind the light hairs even seeing the light of day was because you weren’t with him because, being honest, you would’ve told him to get rid of it. 

Maybe you wouldn’t fix things, but maybe you could get something from this trip. At least waking up next to him, stepping inside your bubble one more time. 

Crazy stuff how body and soul connect, completely silencing your reasonable head screaming to get away from him, trying to remind you of the tears, the disappointment, the crushed self-esteem, the sleepless nights seeing him with girls who didn’t always look like you. Body on the other hand… was ready to throw it all overboard just to touch his lips again, caress the soft skin, draw the freckles and moles decorating the beautiful canvas called Lando.

That’s why you agreed to leave with him, but little did you know Lando’s thoughts never mimicked yours. He just wanted to walk you to your assigned hotel room, asking if you could talk; maybe now, maybe tomorrow, maybe in a couple of weeks, but he needed to inform you he’d be waiting for the conversation, the uncomfortable heart-to-heart. 

And it happened.

He recounted the facts from his point of view: overwhelming welcome to the historic team, his name thrown around all over, everybody trying to get a bit of him, and in the attempt to please everyone, he neglected you and your history, disrespected the shared love and admiration, destroyed the strong pillars of your entire relationship. 

You chronicled every phase of your process: the denial, anger, adoration, sadness disappointed. How the situation decimated the vision you had of yourself, trying to understand why your heart ached for him still. 

He wasn’t afraid this time to let a few tears run down his beautiful eyes, quick to erase them and hide the quiver on his voice, to tell you he was willing to fight because after not having you, at the short age of twenty, he was sure you were his person, his meant to be. 

You let him kiss you softly; not rushing, not letting your hands wonder over known but forbidden places. With the only purpose of trying to keep up, inform each other of the feelings, the love, adoration and need.

It was like the break up never happened, you were flying and walking next to him during the next GP, kissing his helmet for good luck. You’d never deny the awkward moments when he crossed paths with a regular paddock girl with whom he shared a short time with, but you were able to understand.

The love only grew. 

This time, more mature and secure, no longer with books scattered and messy buns after days and nights of studying, you packed everything and moved to Monaco with him, taking his words to heart: you were his person, his meant to be. 

Then years passed, and what you thought was a more mature relationship, more secure, crumbled down with one simple DM telling you a model was exchanging messages with Lando and were partying together a couple of weeks ago, a little too close.

You never questioned his late nights, inconvenient meetings, new projects. Never once doubted him and his love for you. 

Now you are twenty three.

This break up was different. You were adults; more mature, with more to lose. 

This time he was crying and you were angry; angry as you stared at the kitchen you had carefully chosen the right cutlery, the right shade of beige, the perfect vase. You had jumped, even when he gave you no reason at all to do it, your love for him was that great, sacrificing everything you could think of.

For it to end up like this. 

He was crying. Not that fake crying with soft whimpers and sniffling. No, he was crying. 

Lando was aware of the weight of his mistake, his brain knew the outcome, but his heart was trying to hold on for dear life, working to get a reaction out of you, doing everything in his power to show the desperation trying to crawl off his skin.

How could you? How can you be so selfish, when did you become this sorry excuse of a man who couldn’t tell me to my face you were seeing someone else, you chose to humiliate me. How can you care so little about me that you keep breaking me? What did I do to you to put me in this position? The painful thoughts and reality shaking you and letting  

I am not seeing someone else! Baby, you flinched, yes we were exchanging messages and whatever but it meant nothing. You know a lot of influencers and fucking whatever message me all the time. 

Yes, Lando, and you answer to each one of them. That’s what you told him while rolling your tearful eyes.

I know it was right there, borderline, I didn’t do anything, we just exchanged some messages, she was flirty and yes, I kind of followed along but she always knew I am in a committed relationship.

“Are you trying to make things worse?” That was your honest question, catching his desperation but devastated by the situation. 

She found me. I was hanging with Max and Kelly and she found me, I don’t know how. I held her waist for like ten seconds and then she tried to kiss me and I backed away. Kelly even told her to go away, she even spoke in Portuguese, she can tell you that! 

Stil you some how are not aware of your actions, Lando. Please tell me how you still are the same boy I fell in love you years ago, but not in a good way! you’re immature. Again, once again I’m here, in this fucking position, how am I supposed to get over this? I do not have the strength to get back up from this because you’ve somehow taken everything. 

That was the catharsis, the implosion of your insides, breaking everything it came in contact with. 

At least, this time you were not staying with things to tell him. This time you were letting him carry the burden of fucking things up.

“I gave up England, I gave up festivities with my family because you were tired, created this whole new life because it was convenient for you, your career, your everything and the last, the only thing I asked from you was respect, because it’s not enough for you to love me, you have to respect me and you keep showing me you don’t and it’s heartbreaking because I don’t know how, after all these years…”

The silence was unbearable, your pain was deafening. Lando’s helplessness palpable. 

“I don’t know what to do for you to see everything I do, everything I sacrifice. For you to realize that I’m great, that I am not just a pretty girl for you to show around sometimes. I’m intelligent, I know that I am good,” Now you were choking, the sobs were excruciating even if your words didn’t make sense for Lando, but the feelings were strong your head was spinning.

“Why can’t you see that? Why do you put me in this position, humiliated once again when you are supposed to love me, respect me, cherish me…”

More silence. More desperation. More tearing. 

“Or maybe I don’t deserve that?” You quietly asked him. Because maybe you were the problem, the factor why things failed. Maybe you really were not enough, the image of yourself not real, your love not that important, your presence not very needed.

Lando shook his head and said no, of course not, to please don’t say that. 

“Maybe I have this image of myself and it’s not the truth, because I feel worthless, Lando. All I’ve ever wanted is to be enough for you, to be the person you come home to, and I don’t know why I failed again.”

He cried and denied everything, completely taking the blame, assuming the consequences but trying the last desperate resorts. 

One month later, he was with the girl on a yacht.

Two months later, you saw them entering Lando’s parents house, iron gates opening and letting you catch a glimpse from across the street of your parents’ home.

That was the last time you saw Lando Norris.

At least for now. 

[huramuna]

banshee's lament - chapter 7.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

wordcount: 2.5k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

a/n: a short chapter, but very important! the next 3 after this will be very action packed! and then it is the end of act 1!

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, my terrible, terrible combat writing, descriptions of injuries, allusions to suicide, talk of chronic pain and illness

story playlist

Shera had never rushed before so much in her life. She needed out. Out of Viserys’ room, out of the tunnels, out, out, out. As she pushed a stone backing, her knees skidded across the cobbled ground, skin ripping from them violently. Oh, how adept she’d become at injuring herself. She haphazardly wiped a few tears away.

The crisp night air whipped against her face before the smell changed– her other senses other than sight had become so keen since her loss of sight in her eye, so she was especially sensitive to even the most minute change in scents. She smelled the distinct aroma of fire– ashes to ashes, wafting along the breeze, mingling with a familiar smell of sandalwood and white cedar musk. 

A pair of polished black boots, now a bit dull in their pallor from soot, stood in front of her. 

“Lost, little banshee?” Aemond cooed. She could practically see the grin on his face, once again not of joy but something akin to self-assuredness and beastly callousness. 

“I told you…” she croaked, putting her now bloodied fingertips up to her throat, the pain reverberating through every word. “Don’t… call me that, nūmāzma zaldrīzes.” Mean dragon. She didn’t look up, or lift herself in any sort of way. Shera was all too aware she was not wearing her veil, nor her choker– and Aemond’s comments at the dinner (that he had still not apologized for, the cad) were festering in her mind, stinging and infecting like a plague. They hadn’t spoken since her almost ill-fated swan dive. He probably thought she was still suicidal. 

It was all too quick for her to register, her vision was still spinning, but he had picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, or perhaps a bale of hay. He didn’t say anything further as he began to walk down the hall, deeper into the Keep. 

Shera’s face went beet red as she sniffled, kicking her legs against him. “Put me down,” she growled, her voice raising more than it should, her tone becoming skewed and cracking. She resorted to trying to bite him then, her teeth fastening down on the leather jerkin he was wearing. It was so thick, that her attempt to snap her jaws upon his skin was hardly even registered to him.

“No.” he responded flatly, an arm fastened around her waist that was slung over his shoulder, his other hand coming up to swat her bottom. “Stop trying to bite me.”

“This is demeaning.” she hissed, now resulting in hitting her forehead on his shoulder blade, hoping to hide the fact that her face was burning scarlet at the fact that he had swatted her bum like an insolent child, no less carrying her like one. 

“Yes– well, mayhaps you shouldn’t be sneaking around at night, much less without your mutt guiding you.”

She grumbled a noise of discontentment, burying her face into his shoulder blade as a means to hide herself further, lest anyone see the absolutely precarious position that Aemond– and herself– had put her in.

They didn’t speak much as he took her back to her chambers. Moongeist was awake in an instant when he opened the door, growling and snarling.

“... s’okay,” Shera mustered as Aemond planted her on the ground next to the wolf, who immediately calmed at his owner’s presence– not without a wary look towards the prince, though. She put her hand on his head, her fingertips shaking. 

“You’re bloody, Shera.”

“Fell.”

“You can’t go to bed bloody. You’ll stain the sheets.”

“I can.”

“You can– but the maids would most certainly report it to my mother, or worse, to Rhaenyra. It’s not exactly a good look for a supposed maiden bride-to-be having bloodied sheets?”

Shera sighed, putting her head in her hands as she sat at her boudoir. “Get on with it.”

“Tell your mutt to not bite me, then.” Aemond returned in an equally annoyed tone as he wet a cloth at the washing basin, swathing it over her skinned knee, while keeping his eye trained on Moongeist– who in turn, was staring back at him.

“Have half a mind to… you were… quite mean.”

“Mean? I helped you back to your room.”

“At the dinner, when I came back. And you have been quiet since the… Kingswood.” 

“Ah.”

“... ‘ah’? That’s it?”

“Tell me truthfully; are you being coerced into this? If you are, I will cut that Strong bastard from stem to stern like a roasted pig. I see what it's doing to you. You’re frayed at the ends.”

He’s noticed? She glanced at him waywardly, fists squeezing in her lap. “I’m not some helpless little creature with no power… I still have some voice.”

“Hardly.”

“Jacaerys has been… cordial and proper,” she said. When he isn’t fucking my brother, that is.  “He even has written me letters when not visiting. What a novel idea that is, hm?” 

“You’re still upset about that?”

Shera peeked through the hair fallen in front of her face, scowling. “Yes. I am.”

He reached his hand up to pry one of hers from her face. “I’ll need to clean these, too. Even so, I do believe it requires two people to have a conversation through letters, does it not? I don’t recall receiving anything addressed to me from you over the years. I heard Helaena got quite a few.” 

Shera pressed her marred side of her face into her shoulder as she let Aemond clean the blood from her fingertips. She didn’t want him to see– she couldn’t. She didn’t quite understand the confidence that Aemond had, his scar proudly on display above and below his eyepatch. The tips of her ears went red at his insinuation. “... I suppose we both could’ve sent letters, then. I just…” her fingertips twitched as he pressed the cloth underneath her nails, scraping the dried blood from under them. “I wasn’t sure you would want to…” her hands strayed from his grasp, to which he grunted at, taking them back. “Cregan wrote the response for the first one. It… I’m sure you know it was a lie now. He is such an idiot– I am the opposite of fine. I don’t think I’ve been fine in nearly a decade.” her bottom lip wobbled slightly as she rambled on, saying all the things she’d always wanted to say to someone– no, not someone– to him. 

“... it was callous of me,” he finally offered, “To say… what I did at the dinner. It was mostly to rile Jacaerys.” he finally responded, putting the cloth to the side and examining her to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. “I’m sorry.” Aemond spoke his apology quietly, but looked directly at her face, then. His face was… surprisingly open. Not guarded.

“... ‘twas not far from the truth.”

“May I see?” 

Shera shook her head vehemently. “You can’t.”

“Please.”

She made a noise of disagreement, pressing her face further to her shoulder. She didn’t, however, account for the visibility of the scar on her throat, jagged and raised against the soft flesh of her neck. She felt one of Aemond’s fingers trace it, across slowly, then upward. His hand went to her chin and he turned her face towards him. And she let him. She didn’t have much energy to stop him, anyhow. 

His touch was soft, which surprised her greatly– she thought him unhewn and rough in all places– but this was something reminiscent of how he used to touch her as children. He was always gentle with her before. Her face was turned to him completely now, unveiled, unhidden– she braced herself for the look of humor or pity on his face, her heart stopped beating for a moment, her breaths caught in her chest.

Brushing an errant hair aside, he traced the scar over her eye. It wasn’t an entirely clean cut, like he had guessed, jutting out into two diverging lines, like branches of a tree going downward. His violet eye, the hue hardly visible from how large his pupil was, was trained on her blind one. The milky blue, her own pupil long gone. The edges of his lips curled into something akin to wonder. There wasn’t a look of pity and it didn’t seem like he was about to make another poor jest about her face– he just looked, as if to study it, to commit it to memory.

“Blue?” he murmured. “How curious.”

The way he said it had Shera perking her brow– it sounded like an epiphany to him, his voice taking a lighter note than she’d heard. There was no trace of callousness that had been exuding from him previously. He was calm.

“Yes, it's blue,” she muttered in response, his taut (but not uncomfortable) grip on her chin keeping her facing him. She desperately wanted to hide away, hide, hide. She’d never felt so exposed in her life, so naked– and she was fully clothed. It felt like her soul was on display to him, cracking from her ribcage. 

“Let me formally apologize,” he cleared his throat. “‘Tis not mangled at all, nor a mess. I now wonder, even more than before, why you persist with the veil.” Aemond let go of her chin, but not before giving it a little tug in an almost playful manner. Aemond? Playful?

“I like them– it's… to hide.” 

“Hide? To make oneself obscured, to conceal and fade into the background,” he pondered it for a moment. “You make yourself a spectacle with that thing, Shera. You are doing the opposite of hiding.”

Shera puffed out her chest, arms crossed over defensively. “A spectacle?”

“You chastised me for calling you a banshee, when you dress the part,” he leaned back in his chair, hands laced together over his stomach. He was relaxing. 

She puffed, rolling her eyes. She mimicked his body position, leaning back with her hands on her stomach. It felt… odd to be looking at him without any inhibition. It felt almost normal. Normal– normal. When was the last time she felt normal?

“I want to clarify,” she cleared her throat, fingertips paused on her throat from speaking up too fast, too loudly. “I was not trying to kill myself. It… I… I’m not suicidal.”

Aemond’s expression didn’t change, he merely focused his gaze even more onto her. He didn’t say anything.

“The… disassociation is new, like Hela told you,” Shera’s hands wrought over one another slowly. “But it isn’t… unusual, given my… conditions.”

“Conditions?” he asked finally. His face still didn’t give away any emotion.

“... no one else knows except for Cregan and the maesters at Winterfell. Jace probably knows from Cregan… telling him all the things that are wrong with me, to look out for when we’re married.” she took a breath before continuing. “The maesters don’t exactly know what to call it— but it is… I lose control of my body and fall to the ground, convulsing— it's terribly painful and then everything goes black. We have referred to it as my… fainting spells, but it surely feels like more than fainting. It’s… quite violent.” 

Aemond blinked. Hard. He took a beat to absorb the information before speaking. His position shifted as he leaned forward. “When was the last time you had one of these… spells?” 

“… not since Winterfell.” 

“I don’t remember this being an issue when you were younger— is it… relatively new?” he asked then. His lips were pursed together in a tight line, in tandem with his furrowed brow. 

“Since Driftmark.” 

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly at the mention. “Another thing for us to bear, isn’t it?” he gave a low, bitter chuckle. “The Gods weren’t satisfied in our mutilation alone and had to… bestow us with lasting gifts, hm?” 

Shera stayed silent, sitting up to where their knees were touching. Her eyes were wide as she took him in. His melancholic smile and the dullness of his eye as he looked off somewhere in the distance.

“The pain is bad most days. And on its worst days, it’s unbearable. The… the nerve damage, the maesters said. I’ll live with it forever— a constant thrum and reminder of it. There’s a few medicines that help temporarily but…” his voice trailed off, his gaze returning to her. “I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothing to apologize for, Aemond.” 

“I do and I do not— I should’ve protected you. I should’ve killed them.” he gave an ugly sneer, lip curled. 

Shera’s heart felt like it was in her throat. She wanted to cry, to scream for his pain, for her pain. She couldn’t speak, her voice coming out in unintelligible, choked sobs. 

He looked sad, too. The depth of his despair laid bare in front of her for only a moment. The mask slipped back on, his proverbial walls back up. 

But she knew. 

They were so alike— even now.

–

Aemond had always prided himself on his resilience, on his ability to mask his emotions into stone. 

Why did he become so unraveled with Shera? He confided in her so easily, as if it was second nature. 

His boots stomped down the corridor of Maegor’s Holdfast without much care. He was coming apart at the seams, like a thread pulled from an old doublet, letting the structure of the garment fall away. 

All it took was one thread. 

He found himself at his desk, candles lit. The piece of fabric she’d gifted to him, with her silly note, was still there. He clutched it in his hand, bringing it to his face and taking a breath. 

Lavender, rosemary, chamomile. The scent of her on it still lingered, if not a bit faded. 

He would smell it in the halls, coming back from training. He knew she’d been watching him in secret for the past moon. Whenever it wafted near him, he had half a mind to follow her, to confront her, to hold her—

Fuck. He was fucked. He was fucked the moment she came to King’s Landing— the very first time. 

His hand glided through his hair as he snapped off the leather cord holding it back from his face. Strands of it fell over his vision as he tossed his eyepatch to the settee behind him. 

Taking out the sapphire was a tedious task. And painful. 

But damn the Gods, if he wasn’t vain. Even if he was the only one who saw it most of the time. He clenched his free fist, white knuckled as he prised the gem from his socket, setting it aside. 

He picked up the note that had been attached to her fabric favor, looking over it again. Her handwriting was terrible— but so inevitably her. Pulling a key from under a stack of innocuous papers, he unlocked the third drawer that fell down the side of the oak desk. 

In it, were letters. Penned by him. Unsent, unseen. 

All for her. Everything he’d wanted to say to her for years, everything he’d ever written with her in mind. 

Everything he never could confess— not even now.

There were at least a hundred letters in the drawer, dated from those ten years apart. 

He placed the favor note on the top and locked it back in place. The favor fabric, however, stayed in his hand. 

After some careful cutting and somewhat haphazard stitching— Aemond had sewed a small segment of the fabric to the inside of his eyepatch. 

He stowed the remainder of it in his nightstand.

He was so fucked.

[captain-joongz]

Abraxas; Act 1, Interlude I

Pairing: mafia boss!Min Yoongi x police officer!reader

Genre: angst, humour and some fluff, investigative, dark themes, slowburn, enemies to lovers, eventual smut

Chapter summary: Amidst a possible scheme against him and his organisation, Yoongi also has to also deal with the new and quite ambitious police officer. But why does he find himself so reluctant to?

Word count: cca 13.5k

Warnings: Yoongi POV! , discussion of illegal activities, drugs, tailing/stalking, mentions of death and blood, allusions to murder and drug deals

THIS ISN'T THE FIRST CHAPTER, IT'S ACTUALLY CHAPTER 2, PLEASE CHECK OUT THE SERIES MASTERLIST OR CLICK PREVIOUS PART FOR CHAPTER 1

Series masterlist | Previous part | Next part

A/N: it's Yoongi's POV!!! yes i'm on the midnight sun trend hehe. sorry for the slight delay, but here it is in all its glory, hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter too ^^

I threw back the remnants of my whiskey and sighed with the pleasant burn. I wasn’t exactly having the best evening and I entirely blamed Jimin for it. And Tae too, he wasn’t about to get off scot-free. I wasn’t even supposed to be in Dynamite tonight and the incessant buzzing of my phone in my pocket kept reminding me that I was sorely needed in The Rose to deal with a difficult customer.

The longer I stood in the hallway leaning against a wall waiting for Taehyung to show up, the more nervous and pissier I was growing. Someone kept blowing up my phone as if that was going to get me there faster, when I had to take over from Namjoon to deliver these documents and Taehyung was late. I tapped my foot on the floor impatiently and hypnotised the corner leading to back to the club with my eyes. It was just one of those nights.

Ten minutes later I finally lost my patience and made my way back into the main room and beelined straight for the bar.

“Hyung,” Yeonjun greeted me as soon as I got there and automatically reached for my favourite whiskey, “Rough night?” I just hummed, too frustrated by the absolute shitstorm today was to keep up the friendly chatter.

“Some fucker’s tearing apart The Rose because Jimin messed up and Tae’s late,” I grumbled and accepted the glass gratefully. I kicked it back in a single gulp and handed the glass back along with the folder of documents. Yeonjun looked at it confused but accepted it nonetheless.

“Give this to Taehyung once he finally gets here, thanks,” I said and immediately turned to leave. It didn’t sit well with me leaving it here just like that, but Yeonjun was trustworthy, the kid’s proven himself a few times since he started working the bar here, so I at least felt a little consoled by that. And if he did try to fuck me over, I knew who I left it with last, so it would be fucking stupid.

My phone started buzzing again, but this time it was a phone call. Jimin. I gritted my teeth and moved back to the empty hallway to take it.

“Hyung, please, Mr. Cho is going to kill me,” Jimin pleaded immediately, “He’s been asking for you for the past 30 minutes.”

“You were the one that messed up his order, Jimin,” I said irritated, “You should deal with it.” There was a beat of silence which allowed me to hear the distant screaming in the background.

“I know, hyung, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again,” the blond man answered, and he sounded so genuinely remorseful, I didn’t have it in myself to keep scolding him. I let out a sigh and took it a bit easier on him.

“I told you to check the goods,” I chided him a bit more gently, “and to make sure you’re working with reliable sources. You sold him subpar shit for the full price. We can’t have that happening at The Rose.”

“I know, hyung,” Jimin repeated, and I could hear his pout through the phone, “I’m going to deal with Dongwook once I’m done here.” I smiled a little at that. Jimin often fooled people into thinking he’s soft and weak with his angelic looks, but he was a force to be reckoned with once crossed. So many have tried to fuck him over thinking he’s the weakest link only to be very painfully proven wrong by him.

“Take Kookie with you, I think he’s with Namjoon right now,” I told him simply, much less angry than when the conversation started. I checked my watch again. Taehyung was still nowhere to be seen, even though he told me he’d be here almost a half hour ago. Jimin on the other side of the phone just hummed.

“Do you know where Taehyung is?” I asked him, some frustration making it back into my voice, “I’m going to have to teach him what 30 minutes mean.” Jimin started answering but was cut off by aggressive knocking on a door somewhere in his background.

“Oh no,” he just said, “That’s definitely Mr. Cho. When are you going to get here?” I sighed and pinched the root of my nose.

“Put him on the phone,” I told him and leaned fully on the wall to prepare myself for this. There was some shuffling, muffled screaming, then the door opened and suddenly I could hear the man yelling at full volume. Jimin told him something and it made him calm down a little. Then I could hear heavy breathing.

“Mr. Min,” Cho growled into the receiver, “Explain yourself. I paid full buck for this shit, it’s barely consumable. I gave it to my boys and they barely even touched it.”

“Calm down Mr. Cho,” I said calmly, “Jimin made a mistake by not checking it over, but there seems to be some attempt from our suppliers to fuck us over. We’re thoroughly investigating it now, my apologies. If you could wait a few days, I’ll get you your usual. And a guaranteed discount on the next batch.” Technically, I wasn’t even lying. There was an attempt to fuck us over, only they weren’t our usual suppliers, they were some ghouls Jimin was trying out. I warned him to be sure they’re trustworthy and he assured me everything was under control. Sure seems like it…

“Fine,” Mr. Cho finally gritted out, “You’re so fucking lucky your services are otherwise top-tier, or else I’d you have you swimming with the fish.” I fought to supress a scoff. Mr. Cho has always been like this, all bark no balls. He loved to threaten others as if he had some power, but all he had was a hefty inheritance that has thinned considerably through the years he spent getting high in my clubs. Always quick to blow up and throw his name around, but calmed down the moment he spoke to me cause he knew I wouldn’t tolerate his bullshit.

Jimin fucking hated him and hated dealing with him, cause he’d always get yelled at for everything, but it would get resolved the moment I’d get involved even though I said the same thing Jimin did just moments before me. Mr. Cho would always grumble and make vague threats, but ultimately go with it cause he knew if one of us had the power to make people disappear in the river, it was definitely me. That’s why I occasionally took the time to remind him of his place.

“Be careful with your words, Mr. Cho, to some they could be taken as a provocation,” I warned him with a faux friendly tone, “Give the phone back to Jimin.” The order was clear, and Mr. Cho didn’t even argue more, thoroughly settled and not interested in getting into more trouble. There was some shuffling and then Jimin was back on the line.

“Hyung, thank you,” he heaved a sigh of relief as the door slammed shut on his side, “He just left. I don’t fucking understand why he always needs to hear from you when I tell him the same shit. What did you tell him anyway? He deflated like a carnival balloon.” Jimin chuckled a little and I hummed.

“The usual stuff,” I answered vaguely, “I gotta go now. If you hear from Taehyung, tell him he’s dead meat.” With that I hung up and went back to the bar.

Only, I stopped dead in my tracks on the way over. There, sitting on a bar looking incredibly out of place in plain t-shirt and jeans, sipping on a drink and watching the dancefloor with intense displeasure, was a quite familiar face.

Immediately on my return from the station last week I had Jungkook run a background check on the new officer in the force. I was surprised I managed to miss they got a newbie, but now I was as familiar with her as she was with me. What I didn’t expect though, was running into her in one of my clubs. I took a moment to watch her, coming up with a strategy on how to deal with this. Either she’s here undercover or she’s a naughty cop and wants something. And finding out which one would infinitely improve my day.

Mood instantly better at the prospect, I made my way over to her side. Looking back, I had no idea I was about to step into something that changed the course of my entire life.

In terms of first meetings, it was a tense one. Surprisingly, I found her quite easy to read, with her pursed lips in annoyance and fire in her eyes. She had the aura of a new young cop, eager to prove themselves, eager to solve all crime. It made me want to mess with her.

Every fibre of her being just screamed ambition and conviction, and even though I could see her naivety, I sensed the sharp edge that she was carrying inside. I knew, this was a person that has fought for everything, and they would continue to claw their way up until they tore themselves a piece of the world they deserved. In shock I realised I saw a little bit of my younger self in her, which forced a surprised laugh out of me. We both strived for different things, but I recognised the emotion with startling clarity.

Maybe that was what led me to talking more openly than I usually did. But somewhere deep down I needed her to understand. The world isn’t what she wants it to be, especially not in these parts. The sooner she would realise that the easier it would be to swallow.

Really, I shouldn’t even have been surprised when one day Jungkook came into my office with a tablet in hand and a serious look on his face. I immediately turned away from my notebook and leaned to the side, preparing myself for whatever he had to show me.

When the tablet finally did make it in front my face, it was a picture of a black, old and slightly banged up car. The car that we’ve noticed cruising suspiciously around a little too much. Jungkook’s tattooed finger swiped right and the next picture showed a close up of a driver taken probably from some nearby security camera. It was our little friendly neighbourhood police officer.

I smirked to myself. So, it seems she does not in fact know how to step away from things that might prove to be a little too much for someone with her ambition. I hummed to myself a little, not knowing whether I was disapproving or impressed at her continued ignorance despite my warnings.

Jungkook swiped one last time to a document showing the license plate being registered to her name. I laughed and leaned back, making myself comfortable in the chair. Jungkook, on the other hand, sighed and put the tablet away.

“What do you wanna do about that?” he asked seemingly neutral, but I knew the look on his face. It was the kind of disapproval I saw in him often when police force was involved. He believed I should be more careful and not toe the line with the detectives this much. Jungkook already knew I wouldn’t ask for him to deal with it, but that I would let things progress naturally, and he was preparing himself for swallowing the order down even though his opinions differed.

“Jungkookie…” I sighed, “What am I supposed to say when you look at me like that?” I teased him gently, giving him a little smile.

“Hyung, you know how I feel about this,” he explained softly, looking a little more like a kid when he pursed his lips like that. I often felt guilty about pulling him into this shit all those years ago, no matter how much Jimin insisted the kid’s okay with it, that’s why I always treasured those moments when it was just the two of us, when Jungkook would stop being the mad dog protecting a criminal and go back to a youngster playing around with his hyung. I patted his shoulder and tried to look as reassuring as possible.

“It’s fine, Jungkookie,” I assured him, “I’m not gonna get in trouble.” He looked at me like a kid that already knew the Santa wasn’t real and felt insulted his parents still tried to bullshit him every Christmas.

“You’re playing with fire too much,” Jungkook answered petulantly, “You’re making my job infinitely more difficult.” I sighed and stood up. Jungkook had a sudden growth spurt some years ago and now towered over me like a mountain, so I found myself looking up even though I wanted to console him. I gently clasped my hands over both of his shoulders and smiled again.

“It’s going to be okay,” I whispered, “I swear. I know what I’m doing.” He frowned but ultimately said nothing.

“Let her be for some time,” I ended up declaring after a moment of silence, “I want to know what she’s doing. What she wants to know. Then we decide what to do next.” Jungkook tensely nodded and looked out of the window with a grumpy face. I laughed at him a little and patted his head. That set his mood a little better.

“Do you think they’re back to tailing us?” he asked eventually. I had gone back to looking over the email I had been in the middle of answering, so I looked up at the younger man surprised he chose to continue with the subject.

“Hard to say,” I hummed thoughtfully, “I don’t think so. She’s not using the official police car, but hers. I bet she’s on her own.” I wondered what she was trying to do, following me for days. With a slight smile I looked out of the window and zeroed in on her car parked a little ways away from the building, but still within eyesight.

What game are you playing, officer?

In the end Jungkook didn’t let me allow her to stalk us longer than a few days before he started pushing me to deal with it properly. There wasn’t a clear read of what her goal was, which disappointed me a little. I doubt she was in it just to follow me around and watch me run errands, but maybe I was expecting a little more than she actually planned on achieving. I didn’t know why that bummed me out so much and I didn’t want to dwell on it, lest I start sinking into some uncomfortable realisations.

I was aware that part of this sudden sympathy was coming from knowing her personal history, and I couldn’t have that. Not when her story was so similar to my boys, not when it made me soft while dealing with potential danger to everything we worked so hard for.

She was the other side of the coin of kids growing up on the street – you either end up a criminal or the police. Her injustice made her want to solve everything wrong with this world. Our injustice made us realise the perfect way to exploit a broken system. But really, we were both one and the same, born from the same mud and moulded by the same violence.

In some way, it made it even harder for me to understand how she could stand on the side of the law.

But in the end, I did have to deal with it. Except I wouldn’t. Few days later when I was sitting in my office with clear view of her car and Jungkook’s burning eyes throwing daggers my way, I decided it was time to test her a little. Just a little push wouldn’t hurt.

I went out the side door, the one I knew she wasn’t aware of so I could give her a little surprise. And I wasn’t disappointed. Laughing at her frustration was easy, toying with her notebook and watching her nervously eye me was easy, teasing her was easy, and before I knew it, it slipped out.

“Good job. Try a bit harder next time, though.”

The second I said it I knew Jungkook was absolutely going to whoop my ass and Namjoon will wholeheartedly agree that I deserve a good thrashing. But I also had my own game and the burning of her eyes when she internally cursed me out made me want to see where this one was going. I left with a pep in my step even though I felt Jungkook’s disapproving aura.

“Relax, Kookie,” I told him once we were comfortably sat in our car, “We just need to know where exactly she’s going with this.” The man just stared at me blankly before resigning on this.

“Fine, but if I think she’s getting too close, I’ll report her to the police for stalking and harassment,” he growled and sulked the entire rest of the way. I couldn’t even tell him not to do that, so I conceded on it. We both knew what the stakes were.

“We haven’t been visited by our blue friends in a while,” commented Taehyung one normal Saturday and thus cursed it into existence, as not even ten minutes later Jungkook got a call the cops are demanding entrance into Pied Piper.

I groaned and leaned my head on the top of the couch, as the two youngsters started bickering.

“You just had to fucking jinx it,” Jungkook whined and Taehyung laughed at him. “We were all thinking it!” was his defence while popping fruits in his mouth. I tried to just disappear into the sofa. Today I was not in the mood for the police at all.

“God, why now,” I allowed myself to whine out and pout a little, giving them a little rare cute display of displeasure. I was fucking exhausted, it was one hell of a week dealing with the mess Jimin made.

The rats were trying to dodge us and make a run for it, maybe seek help from one of our rival gangs, but I had Jimin and Hobi track them down before the end of the week. As usual, Hoseok worked his magic and found them within two days, but the problem was they already moved onto enemy turf. And if I didn’t want this to turn into a big mess, I had to bargain them out. So I spent the week going back and forth with the Kims. First I tried being nice, explaining to them I will deal with this and it will be easier for all involved if they just move over and let us do our thing, until I ultimately had to subtly threaten them to get the fuck out of my way or we burn our path through their ranks too. I had just enough of snarky interactions for one week.

I swore that once this has been dealt with, I would fucking tear Jimin into two and the man was very well aware of that, so he has been acting cute and sending me little gifts, teasingly telling me he’s “trying to get back into my good graces”. That did put a little smile on my face again, as I did have a huge soft spot for him, and gave me tiny bit of energy to deal with this tonight. I sighed. The sooner this is over the better. I resignedly gestured at Jungkook, and he immediately called back to allow them entry.

“I bet you 200 bucks the other half is trying to mess with the dinner the mayor planned for today in your hotel’s restaurant,” Taehyung said eagerly, moving closer to us to look at us expectantly. I looked towards Jungkook, too tired to play this game and kind of hoping for him to take the lead, but he only shrugged.

“Ugh, I think it might be The Rose,” I said eventually when the silence stretched on for too long, “they may have caught wind of the scene Mr. Cho made there.” We both looked at Jungkook again, but he didn’t say anything and just threw his hands up in an ‘I have no idea’ gesture.

Few minutes later the bouncer entered the balcony and behind him Jang and lo and behold – officer Lee, our righteous stalker, the warrior of broken laws. Immediately, my mood skyrocketed. Now this should be fun.

“Did we crash a funeral or what? What’s with the fits?”

That startled a laugh out of me. What an entrance. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Taehyung leaning forward in interest and immediately knew that these two, if given the chance, are going to be the biggest menaces and pains in my ass.

I’ll be honest, I did want to test her a little. Find out how strong her resolve actually is and how good she is at reading the room. While Jang pissed me off and kept his mouth running, I focused on her body language and facial expressions, which was a beautiful blend of resistance and nervousness. I thoroughly enjoyed the uneasiness with which she was watching everything around her, no doubt remembering our first official meeting. “No one is above the law”? Well, look at you now, officer. Unwittingly I smirked into my glass.

This time, I took my time to ease into the teasing and tested her reaction to little quips here and there. I knew she wouldn’t want me to go talking about the time she spent lurking in front of my office, ever since I confirmed her actions weren’t sanctioned by the department, so I tried an inconspicuous little remark about it.

I wasn’t disappointed.

It took me years to perfect “the stare”. The maknaes especially always made fun of it, but even they couldn’t deny it worked. While yes, part of it was an intimidation technique, but what I truly was interested in was the person’s reaction and, inevitably, when they met my eyes, what I would find reflected in them. Cowards wouldn’t meet my eyes at all, those who tried to put up a fight but ultimately would break under the pressure looked for a moment and then turned away or their eyes flitted around and never stayed on anything for too long. Shifty people who tried to fuck me over also had a specific look to them, I could tell just from a single glance that they were greasy motherfuckers not worth anyone’s while.

What I saw in her eyes when she looked at me head on, was pure fire. For a moment I lamented that she wasn’t on our side, because I would kill to recruit someone like this for us. She was playing it well, and even though I could see her discomfort, there was weight to her stare, and a challenge. From the corner of my eye, I could see Taehyung watching her with rapt interest and even Jungkook seemed to pay more attention. They knew about the trials I sometimes put people through, and would no doubt ask me after the police left what I had seen.

I smiled and relaxed. I could see Taehyung do the same while he leisurely sipped on his margarita. He undeniably already knew. Very well then, for now we would continue playing this game. I even found myself quite eager to see what was in store for us in the next few weeks.

It’s not that the other policemen were bad or lacking, well, some of them were, but particularly Park and Jang, who I’ve seen the most around, they weren’t exactly bad at their job. Just… Park was a little too old-school, he was intelligent and experienced, but left lagging behind the modern world. His eyes spoke of an upright but boring man, a jerk but one that couldn’t care less about some clown sitting in an expensive suit in a club he owned spouting bullshit. That’s why I did quite like the man, I could respect him to some extent, despite everything.

Jang on the other hand, my dislike for him knew no bounds. He was a slimy little shifty fucker, all polite smiles and acting decent, but I’ve dealt with enough scumbags to know not to trust a guy like that. There was something about him that rubbed me the wrong way and made me wary of him; honestly, I was just waiting for him to slip up to deal with him.

When they left, just as I expected, Taehyung leaned towards me and whispered: “So that was quite good.” I hummed and kept my eyes trained on the stairs. Jungkook had left to deal with the situation at the office, where presumably Namjoon had been going through another impromptu interview, so we were the only ones left in the club.

“It was definitely interesting,” I answered finally. This time it was Taehyung that hummed.

“So it’s safe to say we’re not getting rid of her that easily,” he mused out loud in between chomping on strawberries and sipping on a fresh drink. I snorted and looked at him. I gestured at Soobin, who was left here by Jungkook to supervise over me until he either returns or I go home, and he nodded and made his way back to the bar to get me another whiskey.

“No, I think we’ve only just begun.”

I finally checked my phone to see a few messages from Joon and surprisingly even one from Hobi. I scanned through Namjoon’s, which could be summed up to “police showed up, don’t worry I have everything under control”. I wasn’t too sure what Park was trying to achieve by this, but I trusted Namjoon to deal with these things completely. We’ve been by each other’s side for as long as I could remember and we’ve seen it all together, I knew his capabilities and there wasn’t anything the police could do to move him.

Taking the fresh whiskey from Soobin who had just returned, I opened the chat with Hobi. His message was short, simple and perfectly ominous.

Hope, 19:22: got em hyung, me w/ boys gonna deal with it 2nite

I smiled and sipped the cool drink, at long last able to fully relax into the couch and just let the background hum of music lull me into a state of comfortable calm. At least one thing would be handled. Next to me I could hear Taehyung make mindless conversation with Soobin, but at that point I was already half asleep. With a slight smirk on my lips, I took another sip and knew. No one would fuck with me.

“Is it just me or we haven’t seen our little detective in a while?” Tae asked while leisurely lying on a sofa in my office. Seokjin turned to him and then back to me to gauge my reaction. I made sure to keep my face neutral as I returned his stare.

“Last time you said that they showed up like ten minutes later,” I murmured looking out of the window on the snowy streets as if expecting the police van to materialise out of thin air.

“Yeah, well, she hasn’t been around for a hot minute,” Taehyung reiterated, his eyes jumping between his two hyungs and waiting would take the bait and entertain him with a conversation, “There was a week when hyung couldn’t even piss without her knowing about it.”

“Why are you so interested in that?” Seokjin asked neutrally, leaned against a bookshelf on the wall opposite of the sofa, “All I hear from Jungkook is grumbling that Yoongi’s being stupid and it’s a safety concern.” I scoffed and looked back towards the two men.

“It’s hardly that,” I said calmly, “I don’t know what he’s expecting me to do, she’s still the police. She’s breaking the laws, yes, which is hilarious by the way, but I’m not petty enough to go through the whole ordeal of reporting her just for sniffing around our business a little.” Seokjin gave me a look, a look that was so specific to him and exactly what I’d been afraid of, that I just dodged his eyes for my own sanity. I hoped Taehyung would keep his mouth shut because Jin, even though he acted silly a lot of the times, had the clairvoyant gift of perfectly guessing what was going through our heads at any given moment. I quickly spun around and averted his gaze despite the fact that it made me look even more suspicious. I just had to keep him from saying anything while Taehyung was still here, because the younger man could not keep himself from telling all the hyungs and Jungkook everything and I had no intention of being discussed like that.

“When is Hobi getting here?” I decided to change the subject. There was a moment of silence, and I could almost see Jin sending Tae warning glances to not bring it up anymore even though I had my back turned to them.

“He should be here in a few,” Seokjin answered at last and brought over to my table the cup of tea he was making, “It’s supposed to be a calming mix. It might not do much, but it’s better than whiskey.” I thanked him politely and the room slipped into silence again as I sipped it slowly while Jin watched me like a hawk.

Suddenly there was a groan coming from the sofa and Taehyung was clambering to his feet. “I can’t fucking take it anymore, I’m so bored,” he whined and skipped over to my table, “hyungs, let’s do something.” He did the thing when he tried to be cute (he was cute, but I made it my personal goal to never tell him or he’ll take advantage of it), started pouting and grabbed my shoulder lightly.

“Go take a walk then, he needs a moment of rest,” Jin told him resolutely. He clearly decided not to fall for it today, even though he usually indulged the younger man. “After all, that’s why I’m here in the first place.”

Taehyung dropped the cutesy act and teasingly scowled at him before walking back over to the sofa to grab his phone. He just jokingly whined “You can be so mean, hyung” and was gone out the door before anyone could reply anything.

Once the door shut closed, Jin’s full attention suddenly was on me, and I grew a little nervous. He wouldn’t let anything slide and took his role as a doctor and a hyung very seriously, especially since he was the only one who was older than me and thus had a little bit of authority over my stubborn ass. I knew that Jin and Namjoon often consulted each other on how to approach me, Joon would oftentimes notice something and immediately snitch to Jin cause he knew Jin was the only one I allowed to care for me in such a capacity. It wasn’t unusual that Namjoon would raise a concern about my health, and I would tell him it’s nothing, only to have Jin coming to my house later that day, fully informed and prepared to deal with it (and me).

“How’s your migraines been?” Jin decided to play it safe at first, dancing around what he actually wanted to ask.

“Shit,” I replied dryly and squinted my eyes at him. He looked at me with worry and I sighed. “It’s been getting better,” I begrudgingly told him, and he gave me a look a parent gives their annoying child.

“You need to rest more,” Jin started, and I groaned. Once he got into full parent mode and began nagging, nothing could stop him. Poor Kookie had to listen to a 30-minute-long lecture about the risks of smoking every time he only looked in a direction of a cigarette pack, which then almost every time moved on to us for being bad influence on him. Especially Namjoon who was basically glued to a cigarette. I have over the years got out of the habit and now mostly smoked only occasionally, much to Jin’s content.

“I know, I know,” I stopped him and started imitating him, “I need to sleep more and eat better and drink less alcohol, work less and have other hobbies other than hanging out around bars.” Jin gave me an unimpressed look and pursed his lips.

“So sorry for caring for your measly pathetic life, Mr. Bossman,” he retorted sassily and went to sit down on the sofa. Then he pierced me with his eyes again and I knew there was no running from this.

“So what’s all this about?” he asked and I started speaking basically even before he finished. “Nothing.” Jin raised his eyebrow and relaxed into the couch. “Really now?”

“Yes, no matter what Kookie says, I know what I’m doing,” I said resolutely and gave Jin a look that made it clear we would not be speaking on this matter anymore. That softened the man a little and he relented.

“Okay then,” he said softly and smiled at me, “I trust you, Yoongi. I’m just trying to make sure you’re all safe. I would be a fool not to worry about the police.” While I accepted it was a slight dig at my approach to this, I also knew it was the closest I would get to Jin conceding and leaving this subject behind. I smiled at him with all the charm and charisma I could muster, and he just scoffed at me and busied himself with his own mug of tea.

Though I was also a little surprised, just as Taehyung, at the sudden absence of detective Lee. She was everywhere for a whole week and then just suddenly disappeared, but I was anticipating some sort of new plan was abrewing on her part. I supposed it wouldn’t take too long.

“What do you mean they’re messing with the docks?” I growled into the phone and stomped the cigarette butt into the ground. Namjoon next to me tensed up and also put down his cig only to immediately light up a new one. Hobi on the other side of the phone sighed and apologized.

“It seems that when we stormed them last month some little creative critters managed to slip by us,” the man explained over phone, “They’ve been sabotaging in the docks, stealing cargo and ganging up on some workers here and there, but we’ve got them now. Gonna deal with it tonight.” I scoffed, mildly annoyed but not wanting to take it out on him. Still, I couldn’t stop a little petty remark.

“Funny, I think I already heard that from you once,” I said gruffly and looked over the street to where Jungkook’s car just pulled up. Namjoon waved at me, gestured towards the young man and then set out to welcome him and bring him up to my office.

“I know, hyung, I’m sorry for messing up the first time,” Hobi said with genuine remorse, and I felt like I was inside a one huge déjà vu as he sounded the same as Jimin when he apologised for causing this whole ordeal in the first place. I sighed and softened my voice. After all, this was just a bad month, I knew their abilities.

“It’s fine, I’m just annoyed with how persistent they’re becoming,” I explained to him and also slowly moved towards the office entrance, “who would have thought that they would be this hard to deal with?” Hobi laughed and I heard some shuffling noises from his side, slight murmuring and then a bang of a door.

“It’s good we’ve dealt with them now; they were on a good way to becoming unbelievable menaces. Thank god they trusted themselves enough to mess with us this early while still unprepared for the retaliation, or I bet we’d spend weeks slowly eradicating them like annoying pests.” I laughed at Hobi’s words and nodded even though he couldn’t see me.

“Hubris has a funny way of catching up to you,” I mused quietly, Hobi only humming and then suddenly exclaiming loudly.

“Oh! That’s right!” he shouted out suddenly making me flinch a little. “Christ, Hobi,” I grumbled, “You’re going to make me embarrass myself. What’s up?” The man laughed a little and continued.

“Kookie’s on his way with some very interesting footage you’ll want to see,” the man said mysteriously with a happy lilt to his voice, “We found it when checking the security cameras for the little fuckers messing with our cargo.” I hummed, secretly smiling at the younger man’s antics while waiting for the damn elevator to come to the ground floor.

“He just got here, he’s with Namjoon upstairs. I’m on my way up too,” I told him and finally stepped into the elevator.

“Oh, I better go then,” the man laughed, “I have my plate full here anyway.” With that he hung up and I spent the rest of the ride up building anticipation on what Jungkook wanted to show me.

Upon walking into the office, I found Jungkook already showing something to a smirking Namjoon sitting in my chair. I regarded them both with slight suspicion and then wordlessly made my way to stand next to Jungkook. He immediately put the tablet away and I frowned. He was just about to open his mouth to explain to me, but I beat him to it.

“Hobi already told me you found something on the CCTV, so you can just show me,” I told him gruffly and motioned for him to put the tablet back on the table. He did. With a few quick swipes of his tatted fingers, he presented to me a video. I squinted my eyes at a it a little bit cause it was so dark and hard to see, automatically leaning forward towards the tablet.

It was a view from one of the side alleys by the warehouse we’ve been having troubles with. I was well acquainted with this camera, it was so nicely installed it became practically invisible to anyone who already didn’t know it was there, thus over the years it procured us some very useful evidence. For a moment there was no movement, just a dark alleyway in one of the seedier parts of this city, but then a figure appeared out of the shadows. They were dressed in all black and were slowly slinking by the wall with their eyes trained on something in front of them. We watched it for a few seconds and then the figure turned around and left.

I was just about to question Jungkook, when the man swiped and an enhanced picture of the figure filled the screen. I leaned towards it for a moment and then laughed. It was detective Lee. The picture was grainy and dark, it was quite hard to see, but that was unmistakenly the rookie cop sniffing around.

“The warehouses? What is she doing in the docks?” I speculated out loud.

“I don’t know but I don’t like her sniffing around there,” Jungkook said resolutely, “She’s probably looking for evidence.” I hummed thoughtfully.

“Well, she would have to break into the offices and decode the documents, which would be highly illegal and inadmissible in court, so I doubt she would do that,” I retorted and finally pushed Namjoon out of my chair to sit down, “She’s most likely looking for something specific.” Namjoon leaned over the table and gave us a mischievous smile.

“Or someone specific,” he pointed out. We both looked at him and pondered over it. “She could be just getting the hang of our locations,” Jungkook mused, “I think it’s more probable she just wants to be familiar with the places that we own. Or she thinks we’re just doing illegal shit out in the daylight like a bunch of idiots.” I laughed at that, but the first part of the statement was definitely possible.

“We have to wait for a little more,” I told them both, “She’ll reveal her cards soon.” Jungkook gave me a look but said nothing. Namjoon was just watching us with a smile. I knew the younger man was getting antsy because he cared about my safety and this detective was getting closer than the others. But that was also her weakness – to get more info she abandoned the law, so while yes, she was more determined to find out, but also she was making herself more unreliable to the force and in the eyes of the court. It was a slippery slope for her.

The situation would need some supervision, for sure, but in the end we had the upper hand cause we could report her anytime and cost her the position in the force. I hummed again and smirked.

“We’ll deal with this shortly, don’t worry,” I attempted to soothe the man, “Right now we have to focus on the fiasco with these dealers.” At the change of subject both of the men perked up.

“Do you know anything about how Hobi-hyung wants to go about this?” Namjoon asked Jungkook. They were both standing at the opposite sides of my table looking at each other. Kookie deliberated a little before saying: “He didn’t say much, just that they’re doing it tomorrow. He’s pretty pissed they managed to dodge him, so he’s most probably not gonna be very nice.” To that both me and Namjoon laughed.

“Good,” I said, “They’ve been pissing me off too. Who would have known they would be such pests.”

All three of us shared a look. “Fucking cheers to that,” Jungkook said, and we moved on.

The next day I had gotten a single text from Hobi that sounded very similar to what he texted me last time he went after them. The plan was to surprise them during lunch, storm them quick and blindside them. Ideally it would be over before they ever realised something had hit them. And as someone who had seen Hobi in action before, I knew he was absolutely capable of that.

I was just smoking outside with Namjoon, who was making fun of me that I had gotten back into my habit the whole time he was attempting to light my cigarette, when I got another text.

Hope, 14:49: done

I smiled to myself and patted Joon’s shoulder. He gave me a confused look that melted into satisfied realisation when I winked happily.

Me, 14:51: are you absolutely sure? no more surprises?

Hope, 14:52: no more surprises. i’ll be over in twenty

I pocketed my phone again and stubbed out the cig, lightly slapped Joon’s shoulder again and moved to go back inside. The man followed after me without a word or a question, only gave me a celebratory smile when getting off the elevator a floor beneath my office.

I waited gingerly for the man’s arrival, drinks ready for us and words of gratitude on my tongue. Faithful to his word, he got there in twenty minutes on the dot, bursting into my door with a wide smile, no doubt also happy he managed to teach a lesson to some pesky kids messing about with things way beyond their capabilities.

I clasped a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, I left no loose ends this time,” was the first thing he said, “though I wish I had more time for clean up, but the cops were called. They’re most probably already there.”

“As long as there’s nothing linking us to them, it’s okay,” I reassured him and pulled us both to the sofa. He shook his head at that.

I trusted Hobi, I knew he was damn good at his job. He was always so excellent at making everything that was causing me headaches disappear, and I felt endless gratitude to the man. For a moment we both just sat there in comfortable silence and sipped our drinks.

I took another swig of whiskey and winced. “Jin would kill me if he saw me right now,” I muttered and Hobi laughed. “It’s for celebration, I’m sure he would understand,” the man joked, knowing full well how obsessed the doctor was with making us all live healthily, even when we all knew it was a losing battle. I snickered again and relaxed into the sofa.

“If the cops are there right now, that means they’ll probably show up here by the evening or early tomorrow,” I mused out loud, already too familiar with their strategies. Hobi agreed with me, but I could see that he was thinking about something else.

“What’s up?” I asked gently. Hobi looked at me and hesitated a little. “I might have to go to Japan for a little bit,” he said eventually. I looked at him in surprise.

“Japan? Why?”

The man reached into his back pocket and pulled out a piece of folded paper. One of the corners was painted with a splatter of blood and the paper was all tired and frayed from whatever it went through.

“He was really trying to make sure I wouldn’t read this, so I made extra sure to get it,” Hobi explained, looking at me observantly and carefully continuing, “And for good reason. I’m sure you yourself recognise this.” He handed me the paper and I slowly unfolded it to not do any more damage to it.

I did recognise it and immediately felt a rush of cold rage hit my bloodstream. Before me, there was a formal invitation to meet with the Watanabe family, one of the smaller suppliers from Japan. They weren’t the ones that we were doing the most business with, but we had a mutual trust to keep out of each other’s way, occasionally help each other out and otherwise not cross each other’s paths.

Whether they knew what these little fucks were planning or not, it seems that a connection between them was established. And as such, I couldn’t let it slide. Especially since the dead rat wanted to keep it secret so bad. There must have been something going on.

For the Watanabes it would be beneficial to try and get us out of the way, since we were blocking their way to most of Seoul, but I couldn’t believe they were this fucking stupid.

“That explains a lot,” I said, reverting back to my business self, “and here I was, thinking we were cordial with each other.” Hobi hummed. I looked at him and let him feel the full force of my anger with the behaviour of our supposed allies.

“Let them know just how disappointed I am with them for me, please,” I told him, voice full of ice. This wasn’t a playground, we weren’t kids messing about in the sandbox. We had to act quickly, before someone got the idea that they could cross our path.

The conversation was a little stunted after that, both of us thinking about the implications of an alliance between these two; so once Hobi finished his drink, he moved to leave, finally deciding it’s time to get back to his boys and make sure everything’s going off without a hitch now. He turned around, mouth opening to tell me one last thing, when he opened the door and promptly bumped into someone. I stood up from the chair, worried for a moment, only to grin wide when I realised who it was.

Hobi had managed to catch the nosy detective before she fell, and I had the best view in the house for when she looked up and realised who was it that she slammed into at my office. As every time, her face was an open book there for everyone to read and I saw it go from apologetic to absolute mortification to some sort of astounded glee. I watched her like a hawk while she stared at Hobi and the wheels in my brain were turning full speed. Huh, could it be?

Even when she snapped out of it and Hobi started to tease her, her eyes remained glued to the man with clarity and determination. If I was a jealous man, I may have even gotten a little angry at the display of open interest, I thought to myself jokingly while I watched them amused. So this was her goal, huh? She was after Hoseok. It did make sense, he would be someone the police found interesting, but he also had considerable experience at dodging them.

Once Hobi left and I could see her gearing up to bullshit me to the max, clearly totally out of her depth here, I decided to test my theory a little bit. But I would need help with that. I gave her a little bait and only waited for her to bite. She did. She didn’t even ask how I knew about what was happening in the docks, just started scrambling to explain herself somehow. I pulled out my phone again and texted the one man I knew could accomplish this.

Me, 16:29: how fast can you get here? need a distractor asap

TaeTae, 16:29: be there in 15 hyung &lt;3

I chuckled a little at his fast reply, but quickly got up to move towards the bar. I had to distract her well and leave her distracted enough to slip a little bug on her. I weaved my web, pulled her in different directions, and I lied.

“We had nothing to do with it,” I said, though I had ordered the strike as retribution. But some things she wasn’t prepared to hear upfront, with some honesty I would have to wait until she was too deep to be appalled by the reality.

Taehyung burst into the room just as he always did, in the perfect way to steal all the attention. Her head snapped to the door with panic, and I seized my opportunity. I moved behind my table and fished around in the first drawer for the small device. I checked on Taehyung who was doing his best magician act, though by definition he would be more of my beautiful young assistant tasked with distracting the crowd while I faked the magic trick. It took only a second for my skilled fingers to slip the tracker beneath her phone case and by the moment she looked at me in horror at Taehyung’s behaviour, I was already sitting on the side of the guest chair satisfied with myself and watching the man work.

I couldn’t help the pleased hum when she grabbed her phone and flustered stumbled out of the door.

The moment the door closed behind her Tae looked at me curiously. “What was that about?” he asked full of mischievous keenness. I shrugged and smiled at him mysteriously. “Just trying to prove a theory of mine,” I uttered nonchalantly and thoroughly enjoyed the eager interest of the younger man.

“That was a tracker, wasn’t it?” he asked again, ever so observant. I gave him another grin. His curious eyes never missed anything, they always flitted around wherever he was, taking in people’s actions and expressions, that’s why he was my favourite spy. People didn’t take him much seriously, they didn’t see him as threat and he knew how to take advantage of it perfectly and bring every little dirty secret right to me.

“Hmmm, we’ll speed up the process a little bit and Kookie will hopefully relax now,” I told him. He hummed too and got up to get himself another drink.

“Guess we’ll see.”

Maybe we were having a little too much fun pretending like we didn’t know she was tailing us. How do you school your face while talking when you know that a cop is sitting 10 metres away from you? Though we did agree that we like the upgraded look with the motorcycle, so I guess that’s what she was up to the whole time we didn’t see her following us.

It would be a little better had Hoseok been in the country, but we had to entertain ourselves while he dealt with the traitors. I hadn’t heard from him really for around two or three days, which surprisingly was a good thing. It meant he was too busy solving problems to reply. In the end Jin decided to go with him and I had absolute confidence that they would deal with it no matter what that entailed.

I heard Jungkook lightly complain that she’d gotten craftier and how he often had to drive around to lose her to be able to go about his day peacefully. She did go after Namjoon for a little bit and then promptly gave up, which didn’t surprise me as he only spent time home or in the office, she did try to follow Jungkook, but he never gave her a chance. Tae and Jimin didn’t seem to be her targets in the slightest, much to Taehyung’s displeasure, who grumbled about how he’s also interesting. So she mostly stuck with me. But I was patiently waiting for Hobi to return and see.

The moment Hoseok and Jin stepped foot into the country, I warned him to not show up around for a while. He was very confused, but when I said it’s related to the police, he obliged happily, though we had to meet up to discuss his trip to Japan and its conclusion. One day when her little red dot didn’t move from the station, I called him over.

I had to go to the Magic Shop, which was one of the newer clubs Tae was trying to transform into a popular spot, and Jimin came over too. He was still trying to “sweeten my rage”, in his words, which I no longer felt but didn’t tell him. I’d never admit it, but I quite liked the way he was trying to be so damn cute and play up how much he loves me, though I was pretty sure he knew and that’s why he hasn’t stopped yet. I was just laughing at the two younger men’s antics when Jungkook’s car pulled over to the club and the two newcomers jumped out.

“Hyung!” Jimin shouted out, “You’re finally back!” Hobi laughed and threw himself at the blond, tackling him into an aggressive hug, both of them giggling. Tae couldn’t stay still and joined them, with me and Jungkook watching them fondly with smiles on our faces.

“Okay, okay!” I talked over the commotion and pulled them apart, “Unfortunately I have to steal him away for a bit, you can have him later.” The youngsters pouted at me, but it was all in jokes. But when I looked over at Hobi, he had a guilty expression on his face. I sighed a little and smiled at him.

“Sorry hyung, I actually have to go check on the warehouses in Songhyeon-dong, the boys have been asking for me,” he explained and gave an apologetic smile, “You can come too, though. If you have time.” I pursed my lips and thought about it, but I already knew I couldn’t make it.

“It’s across the whole city, unfortunately it’s not convenient for me today,” I told him. We needed to debrief properly; it would be best if Jin was present too, but the man was hard to come by during the weekdays due to his clinic. Every rich person in whole of Seoul wanted him to attend to them and he usually ran from patient to patient, while Hobi was the number one contact for those who worked in or around the warehouses and thus found himself driving around Seoul just solving shit that went wrong. If he couldn’t wait here to have a conversation, it must have been pretty serious there. He was looking at me stressed, most probably trying to think of a way to make it work for everyone, but I patted his shoulder and smiled reassuringly.

“It’s okay, Hobi,” I assured him, “I’ll visit you tomorrow or the day after. I’ll bring Jin too.” He returned my smile and moved back to Jungkook’s car.

“Wait, Hobi-hyung!” Jimin shouted out again, “I drove here with the silver Porsche, you can take it cause Tae’s gonna drive me back.” The blond-haired man fished around in the pockets for a moment and then threw something small and black towards Hoseok, who caught it without problem with a cheeky wink and a smile.

He was gone in a minute, and I soon followed with Jungkook. In the end Jimin took my car and I asked Kookie to drive me to the office, since he was going to stay there with me and Joon anyway. I kept thinking back to the Japan issue, wondering what the boys found out and what the Watanabes tried to claim. And whether we should prepare to burn some bridges.

The next day, though, started in a somewhat peculiar manner. When I came out in the morning and got into the car, Jungkook was sitting next to Soobin with a sombre expression. I immediately straightened and prepared to hear whatever it was that went wrong in those few short hours I was gone.

“I messed up hyung,” he said sheepishly and handed over his phone. The little tracking red dot wasn’t in its usual spot, by my house or by one of the clubs, not even by the office or the station. It was in Songhyeon-dong. Right across from our warehouses. I laughed and Jungkook looked at me nervously.

“Where’s Hoseok right now?” I asked immediately and the younger man snapped into attention.

“He’s in there right now, got in about 7 o’clock, was talking about some papers that have been waiting for him to approve,” Kookie answered, mind back on business and unpleasant feelings left behind to focus on this fully. I grinned at the man wildly. “Perfect.”

I swiftly pulled out my phone and started writing a simple and quick message.

Me, 8:15: stay in the warehouse, don’t walk out at all

Hope, 8:17: what do you mean hyung? are we in danger?

Me, 8:17: no, don’t worry. our little spy is on you and i’m trying to prove something

“Do you want to go to Dynamite today, or are we expected at the hotel?” Soobin’s voice pulled me away from my phone, back to a nervous Jungkook sitting next to the unsure bodyguard. “The hotel, thank you Soobin,” I answered politely with a mild smile and redirected my attention back to Jungkook.

“Don’t worry Kookie, I’m not mad,” I said with a smile, “This is actually exactly what I wanted, just hoped that I would have more time and control over when she found him. Guess she must have been on us yesterday.” The young man stiffened and looked back to his phone.

“Do you think she’s aware of the tracker? Left it at the station purposely to mess with us?” he asked all business-like, probably already trying to come up with a new plan. “It’s possible,” I hummed, “It’s time to find out.”

Silence took over the car as we made our way through the city. I smiled to myself. Even though it happened a little faster than I was planning, but I was glad she was still going in the direction I had predicted. I look away for a moment and you leave for one of my friends, huh? You definitely work fast.

I laughed again, earning a strange look from the two younger men, but only gave them a mysterious wink. We might be able to deal with this shortly, if everything goes well. The key was to find out what the goal was, then I could control what she found and make sure she’d stay away from what we needed to hide.

“Let’s give her a few days,” I told them and gave them another grin.

Me, 8:25: how would you feel about going to the warehouse every day and just staying there?

Hope, 8:26: ???

Four days later I sat into my car and instructed Soobin to drive to the warehouse with a shit-eating grin. Jungkook had been keeping me updated on her movements and she spent her days either at the station or staking out in the building across the premises.

Hobi, as promised, had been going to the warehouse and just sitting on his ass there, thoroughly complaining through his phone the whole time. I had been trying to calm him down and keep him there, while Joon and Kookie took it upon themselves to tease him all the time with pics and cheeky texts about eating in restaurants and hanging out in clubs together, so he was slowly losing his patience with my plan. I had to move forward quickly for the benefit of us all, even though I did find it awfully funny.

Reaching our destination, I took the time to walk around very self-assuredly for a moment knowing she was watching this angle. When I tired of putting on a show of how free and relaxed I was this day, I finally made my way inside. Through the door you entered straight to the short hall which led to our office, so it was a relatively short and quiet trip.

Hoseok and Jungkook were already sitting inside, Hobi behind the table and the maknae occupying an armchair sitting a little more towards a corner to the left of the door. With the sound of the door opening, their heads snapped towards me and as soon as they saw my smug smirk, Hoseok groaned loudly.

“God, please tell me this is over!” he whined and dramatically draped himself over the surface of the table, “I can’t take another day of this! I’m going to fucking lose my mind here!” Jungkook chuckled at him and retorted with a slight smirk: “You should have treated this as a holiday or something. Watched Netlix and all that stuff.” To that Hobi screamed out loud and grabbed something on his table to throw at the now laughing Kookie. “Yah! You think I have time to burn? I’ve got shit to do!”

I snickered at them and moved inside, Soobin following me in. I gestured at Jungkook. “Did you bring the cup as I asked?” The man nodded at me. I smiled, as relaxed as I haven’t been in a long time, and sat down on a chair by the table. Soobin remained standing by the door so I gestured at him to also sit somewhere, as this would take a while.

“So what’s next in your amazing and genius plan that involves the literal torture of your beloved dongsaeng?” He asked, suddenly pretending to be all business-like and serious, while Jungkook still occasionally giggled in his spot to our left.

“Now we talk for a bit, draw it out a little,” I said smirking meanly, “Then we send in Soobin and wait what he brings back.”

“It’s pretty cold outside, hope she’s dressed for the occasion,” Hobi noted cheekily and relaxed into his chair. I hummed and schooled my expression. I did have to bring up Japan, we haven’t had a chance to talk about it properly yet and I couldn’t visit him sooner cause we were planning what to do about our little spy.

“I don’t think she knows about the tracker,” Jungkook mused out loud, “she keeps bringing it. I don’t think it’s a statement like ‘look where I am’, it wouldn’t make sense to let us know.” Hobi nodded, humming in agreement, and they carried on for a moment, the conversation heading to the clubs as Hoseok asked about how it went while he was gone. I let them speak for a little while, just enjoying the company, until their chattering died off and they both looked at me questioningly.

“We have to talk about Japan,” I said simply, not feeling the need to beat around the bush. Hoseok immediately sobered up and straightened in his chair, while Jungkook looked on curiously, no doubt also dying to know the situation in which we found ourselves in.

“Well, they claimed innocence,” the dark-haired man said sombrely, “I’ve heard bullshit enough time in my life to smell it a mile away, but there wasn’t anything I could really pin on them. I checked the dates of their stay, and it was relatively recently, there wasn’t much correspondence between them, that I found. And we did thrash the dealers’ hiding spots. They must have gotten rid of it. But the head of the Watanabe family is such a slimy motherfucker that I don’t believe a word he said. They surely must have been planning something together.” He shrugged and sat back. “I’m afraid right now we can’t do much about it unless we want to seem like vicious usurpers.” Jungkook leaned forward and looked at us thoughtfully.

“Japan is outside of our turf, if we did something rash without substantial evidence, we could risk losing the support of the Satos,” he contemplated out loud, “God knows what’s going on between them right now.” I hummed and nodded, smiling at the man satisfied. He really did grow up, god. Time flies so fast.

“There seem to be two main issues right now,” I surmised solemnly, “First, the Watanabes are small and cowardly. The reason why they’re where they are is because they just suck up to others and hug their thighs to drain all the benefits from them. If they stirred up trouble with someone, they would no doubt end up eradicated before sundown.” The men looked at me with similar serious expressions. I took a moment to get myself a glass of water and continued talking standing up by the office desk.

“So, what gave them the confidence to get involved with an effort against us?” I mused thoughtfully, “There is a chance that they couldn’t have known that their new friends would immediately go and cross us and get themselves all killed, but I trust Hobi’s instinct. The fucking clown that leads the family now is a sleazy bastard, one with an ego that doesn’t match his wit nor his guts. He loves to gloat and provoke, but only when he knows someone stronger’s got his back.” Hobi nodded. He knew the man well since he had the displeasure of meeting him a few times when we were in Japan and had to attend a few of the same events as he did.

“If he knew he was at risk, he would have met me already grovelling,” Hoseok muttered with distaste, his immense disdain towards the man showing through, “that’s the kind of a pathetic vermin he is.” I agreed with him and carried on.

“So that means he probably feels comfortable timidly opposing us, cause there’s someone that’s got his back,” I concluded, “Someone who’s probably on our side of the puddle, someone who probably hooked him up with the rats we just got rid of. They probably weren’t expecting them to go against us immediately and die, but they don’t feel intimidated by the fact that we suspect something.”

The room sunk into silence as we all pondered about it. I could be looking too much into it, but in this world one never knew. You couldn’t survive here by assuming everyone’s best intentions. Quite the opposite. The little shits feeling confident enough to swindle us, them trying to desperately hide the invitation before they lose the chance to, the Watanabe’s approach to a meeting with Hobi. It wasn’t much to go off of, but it was suspicious enough to keep track of and keep in mind. If there potentially was a beginning of a plot against us, we had to stay alert and monitor the situation before it spun out of control.

“The confidence means their alliance is already pretty sure, then,” Jungkook broke the silence and took turns looking at us both. I gave him a single jerky nod in return. “Probably. Who knows.”

“What’s the second issue?” Hobi suddenly asked. Kookie looked at me questioningly and his face suddenly looked so much younger with his eyes wide, it almost shocked me speechless.

“The Japanese families,” I shook off my surprise and continued, “If we do decide to make take some precautions, we need to properly communicate so with the Satos and get their support. They need to be in full agreement with whatever we choose to do with the Watanabe clan.” Hobi scoffed and turned to me.

“That shouldn’t be too hard. They’re not that influential and going against us means they’re going against the Satos too.”

“Still,” I repeated, “We need to test their alliance to us too.” A realisation hit Jungkook’s face and he nodded enthusiastically. That made me laugh a little at his earnestness. Hobi also smiled, but it was still strained.

“Let’s bide our time for now,” my voice carried through the office resolutely, “Lay low, pretend we’re over this issue and gather our wits. And prepare for potentially dealing with this.”

We nodded at each other. Even if years have passed since our youth and the fire and passion and determination that comes with it, we were still prepared to fight for what was rightfully ours. We climbed our way here through hell and there’s no way we’d let some snotty little brats try to take everything away from us.

“I’ll keep my eyes and ears out,” Kookie stated, phone in hand ready, “They’re bound to come across something juicy.” Hobi murmured his approval and turned his attention back to me.

“Today we should deal with the other issue at hand, or I am actually going to go insane between these four walls,” he complained whinily and I laughed at him. I moved towards the little kitchenette in the right corner from the door and started preparing some coffee. I made a cup for all present and then one extra into the cup Kookie brought with him, which I promptly handed to Soobin.

“My boys scoped it out and she seems to have her hideout on the sixth floor to the left of the staircase,” Hobi instructed the young man, who patiently waited on me to send him off.

“Tell her something that will piss her off,” I said only, grinning wildly. The blond man smirked at me and disappeared out of the room swiftly and silently.

“Now we wait,” I told the room, sitting gingerly back into the chair with my fresh cup of coffee, playing with the spoon like a spoiled little kid waiting for his birthday present. We all stayed silent, too much on our minds to keep mindless convo. Kookie was typing furiously on his phone, a slight scowl sometimes tugging at his features, while Hobi relaxed into the chair and serenely looked off into the distance. I tried to keep the self-satisfied smirk on my face while my mind slipped to more serious issues.

I couldn’t help but be worried about the current situation. Their potential ties to a stronger gang, or maybe even a family, would explain the surprising difficulty with which they went down. I knew I stepped on many toes when I stole half the fucking Seoul right from under their noses, and even more when I proved impossible to dethrone. It didn’t surprise me at all to uncover a supposed scheme like this. Truly, this didn’t even have to necessarily be aimed against me and my gang, but the boys fucked up by involving us in their business. But no matter what, we would emerge victorious from this, that I had no doubt about. Once someone crossed a line, we would make an example of them and teach a lesson to whoever it was that wanted to mess with us.

Over the years in this “business”, I had learnt a lot. One of the things was: what couldn’t be solved with threats, would be solved with blood. And it never failed me before. I looked at Hobi and Kookie again and smiled. We had each other’s backs and I trusted their abilities more than I trusted myself. The truth was that we were more a family than many around us that were actually blood related. That was the second reason of our success.

Soobin returned within 15 minutes, of which he probably spent most time going up and down the stairs. He walked back into the office slightly breathless and a little red, so I gestured for the single cup of coffee left on the mini kitchen counter. He walked over and took a tentative sip, probably finding it the perfect temperature since it’s been waiting for him here and slowly cooling down.

We all found ourselves hanging onto him with our eyes, some excitement coursing through the room at what he was about to divulge to us. Kookie broke first.

“How did she react to you?” he asked eagerly, waiting to confirm his theory about the tracker.

“She was shocked and surprised, and frankly pissed off,” Soobin answered immediately, his deep voice having a calming effect on us, “She didn’t seem to understand how you were able to find her.”

Jungkook exclaimed happily. “Perfect, that means she doesn’t know about the tracker,” he said satisfied. I was about to destroy his whole joy though, so I let him bask in it a little before speaking.

“We’re gonna mess with her a little, make it obvious,” I told the room and Kookie immediately groaned. “Hyung, having her tracked without her knowledge is the safest way to let her be but still have control over the situation. Why would you want to give that up?” I winked at him and pursed my lips teasingly.

“To provoke her. Rile her up, frustrate her, push her to her limits,” I explained, eyes flitting between the three men, “She’ll reveal herself then.” Kookie hummed in understanding, but Hobi squinted his eyes at me somewhat suspicious. I quickly averted his eyes and focused back onto Soobin.

“What else did she say?” I asked him. The man immediately snapped to attention at me addressing him and answered. “That you’re annoying and she hates you.” His voice was neutral, but I could detect some undertones of amusement. I agreed it must have been an amusing sight.

I laughed lightly and finished my coffee in one gulp. The game was on.

Now that Hoseok was free of his prison, he went back to flitting between the docks and ships like a mother bird trying to take care of all of her young. Jin was similarly busy by his practice, so he also missed out on all of the fun. Namjoon kept saying he was above messing with the police, even though I caught him sneaking smirks and grins every now and then, and Kookie was just as disapproving as ever of my tactics. Jimin tried to stay neutral as he hadn’t met her yet, but thoroughly enjoyed our shenanigans.

That left me and Tae on the shit-stirrer team, and we did milk it for as long as we could. Just the ultimate annoyances, hoping to send her into a complete rage over this. She still had the tracker regularly on her, so we were forced to assume she was none the wiser, but the longer it dragged on the more suspicious I was becoming.

Once she started showing up to the office regularly, cheshire grin firmly plastered on her face, tracker still firmly attached to her, I pretty much guessed she must have known. Suddenly I was spending my afternoons making her tea and watching her leisurely stroll about my office, studying every inch of it and grinning from ear to ear. I waited patiently for her next move, and admittedly, I found myself quite excited with this game we were playing with each other. She was a fast learner and had a quick wit, and I did appreciate her readiness to throw all laws aside to try to stick it to a guy that mildly annoyed her once. The anticipation was steadily rising the longer we just danced around and pretended we both knew nothing.

I did start to slip. I watched her move about less, focused more on work. I would always suddenly shake myself out of the work-induced haze to find her still sitting at the sofa curiously eying everything in the office like a little kid first time in an amusement park. But while we were in this strange stale-mate, I didn’t dare refuse her visits. I was truly curious, dying to know her next move, especially since she suddenly became such a showman.

I didn’t immediately realise what was happening when she suddenly stopped showing up. One day she was sitting there, smirking up a storm, and the next there was no trace of her. I found myself walking around my office, inspecting the objects at display and the decorations, trying to catch anything different. I even allowed Jungkook to thoroughly comb through the room to make sure there weren’t any planted bugs or things in the same vein, but the space was clean.

We kept checking on the tracker app, but it became quite obvious immediately she had gotten rid of it, as it was moving in areas that she never went to. So she did know. And she did do something.

It wasn’t until two days later, when Jungkook stormed my house and decided to comb through my clothes with a device detector; and found a corner of my coat beeping curiously. I had to stop him from tearing into it in his haste to find out what she planted on me, and instead took it upon myself to inspect the piece of clothing. I managed to find a small tear and smirked at her craftsmanship. I fished the little gadget out and handed it over to the younger man.

Jin and Hobi were sitting on the couch watching this whole ordeal go down with curious, slightly amused and mildly alarmed faces, but I wasn’t too worried about it. Jungkook was grumbling something next to me, but I paid him no mind. My fingers felt something else slipped into the coat and I was trying to get a hold of it. By its thinness and elusiveness, it must have been a piece of paper.

“It’s a tracker, similar to what we planted on her,” I heard him explaining it to the other men present, but suddenly exclaimed in victory, startling the three men, as I finally managed to pull the mysterious note out. I took a single look at it and burst out laughing.

They snapped their eyes to me and Jungkook immediately rushed to my side as if prepared to defend my life against a piece of paper. I lifted my gaze to look at their confused faces and flipped the paper around for them to see.

fuck you min yoongi :p

Only Hobi seemed to be as amused by it as I was, Jungkook deliberating something silently and Jin watching us all like a hawk, his sharp eyes taking in the interaction with burning interest.

Once I had calmed down and sent Kookie off to the office to get Joon and figure out what to do about the little device, I found myself sitting between the two other oldest of the group, amusement slowly slipping into nervosity. I knew them well enough, I could see the cogs turning in their heads, I could feel they were on the doorstep of a discovery, and I wouldn’t like the conversation that would follow, but I truly didn’t expect Jin to just jump into it head first.

I had leaned towards the table to grab one of the snacks Jin had graciously prepared for us, when he cleared his throat.

“Kookie had been talking to me a lot about how this whole situation is unfolding. Hobi too,” Jin said, seemingly just holding mindless conversation, but I still tensed up. I turned to look at him.

“Yeah?” I turned to the other side to look at Hobi, who avoided my eyes.

“Yeah,” Jin reiterated, his voice gravelly, “So can you fucking explain to me why have you been testing this cop like you did the boys before they joined?”

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Taglist (open) : @wobblewobble822 @viankiss @jjkwifestyle

[foreverinadais]

summary: steven ‘accidently’ messages you after you’ve broken up.

pairings: ex! steven grant x ex! reader, allusions to ex! marc and ex! jake as well

warnings: literally just angst :( and very minimal cussing

word count: 870 words

a/n: sooo this is the first small part of a series based on ex! moon boys. will have everything from angst, angst and angst, to pining, forced close proximity and hopefully fluff!!! enjoy :) 

ex! series: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Surely it was an accident.

The message shone on your screen, illuminating a small portion of your dark room that the sun had not yet reached, eyes squinting with the unwelcoming light. You had blinked once, twice, harshly, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes to ensure this wasn’t a cruel trick your mind was playing.

But it was still there.

Hi.

The message was so simple, a single word. But your heart was pounding, and your mouth was dry. You could imagine him saying it. Could still feel the warm embrace of his breath against the top of your head as he whispered the word, and you knew you were home.

Steven had messaged you. But why?

Maybe it was an emergency. Maybe he was in danger. Had to act like everything was normal and the only person he could think to message was, well, you. Or maybe he was drunk. It wasn’t like him to get drunk when he had control of the body, but you didn’t know him anymore. Perhaps he had completely changed. perhaps he wasn’t the Steven you fell in love with anymore.

The thought made you sick.

But another nagging in your brain pulled you back. Maybe he had meant to send it, completely sober. Maybe he was as desperate for you as you were for him. Maybe this was an opening.

Or maybe it was an accident.

You didn’t know which was worse.

You looked at the message a few minutes more, fingers ghosting over the keypad. What could you even say? How could you even articulate your thoughts into just a short message?

Hey, Steven, how are you?

Why’d you message?

Do you still love me?

Sometimes I think I see you in the street but it’s not you and every tiny thing reminds me that no one could ever be you and that your not in my life anymore…

You stopped drafting messages, huffing in frustration as you deleted all you had typed. It was hopeless. You were hopeless.

Should you even reply? Just ghost him, his message, like he was never the man you thought you were going to spend your life with?

You thought about the others, about Jake and Marc, about how they would be cursing him if they found out. Unless it was their idea, too. Unless they all missed you like you craved them.

But your thoughts pulled you back to Steven. Of his trembling fingers and beating heart as he types the simple word. You thought about how nervous he might’ve been. How he was probably feeling like you were now.

You exhaled shakily, finally typing out a message, closing your eyes as you hit send.

Hey, is everything okay?

The question invited conversation; you were well aware. But you were desperate to feel some of him, grab onto every last morsel he would give you. Even if that was just his words through a screen.

You laid still, phone resting on your chest, rising with every heavy breath you took to try and ease your rapid heartbeat. A few minutes passed until it buzzed. You nearly screamed, stomach dropping as you jumped, phone clattering to the floor. “Shit!”

You all but scrambled onto the ground, grabbing your phone, unlocking it and turning to look at it. Sure enough, it was Steven.

Sorry, accident.

You all but felt everything inside of you deflate, felt the heavy weight of just two words settle on your shoulders as you sighed. Of course. You rested your head back on your mattress, eyes shutting as you tried to hold back tears. Of course.

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

Steven groaned as he pressed send, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “Happy now?” He said to his alter through the reflection of the bathroom mirror. He could hardly meet his eyes.

“Of course not, you know that. But it’s the right thing to do.” Steven couldn’t help but scoff, throwing the phone on the counter so that it made a clunk.

“It was just a message. Hardly anythin’ wrong with that.”

“Steven.” And the word was enough to have him quiet. Well, for a moment.

“I can’t keep doing this. It just… it hurts too much-”

“I know.” His alter agreed, looking to the ground. “I know.”

Steven didn’t regret the message until the morning. Until you texted back. He could imagine the turmoil you went through when you read it and instantly felt guilty. He hated himself for having to shut you down. For having to lie. It hurt him more than he could even express.

He looked at the small read next to his message, realised you weren’t saying anything else today. Perhaps you would never say anything to him again. Perhaps this was it. An accidentally on purpose message and an unanswered question.

Sighing, Steven locked the phone, put it in the cupboard, and threw himself into bed. Resting his head on the mattress as if it was too heavy for his body, too full of the thoughts of you.

He felt everything inside of him deflate, felt the weight of just two words crush his shoulders. And just one thought swirled through his mind as he drifted off too sleep: I can’t keep doing this.

[diorsluv]

open arms (tz¹¹)

❝ in which your ex calls you back to his apartment on a late night, hoping you’ll come back to him ❞

wc: 5.3k

warnings: ANGST, a bit of fluff, more angst, allusions to a toxic relationship, reader’s comfort movie has ryan gosling but is not specified so imagine whatever you wish, no use of y/n, some really bad writing, proofread at 1 am so i can’t promise that it’s good

notes ) this is not my fav piece of writing i’ve ever made.. but maybe it’s just been a while since i’ve written (i’m a wattpad survivor) so FORGIVE ME if this is really shitty i promise i’ll get better this shit was mad repetitive but it’s okay we ball (i wrote this based off of a real life experience…) and take a shot every time you see trevor say “please”

It had been months since your breakup with Trevor, and you two were far from being on good terms. The day you found him in your shared bed with another girl was the day you swore not to ever be in contact with him again. You moved your things out of the apartment before he could even manage to blink, and you refused to hear his sorry excuses as you walked out the door with tears brimming your eyes.

Trevor was the first person you could ever fully be yourself around, and you genuinely thought he was going to be different. But when he managed to break your heart so easily, you realized how wrong you really were. You broke off all contact with him and his friends, and you only spoke to Quinn and Luke after the whole ordeal.

Now, as you stood outside his apartment door, you felt like you had taken one step forward and three steps back. His apartment still looked the same except for its barren walls, once filled with photographs of you and him, and he smelled just like he did when you first met. His hair was all tousled, his eyes were red, and his face was far more pale than you remembered. 

“You’ve been crying.” Your words came out as more of a statement than a question, truly depicting how indifferent you felt towards your ex-boyfriend. Watching as he brought the back of his hand up to his eyes, you bit the inside of your cheek, not really knowing what to do with yourself.

The boy could barely even whisper your name. “Please,” he tried to plead, but you weren’t having it. Over the course of the four years you dated, you had never heard any other word more than that. The amount of mistakes you had forgiven him for could never equate to how much you loved him, but catching him in the act was what sent you over the edge. Months after your breakup, you still tensed up every time a man begged you to forgive him.

You were about to turn around. You were so close to leaving. But hearing your ex’s desperate voice almost made your knees buckle with guilt.

Trevor’s lip quivered, “I need you.” 

Those three words held a chokehold on you like no other. You could recall all the times he called you at two in the morning after a bad road game, knowing you would pick up because you loved him to that extent. Even if you had work in the morning, you would stay up with him for hours, comforting him and validating his feelings because he “needed you”.

Seven months ago, if he told you he needed you, you would’ve dropped everything to see him. If he was away, you would’ve booked the nearest flight just to hold him in your arms and tell him he would be okay. 

But now, his words only aggravated you even more. 

“Don’t say that.” You stood your ground, not wanting to look him in the eye in fear of caving in. You couldn’t show him that he made you weak. You couldn’t show him that after all he’s done to hurt you, you still cared for him deeply. You couldn’t show him that all he needed to say to convince you to come running back was a simple, three-worded phrase. “You can’t say that to me, Trevor. We’re broken up. You can’t ‘need me’ anymore.”

“Please, I just need to hear your voice. One last time, that’s all I want.” He begged you with his whole heart, his voice tired from all the screaming and crying he had done before he called you over. “You can block me, cut me out of your life, hate me forever, whatever. I just really fucking need you right now.”

Huffing out a sigh, you weakly nodded your head as he pulled you through the frame of the front door and into his embrace. His arms wrapped around your waist while he buried his head into the crook of your neck, finally allowing his tears to release in the safety of your presence. 

He was never afraid to be vulnerable around you when you dated, even when you first became a couple. That’s what made you love him so much; he wasn’t ashamed to be himself and always encouraged you to be true to yourself. 

“God, I had the worst fucking day of my life. I just—fuck, I wish I never let you go.” He mumbled into your skin, his words barely even audible. You stiffened up after hearing his words, slowly beginning to regret your decision to comfort him one last time. “Coach is always giving me shit, the league hates me, the fans are always yelling at me, and I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

Unsure of what to do to comfort him without fully bringing your guard down, you brought your arms around his body and rubbed soothing circles onto his back. You bit your lip in thought, trying to think of how to calm him down while also escaping this now-uncomfortable situation. There was just so much to process all at once. Your mind was running at top speed and going in way too many different directions for you to get a hold on all your thoughts, and you just didn’t know how to handle everything. 

“And then when I came home, all I could think about was you.” You felt goosebumps shoot up your skin while listening to him talk, knowing that you would break eventually. Every syllable he spoke felt like he was pricking needles into your skin, one by one, trying to make you give into him and his pitiful words. He continued, “I know you hate me. I know. I put you through so much shit, and I broke your heart, and you were the only one who really loved me for who I was, but I still managed to fuck everything up with you and make you leave me.”

Tears were now running down your face, too. It was like you were reliving every moment with him, standing with him in his apartment. You could remember every argument you had with him, every night he slept on the couch, every movie marathon you had with him, and every time you spent hours in the kitchen baking little treats with each other. In the corner of your eye, you swore you could see the faint, younger, more naïve versions of you and him happily spending your time together.

“There hasn’t been one day where I haven’t thought of you. I regret all the shit I did. Every goddamn day. I lost you, and you were the one person in my life I could rely on.” Trevor’s grip on your waist was now much tighter as he pulled you closer to him—so close that you could feel his heartbeat on your chest. “And I know it’s too late for me to say all of this, ‘cause I know you’re probably already happier with a boyfriend who can treat you ten times better than I ever did, but please, I need you to stay with me.”

You could feel your heartbeat pounding in your stomach, tears still streaming down your face as you began to pull away from him. You couldn’t stay with him. It wouldn’t be healthy for either of you, and it was as if your ex could read your mind, because he frantically began to ramble once more.

“Just for a few hours. Please. I haven’t even showered or eaten yet, and I came home five hours ago.” He pulled his head away from your neck but still kept your body tightly pressed against him, his tear-stained cheeks only making you want to stay even more. His nose was flushing into a bright pink, and once he locked eyes with you, he started to tear up again. 

Against your better judgment, you contemplatively placed your hands on the sides of his waist and tapped against his body comfortingly, nodding with slight hesitance. “M’kay, Trev. Just for a few hours though, okay?” 

The boy looked like a puppy wagging its tail at the sound of your softer voice agreeing to his bargain, and he promptly began to walk through his living room and towards his room. You allowed your eyes to wander around the apartment that felt so familiar but looked so different at the same time. All the pictures of the two of you on the shelves were now gone, for obvious reasons, but part of you wished he still kept them up. 

“Think ‘m gonna take a shower now,” Trevor mumbled mindlessly, not necessarily directed towards you nor himself. He then turned to face you. “Can you, maybe, like—”

You knew what he was referring to. When you dated, you regularly took showers together, but when he had just come back from a roadie or a late practice, you would typically sit down on the bathroom floor and talk to him while he cleansed himself. The two of you would converse about everything that happened during your time without each other, and it had become so integrated in your routine. At the time, it felt so normal, but now, it felt far too intimate for you to just agree without thinking about it. 

You still said yes. 

A few minutes later, you sat on the bathroom floor with your legs curled to your chest and your back leaning against the wall. The glass door moistened up enough to where you could look straight at the figure behind the fog and still be unable to see anything. Your ears picked up the sound of Trevor squeezing his three-in-one shampoo, conditioner, and body wash into the palm of his hand. (You scolded him for using it multiple times during the four years you were together; he never listened, but he always drained your shampoo a week after you opened it.)

“So,” he started, just like he used to. “Boyfriend?”

“No. Girlfriend?”

“Nope.”

A silence washed over you, and all you could hear was the water beating down on the shower tiles. It remained that way for a while, and then it was your turn to start up the conversation. 

“How’s hockey been going? I haven’t really watched any NHL games since we broke up.” It was a bit embarrassing to admit, considering you fell in love with each other because you both loved hockey so much, but you couldn’t lose any more pride, anyway. You were sitting on your ass while your ex-boyfriend took a shower less than a foot away from you. 

“It’s been alright.” No one to look for in the front row, he bit back a thought. “We still suck ass, nothing new there. It’s just been so tiring lately.” The tone of his voice indicated that his mood was slowly beginning to decrease, and you knew you had to shift the conversation.

You cleared your throat. “Do you still have those cake mix boxes?” 

Trevor’s eager “Yes!” in response to your question was enough to tell you that his mood did a complete switch-up. “Lemme just finish this shower real quick,” he told you, and you could tell he was trying to speed the process up by the way you could hear him aggressively scrub soap onto his skin. About two minutes later, he called your name quietly. It was as if saying your name out loud physically hurt him, but he loved the way it sounded so much that he could endure the pain as much as he could. “Is there a towel there? If there isn’t, there should be some in one of the drawers on my dresser.”

“I’ll go get one,” you spoke briefly, pushing yourself off the floor and opening the bathroom door. Taking a turn to the oak dresser in the corner of his room, you squatted down and tugged on the handle of the last drawer. Back when you were still together, you always kept the towels and other linen in the bottom drawer, so you assumed he kept it the same way. He would have no reason to change it.

You assumed wrong. Instead of towels, you found about thirty framed photos laying flat in the compartment. They were your old photos. The photos you cherished so much were just casually sitting in his dresser drawer. Your eyes landed on the picture laying on the very top, its golden frame contrasting with the neutral, wood frames of the others. It was your favorite one: a photo of Trevor gleefully smearing whipped cream all over your nose as you bit down on a chocolate covered strawberry. The sun and the stars combined couldn’t compare to how brightly your smiles shined in that photo.

Grazing your thumb over the ornate carvings on the frame, tears began to well in your eyes without your notice. You only realized once you heard Trevor yell your name, causing you to blink the tears out of your eyes. Quickly looking down to see that the tear landed perfectly on the boy’s grinning face, you used your shirt to wipe the tears away before gently placing the photo back in the drawer. You hastily searched for a towel in the other drawers, fishing one out and making your way back into the bathroom.

Trevor cracked the shower door open so you could hand him the towel, thanking you before closing the door once more. He then exited the shower with the towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water still dripping down his toned chest. 

Fuck, you forgot how good he looked. 

The boy seemed to notice your staring, because he let a chuckle escape his lips, “You gonna give me some privacy to change, or what?”

Your cheeks felt like they were burning as you realized you were caught in the middle of gawking at your ex-boyfriend, and you quickly nodded your head as you walked out of the bathroom. 

Hours later, as you stood in your kitchen with your old apron and flour dusted all over your cheeks, your mind seemed to blank when you tried to think of why you left Trevor in the first place. (Reminder: he cheated.)

Your laughter meshed perfectly with the boy’s hearty chuckles, and all it did was remind you of how happy you used to be with him. His whole life used to revolve around your happiness, and vice versa. At some times, it felt a little bit overbearing, but it just proved how much you loved each other.

Other times, you felt like you had never hated anyone more than him.

It wasn’t like you forgot about all the times you would argue with each other about something stupid, like forgetting to buy the groceries or mistakenly saying the wrong thing to a nosy reporter. But those weren’t the arguments that mattered. They were just petty quarrels that occurred in every relationship.

It was the ones over the phone that really hurt. Trevor would be miles away from you for days on end, not even bothering to contact you unless you spoke first. But, of course, it was your fault whenever you called him late at night and it ended with tears and a loud argument. It was your fault when he came back home to a dull and unloving apartment. It was your fault he cheated, clearly, because you weren’t giving him enough love and time for him to truly appreciate you and not have to seek out some other woman.

You could handle the toxicity. You could handle the breakdowns after every argument. You could handle the utter hatred that sparked between you and your boyfriend. But God, you would never be able to handle the thought of him loving anyone else when he so thoroughly invaded your heart and mind. 

Trevor waved his hand in front of your face to wake you from your trance-like state, causing you to shake your head and blink as your thoughts dissipated into the air. “You good?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow. You could only nod your head and purse a smile at his question, returning back to your old tasks as if you never stopped doing them in the first place.

The kitchen was a mess, just like it always used to be after you and Trevor would bake. There were three rolling pins covered in flour, ten tasting spoons in the sink, a batter-covered spatula on the counter, and unwashed bowls cluttered everywhere. Usually, while the two of you waited for your baked goods to finish in the oven, you would get to work by tidying up the kitchen, and Trevor would begin washing all the dishes.

You immediately grabbed all the bowls in sight, placing them in the sink before squatting down in front of a cabinet and opening it in your search for a clean rag. You typically kept them all in the same spot, and just like how you hoped his dresser was laid out the same, you hoped he didn’t renovate the interior design of his kitchen too much.

Before you could even set your eyes on what you were looking for, you felt a gentle hand on your wrist, pulling you back up to your feet.

“You don’t have to clean up,” your ex-boyfriend spoke softly, his eyebrows furrowed. Watching you fall back into your old habits felt so domestic that it hurt him. He already regretted losing you, and he knew that deep down, you’d never be able to forgive him for what he did, so he didn’t want to get his hopes up with the idea that you felt so normal in his home, in his presence. 

“Oh, I’d feel bad, Trevor—”

“Please.” He was desperate. So you obeyed his wishes and leaned your back against the edge of the counter, silently watching as he scrubbed the dishes down and wiped the counters clean. 

The light hum of the oven, along with the trickle of the faucet, were the only sounds you could hear in the large kitchen. The speaker sitting in the very back corner between the refrigerator and the stovetop reminded you of all the times you would force the boy to listen to your slightly concerning playlist, screaming out all the lyrics as he stared at you like he would fly you to the moon and back. 

And he would. He still wanted to.

Eventually, the beep of the oven signaled that your cake was ready, and Trevor rushed to grab an oven mitt before you could even move a limb. 

“I got it!” He exclaimed, shuffling over to pull the oven door open and grab the cake pan from the interior of the hot oven. As he bent over to retrieve the spongy substance, his hair grazed against the very top of the oven. You quickly reacted with a lift of your hand, using your fingers to pull his hair back as your other hand came up as if it was protecting his head. It was a force of habit. 

Grimacing, you gently moved his hair back to its original position, lightly scolding him for not being careful. “You almost burned your hair off, Trev. You gotta be more careful next time.”

The use of his old nickname made his heart beat faster in his chest. You were allowing yourself to bring your walls down and open up to him, and both of you were beginning to recognize it. It scared you, but it gave Trevor a sense of hope. False hope.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, too eager to begin decorating the cake to allow himself any time to think about what he was getting himself into. You shook your head at his careless demeanor, trying to ignore how the sparkle in his eyes was just pulling you closer and closer to him. He was like the sun in your solar system, and you felt like a mere planet revolving around him, the pull too strong to resist. 

The boy waited for the cake to cool down before popping it out of the pan and slathering frosting all over it, using a very tense piping bag to pipe cheeky designs onto its surface. He was still immature as ever, but his little evil giggles made it all worth it. Even after all these months, there was nothing you would ever love more than his sole happiness.

There was a point in time where all you could feel towards him was hatred, but you were finally over it. You realized you shouldn’t be wasting all your energy into something negative, especially towards someone who hurt you so deeply. So you stopped hating him. You thought you felt indifferent towards him, but this whole night was finally beginning to change your mind. There was always going to be a part of you that cared about him, and there was no fighting it. It was just a matter of how much you were going to let that affect you and your future. 

You swung his fridge open, looking for fruits you could cut up to use as decoration for the cake. Your gaze landed on a plastic tray of strawberries, and you immediately pulled it out to begin cutting them up. Once you carved out the leaves of the red fruit, the two of you sporadically placed them onto the cake, finishing the look with a few dollops of whipped cream along the rim of the cake. 

Both of you migrated to his living room with a slice of cake in your hands, all your better judgment being thrown out the window once Trevor proposed the idea of watching your comfort movie. He vividly remembered when you first watched it together, not knowing you would soon play it practically every time you were remotely upset or had nothing better to do. In fact, you watched it so much that he found himself getting less and less fond of it as the months went by. Now, he would do anything to see your smile when you watched the intro of the film, and this was his chance. 

“But,” he interjected, “if you get annoying about it, I’m changing it to Miracle.” 

Miracle was like his comfort movie, and you felt very similarly about it as he did to yours. The movie came out when he was a mere three years old, and it might’ve been his earliest memory of watching hockey on his family’s television screen. He’d never gotten tired of it and had even gone on a ramble about it during one of your first few dates, so it became some sort of a running joke between the two of you.

“As if. You can’t resist the Ryan Gosling.” Your retorts only made the boy’s heart swell up with even more admiration, even though it felt wrong. The banter reminded him of the old times he spent with you, and how he could always expect a comeback to his incessant teasing. 

With a roll of his eyes, Trevor held the remote up to the TV and began the movie, casually throwing a small blanket over the two of you to force close proximity. Without a second thought, you scooted closer to your ex-boyfriend (who was really feeling like less and less of an ex). Your mind was too focused on the introduction for you to care how close you were to him. 

Thirty minutes flew by, and he was able to blow it all off by focusing on how the light of the television screen reflected so perfectly against your face, your eyes glistening as the scenes passed. You were so gorgeous, and he couldn’t even fathom how badly he fucked up his relationship with you. He wanted you back. He needed you back.

He was going to get you back.

Just as Trevor stretched his arm out to extend behind you, you leaned over to grab your phone off the side table. His nose crinkled in disappointment as he watched your eyes widen at the sight of the time. 

“It’s almost midnight,” you gasped, shoving your phone into your pocket. You tossed the blanket off your legs and scurried over to the kitchen, placing your empty plate into the sink in a hurry. Within a blink of an eye, you found yourself slipping your shoes on near his front door. “Sorry, Trevor, I gotta go now. Tonight wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. I hope you feel less stressed and stuff, but, uh, I don’t really think it’ll be a good idea if I come back to see you again.”

The boy swore his heart dropped into his stomach. “What?”

You could feel your gut begin to twist in guilt like it always did whenever you saw his face fall into that damned dejected expression, but you had to stay strong. It wouldn’t benefit either of you to keep going on the way you both wanted to. “I just don’t think it would be good for either of us. We broke up for a reason, Trev. You know that.”

“I thought we were good? I mean, you were letting your guard down, and we were starting to be the way we used to be,” his voice sounded so small.

“We’re never going to be the way we used to be—”

He cut you off, determined to win you back. “I can fix this. I know I said you didn’t have to stay for long, but this whole night made me realize that I want you to stay with me for the rest of my life. I need you with me.”

You sighed. “Trevor—”

“No, listen to me, please. It’s been months. We’ve spent some time apart and I don’t think I can spend any longer without you.”

It was your turn to stop him in the middle of his spiel. “You cheated on me! I was willing to give you everything I had, because I loved you that much! You broke my trust. There’s nothing you can fix or do to make things better. I prioritized you over myself. It didn’t matter if I was at my lowest, as long as you were happy. That’s how much I cared about you. That’s how much trust and love I put into you.

“What about the nights I was home alone while you were on your roadies? You wouldn’t talk to me unless I interacted first! We were falling apart long before you cheated on me, and I was the only one in the relationship who tried patching us up when things started to get bumpy. We were one-sided, Trev.” You watched as he shook his head in denial, still desperate for you to hear him out. “We still could’ve fixed ourselves. We weren’t bad at communicating with each other. But you turned to another woman instead of talking to me about the things that were going on in your life.”

Trevor was an inch away from getting on his knees and begging you to stay. “Then stay. Stay with me, and I’ll never make you feel that way again. I’m so, so fucking sorry—”

“That’s the thing. ‘Again.’ The fact that you made me feel that way in the first place, the fact that you cheated on me, will never go away.” You huffed out another sigh, listening to the boy’s pleading babbles as you continued to speak. Running a hand down your face, you took a deep breath and calmed yourself down before you blew up on him again. “This isn’t healthy.”

“What isn’t healthy?” He questioned, knowing damn well you both knew what you were talking about.

“This! You and I. Us.” You gestured your hands between your bodies, your tone now contorting into fleeting despair. There was no saving your failed relationship, but you already knew that. It was only a matter of time before Trevor realized it too. “We can’t keep going like this. I know that you needed me tonight, and that’s fine, but you can’t keep calling me and telling me you need me anymore. We’re just gonna get stuck in this cycle of you needing me, convincing me to drive over to your apartment to comfort you, then us getting into some argument like we are right now.”

The boy looked deflated with the way he stood, slumped against a supporting pillar near the entrance of his apartment. There was only one more thing left to say to you. His last resort. Nothing else was convincing you, so he only had one other option. “I love you.”

You bit your lip in hesitation. “I know that, Trev.”

“Do you still love me?”

Your reluctance to answer was now more evident than ever, your conversation becoming more solemn. Five minutes ago, you were scolding him for all the shit he put you through, and now, you were just trying to resist his desperate attempts to try and win you over. Again.

You shook your head lightly, “I think we both know the answer to that.”

There would never be one day where you didn’t love him. You knew that. He knew that. Maybe that was what kept him going all those months without you.

His hopes were now much higher than before. You weren’t looking forward to the aftermath of his high hopes crashing and burning. “Then what’s stopping you? I still don’t have a girlfriend, and you still don’t have a boyfriend. It has to be because we’re still meant to be together.”

“No, that’s not—God, you know that’s not what it means. I don’t have a boyfriend, but it’s not because I want to get back together with you. I stand by what I said. We’re not good together. We were really fucking toxic when we were together. I don’t think I can put myself through that again. Even if you promise to fix yourself, or if you promise you’ll be better for me. Some things just aren’t fixable, and this might just be one of them.”

The more you spoke, the further Trevor fell into the pit of rejection. He put his all into trying to get you back, and all his efforts were proven futile. His sad puppy eyes were just making you feel worse and worse about the things you were saying, but they were all true. Your whole relationship, you put him before yourself, but it was time to focus on your mental health. 

You took a step towards him, bringing your hand up to his cheek comfortingly. Leaning in for the last time, you gently pressed your lips to his in what seemed to be a sealed farewell. Just before you could pull away, the boy brought you back in, and you let him. You let him savor the moment for as long as possible, because you knew you could never let yourself be near him again. The more you allowed yourself to interact with him, the harder it would be to let go of him.

Both of you pulled away with your eyes still closed, Trevor leaning down to bring his forehead to yours as if attempting to convince you for the last time.

You spoke ever-so-softly, “I think I’m always gonna love you. I just don’t think I can keep being in love with you.” And with that, you gently pushed yourself away from him, slipping out the front door without so much as a squeak. 

You knew there would always be a fine line between love and hate, and for a while, you found yourself flirting with the temptations of the latter. You were always going to reserve space in your heart for Trevor, and you came to accept that long before he begged you to come back. You just didn’t want to catch yourself on the other side of that thin, thin line.

— diorsluv 2024

[buckyscombatboots]

I Wanna Be Yours❦

Part 1: Snap out of it

Part 2: Arabella - Coming soon

One stop off of heaven masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angst, infidelity, reader is the side piece, hurt, brief mentions of childhood friend!Bucky, no happy ending (sort of), reader is used, no aftercare, all hurt no comfort, p in v, rough sex, hate sex, doggy style, hair pulling, slapping, biting, allusions to reader being infertile (can be ignored :))

Nicknames: My girl, whore, slut, Sweetheart, buttercup

WC: 4K

The Happier version: My Girl -Coming soon

A/N: This is the angstier version of the fic ‘My Girl’ and is the actually original version of the fic and more truly embodies what I was feeling when writing them both.

A/N: Ive been gone for a really long time (like almost 3 months) and I’m really sorry I’ve been extremely busy, because as a lot of you know I’m doing a PhD right now. Anyway, this is part of a series that I’ll hopefully finish when I’m not so busy. I also have a few requests to finish. Love y’all 💕

༻𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭🎀༺

You both laid in the middle of the hotel bed, your head nuzzled into Bucky’s chest as you held him tight, taking in the smell of him like it was the last time you’d ever be able to. Your mind burned as you broke down every note of his scent; Magnolia, vanilla, leather and petrichor. You chanted it like a recipe in your head, begging yourself not to forget it. Just in case you ever had to recreate it when he was gone, it was inevitable after all—It was reality, this world you had both created in this room was no longer tangible. Someone was going to find out, or they had already—and to make him keep risking it, running around with you at night. It couldn’t continue, the thought of it ending made your throat tighten and a smell similar to pva glue fill your nose. It burnt as you blinked the tears back. Even as you squeezed him tighter, closer, it felt like he drifted further and further away; you could just feel it. He was distancing himself from you mentally and now physically, to make it more bearable for you both; so that he could lessen the pain, but little did he know the more he moved away the more it hurt, the more your heart shattered into tiny, little pieces that you’d inevitably be left alone to pick up. You wondered if you’d ever be able to repair your heart, or if it had shattered so much into such minuscule pieces that trying would be futile.

You had one final night with him and here you were, spending it cuddling him trying to suppress your tears. You didn’t want to see the pity in his eyes if you shattered, if you showed how much this little love affair truly meant to you. You loved putting up the tough, emotionless bitch act but you couldn’t. Not now. Not if it meant letting him go, never feeling his rough hands trace your every curve, never having him to kiss every scar, never being able to hear his deep, silky voice. You didn’t give a shit about the sex, no matter how mind blowing it was. You just wanted him to stay, you’d become celibate if it meant he’d stay. You’d do anything. But you weren’t “his girl” no matter how many times he whispered it to you softly or made you scream it as he fucked you. You just weren’t his. Not in the eyes of the law and not in the eyes of any of your guy’s friends. She was and you hated her for it, you hated the nice girl who brought you ‘Welcome home’ cookies, who comforted you when you were crying, despite not know you were mourning your chance with her husband, the sweet, beautiful, perfect girl that would one day give Bucky the sweet, beautiful, perfect family he’d always dreamed of. You hated that you hated her, it felt immoral, this all felt immoral. But she had what you wanted; him. She had him wrapped around her tiny, wicked…pretty, well manicured finger, it was wrong of you to force him into this—Bucky had always been weak to you and you used that against him. You made him cheat, but deep down you knew a part of him liked it. He was just like you after all, he was broken and a collector—but instead of things you both collected bits and pieces of others and saved them up inside you, it’s what made you both feel whole.

His arm that had been laying flat under your head shifted, he ran his fingers through your hair, rubbing slowly circles on your scalp, caressing the base of your skull with his warm palm. His touch was too much, you didn’t deserve it. That’s what broke you. The burning in your nose got too much; tears began to stream from your eyes like water from a broken faucet and the knot straining in your throat gave way to heavy sobs as you scrunched the material of his shirt in your fingers “What’s wrong sugar?” He asked indifferently, but you couldn’t answer. The embarrassment from letting your walls finally fall in front of him and the pity you had for yourself, that you detested, jammed your throat. You tried to open you mouth to speak, to tell him it was nothing or that you’d had an awful day at work, you’d always been quite sensitive, he knew that, so the excuse of being yelled at in front of everyone at work would probably work, but no matter how much you tried to summon the words you couldn’t speak. The frustration just made it worse, the warmth from your emotional outburst and his natural heat made it hard to breathe. You pushed away from him, finally distancing yourself. But the implications of your action just intensified your blubbering, you felt like a child as you collapsed in front of him.

Bucky pulled you closer even as you tried to fight him off. You kept your face hidden behind your hair, but he started to peel it away from your damp cheeks. “There we go I can see you now.” He let out a halfhearted nervous laugh, smiling. His smile. Your chest tightened painfully, even through your drowned vision, the full intensity of his welcoming smile hit you like a pile of bricks. “What’s wrong, sugar pea? You can tell me, it’s just us.”

“I can’t- can’t tell you”

“Why not? We’ve know each other since we were kids, you can tell me anything.”

“You’re gonna- you’re gonna hate me.”

“I could never hate you. I’ve seen do a bunch of things and I’ve never once hated you.”

“I’m in love with you.” You blurted, your hands scrambled to your mouth covering it in fear of more words spilling out unchecked. The room fell silent and you heard Bucky’s breathing stop short. You’d ruined everything. Your whole chest ached as your heart beat ramped up, slamming against your rib cage, your ears ringing as the precious Eden you’d created with him began to crumble and rot. Neither of you said a word for what felt like forever, then he slowly pushed you away from him and he rose from the bed slipping on his shoes. “Wait, no don’t leave please.”

“You just had to go ruin it didn’t you? It’s like your specialty.” He turned to you sweeping his hand through the air as he spoke “ Y/N professional ruiner.” He scoffed as he returned to tying his laces “I mean God! You had one job! And it was to lay there and not talk, but you just had to open your mouth.” Every single poisonous word that fell from his tongue knived you.

You held onto his back trying to pull him back into bed “No please, please don’t leave me!” You cried, hardening your grip as he tried to stand.

“You’re so pathetically lonely, you always have been.” Bucky pushed you into the bed, holding your hands above your head as he glared down at you “You’re just like a dog you know that? A creature that can’t survive without its master. That’s what you’ve made me isn’t it? Your master. Well I can’t be anymore, the little doggy needs to realise that she can’t keep forcing people to be in her life, dragging people into her misery!” As he berated you you sobbed, trying to turn away from his scrutinising, to cover your ears. He was right, you were dragging him down into your misery. You were pathetic. You were harming him and his life by existing. “You know what? How about, as a parting gift, we do it one final time? Give the bitch what she wants? Would that make you happy? Would it finally fill that gaping hole inside of you?”

You nodded tearfully, gnawing down on your bottom lip to stop sobbing. It didn’t stop anything. In fact it just made the helpless feeling inside you fester.

He began tearing your clothes off, tugging at your shirt harshly making it catch your ear as he yanked. You resisted the urge to yelp, you didn’t want to anger him further. He tossed it carelessly and gave you a light slap on your cheek before squeezing your face in the palm of his hand. “You’re so pretty when you cry.” He let out a dark chuckle as he scrunched your face “You are pathetic aren’t you? I can’t believe it took me this long to realise just how pathetic you truly are. You can take off your skirt can’t you?” You whine out a yes and start to undo your skirt, but your eyes are drawn to Bucky undressing above you. You watch the muscle under his slightly tanned skin stretching and tensing as he removes his clothes. Once he was nude he looked down at you expectantly, catching your wander gaze with a stern scowl “Why are you still wearing clothes? I just told you to take your skirt off. Do it.” You scrambled to unzip your skirt, fiddling with the zipper. Bucky tutted, grabbing the sides of the fabric and tearing it apart “Simple.”

More tears filled your eyes as he yanked off your panties. You closed your eyes and thought back to the other times you were together in different hotels, how gentle he was as he stroked the soft flesh of your thigh and nibbled at your skin, whispering promises and praise as he approached your core. He’d stretch and tease you till you begged him for more and even then he’d be so very careful as he entered, pressing his skin against yours as much as possible just to feel even closer to you.

A searing pain shot through your scalp, making your eye shoot open, as he pulled your hair wrapped around his strong vibranium fingers “Face down, ass in the air.”

“Aren’t you going to prep me first?” You asked sheepishly, your voice not going above a whisper.

“Why the fuck- No. Just do what I told you to do. I’m hard, I want to fuck you.” He scoffed, clearly tired with your constant hesitations and questions.

Hesitantly you sat up and presented yourself to him, hoovering your face above the pillows. He pushed your head down, your heart jumped, fear blooming in your chest; for a brief moment you thought he was going to suffocate you, the reminisce of his smell on the pillows filling your lungs. He released your head, you lifted your face from the pillow slightly “Stay down.” He ordered sternly, sounding bored as his dripping tip pressed against your entrance. You did as he said, lowering your cheek back down on the cheap fabric of the pillow case; you began fiddling with the cream coloured fitted sheet, rubbing the fabric between the tips of you fingers. Waiting. Then you felt him push into you, a searing, stretching pain tingling through every fibre of your being as his thick shaft parted your walls. You weren’t as wet as usual, you weren’t as ready as usual, you were afraid of him in this moment. More afraid than you’d ever been in your life. “Fucking tight. God no wonder I keep coming back to you, it’s this pussy. It’s like silk.” He sheathed fully inside of you, ramming his weeping tip against your cervix.

“Ow! Buck, slow. P-please.” You requested timidly, stuttering out the last part fearfully, feeling a sense of uneasiness churn your insides.

He guffawed in response, leaning his head down to rest against your arched spine. Warm puffs of air made your hairs stand on end as he laughed at your request. Finally he rose back up, swiping a tear from the corner of his eye “Last time I checked whores don’t have much of a say in how their clients fuck them. Lay there and look pretty, moan for me, scream for me, but for fucksake whatever you do just don’t talk. You’re driving me crazy.” He pulled out in one Swift motion before slamming himself back inside, relishing in the cry that left your lips “I’m gonna use your little slut hole and you’re gonna thank me for it aren't you?” His voice deepened as he asked, changing his pace from long and brutal to shallow and fast. When you didn’t answer he slapped your ass harshly and clawed at your back leaving painful, searing red streaks “I said. You’re going to thank me, aren’t you.”

You choked on your tears as you answered, managing to croak out a very quiet “yes, Bucky.” Before burying your face back into the pillow in embarrassment from the sound of how ruined your own voice sounded. You took a deep breath in, taking in the lingering scent of Bucky’s cologne. Magnolia, vanilla, leather and petrichor. You chanted the list of fragrances, hoping it would carry you away to a better time. But the sound of his grunting, the sound of his skin colliding with yours and the painful, heavy sadness weighing on your head was too much for you to think back to the past. You were trapped here, under him as he ruthlessly pounded into you.

You felt his once loving cool, metal hand snake around your throat squeezing tightly, you began to choke spit flying from your mouth onto the already tear dampened white pillows “The one good thing about you is you feel so much better than her and you let me do whatever I want to you. You let me choke you.” Bucky gave your throat two strong squeezes before removing his hand to allow you to breathe “she- ah squeezing again? God I’m gonna miss this tight cunt. She’s so vanilla, only missionary, no blowjobs and I practically have to beg her to let me eat her out. But you, you’re a little whore, you'll do anything as long as I pump you full of my cock.” As he finished talking Bucky slammed his hips into your ass, watching it jiggle at the force. He craned his neck down and bit the supple flesh, grinding his teeth and licking the mark before returning to his thrusts, slapping your ass just to hear you yelp. You squeezed him even tighter every time he slapped your ass and with each moan and cry your voice sounded more and more ruined, you hated that even when he was treating you like dirt your body responded to him and he could draw this much pleasure from you.

The gradual heat that had been rising within you was becoming unbearable and the moans you have been trying to silence we’re now impossible to silence “That’s it. Scream for me.” A deep, guttural moan escaped from his open mouth, his hand on your hip growing stronger, to the point that you could feel bruises sprouting “Fuck. So close. So goddamn close, I need you to milk me with you tight hole.” Bucky’s metal hand moved away from you head and slipped underneath you, gathering your slick and fiddling with your clit with his thumb.

“Ahh! So good! So good, Buck!” His hand that was holding your hips buried itself in your hair before he yanked it at. You screamed in response to the burning in your scalp

“I said no talking you fucking whore!” You sniffled in response, feeling your release draw nearer. You pushed back against him choking out a moan as you came on his cock, your walls pulsing and squeezing around his twitching length. Bucky rammed into you a few more time with uncoordinated thrust, believing out a loud “Fuck!” As he painted your walls white. A whimper crawled from your throat as he pulled out; you could feel his seed leaking out of you. Bucky flopped down on the bed next to you pulling a few tissues from the bedside table to clean himself. An awkward silence permeated through the room. Not once after having sex with Bucky did you feel dirty, but today you did. You felt an indescribable urge to get home and scrub yourself till your skin bleed to even hope to remove the icky, gross feeling spread across your skin.

Slowly you lifted your head from the pillow and carefully laid down on your back, wincing as you reddened bottom came in contact with the quilt. You laid there staring at ceiling, tears making your vision swim. Bucky’s rough hand entwined with yours; he squeezed your hand twice and swiped the pad of his thumb across your knuckles tenderly “She’s pregnant. I thought I should tell you. She's gonna give me that family I’d always dreamed of.” The words that were crawling up your throat died, you died. Your body went rigid at the word, pregnant. Of course she was pregnant. The word made you sick, it made you jealous, it made you a crucible of contempt boiling over a bunsen flame—you were going to explode. “We'll, aren't you going to say anything? I’ve been wanting this for a long time. I thought you’d at least be happy for me.”

“Congratulations.” The voice that came out didn’t sound like you, It sounded robotic, metallic and forced. But that was all you could manage, if you said anymore you might snap and strangle him or go kill her. You hated yourself for hating her. But it didn’t make the nagging belief in the back of your mind that it should have been you. That it was destined to be you. He was yours, you were his. It was meant to be you at the altar, meant to be you telling funny stories at your wedding about how you were childhood friends that went to high school and college together, who both had brewing feelings that you both kept suppressed and when you finally both got the courage to confess you had to move for work, but destiny made it so you would both reunite and jump at the chance to confess. It was meant to be you.

“Thanks.” His tone was bitter “ I can stay a bit longer, but I’ll have to leave soon. She’s waiting for me after all.” He cuddled you close, stroking your hair, probably imagining you were her. Had he imagined you were her this whole time? Was it that painful for him to fuck you?

The amount of thoughts racing in your head made you want to step outside into the chilly night air to cool down, but now was your final chance to be with him and you weren’t going to waste it. You ran you hands across the corded muscle of his back, drawing soothing circles just like he used to do for you when you couldn’t sleep. When sleep made your eyelids heavy you barely put up a fight, you welcomed sleep with open arms, you wanted to be freed from the bleak, harsh reality and enter into a dream world where she was you. Yeah that sounded good.

“Bucky?” You called groggily. There was no reply. You crawled over to his side of the bed, it was still warm, and peered over the edge. His shoes were gone and so were his clothes. You laid back on the bed, your eyes catching sight of a torn bit of paper. You grabbed the paper and unfolded it, your hands trembling as you read it ‘I don’t want to see you anymore, please don’t bother my family. - James’ You read the words over and over praying they would change into another message, but it didn’t work. It only made the pang in your chest throb. You scrunched it in your hand as you curled up into a ball trying to disappear as you soaked up the shadow of his body heat, the memories of him that were lingering in that shadow—high school when he sat with you behind the bleachers in the rain and gave you his varsity jacket to warm you up “I’m your portable heater at this point.” He jested, letting out his signature low husky laugh that made you melt, college when he held you from behind as you cried into your pillow about your college senior boyfriend who dumped you, because he was graduating; you could still feel the phantom of Bucky’s warmth whenever you were sad thanks to that day. The day he stroked your hair and whispered into your ear that “He didn’t deserve you.” And that he’d “never make you feel like this.” Well he had so many times, he was right now. But it hurt even more now, it was over for good. You’d lost him, you were too many years too late and now you were just clutching to fleeting memories, but God if the feelings didn’t sting every time you thought about him. It was hard not to, he’d dominated every significant moment of your life. But now you were barred from his perfect little family.

Slowly you unscrunched yourself from the ball you’d folded yourself into, spreading your body out like a starfish drying out on the beach. Your throat was scratchy from crying and your eyes were heavy and swollen. Everything hurt, but simultaneously you were so numb.

You thought of showering, you thought of searching through your bag for some pain meds, you thought of driving your car off the bridge back to the city. You thought a lot, as you laid there staring at the yellowed patches on the popcorn ceiling from water damage.

You thought so much and so hard that you didn’t even notice you’d started crying, again, you were drowning in your emotions. You were huddled in a lifeboat slowly filling with water, with no sight of land. You were waiting for him to save you, but he wasn’t coming back “I wanna be yours. Just wanna be…”

A disembodied voice continued “Yours. Secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide than I thought.” The sweet sound of the man’s singing stops “I thought we were gonna sing together, sweetheart.” There was a soft knocking on the wall next to your head “No more crying okay? Guy was a dick anyway.”

“Who are you?” You questioned, sitting up and pressing your ear against the paper thin wall

“A person who’s also been left out to dry, a person who also needs someone to stop me from drowning. If you want some comfort I can come over; we can just lay here, Y/N.” The way he said your name brought back so many memories, you knew who he was

“Ari?” You asked hesitantly, the man who Bucky said didn’t deserve you all the way back in college was on the other side of the wall. He’d listened to everything. You wanted to evaporate.

The door knob of your room jiggled and then the door creaked open. In the doorway was Ari, droplets of rain trickling down his skin. He dipped his head down so he didn’t hit it as he entered your room, his brown hair was a bit longer than it was in college, his beard a bit fuller, he was much more muscular and his chest was more hairy; but for the most part he was the same, he even still had the same crotchety, yet solemn look on his face “Hiya, Sunshine.” His voice was low and soothing, as if you were the finest China that he was worried about shattering. He closed the door gently and walked over to the side of the bed, crouching down to try to make his bearish figure smaller and less daunting “Long time no see. didn’t think the next time I’d see you would be in a shoddy motel, but life is nothing if not unpredictable, right?”

Tag list: @alina02 @winterslove1917 @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @petesey @getwellsoontana @feyfantome @alexxavicry @ashenc-blog @floral-recs @addie5587483 @flamefoxxrecs @adoreyouusugar @teambarnes72 @wintasssoldier @gryffindorqueensworld @aerangi @taramaria @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @teddybearsgrr @raajali3 @godesslaura @alma13-blog @cevansgurl @sojuxxi @aerangi @itwillgetbetter @bean-is-reading @emi11ie @cjand10 @sweetwrathoflilith @royalwriteroftheuniverse

[george-weasleys-girl]

Act Like You Mean It

Start here:

Chapter 4

Summary: George and Y/N are oblivious idiots in love who agree to fake date in the attempt to drive away Y/N's unwanted suitor.

Warnings: allusions to sex, underage drinking, cursing

~•~

George Weasley x Fem!reader

~•~

Y/N tasted of firewhiskey, and of the toffee she'd eaten just moments before they stumbled onto the dance floor, drunk and lovesick. Kissing her wasn't meant to happen, and George wasn't entirely sure how it happened. Nor did he care that it might be a bad idea as he melted into her embrace, her hands sliding up his behind his head to pull him closer. It was everything he'd ever dreamed it would be and more.

~•~

George's lips were warm and soft against hers, sending her into a dizzy spiral that had nothing to do with the alcohol surging through her veins. A little voice in her head screamed that she shouldn't be doing this, but the blood pumping in her ears drowned it out. She'd gladly suffer the consequences just for this one brief euphoric moment of bliss. The chance may never pass her way again.

~•~

"Fuck." Y/N shielded her eyes. The blinding sun pouring through the window stabbed relentlessly into her brain. 'I'm never drinking that much again.' She flopped back down on the pillow and heard a muffled snore. Y/N slowly turned her head to see George sleeping beside her. 'What -' She lifted the blanket, and her breath caught in her throat.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

The kiss. She could only remember the kiss. How did this happen? She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember anything beyond that kiss. What have we done?

Hangover forgotten, she took in her surroundings. They were in George's dorm. Her eyes immediately darted to Fred and Lee's beds. Empty and obviously not occupied all night. A small sigh of relief escaped her lips.

'There's that, at least.'

Her eyes scanned the rest of the room, landing on the trail of clothes leading from the door to the bed. 'Fuck. Quite literally.'

"Y/N?" George's voice was rough with sleep."Wait, what...?" He noticed her bare back and immediately looked at himself under the covers. "Did we...?"

"I - I think so," Y/N's voice trembled.

"Shit. I, uh, I don't remember anything past-" George began.

"The kiss," Y/N finished.

"Yeah." George replied. "Do you - I'll avert my eyes - if you want to get dressed."

"Um, yeah," she mumbled.

"Ok," George looked away.

Y/N jumped up, searching for her clothes, throwing them on as she went.

"So, uh, I'll just go out now," she fumbled. "So you can get dressed. And then, we should, you know, probably talk." Y/N spared a quick glance at George and then hurried out the door.

~•~

They sat face to face on the sofa in the common room. Confused and scared, George blurted out first thing that popped in his head, that he thought might salvage their endangered friendship. "I was really drunk last night and I had no idea what I was doing. I'm so sorry."

"No idea..." Y/N looked down. "Yeah... same..."

George nodded. "Right, right. So, um, yeah... last night was a mistake. It should've never happened."

"Yes, of course," Y/N kept her eyes downcast. "As you said, a mistake."

"We should just, you know, pretend it never happened," he stammered.

"Pretend. Yeah, just keep pretending. Good idea," Y/N's voice could've frozen the room. "Listen, I'm not feeling so great. You know, hangover and everything. I'm gonna go have a nap."

"Ok. Right. Good plan. So, um... I'll see you at dinner, yeah?" He asked hopefully.

Y/N stopped but didn't turn around. "Sure. Yeah. Dinner."

George watched her ascend the stairs, struggling to keep his heart from exploding into a million pieces and overwhelmed with the horrible feeling that he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life.

~•~

Fred stared at his twin. "Are you fucking kidding me? You told her to forget you had sex? What's wrong with you?"

"I - I don't know," George raked his fingers through his hair. "I just thought it'd be best. I didn't want her to think - "

"That you actually like her?" Fred cut him off. "That you didn't just fuck because you were drunk and horny and it didn't mean anything?"

George shrugged and stared at the floor. "What do I do?"

"Hell, if I know," Fred threw his hands in the air. "I'm not even sure if telling her the truth would do any good now."

~•~

Y/N didn't go down for dinner. How could she even look at George right now, knowing that last night was nothing more than a drunken escapade to him? It didn't matter that neither of them could remember it. They both knew it happened.

And it mattered to her.

She rolled over, covering her head with the blanket. It was over. Their "relationship," their friendship, everything. All she wanted to do now was to just sleep until the jagged edges of her shattered heart healed. Or turned to stone. She didn't care which. She would've welcomed either one happily.

~•~

George knocked on her door.

No answer.

He knocked again.

Still no answer.

He opened the door a crack. "Y/N? Are you in here?"

Y/N rolled over and sighed. She should've locked the damn door. Because of course he'd come looking for her when she didn't show up for dinner.

"You ok?" His voice shook. "You didn't come down for dinner."

"Not hungry."

"Oh. Um. Well, would you like some company?"

'Yes, I'd love some company.' She thought. 'I'd love for everything to go back to way it was. But that's not going to happen ever again.'

"No," she said. "I just want to sleep."

"Oh. Right. Of course," George cleared his throat. "I'll stop by and check on you in a bit?"

"No." Y/N sat up but still refused to look at him. "I think we need to spend some time apart."

"Apart?" She heard him move toward her, and she held up her hand.

"Just go, please. I - I can't talk about this right now. I need to sort some things out." She lay back down and covered her head again.

~•~

For a few excruciatingly long moments, he simply stood there, watching her, before she finally heard his shuffling footsteps leave the room. It was only then that she let her tears fall.

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @fredweasleyyyyy @hufflepuffie @alexistonks @anvaaryn @lastwandastan @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz @wolfkill16 @smallsweetvanillabean @costheticbabe @thatonepersonwhocantwrite @charmedfandomgal @loveosewood @hanne-montana @rhunew @greenapplegrass @lizzytrees @spididerman @igncrantbliss @mchlist @adangerousbalance @thankyouforanonymity @mizu-soup @drama-queen-fromthevault @patriciamatezz @futureweasleywife @xluansstuff @Yoursarahg

[itgr]

ITGR and the Aromantic and Asexual Spectrum

aka a long, pretentious, non coherent, semi analytical ramble I took a month to make about ITGR and how aspec coded it feels to me. Brought to you by someone who re read the series three times in the last nine months

I was originally going to write about how aspec coded every character feels individually in reference to this post but then I realised, I've always found that ITGR as a general narrative and comic had aspec vibes and I couldn't pin point why until recently. So I wrote this analysis (?) dissecting different patterns I noticed with characters and the general narrative themes and why it just feels aspec to me.

Obligatory disclaimers and preface: I will be using "aspec" as a shorthand term for both the aromantic and asexual spectrums (I will use "acespec" when talking about the asexual spectrum and "arospec" when talking about the aromantic spectrum specifically). I'm not trying to claim any of this was intentional on the part of Grave or trying to speculate that Grave is secretly aspec. I know a lot of the things I view as aspec coding could be explained away by a character's trauma or implied mental illness but I'm going to be largely viewing things through an aspec specific lens for the sake of this specific analysis (also aspec people can have mental illnesses or trauma that can feed into eachother and that doesn't take away from the fact they're aspec or vice versa).

This is all just a very aspec centered interpretation of ITGR and I'm not trying to claim it's the "correct" or "only" way to interpret the comic (also i will be sprinkling in aspec headcanons here and there and you will just have to deal with that, sorry <- some characters dont have specific orientations that come to mind for me. they're just somewhere on the ace/aro spectrums/hj). Some of this is based on 'evidence' in the text or like narrative implications and framing and the other half is based on vibes/hj and, I can not stress this enough, just because I headcanon a character with a specific label doesn't mean I think the character would ever use that label or even know what that label is. It's more about finding a term I think generally describes how I interpret that character as experiencing attraction

Word count: 4869

Part 1 : ITGR and the Performative Nature of Love and Attraction

Idk, there's just something about the way love and attraction are represented in this comic that feels aspec? Unlike a lot of other stories, I've read, ITGR kind of portrays love and attraction in such a detached manner I can't quite describe, especially early on. Love's ironically not romanticised and is either portrayed as something fucked up or as something performative with some exceptions (more on those later). Let's start with the examples in which attraction is portrayed as performative, starting with the most obvious example: Satan.

Satan spends most of his time, taunting and toying with his reapers in a number of ways with various levels of flirtation, with Scarlet being the one he flirts with the most. He makes a lot of passes and allusions to love with her because he likes toying with her and is really possessive over her. In some scenes, especially early on, he comes across more like a jealous ex-boyfriend than he does a boss. The way Satan acts around Scarlet and Brook is so interesting because I honestly dont believe Satan actually wants to be worshipped or that he has any attraction to Scarlet. He's just a bored million year old being who's trying to have fun, and he's doing whatever he thinks will make them uncomfortable because that's fun to him. This becomes more apparent with the fact that the only time we ever see him be uncomfortable is in Episode 94 when he's meeting with Ashe. Ashe (at this point) is someone who practically worships him and treats Satan how he implies he wants Scarlet or Brook to treat him. And he hates it.

Its so interesting that when Satan's given something he has been implied to "want" this whole time, he absolutely hates it and is uncomfortable. Which signals to me that he doesn’t flirt with Scarlet or mess around with Brook because he genuinely wants them to submit or because he actually wants Scarlet to fall for him. He does it because he enjoys the fun of getting reactions out of people and he likes being entertained. He likes the chase but I don't think he'd be happy long term if they ever actually completely submitted and did everything he claims he wanted. Something about the way Satan does sexual and romantic coded things in a performative way without actually wanting anything feels so aspec coded to me (diversity loses! the worst person you know is acespec and aromantic coded!).

The other most obvious example to me is Azrael (I have a separate already semi written ramble about the general queer coding in Azrael's character, but that's for another day). He's probably the other only character in ITGR that is as openly flirty as Satan and despite that, all of his scenes flirting with people just convinces me he's not interested in the people he flirts with😭. All his scenes flirting with Celeste and Bernadette feel performative and hollow because of the fact that he doesn't seem to be genuinely interested in them romantically or sexually. He knows how and when Celeste and Bernadette are going to die and I think flirting with them is either a way for him to either please them and make them happy before they die or a way for him to entertain himself or both. Like his interactions don't read to me as "Oh guy flirting with women because he wants to date them/have sex with them because he thinks they're hot." They read to me as "guy who wants to have such much fun as he can and explore as many possibilities as he can with people he knows are going to die." His entire date with Celeste was essentially a way for him to learn more about her and almost 'test' the extent of her loyalty to God because he was curious. When Bernadette dies, there's no romantic element to him comforting her at all, despite the fact he spent so much of their interactions flirting with her.

The only other person we ever see him 'flirt' with is the princess from his time being alive and even there, at no point do we get any narration of how he feels about her or any comments about having feelings for her. It's heavily implied he was only being romantic with her by agreeing to marry her because he wanted her to have one good thing before she died so her death wouldn't be as painful. I have a theory/interpretation that to Azrael, there's an inherent relation between flirting and death and that he only flirts with people if he knows when they'll die (even if the flirting isn't genuine on his part). This idea is supported by the fact that post season 4 and Nyra destroying his ability to see the future and how she'll die, he doesn't flirt with her at all (which also more evidence that his interest in her was never genuine). Anyways, because of the performative nature of his flirtation with different characters, he's aspec coded to me (and he likes men but that's for another ramble).

I think the other example of a character expressing attraction only to reveal romance/sex isn't what they're after is surprisingly Wrynn? I have less compelling case for her compared to the others but I find it interesting that it would have been very easy to just make her in love with Ashe in a conventional romantic and sexual way but no. She doesn't want to date him. She wants to go back to being one with him (something something love as consumption but we don't have time for that). Episode 182 sets them in such a specific way (by giving them a lot of romantic and sexual tension and also an almost kiss) but even then, the reason she's doing all of that is so he can eat her and they go back to sharing a body because that's probably what an ideal relationship is like to her. I guess to me, having a character have so many signifiers of conventional allo (aka not aspec) attraction only to reveal they're actually not after sex or conventional romance and more into their own unconventional form of romance (if you can call it that) feels very aspec to me.

I've just noticed this consistent pattern with characters performing acts to signify attraction only to subvert that but either implicitly or explicitly showing that sex or romance isn't what they're after and it'd be one thing if it was one character (i'd still argue that this hypothetically character would be aspec but it'd be an isolated case) but the consistent pattern is borderline fascinating to me? It just creates such an interesting narrative and almost world? In a lot of media, romance and sex are just considered normal or expected but here, in ITGR, they're really not. Characters can perform attraction but that doesn't take away from the fact that more often than not, they're usually interested in something else and I dont know, I've always found it interesting.

Part 2: ITGR and the Horror of Attraction

I feel like a lot of media treats romantic relationships and attraction as generally good things that can be fucked up but usually when it is, it's framed an isolated event and I find it interesting how ITGR highlights a lot of the more fucked up aspects in romance and relationships. ITGR doesn't frame love as something inherently good or benevolent and I think there's something about that just feels aspec to me. I'm not trying to say romance or sex are inherently bad or fucked up. I just think that, like with anything, there is a certain amount of horror that can be drawn from and created from the concepts of attraction and I feel like the potential horror of romantic relationships (not necessarily even abusive relationships. Just the horror that can be drawn from the concept of being in a romantic/sexual relationship or being in love), or the ways love can be warped and turned into something terrifying is something that stands out more to aspec people than allo people if that makes sense.

I feel like ITGR frames love and attraction as something capable of being bad and hurting people as much as anything else. Jordan, the first sinner Scarlet ever kills, uses romantic flirtation as a weapon to lure women and kill them. It highlights the darker flipside of flirting and how flirting, something very common in romantic and sexual situations which is usually seen as positive or alluring, can be used to lower someone's guard and commit harm and violence. The reversal of using something romantic/sexual that is usually used to make characters look cool or charismatic only to use it highlights how dangerous it can be in a specific context has aspec undertones to me.

Another example is how ITGR deconstructs parts of the tsundere trope in Chase's past in Episode 15 and showcases the darker aspects of being in love. Here, love isn't framed as a good and positive emotion, it's framed as something fucked up that can leave you vulnerable to abusive and harmful situations because of the ways it can make you idealise someone which can make you blind to their abusive behaviour. I find it interesting how ITGR deconstructs some parts of the tsundere trope (aka a trope where a character acts cold and hostile to their love interest but gradually opens up) by showing how someone who is constantly mean and demeaning and physically abusive to you can be harmful. I find it interesting specifically because I feel like tsundere characters' hostile actions are sometimes justified by people using the fact they're in love, which implies that just because they're in love, it justifies them hurting someone, therefore framing love as a benevolent force that can excuse certain bad actions as long as they're for the sake of love. (BTW I feel like saying: I don't think the tsundere trope is a bad character trope. I think it depends on the execution and just find the way ITGR handles it to be interesting T-T). In this episode, ITGR instead implicitly claims that love can't justify bad actions, which further its grander treatment of viewing love as an emotion as any other, instead of putting it on a pedestal or treating it with extra importance like a lot of other media.

I think the other main example of ITGR highlighting a fucked up side to the concept of love is Liam's entire character. Liam's spiral after he realises Ana is dead is both terrifying and tragic. Liam killing an innocent man so he can be with her takes something that in some contexts would be seen as romantic (the fact that someone would be willing to go to such great lengths for someone they love) and twists it to an extreme to highlight how terrifying it is that love can be so all consuming that it warps someone's values and makes them do terrible things in the name of love. I feel less strongly about this but I also feel like there's something mildly horrifying about the fact that he's willing to do this for someone might not returns his feelings. Something about him assuming they were meant to be, despite never asking her, kinda also hits that "love as something horrific" horror spot but I feel like that's a weaker point.

ITGR just consistently frames love like another other emotion that has the capacity to do harm and in contrast to the way most media places extra importance or goodness on love and relationships, ITGR views it in a very detached perspective that feels very aspec to me and I hoped I managed to express that idea with these examples.

Part 3: ITGR and OOPS! THE MAIN COUPLE'S REALLY QUEERPLATONIC AND ASPEC (coded)!

Okay so up to this point, you might be thinking "Wait, what about Scarlet and Chase? They're the main characters and they're in love and are explicitly sexually attracted to each other" and to that, I say "Well yes, but no, but yes"/lh. I'm going to preface this by saying that this is probably going to be the most incomprehensible and hard to explain part of this analysis (?). When I said there's a few exceptions to ITGR framing love as something performative or fucked up, they're one of the main examples (I WROTE THIS BEFORE VER AND EVERETTE OOPS). Chase and Scarlet's romantic and sexual feelings for eachother are framed positively and tragically, you're supposed to be rooting for these two little doomed by the narrative dorks. That being said, they're both aspec as fuck 😭 sorry, not sorry, the aspec agenda doesn't end I'm afraid. I'll start with Scarlet because my interpretation of her is a lot more based on tangible evidence (while Chase is half based on vibes tbh/hj). She reads to me as demisexual and some flavour of arospec (greyromantic or even demiromantic). I think it's largely the fact she doesnt really seem to experience sexual attraction towards anyone, including Chase, until way later on. You could argue it didn't even start appearing until after she left the 9th layer (so it took her 25+ years to start experiencing sexual attraction towards someone she has romantic (?) feelings for). I know that you could probably argue that it's a trauma thing but that doesn't take away from the interpretation (demisexual people can have trauma and still be demisexual).

I feel less strongly about her being greyromantic but I still feel like that's another possible interpretation. It's mostly because I can't really see her being attracted to anyone? I think I know why scarlets orientation is hard for me to pin down. I think it's because I can't really imagine her being interested in men or women?? Like, I'd make sapphic jokes about her but I honestly just don't think she'd be interested in women. Or men. Honestly I feel like she's not attracted to any gender. If she ever is "attracted" to someone it's because they're someone who gets close to her and she's grown an attachment to them. Like she'd still be in love with chase if he was a girl. But also, I don't think she's attracted to any specific gender or any gender in general but also has the capacity to like any gender and I feel like calling her pan just doesn't fit so. Um. Yeah, I hope you enjoyed my unlabelled Scarlet side tangent. All of that being said, her not really feeling attraction for anyone except one person and it has to be someone she's formed a pre existing strong bond with…. Yeah. Need I say more/hj. (The unlabelled demisexual arospec Scarlet agenda is real)

Now onto Chase, also known as the vibe check. I'm going to be honest, something about him screams aromantic allosexual to me in a way I can barely convey. I think it's maybe the way when he talks about his ex, he talks about how hot she is, instead of talking about what parts of her personality attracted him to her. Also, I might be projecting but something about him canonically having a lot of failed relationships also just kind of contributes to the aroallo vibes I get (I'm not saying every aroallo person is going to inherently have dysfunctional relationships but I am saying it's not an uncommon experience for aromantic people to have a lot of past relationships that didn't work out due to "something" feeling off. Gestures). There's also the fact that while Scarlet takes a while to show any overt signs of physical or sexual attraction towards him (I was gonna say, this is except for her blushing when she sees him shirtless in Episode 13 but I went back and no she doesn't so demi Scarlet is so real), he does it a lot sooner than her and I don't know, there's something about how his feelings for her derive more from the fact he sees her as his equal or even above him while he struggles with human connection and attachment with most people and how his expression of romantic love isn't really conventional which feels very aromantic and queerplatonic to me. I guess I've always interpreted Chase having queerplatonic feelings for Scarlet that are romantic adjacent (Not saying all queerplatonic relationships are the same as romantic relationships, it heavily depends on the people in the relationship and how they feel and I just think Chase seems like a romance favourable aromantic person who'd label their queerplatonic feelings as romantic <- I don't think any of these characters know what the aromantic spectrum is, much less what queerplatonic relationships are. I just feel like, if we wanted to be technically, Chase's feelings for Scarlet, to me, aren't really romantic but I think he'd feel comfortable labelling them as such. I hope that made sense). To be fair, in a comic where like, over the half the main cast is heavily coded with at least one cluster b personality disorder/hj (I might make a post of how many characters in this comic have cluster b coded traits or symptoms as someone with two cluster b disorder but that's for another day), it makes sense that a lot of the connections and attachments characters make feel unconventional because a lot of these characters have issues related to attachment but even that, I'd argue that doesn't take away from the aspec reading.

Ever since I started reading ITGR back when season one and two were coming out, I'll never forget just. Not seeing the romance between Scarlet and Chase at all and being jumpscared when it became overtly canon because there was always something about their romance that felt, for lack of a better word, empty (NOT IN A BAD WAY) to me? And I just couldn't articulate what it was about their interactions and romance that felt so off and unconventional to me until now. I think it's partially also because of the way all their romantic scenes pre the season three finale focus more on affirming how much they care about and are attached to eachother as people, rather than how "in love" they are? And also the way their main forms of affection is hugs or physical touch and there's not really any "OMG O////O ARE WE ABOUT TO KISS???/!??@?@?" moment. Even in Episode 42, when we get a bit of a kiss tease, there's not blushing on either of their ends and Chase is talking more about how much he cares about her as a person and how much he's come to respect her and how even he, someone who in a way views himself as superior to most people and tries to position himself as someone worthy of deciding what's just and what isn't, has come to view her the ultimate judgement and he respects that (THAT WAS MORE INTIMATE THAN ANY LOVE CONFESSION BUT WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THAT). And even when he says he wants to see her in the eyes when she kills him, it's more about wanting to see her as a person before she dies. There's love there but it feels different than romantic love to me. Like, it's so intimate and unconventional and something about how we're four seasons in and they haven't kissed yet and the way their entire relationship is written and the way they express love and attachment to eachother has major queerplatonic undertones to me.

There's just something about how the main romance in this comic has a surprising lack of emphasis on romance. Anyways, I love my little murderous aspec people in a romantic QPR/lh.

Part 4: ITGR and The Aromantic One and the One That Wasn't (aka ITGR and the Devastation of Amatanormativity)

Amatanormativity is the common belief and societal assumption that everyone desires to be in a monogamous romantic and sexual relationship and marriage and it has caused a lot of pain to a lot of people but aspec people specifically (it's similar to heteronormativity and gay people). There are two examples of ITGR critiquing amatanormativity and highlighting how much pain it can cause, one indirect and one direct. Critiques and depictions of the harm amatanormativity causes are generally hard to find in most media and are mostly confined to media explicitly centered around aspec people and that's why it's actually surprising to me that (while I don't think it was intentional at all), on top of all the aspec undertones ITGR has, it also directly and indirectly critiques a societal expectation that inherently hurts and deeply affects aspec people.

I'm actually surprised I made it this long without talking about Brook at all. That being said, there's actually one character I need to talk about before I talk about him: Ana. Despite Brook being the explicit and more blatantly canon example of an aromantic character, Ana's backstory indirectly represents a common issue aspec people face. I know it's later revealed by Liam in Episode 48 that the man Ana married was a man she hadn't met prior but I still think there's a way to interpret her backstory through an aspec lense (Misogyny definitely has a part to play in Ana's backstory but I don't think misogyny being a factor takes away from an aspec interpretation of it and vice versa). There's just something quintessentially aspec to me about Ana's horrified face in episode 11 when we see her and her fiance as she remarks that she "didn't feel anything".

Her entire life fell apart because her abusive parents pushed amatanormativity onto her. It's the way she literally tries to tell them she doesn't want to get married or have children (implying she was happy being single and pursing her writing career) and they dismiss her and call her stupid and tell her that every woman wants to get married. They dismiss the notation anyone (any woman specifically) could be happy without marriage, or a relationship. Ana decides to do what they say and I know it's never explicitly shown but I think she wanted to believe they were right and that she'd develop feelings for her husband and be happy eventually if she just conformed and did what they said. It's possible she could have felt like she was wrong (or. broken/hj) and that she wanted to believe that marriage would "fix" her and make her happy (because society and amatanormativity consistently pushes the idea that marriage = happiness) and that would explain the horror in her face when she realised she didn't feel anything. It's also further supported by her line "Where was that happiness I was promised?". Her parents, society and amatanormativity literally kept telling her that she couldn't be happy if she stayed single and childless and sold her the idea that getting married would fix her and make her happy and that destroyed her life and, regardless of if Ana was supposed to represent an aspec struggle, it still stands as indirect commentary on how amatanormativity can hurt people who don't want to be married (or in relationships) (semi related but I personally headcanon Ana as aroace or arospec asexual ^^).

And with that said, let's move onto the only actually canonically aspec character in this comic: Brook, who's canonically aromantic. Also Brook being aromantic is canon regardless of it's explicitly said or not. I could go on a whole tangent about queer representation and the double standards between other queer rep and aspec rep when it comes to needing authorial intent to be seen as "real" rep but the short of it is that Brook's aromantic, not only because he said he's not interested in romantic relationships but because, on a fundamental level, he doesn't understand what romantic feelings are like and how they work. He's confused by the concept of romantic feelings, because he doesn't feel them. I don't think there's another way to interpret that. He's literally textbook aromantic. I'm not saying that trauma hasn't maybe influenced that and vice versa but you can be aromantic and have cptsd. I also feel the need to debunk the idea that Brook's time as reaper "made him detached from romantic love so he's not really aromantic" because that doesn't make sense. Yes, Brook's time as a reaper probably made him even more detached from human connections than he already was but there is no indication that he felt romantic feelings before being a reaper. He quite literally shows no interest in romance at any point in the comic, even before he died (also, again, while his lack of general ambition in anything could be interpreted as the product of some kind of neurodivergency or mental disorder, but that doesn't mean he can't also be aromantic). The fact he doesn't understand romance to begin with heavily implies he's never experienced it and doesn't experience romantic feelings in general, hence that he's aromantic.

Now that that's established, I want to talk about how ITGR depicts the feeling of isolation that can sometimes come with being aromantic, which in itself is kind of caused by amatanormativity. There's several scenes in the comic (Episode 176 being the most obvious example) where Brook laments getting attached to Chase and Scarlet because they're in love (well. Wellllllll, adajcent anyway/hj) and he feels like he'll never mean as much to them as they mean to eachother. He feels like because he's not romantically with either of them, he'll never the first priority to them (I personally headcanon as Brook having mild queerplatonic feelings for Scarlet but its not relevant right now and we don't have time for that). I feel like it's very common for aromantic people to feel isolated as a lot of their friends gets into relationships and because of how romantic relationships are seen as "superior" and it's nice of ITGR to represent that in a way. I feel like we do sometimes get canonically aspec characters in media but usually, if they're not the main main character, we don't really get much about how being aspec affects their lives and relationships? Or what their specific relationship to being aspec is? I feel like a lot of media ignores the complexities of being aspec which is why I really love Brook as a canonically aromantic character. While in most media, the aspecness of a character is more of a footnote and is usually treated as a label that's simply slapped onto a character, Brook's aromanticism doesn't exist in isolation and it directly ties back to several parts of his characters. It informs some of his feelings and thoughts. It feels like something tangible. I think it says a lot about how the writing that Brook is written so much like an aromantic character and his struggles with not feeling romantic attraction are treated with complexity that I genuinely forgot it's not explicitly ever said he is aromantic. I don't know, I really like him as aromantic rep.

Part 5: Bonus Headcanons + Conclusion

I didn't have any specific sections to put these headcanons in so I'm just going to through a bunch out there. Ashe is so greyromantic and greysexual to me. Like he definitely had feelings for the wife he's implied to have had when he was alive but I like to think he doesn't really feel attraction outside of that one specific person. Nyra screams arospec asexual lesbian to me. That's it. Send post. Need I say more? (I'm never getting over how her date with Azrael just convinced me that neither of them are attracted to the other's gender/lh). Oddly enough, I don't have that many headcanons about Bernadette. I'd say she could be ace? Vibes anyway. Scarlet's unnamed childhood best friend is so aroallo to me (vibe checked). I wrote a lot of this before Ver and Everette's interactions were revealed so you can either interpret them as the token allos or they can be acespec as a treat/hj.

With all of that done, thank you to anyone who actually read this whole thing. I am so sorry I'm insane/lh. I hope you enjoyed hearing out this interpretation. I feel like this analysis (?) has finally allowed me to be able to articulate why ITGR has always read to me as an aspec heavy piece of media despite only one character being canonically aspec, it's a combination of several things but mostly just the way the comic views love in such a detached and unglamourised way compared to a lot of other media. Love and attraction are still in the comic but the forms of love we see are unconventional. It kind of creates a world where genuine love and attraction aren't really the default, like out of the most openly flirty characters in the comic, most of them have ulterior motive and their flirty is performative and I find that so interesting. I don't think this is necessarily the only way to interpret a lot of the characters and themes but I hope I've opened your eyes to the aspec ITGR reading ^^

[sketchy-rosewitch]

Enantiodromia: Murph Connors x afab!gn!reader

Part 4

Warnings: age gap, weed, allusions to past abuse, mentions of foster care, juvy, homelessness, Nick O’Brien, choking, fighting.

A/N: This is not the last part I promise. There’s like 2-3 more to go.

Part 3

Part 2

Part 1

BvH Masterlist

Taggies: @blurrymango @bosinclairz

Wanting to go to the beach quickly turned from a tomorrow night deal, into a next week deal.

Murph would end up staying out late every single night. Not coming home until the early hours of the morning. You had remembered what one of the other men, Henderson, you learned his name was, had said to Murph the night you two met, “Checking out early Connors?” And that told you that this was normal, it was normal for them to stay at a hotel, drinking, snorting cocaine, and getting lap dances while they searched for answers for their latest case.

It still didn’t mean that you were any less disappointed and worried. The first night he didn’t even warn you, you sat on the couch anxiously until 7:34 am when he stumbled inside doped up. You honestly wondered how he even got home.

You didn’t say anything to him but you did help him get his sneakers off and laid down on the couch.

When both of you were finally up he apologized. Told you he’d be out late all week until they got answers. You told him you understood and he meal prepped for you.

You worried about him all week, even though he told you where he was and what he was doing, you still anxiously anticipated him walking through that door just after sunrise.

Then you broke on the 6th day. You tried not to let this affect you. You knew where he was and what he was doing. You knew he had to take nights like this because the case wouldn’t be solved without him being out late. It’s just, well, you felt lonely, your sleep schedule was messed up, and your anxiety was up higher than it’s ever been. What makes it worse is Murph is out much much later than usual.

9 am comes around and the man still isn’t home.

It’s 11:24 am when Murph stumbles through the front door.

You’re fuming as you get up off the living room couch and stomp to the foyer. Murph takes his shoes off and is acting as if nothing is happening. Your jaw clenches.

“The hell is wrong with you?!” You yell. You meant to keep your composure, unfortunately your brain fighting against itself at the moment. Murph jumps and looks at you, his brows furrow in a disgusted look.

“The hell do you mean?” His arms go out, acting as if your yelling is uncalled for.

“You’re home way, WAY fucking later than you should be!”

“There’s not a certain time I should be home! I’m home when I get home!” His voice raises slightly. Murph walks past you and you follow him.

“Yes there is! Around 7!”

“When did I say I’d be home around 7?”

“When you did it the last 5 days! I don’t know where you are! You don’t leave a note, I don’t have a phone! You could be fucking dead for all I know!”

“Who cares?!” Murph shouts, you suck in air. Tears well in your eyes.

“I do! You stupid fucker! I told you, I have no way of contacting you! What happens when you’re dead?! I’ve waited every night that you’ve gone out cause I’m scared! You’re all I have!” You break, a sob rippling through you. Your hoodie sleeves wipe your tears away aggressively. “I know you haven’t had anyone living with you for awhile.” Your breath shakes as you collect your thoughts. “But I’m here and you can’t act like I don’t care! I didn’t mean to yell but I don’t have anything if you’re not alive and I’m just- I’m just so fucking tired and I feel like I haven’t seen anyone in days!” You look at the ground, not wanting the older man to see you cry.

Carefully, Murph holds his hands up and comes up to you. His arms wrap securely around you and he squeezes. He lets out a sigh and the two of you stand in silence for a few moments. Then, he finally speaks up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you kid. I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I honestly didn’t think it was a big deal, I would’ve been home a whole lot sooner than 7 or I guess now 11.”

“It’s okay..” You whisper.

“Can I make it up to you by taking you to the beach tonight?” The older man asks.

“Yeah..”

He lets go and the two of you walk to the living room couch, he sits and reclines the chair, he pats next to him and you can’t help but get on the couch and curl into him.

Sleep quickly takes over the two of you as you can finally relax.

-

You slowly wake up feeling as though you’re in a moving car. You rub your eyes and squint looking around you notice Murph is driving. He has one hand on the steering wheel the other is covering his mouth. Music plays on the radio but you don’t recognize the song.

You sit up and yawn, Murph’s gaze goes over to you for a second before focusing back on the road.

“Was wondering when you’d get up. Didn’t wanna wake you though.” Murph comments, you nod your head. “Heading to the beach. Just like you wanted.”

“Oh cool!” You smile and watch as beach slowly come into view. The two of you park and head into the sand. It’s dark out except for a few bonfires lit on the beach. The two of you walk over to one and recognize it’s Murph’s coworkers.

Your stomach drops.

You thought it was just going to be you and him. That maybe tonight would’ve been the night you could tell him how you feel. You can’t do it in front of people, it doesn’t matter if he rejects you or not they’d be bound to make a fool out of you.

Murph grabs your shoulder and sits you down on a log. He sits next to you and the men start talking.

You ignore everything and space out.

So much for going to the beach.

“Did you tell them?” O’Brien asks, you’re not sure how much time has passed when you tune back into the conversation, you furrow your brows and look between him and Murph.

“Tell me what?”

Murph’s smile drops. He sighs and looks down in defeat.

“Murph?” You go to touch his shoulder but he moves it.

“You’re a liar.”

Your palms feel sweaty. “What?”

“You lied. About not being in contact with Kennedy and Quinn. About when they were going to rob the bank.”

“I didn’t! I told you what I know!” You defend yourself, Murph shakes his head.

“They’re out of the country and 10,000 dollars is gone. How stupid do you think I am? Thinking you can strike up some deal and get out of all of this?” His voice is low, you wanna puke at the aggression in it.

“I’m not lying. They must’ve told me a false date or something-“

“Bullshit.”

Murph grabs your neck and squeezes. You gasp, letting out a loud cry. Your head feels tight and your eyes roll up. You hold onto Murph’s wrist trying to push him off of you.

He eventually lets go and you cough, gasping for air. The moment is short lived as you feel a kick to your gut. A loud gut wrenching sob escapes your throat as the air gets knocked from your lungs. You grab onto your stomach. Your body panics from not being able to breath. You look around frantically and realize there’s a gun aimed at your head.

“You used me. For that you’re not getting out of this alive.”

-

You gasp awake, looking around the living room. Rubbing your eyes, you try squint to adjust your eyesight. Murph is leaning on a counter in the kitchen. “Evening.” He says in a playful tone. You’re still spooked from your dream.

You manage to get out a, “Hi..”, still trying to process your surroundings.

“It’s a little past 5, I was thinking we could go out to dinner and then head to the beach after, we’ll stay as long as you like.” Murph explains. You nod your head.

“That sounds.. good.” Your heart rate picks up speed as you get up. “It’ll just be you and me right?” You ask nervously. Murph smiles.

“Yeah. The guys aren’t going, I didn’t even tell them about this, I’m not trying to have them ruin my high.” Murph chuckles. Your anxiety dissipates. You smile. “Just let me know when you’re ready, okay?”

You nod your head and make your way upstairs. You shut the door behind you and look in your dresser. Wanting to look the best you could, you take a minute or two to decide. When you do, you grab a pair of pants, a faux turtleneck tank top, and your jacket, then put on a few necklaces and a bracelet.

You stare at the mirror that hangs over your dresser and look at your hair. You frown and try and fix it a little. When finally get it in a decent place you grab your boots and slide them on, zipping them up you then head downstairs. Murph is looking at himself in the foyer mirror, adjusting the collar on his polo.

Your stomach tightens and face heats up at him wearing the shirt. The way it manages to accentuate his arms drives you crazy.

“You ready?”

“Hell yeah I am!” You reply. Murph smirks and grabs his keys, pockets his wallet and grabs his coat. You two then head out the door. “So where are we going to eat?”

“Little bar by the beach. They got some good ass wings. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“Sounds great.”

Surprisingly parking is easy to find and the wait was not long at all. Murph and you sit down at some window seats facing towards the beach.

“Hello, my names Sara, what can I get for you two to drink tonight?”

“Coke.”

“Corona Light.”

“You want a lime?”

Murph nods.

“Okay I’ll have those out for ya.”

The waitress walks away from the table and you look over the menu.

“You sleep well?” Murph asks, you nod.

“Yeah.” You lie, and set down your menu when you finally figure out what you want.

“That’s good. Hey, I really am sorry for this week. I’m sorry for this morning too. I’d just been up for more than 20 hours. Should’ve known you would’ve been worried, I’d been worried about you too. I’d been kept busy all week and if I knew how you felt I would’ve tried harder to come back earlier. I thought I was being over dramatic I mean I know you can take care of yourself but-“

“I can, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t or uh don’t want you around. I mean I have been missing you a lot.” You confess.

The waitress comes back with your drinks and the two of you order your food.

“Got you some swim shorts and a tank top when we go to the beach. We can grab them from the truck and just walk. From there since ya know, beach is right here.”

“You gonna go swimming? You’re not exactly wearing trunks yourself. Jeans are a pain to get off too.”

“I got my stuff, don’t you worry about it.”

“Will do.”

-

By the time the two of you ate and Murph paid the sun had begun to set. You honestly got distracted by watching it you didn’t even notice Murph was getting up.

“Come on.” He taps your shoulder, you follow after him, weaving through people in the now crowded restaurant.

A light breeze blows through the air both of you make your way to his truck. He opens the door and a plastic bag rustles. He pulls out your swimwear. “Can just change in the restroom.”

You nod and go in and change. Murph is out before you, he’s texting on his phone.

“You ready Murph?” You ask, he looks up from his phone, looks at you up and down and nods.

“Hell yeah I am. Ya look great. Glad I got the right size for you.” He says, starting to walk around the building and towards the sand. “Nick texted. He got a lead. Says the Abrams will be robbing Friday at the Commercial Bank of Cali. Won’t be home until late. We’re gonna finish this.” Murph explains, his hand runs through his Sandy grey hair and he smiles reassuringly down at you. You return the smile to put him at ease.

“Yeah we are Murph. Now let’s enjoy tonight.” You smirk and run off towards the water, chucking your shoes behind you. You laugh and dive in feeling it consume you. You stand up and watch Murph set down a huge blanket and the towels. He toes his shoes off and pulls off his polo.

You gasp at his body, your mind driving you wild. He has a couple of tattoos on his chest and you see one on his hipbone leading to his groin. He walks towards you.

“Enjoying the view?” He asks, his arms sticking out. He spins and smirks at you, being so full of himself.

“You wish!” You say, breaking out of your daze. He stops for a second, looking offended then his playfulness comes back. He starts running then tackles you two into the water. You come back up with salt in your mouth and spit it at his face.

“Asshole!” You chuckle. His crows feet become more prominent as he laughs along with you.

“We’re only playin’”

You push him off of you and splash him. A huge wave comes through and pushes both of you towards the shore. Murph grabs your arm and hauls you up and you follow him back to the blanket to dry off. Murph picks your shoes up on the way back over and sets them by his shoes. He hands you a towel and you dry off as best at you can.

Both of you plop down onto the blanket and Murph pulls out his bowl and some weed packing it in there.

The sun is almost gone, your feelings about today conflict. Sure you slept until five in the evening but you also got to go out to a restaurant and beach with Murph.

The smell of weed gets caught in your nose, Murph elbows you and you take the bowl from his hand. You suck in gently and blow out, your anxieties dissipating like the smoke in the air.

“What do you plan on doing after this?” Murph asks, he sounds more mellow than usual. You shrug and furrow your brows.

“Dunno, maybe school, but I wouldn’t know how to pay for it. I was also thinking of part time jobs. Uh- are you guys planning on going through the warehouses I told you about?”

“Probably, why?”

“ID and important documents are in one of the buildings. Unless they someone found it, which isn’t likely. I’m good at hiding stuff like that.”

“You tell me where it is and I’ll make sure to look for it.”

“Perfect.”

“Kiddo.”

You look over at him and knit your brows together. He purses his lips, takes a quick hit and look back at you.

“If you need help paying for anything I can do it. I wanna help you. I’ll do anything you ask.” His demeanor changes, you smile and look down then back up at him.

“What about paying you back. What if I ca-“

“Don’t worry about any of that. I don’t care. I just wanna make sure you’re well off.” Murph’s bottom lip sticks out. You try and not notice it, so you nod your head.

“Okay.”

The beach is quiet other than the ocean waves splashing against the sand. The silence is not longer awkward, but Murph still breaks it.

“I know how much I’ve told you this but stay with me as long as you want. My money isn’t getting spent on anything but you and me. I promise I’ll never get sick of you.”

Your heart swells, you can’t help the next words that come from your mouth.

“Even if it’s forever?”

“Especially if it’s forever.”

You look over at Murph again. His hair looks silver in the moonlight. You stare at his lips. Your mouth hangs open as you stare at him lighting his bowl again. When he sets down his lighter after putting out the bowl, you take your chance.

You place your hands on his cheeks and make him look at you. His eyes look down and the two of you lean in. You open your mouth and he follows, letting the smoke flow into your mouth. He takes the back of your head and deepens the kiss, the smoke slowly falling from it.

Letting go the two of you stare into each other’s eyes and pant.

“Kiss me again.” You mumble, slowly crawling onto Murph’s lap. His thumb swipe over and over again across your lip until he decides to kiss you again. The kiss is rough, his thumbs caressing your face.

Murph’s mouth opens, his tongue darts into your mouth playing with your tongue. You moan feeling down his neck and onto the hair on his chest.

Murph moans feeling up and down your thighs. You let go and the two of you stare at each other in a daze, smiling lazily at each other.

“I don’t think I’ll ever leave you Murph.” You admit.

To say you were attached to Murph Connors was such an understatement. He is the first person to show you decency, to respect you and make you feel like you had a chance at life.

“I don’t want you to ever leave.” He kisses your lips gently.

You were in love with Murph Connors and from the way he looked and spoke to you, you knew he felt the same.

[moonlightdancer26]

AYO 💕 I'm bored, so here be me, offering 1: a funny rant for entertainment, and 2: an opinion for reflection (primarily mine).

Rant: did you know that jegulus shippers hc that Snape bullied Regulus with the other "bad" slytherins? And even acted predatory?? Legit read a scene where Mulciber manhandled Regulus and Snape watched cool and composed as you please and chided him for "playing with his food", then he himself slammed Regulus against a wall, got up in his face and threatened him. 😭🤡 Meanwhile Sneep and Regulus were probs CEO and COO respectively of the Sirius Black Haters Club. Even indifference from Regulus' part would be more likely than someone like him with an important and infamous family getting bullied by his own housemates, let alone by Snape who was at the bottom of the social ladder. Cringe. 😬

Opinion, a little more weighted. Though the blatant racism in Rowling's writing and characterizations of certain characters is undeniable, I've personally come across a few sjws who imo see it even where it's not. But there are instances where I'm not sure. Like with Shacklebolt, I always thought that the name was about him putting criminals in shackles, being good at his job, not an allusion to slavery. But I'm white and don't know whether black people actually consider it a good point, and just bc something is said or seen w/o bad intention doesn't mean there aren't implicit racist connotations going unnoticed. It's been going around in my head for a while. I summon your illustrious spouse @halfblood-princes-crown who iirc is poc (also realised I'm not following him which, great oversight), and anyone else who'd like to contribute their thoughts.

Hey sweetie! Sorry for the late-ish answer 😭 I completely forgot this was in my drafts

did you know that jegulus shippers hc that Snape bullied Regulus with the other "bad" slytherins? And even acted predatory??

YES OMG, I can’t even explain how stupid it is. Like these mfs really think some poor greasy bullied half-blood Slytherin could even bully a Black (who’s the opposite of everything I mentioned, aside from Slytherin) 💀 plus they both hated Sirius and would legit kill for the people they love so I have a petty headcanon that they’re besties and Sirius HATED it. You just know Reggie would be there when James and Sirius try to target Snape, and when James gets roasted and Sirius tries to join in Reggie would be like “and why are you talking? Don’t you *spills an embarrassing sibling-secret Sirius still does from when they were kids*?” and they’d stand there like 👬) 🤭 Tbh Marauder stans would go to such drastic lengths just so they make it seem like the Marauders bullying Snape was as mild as possible lmao.

But there are instances where I'm not sure. Like with Shacklebolt, I always thought that the name was about him putting criminals in shackles, being good at his job,

I totally understand that! It could be argued that that’s what it meant, because it really is a reasonable perspective……. that is, if Kingsley wasn’t part of the 4% POC characters in the series. Why would she give one of her only black characters a last name that’s meaning was an item used to chain slaves? It was apparently absolutely impossible for her to name any other white auror (basically every other auror) that was good at their job that name?

Along with all that, she’s named the only other Asian character (aside from the Patil twins) Cho Chang, both of which are last names. And it’s clear Rowling’s one of those authors who really put thought into their characters’ names, for example: Severus Snape (his first name directly translates to “stern” or “harsh”), Voldemort (mort means “death,” and when translating each section of the name in French, “vol de mort” it means “flight from death”), Remus Lupin (…wolf wolf 💀), Dolores Umbridge (Latin origins: “lady of sorrows or pain” (psychological or physical), Greek meaning: “deceitful,” Spanish meaning: “pain”), Fenrir Greyback (in Norse mythology: Fenrir is a gigantic and terrible monster, Greyback sounds similar to silverback, which is known as the dominant male in a band of gorillas), Fleur Delacour (“flower of the court”), and so on. I could literally talk about their name meanings for hours. My fave name meanings are Severus’s, Voldy’s (biggest flex is that I already knew this bc it’s French 🤭), Remus’s (😭 I already knew “Lupin”’s meaning because of the wolf (lupus) in mythology), Umbitch’s, and Fleur’s. Tbf Fleur’s full name is so stereotypically French but French names are almost as stunning as she is so I give it a pass.

Anyway, Rowling definitely isn’t one of those authors who give their characters a name they think “just fits them” and goes on with it, almost all of the characters’ names say something about their personalities to an extent. And she’s already a racist and proved it through making an Asian character’s full name consist of one Korean last name (Cho) and one Chinese last name (Chang). So the fact that she named one of her only black characters THAT name definitely must not have anyyy underlying intentions.

I may be a POC but I’m not black, so I’m sure my opinion won’t hold as much water as a black person’s. I’d be interested to hear what y’all think! @halfblood-princes-crown we’re summoning you babe, I wanna hear what you think.

And thanks for the ask btw, you can yell into my inbox whenever you feel like it ❤️

[aspoonofsugar]

Considering how the boarbatusk summon represents Weiss’s Huntress side, it makes total sense we see Willow summon the same type of Grimm to defend Whitley! Do you think we’ll get to see more of Willow’s past as a Huntress, and do you have any theories yet as to how her summons may tie in and what allusions she could possibly come to present in the arcs of the Schneeblings?

Hi!

I have actually discussed Willow a little bit here and here.

In short:

1 - When it comes to Willow's giant Boarbatusk, I am not sure it hints to a possible past as a Huntress (even if it is still possible), but rather to her motherly instincts. After all, boars are known to be protective mothers, always ready to fight for their cubs. Throughout the years, Willow has instead failed to protect her children. She wants to, but can't find the strength to effectively oppose Jacques. However, in Dark she is able to act in order to protect Weiss and Whitley. Hence her true self aka a mama boar emerges as strong as ever.

2 -When it comes to Willow's allusion, in one of the 2 metas I suggest an analysis of her arc through the lens of The Six Swans. To be fair, it is a loosely allusion that fits thematically rather than plot-wise. The Six Swans is the story of a Queen that stays silent for 6 years in order to free her 6 brothers, who are stuck as swans. She must sew 6 shirts without laughing or talking. As a result her husband's mother accuses her of killing her 3 children and sentences her to death. In the end, though, she frees her brothers and defends herself, is reunited with her 3 children and the Evil Mother is killed. You can read Willow's passiveness as her keeping silent in front of Jacques's abuse towards herself and her 3 children. In the end, though, she finally stops her silence and stands up for her family.

That said, your ask had me realize Willow's Boarbatusk might have an additional meaning, which fits Weiss's Snowhite...

Willow is Snowhite's Hunter

The Hunter is told by the Evil Queen to kill Snowhite, but the man has pity of the girl and lets her go. Later on, he kills a boar and tells the Evil Queen its heart is actually Snowhite's. In short, he is a parental figure (he is symbolic of the Father), who wants to protect Snowhite, but is too weak to succeed. All he can do is to help the girl in an indirect way.

Willow fits to a T. She loves her children, but is incapable to protect them effectively. Even when Weiss returns, all Willow does is to share some information with her daughter. She could have stopped Jacques herself, but doesn't. She fails to act:

Weiss: I think Father may have done something. Something wrong. Willow: I thought we all simply assumed that at this point. Weiss: Yes, well, some of us are trying to do something about it.

However, throughout volume 8 she becomes more active until she fights with her Boarbatusk for Whitley's sake.

What does it mean? It means that Willow is being inspired by Weiss and is growing more into a Huntress. So, the point isn't if Willow was ever a Huntress (maybe she was! Not saying she wasn't :)), but that she is growing into one, just like her daughter. A person ready to risk her life for her loved ones.

All of this brings us to a cool idea I had thanks to you :D

So, if you have read some of my previous metas on Weiss's allusion (sorry they are so long :/), you know I think Weiss's summonings all represent a character from Snowhite.

The Boarbatusk is the Hunter:

The Arma Gigas is the Prince:

The Queen Lancer is the Queen:

All together they make Weiss, just like all the characters together make the story of Snowhite. Throughout her summonings, then Weiss grows more into herself. She polishes who she is and blossoms into a wonderful Snowhite of her own.

Still, this is just the first part of Weiss's story. After all, her arc is about reconciling who she is (Weiss) with her being part of her family (a Schnee). This is why her semblance has a double meaning:

It lets her project outside parts of herself

It is shared by all the members of her family

So, what happens after she integrates all her parts (Huntress, Knight and Queen)? Easy, she inspires her family members to grow more like her too. They blossom into Snowhite's characters, so that they can all be at Weiss's side. And so she realizes they are all important parts of who she is, as well. Like her summons...

So, we have:

Willow as the Hunter

As we have seen, Willow struggles with passiveness, like Weiss initially. However, in the darkest hour her inner Huntress comes out in the shape of a giant Boarbatusk.

Whitley as a Knight to be

Whitley's arc in volume 8 is literally Weiss's character development twice as fast :P He defrosts and starts using his resources to help others. Not only that, but his climatic moment in Dark is him killing the Hound with Nicholas's armour. (Yes, Willow helps, but Whitley has the idea). Just like his sister, he refuses the empty legacy he was handed (the decorative armour) and turns it into something useful (a weapon to save Weiss and her friends). Weiss starts her journey by killing an Arma Gigas, while Whitley starts his by breaking another one of his Grandfather's armours.

Winter as a Wonderful Queen

Winter is the Snow Queen (Winter Maiden), who is slowly warming up to grow more into a kind and open Queen like Weiss.

In short, Weiss's avatars are parts of who she is, but they are also linked to her family members, who are inspired by Weiss to grow into a specific role. All together they make our Weiss Schnee.

In the next volumes, it would be interesting to see the Schnee Family cements their positive developments. When it comes to Willow specifically, I think she needs to be there for her children, even more than before. Especially, I think she and Winter should have a moment of reconciliation and I would like if she were to mentor Weiss a little bit. Who knows? Maybe she knows something about their family semblance her daughters ignore.

If Willow ties into some other allusion or has some other minor one of her own, I don't know. Personally, I would like for the Schnees to have more Swans allusions :P I just like the idea, no deep reasoning here. Similarly, I would also love if the Christmas allusion they have were used more effectively. Like, can Weiss grow into Santa Klaus herself? And can Whitley be an elf (he has the right looks :P). Willow is a tree, so nothing can make me think she isn't meant to be Nicholas's little Christmas Tree.

And with this very fitting Christmas note, I close this ask :P

Merry Christmas, if you celebrate!

[writer-darling]

Systems (Part 3 of the My Werewolf's Keeper Universe)

Part 1 | Part 2 

Rating: T (13+)

Pairing: Jack Russell (Werewolf by Night, 2022) x GN!Reader

Warnings: Allusions and mentions of blood. Mentions of food, eating. More-than-friends-but-not-a-couple trope. Mutual pining. Descriptions of fear and anxiety.  Mentions of monsters. Distrust among best friends, tension (both sexual and non), mentions of injuries (non-graphic), mentions of anxiety symptoms, hyperventilating, mutual pining, hurt/comfort dynamic, mentions of weaponry (tranquilizer gun). If there are any that I missed, please inbox me to let me know and I will add them in :)

Word Count: 3k

Summary!: Set directly after the events of “Once,”

******

Jack tries his hardest to make things between you two better, and you have to admire his tenacity. He’s doing everything to try and put you at ease, making himself available for anything you might need from him. Other than that, he acts relatively normal around you, but there’s a new sense of disconnection between you two. On your end, you know it’s distrust. He’s blocked you off, at least partially, your entire friendship. Truth omitting or just straight up lying, you don’t have enough information to label it correctly just yet. But still, it hurts. It hurts way more than you were expecting. 

Granted, he had good reason to block you off from that part of his life. I mean how does someone spring “by the way I’m a werewolf!” on a best friend like that? It could never be a natural tidbit of information, no way. But, you had always tried to show up for Jack. To allow him the freedom to be open with you and not have to worry about judgement, just as he had for you. So what was it then? Did he just not trust you? Was he truly so worried that you would have run off screaming for the hills if you knew about his true nature? Whatever it was, it made him nervous. Well, more nervous than normal.

Much like he is now. You’re in the kitchen, putting away the groceries you bought around noon. The morning had been spent with both of you exchanging simple “good mornings” and breakfast bagels, but there had been that underlying tension that now seemed to drench every interaction you two shared. He’d snuck the usual glances at you, but the way he watched you felt different. It felt like he was analyzing you, just waiting for the moment you run off. He’s still watching you now, his eyes remaining glued to your form as you go about putting the mini cucumbers in one of the produce crispers while he places the Frosted Flakes box next to the box of pancake mix in the pantry. Now that his ruse is up, he’s able to travel throughout the house freely without having to pretend to lock himself up in his room for 72 hours. So, you took up his offer to help you out with the groceries. You’re regretting it now, wishing you had time to think. Though it’s not like you haven’t spent all hours of the previous night thinking. Your head is practically bursting from all the overstimulation. 

As you move to grab the Greek yoghurt, he leans over you to open the spice cabinet, shakers of ground cinnamon, cloves, and black pepper in one of his hands. You tense immediately, pressing yourself into the counter just as you turn to face him, tub in your own hand. His body is extra-warm as it hurdles you in place. You drop your eyes from him. Usually this accidental-unaccidental forced proximity between you both would make warmth blossom in your chest. Usually. The hurt on his face is clear, his eyes looking at anywhere but you as he moves away quickly, a quiet “sorry,” making its way past his lips, putting the spices beside you before he moves all the way across the kitchen. You ignore the shiver that runs down your spine and say nothing in response, both of you finishing up with a renewed speed fueled by awkwardness and shame.

As soon as you’re done, Jack is out of the kitchen like a bat out of hell, taking a granola bar with him for lunch. You sigh when you realize he’s gone and get to work, finding something simple to make for dinner. You choose something filling after reconsidering for a moment, since you really don’t know when or even if he eats once he leaves during the night. How much should you make? How fast do werewolf metabolisms work anyway? He had an appetite, he always did, but how much did the wolf eat in comparison to Jack? All valuable questions that you put into the back of your mind for now, fully intent on asking Jack about them later. You decide to make beef stroganoff, with a side of potatoes and a fresh salad. It’ll keep him full for the night you hope. 

You let your mind wander as you cut and dice and cook and boil and bake for the next few hours. Your movements are on autopilot as your busy mind tries to think about anything but Jack and what he’s doing. Most likely preparing for his next transformation tonight. Your brain replays the events from last night - yet again. It’s been doing that on-and-off all day. This time around, it chooses to focus on the cage you saw before he decided to tackle you. The way it was absolutely bare, no bed, no comfort in it. Not even a blanket. It had been a clear place for punishment. The chains, the dirt floor, the damp and cold of it all. The deep claw marks. Your stomach twists uncomfortably at that last image. You shake your head, but your brain doesn’t let you rest. A sudden idea pops into your mind and you decide to act on it, heading to the linen closet before going outside as quietly as possible, not wanting Jack to hear.

When you’ve finished with that and are back in the kitchen a couple more hours later, you serve yourself a plate full of food before making your way upstairs quietly. Once in the room, you grab your laptop from your bedside table and power it on. You decide to browse around for some job listing in town, having set up your resume through one of those job search websites. No offers yet. You turn on the TV, finding a two-and-a-half hour movie to watch as you eat and continue applying to local listings. The food is just as filling as you’d hoped, and the creaminess of the stroganoff and starchiness of the potatoes quickly puts you into a food coma, your laptop still on your knees as the end credits of the movie roll.

The sunlight filtering through the window wakes you up in the morning. Your laptop is now beside you, having tipped over while you slept. It’s dead, so you connect it to the charger as you grab your phone from your nightstand. No calls or messages from Jack, but you get up anyway, knowing where he’ll be.

Before making your way outside, you grab the throw from the living room, and then a pair of his slippers that he keeps by the front door.

The sound of oldies from the 1940s makes its way across the lawn to your ears as you begin your trek towards the cellar. The doors are wide open, and you make your way down the steps slowly, cautiously. When your eyes adjust to the darkness, you spot him immediately, taking advantage of your idea from yesterday. The blanket covers him completely, and he’s sound asleep as you approach the cage. His face is open as he dreams, a soft snore slipping from between his lips. You notice though that even in his sleep, there’s that familiar furrow between his brows and his mouth is turned down in a slight frown. You watch him for a few minutes, not wanting to disrupt him from his sleep just yet. There’s mud caked under his fingernails, and his body (the parts of it you can see anyway) and face are covered in streaks of dirt and grime. His hair is a mess, leaves and twigs caught in the strands. You spot a bruise on his left shoulder, and then a deep scratch on his right calf.  The knuckles on both of his hands are swollen and purple. What the hell did he do last night? Before you have a chance to speculate, he startles awake. His eyes shoot open and he sits up, the blanket falling from his upper torso. His eyes dart wildly around the room as he begins to hyperventilate, his mouth agape as he breathes roughly. 

“Jack, Jack!” His eyes find you and you move closer. “It’s ok, you’re safe.” His features shift in confusion, his gaze hazy and unfocused. “Can I come in?” You ask. He nods, rubbing his eyes as his breathing slowly evens out. You cringe as the shrill creak of the door pierces through the relative calm of the cellar. He’s watching you again, his expression still holding fear. You move very slowly, shifting into a crouching position so you’re at eye level with him. “Are you ok?” He slowly shakes his head. He’s trembling. You grab the throw you brought from over your shoulder, placing it over his form. He curls it around his body. When you sit down on the floor, keeping a few feet of space between you, he quickly shuffles over and hugs you to him, curling his face into your neck. You don’t move, and he’s about to pull away, remembering. But you can tell he’s scared, his heartbeat fast against your chest and little huffs of panicked breaths ghosting over your pulse point. Slowly, you hug him, wrapping your arms around his body. At your touch, he holds onto you tighter, instantly melting into you and leaning his head on your shoulder.

“I’m ok. I’m just tired.” He mumbles into your jacket. You don’t believe him, but you don’t push it.

“Ok, do you want to go inside?” You ask. You feel him shake his head lightly.

“Let’s stay here for a few minutes.” So you do, sitting there with him. He smells like moss and dirt. But there’s also his scent underneath that, the cologne you always get him for his birthday that smells like musk and vevitier. Hints of citrus and leather. It’s so familiar, it makes your heart skip. You curl a hand into his hair. He lets out a long sigh, his breath warm but finally even against your skin as your free hand rubs up and down his back. 

Your mind begins to wander as your eyes scan the bleakness of the cellar. You realize then that if you didn’t know about his condition, then surely not many others do either. Jack was a solitary man by nature. Not unfriendly, but he kept a tight lid on his emotions around others. Now you know why. Still, you realize he must be much more lonely than you could have even imagined. Never letting anyone be too close. Never formulating a true connection. And that revelation breaks your heart. For you, of course, since you always considered him your most trusted friend. But for him as well. Did you truly know him? You liked to believe you did. But you still couldn’t be sure.

After a good 10 minutes, he pulls away, helping you stand. He keeps both blankets wrapped around him as you two walk back to the house after locking up the cellar.

“What did you do last night?” You ask him as you both walk across the dew-soaked lawn. 

“Had a job to do out in the woods: a fae got loose from our research facility and I had to track him down.” He says. He says it so nonchalantly that you have to laugh, shaking your head.

“What?” He asks, his expression light as he gazes at you.

“Nothing, just.. Man, I can’t believe all this.” You say, another sound - something between a chuckle and a scoff - coming out of your throat.

Inside the house, you are about to direct him to the bathroom.

“Why?” He asks.

“Well, you gotta shower first of all because you’re covered in dirt and muck.” He glances down at his covered body. “And second, I gotta clean up all those wounds on your-” You cut off as your eyes fall to his knuckles keeping the blankets close to his form. They’re red now, and barely swollen at all.

“Oh.” He says, calling you attention back to his face. “Don’t worry about my injuries; they heal on their own pretty well most of the time.” 

“Is that another wolf thing?” You ask.

“Yeah, fast healing.” He replies. You nod, pensively.

“Well, I guess that explains that time I swore I saw you break your ankle playing flag football with the Suarez boys but you were able to chase down Ms. Torres pig the next day.”  He goes red at the memory, nodding sheepishly.

“Yeah, I did break it that day, but it healed quickly. It was the day after my first transformation ended.” You nod, resuming your guiding. He smiles, following, and steps into the bathroom.

“Well, you still need to shower. Go, and I’ll get you some clean clothes from your room.” He stops you with a touch on your wrist. You turn back towards him and he drops his hand.

“I’m glad you know the truth now.” He says, his relief genuine. You smile after a moment, nodding.

“Me too.”

You place the clothing - a grey t-shirt, some navy flannel pjs, boxers, and a pair of socks - on the counter. You go outside, checking the mailbox at the end of the driveway. There’s a few letters all for Jack, and a fresh newspaper. You take your time walking back, and by the time you go inside Jack is in the kitchen dressed and cooking what seems to be french toast and breakfast sausage. He glances at you over his shoulder as you sit at the table, opening up the newspaper and laying the mail on the table. 

“I forgot to thank you for dinner yesterday. It was really good, thank you. And for the help this morning.”

“Yeah, of course. I wasn’t sure if it would be enough for you, but I figured there’s probably not a lot of places you can eat as a wolf. The help well, I just did what I thought would be best.” You respond, but your eyes remain glued to one of the front page headlines: 2 Dead in Forest Animal Attack. 

He calls your name and you call back with a “Yeah, what’s up?” As you look down at the newspaper in your hands, beginning to read the actual story.

“I have something for you.” The tone of his voice catches your attention. It’s quiet, and grave. You set the newspaper down on the table and turn to look at him, but your eyes immediately zero in on the gun in his hands. You hadn't even noticed it beside him on the kitchen counter, away from the hot stove, of course.

“A… hunting rifle? Gee, Jack you shouldn’t have.. You really shouldn’t have.” He knew you had an aversion to weapons.

“This isn’t a regular rifle. It’s a special gun I had made.” He reaches you and holds it out to you but you don’t grab it. 

“Don’t tell me there’s a round of silver bullets in here.” You say, only half joking. One corner of his mouth quirks up into a tiny smirk.

“No, it’s a tranquilizer gun. I want you to have it.” You meet his eyes, your hands almost reaching for it but you hesitate again. He nods in encouragement and you purse your lips for a second. You grab it but immediately set it on the table away from you. 

“Why are you giving me this again?” You ask him as you eye the body of the gun.

“I can be… unpredictable the morning after a full moon.” He explains, averting his eyes from you as he answers.

“Unpredictable?” You ask, quirking an eyebrow at him. He nods, returning his gaze to you and you can see that his eyes are dead serious.

“Sometimes I can recover in five minutes, other times it takes five days. It’s all still unpredictable. I’ve never hurt anyone. But, I don’t know where I am - who I am - until the adrenaline passes. And if you’re still willing to do this, this is my only condition.” 

“So… you want me to use this?” You ask, your voice already teetering on protest. He was your friend, there’s no way you could shoot him, even if he begged you. You didn’t have the heart to shoot anyone, let alone Jack.

“I want you,” he grabs your hand then and places it on the gun, closing your fingers around it with his own. You notice how his hand encompasses your own entirely, warm and firm around your grip. “to have a way to protect yourself.” Your eyes meet and you know there’s no negotiating this. He wants you safe, even if it has to be from him. Your gaze searches his, but there’s still no give in his intensity. Your eyes dart from him to the gun, then back again. “Please, it’ll give me some peace of mind.” After a beat, you nod, and his body visibly eases with relief.

“Ok.” He smiles, appreciative that you’re not fighting him on this too much, and drops his hand from yours as he turns back to the food at the stove. You’re left to contemplate this latest bit of information, turning the gun over in your hands. You finally take a closer look at it. It’s nothing fancy, looking like any old rifle to you with a rich brown butt, handguard, and pistol grip, while the rest of the body is a charcoal grey metal. There’s a scope attached to it, and in the chamber is not a bullet, but instead a small dart with a metal needle and a glass vial which contains a bright red liquid within it. Must be the tranquilizer.

“Are you hungry? I’ve got breakfast ready.” He says, changing the subject. You can’t help yourself as you grin, familiar playfulness returning.

“Mmm, like a wolf.” You reply, standing up and placing the gun back on the table.

*****

No, I’m still not out of love with Jack Rusell, shut up. 

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[with-love-from-hell]

5 Sides of Human

{Part Nineteen}

Genre: Mixed

WC: ~4.1k

CW: Depression, Allusion to past trauma, Mentions of chronic illness, very fluffy chapter, Storm has a stutter but I am not depicting it with written word consistently, prolly lots of typos lol, spoilers for season 1&2, I'm skipping over/changing some things I didn't like in the main story so it will be a bit different from canon!

A/N: Expedited this because me and one of my friends could use some comfort from our boys <3

Series Masterlist

©️ artwork commissioned by @vivi8bit ©️  

“Fuck off, Old man.” Vivi hissed as she pushed past Lucifer toward Satan’s room, ignoring his warning of completing their homework before spending time with the 4th born. He had been hounding her about grades for nearly two weeks since the play, seeing as she had stopped going to classes in preference of doing...well...anything else. 

Lucifer sighed in frustration, rubbing his temples roughly. The headache that had been seemingly endless since the night of the play only seemed to become more painful. For goodness sake, where was Storm? She was the only one who offered him any sort of respite, and he had hardly been able to spend any time with her since Asmo basically forced her to be at his side 24/7 to aid him in the stupid Bloody Moon competition. His only solace was that the event took place in three days time, so she would soon become free again, but he worried that his brothers would easily trip over themselves to spend time with her.  He found himself often feeling jealous, but couldn’t set his pride aside to fight for her companionship.

“Vivi, Would you please listen to reason.” Lucifer turned and followed them down the hall, much to their displeasure. “Diavolo expects all of our students to be in class if they are able- so if something is preventing you from attending-” 

“Stop treating me like a 7 year old, Dick-bag.” Vivi whipped around, Lucifer nearly colliding with them as they suddenly stopped. “I don’t give a fuck about Diavolo and what his expectations are. I told you from the beginning I didn’t ask to be here!” 

Lucifer pulled his lips back into a thin line, holding back his anger as much as he could. Storm had urged him to try to be more patient and understanding, and her teachings to him on human’s emotions and trauma had been able to help him empathize with Storm, but Vivi was another Story. All he thought of when he interacted with her was a young Satan, though much less destructive. And he still struggled with the 5th born who was his own brother- how could he ever manage to deal with this human who had decided she hated him from day 1? 

“Vivi, I am merely acting out of concern for you.” 

“Ha!” Vivi shook their head, crossing their arms over their chest. “Concern for me?! Don’t make me laugh. All you care about is boot licking for the crown. Now leave me alone.” 

Unbelievable...Lucifer sighed, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “Fine- if you are refusing my sympathy, so be it.  But this conversation is not over, Vivi.” 

“Eat shit, Dracula.” They yelled back as they climbed the stairs toward Satan’s room, slamming the door after they entered. 

Lucifer growled in frustration, trying to massage away the headache that was very much present in the forefront of his brain.

“Hey, Lucifer!” 

Lucifer whipped around, shocked to hear the sickly-sweet voice of Storm suddenly behind him. His posture lifted and his eyes seemed to sparkle at the sight of her. His heart nearly lifted into his throat as it fluttered excitedly. “Oh, Storm!” 

“Hey!” she laughed running a hand through her hair. “Sorry It’s been a hot minute since we’ve really talked- Asmo has kept me unreasonably distracted.” 

Lucifer waved off the apology. “It’s no trouble. I know how my brothers can be. I’m always glad to see you regardless!” 

She was surprised by the excitement in his demeanor. She gave a small giggle as her cheeks turned slightly pink. “What? Did you miss me that much?” 

Lucifer cleared his throat, trying to hide a growing blush. “I merely find the lack of your company odd, given how accustomed I’d become to it.” 

Storm rolled her eyes with a small laugh. “Sure. Well, I managed to have Heart and Sarah distract Asmo while I snuck away for a bit. I have a lot of classes that I’m falling behind on because of all this, and needed a place to do it where I wont be bothered. Could I use your office, please?” 

“Of course. I was just going to get started on signing some documents for Diavolo.” Lucifer smiled. “I would enjoy the extra company.” 

“Great. I’ll make some refreshments then!” Her smile grew wide and she turned on her heel, nearly skipping down the hallway in excitement. 

Lucifer watched happily, finding the stress of the past 10 days melting away slightly. His shoulders relaxed as he made his way toward his office to clear some space for her to do her work. The paperwork Diavolo had been assigning to him had been piling up to the point where stacks had been set on the loveseat across from the fireplace. The chronic migraines he had begun experiencing had made focusing on anything extremely difficult, and he had been falling behind in his own work to the point where Storm’s missing assignments didn’t even phase him. The only reason Vivi stuck out was because their Devildom History professor had reached out about the attendance issue  along with numerous missing assignments, and a threat to remove them from the class. Even so, he knew something was going on with them to cause the sudden change. 

Despite not wanting to be here, as they had reiterated to him about a hundred times at this point, they still went almost all of their classes, and he knew Satan was helping them with assignments- or rather, doing it for them- so he was uncertain as to why the sudden changes happened since the night of the ball. They had been secluding themselves more, even from Satan, and even the calloused way they talked to anyone seemed to lessen in favor of mere silence. The only one who seemed to be able to get through to them was Storm, and she became oddly protective of them, offering anyone who offered any sort of criticism toward their demeanor a harsh glare or snapping at them to mind their business. 

“I made some cucumber sandwiches and chai, I hope that’s alright.” Lucifer jumped as she spoke, his thoughts having distracted him so much that he didn’t even hear her enter the room. 

“That’s perfect, thank you...though you didn’t have to do that.” He smiled at her as he set down a large stack of documents. 

She set the tray on the coffee table and dropped her satchel to the floor beside the couch. she crossed one leg over her knee as she poured them each a cup of tea. “I suppose I didn’t have to, but I know how hard you work yourself and how you tend to neglect to take breaks.” 

Lucifer scoffed. “Thank you for the consideration, but I am more than capable of taking care of myself. You worry to much, Storm.” 

She side eyed him for a moment, before returning her focus to setting two sandwiches on his plate. “Mmhmm.” 

“What coursework are you missing?” He sat on the couch next to her, propping his leg up similarly and balancing his plate on his knee while he sipped his tea. The sweet floral notes danced on Lucifer’s tongue, and the light carbonation fizzled as it slid easily down his throat. It reminded him of the feeling of kissing Storm, making his heartbeat increase ever so slightly as she pulled out her note pad from her bag, along with two text books. 

“I mean, I guess I shouldn’t have said I'm falling behind.” She laughed, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. “I just...don’t like not being ahead on my work.”

Lucifer smiled. That was something he had always admired about her. “So what is it that you’d like to get ahead on?” 

“Well,” She tapped her chin thoughtfully with her pen, “I have a research paper due next week in beast keeping- I’m writing about the dangers of serpents and basilisks. I have a lab on Monday in Potions, and I wanted to make sure to have the ingredients we’re using and their effects committed to memory...and I’m missing Curses and Hexes tomorrow because of the Bloody Moon thing, so I have some notes I wanted to catch up on in preparation for that.” 

Lucifer nodded. “That doesn’t seem so bad.” 

Storm shrugged, glancing down at the floor. “I just don’t like waiting until the last minute to do stuff...” 

“I wish my brothers were more like you.” Lucifer sighed, the pounding headache he was experiencing now coming back behind his eyes. “Or the other exchange students, for that matter.” 

“Are the other humans really so bad?” Storm glanced at him, sadly. “...Or is it that you havent taken the opportunity to get to know them better, like you did with me?” 

“Well, frankly I think part of the problem is that none of them appear to be as adherent to rules like you are, in addition to the fact that our personalities don’t blend as well. Each of them has found at least one of my brothers easy to get along with, with the exception of me. The only one not causing me constant stress is Heart, but even he tends to be more laissez faire about regulation and etiquette than you are.” 

Storm paused, thinking over his words for a moment. “Well, I suppose that’s fair. But, you know it even took you awhile to warm up to me, right?” 

Lucifer sighed. “I’m aware, yes. But you seemed to at least follow simple instructions, and frankly now I consider myself lucky that you were the first example of an exchange student we had. These other humans...” 

Storm glanced up at him as his words trailed off into a groan. Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose tightly, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to stave off the pain at the front of his head. Storm shifted in her seat, setting down her tea plate and scooting closer to him. 

“Are you okay?” her eyes darted around his face, trying to see if she could figure out what was wrong with him. 

It took him a moment to reply, his voice strained. “Yes. No need to worry, just a mere headache, is all.” 

“That doesn’t look like just a headache.” Storm scooted closer still, gently touching the sides of his forehead where veins protruded against his skin. “It looks more like a migraine. How long has this been going on?” 

“Storm, I’m fine.” He reassured, though made no attempts to mover her hands away as her fingers traced the side of his face. He found her touch pleasing, no matter the circumstance, but tried to prevent himself from leaning into it and cause her more worry. 

“Clearly you’re not.” She shook her head as he winced through another sharp pain. “You should be resting. Migraines should be nursed with low light and water!” 

Before Lucifer could protest, she was on her feet, pacing around his office to dim the lamps and reduce the flame on the fire. She tugged the curtains closed to reduce outside light as well, and then jogged out of the room. She returned back within minutes with glass of water, another empty glass, and an armful of herbs. she shoved the water in Lucifer’s hand and snatched his tea cup away from him. She dumped the tea into a nearby plant, and quickly shred some of the herbs  and shaved some of the root with her thumbnail. After the materials were swiped into the glass, Storm took it and rushed out of the room again, returning within a minute with a perfectly hot cup of herbal tea. 

“Here. Drink this.” She shoved the teacup toward him. 

“What is-” 

“Just drink it.” She motioned for him to grab the cup, which he reluctantly did and took a small, cautious sip. “It’s something I drink when I have migraines. It’s a simple mint and ginger based tea, with lavender, butterbur, and coriander. It’ll help.” 

Lucifer nodded, not really finding the drink very pleasurable, but trusting in Storm’s knowledge given her chronic conditions. After finishing the tea, storm immediately took the cup from him and bolted out of the room once more. Lucifer sighed, standing and moving toward his desk, this time not missing when she came back in completely out of breath. 

“What are you doing?” She panted, dropping a large blanket on the couch.

“I’m getting started on the mounds of paperwork I have.” He noted flatly. “A simple headache isn’t going to stop me from my duties.” 

“Lucifer...” Storm murmured sadly. “You need to rest.” 

“Thank you for the concern but-”

“Lucifer.” She reiterated again, this time more sternly. 

“Storm, I’m telling you I’m fine.” He sighed in frustration, crossing his arms. “I don’t need-” 

“Lucifer, Get your butt over to this couch and lay down!” Storm narrowed her eyes as her voice raised slightly, denoting her seriousness. “That is an order!” 

Lucifer blinked and widened his eyes as her pact mark shimmered on her chest. He sighed again- though this time it came out as more of a growl. His feet propelled him forward against his well, coming to a rest in front of the couch. He plopped down, glaring at her the entire time, though she wore a warm, satisfied smile plainly on her face. She laid out a blanket over him as he adjusted himself horizontally. 

“This is not how I imagined you using our pact, Storm.” Lucifer grumbled, though felt eased with her care as she pulled a blanket up to his chin.

“You need to take care of yourself when you feel unwell.” She murmured, gazing into his eyes for a moment. “You overwork yourself too much and...I...worry about you.” 

Lucifer stared back at her, feeling his heart flutter in his chest once more. He wasn’t sure what to say, he simply watched as she pressed a cold compress to his head and loosened his tie. 

“Now get some rest. You don’t have to sleep, but just resting your eyes will help.” she smiled, caressing his cheek for a moment. “Your paperwork can wait.” 

Lucifer groaned. “Very well, but I expect you to wake me in an hour.” 

Storm nodded, smiling warmly back at him. He let his eyes gently close as she slowly ran her hand through his hair a few times. He sighed contently, now letting himself lean into her touch. He nearly whined as he felt her hand leave his hair. He heard her shuffle her belongings to the chair next to the couch, followed by the sound of a scribbling pen. Slowly, his muscles relaxed and the throbbing pain dulled enough to where he could drift into unconsciousness.

Vivi slammed the door behind her, causing the tall tower of books near Satan’s bed to waver with the intensity of the force. Satan steadied them, peaking around behind the mess to see a very angry Vivi approaching him. He hadn’t really even spoken to them in nearly a week, and they had strong armed him out of any conversation he tried to engage basically since the ball. The past 3 days were the worst of it though, and they had basically holed up in her room, refusing to talk to anyone in that time other than Storm- and even with her the conversations seemed minimal.

“Vivi! What seems to be-” 

“Shut it. I came here to get away from your annoying older brother and that’s it. I want to be left alone.” Vivi picked a corner far away from Satan, nearly curling into themself with their sketch book.  

Satan watched curiously, noting the slow, gentle movements they made on the paper despite their angry demeanor. He thought about what he could say- or rather, maybe not say- to get her to open up. At times like this he wished he had the seemingly seamless ability that Storm had to get through to people who were struggling and get them to talk. He attempted to channel his inner ‘Storm’ and try to engage with them, despite the fact that they so clearly stated they want to be alone.

“I haven’t talked to you in awhile.” He commented, picking up a book and mimicking their actions on his bed. “I’ve missed you, you know.” 

Vivi’s hand paused its movements for a short moment, before picking up at a faster pace than before.

Satan chewed the inside of his cheek. “You know I’m here for you, right?” 

“I thought I told you to be quiet.” She snapped her head toward him, giving him a pointed glare. After seeing his concerned expression, her scowl dissipated and she turned her attention back to her sketch book. “I...I just don’t want to talk about it.” 

“But you came here.” Satan added. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but I want to help.” 

“There’s nothing you can do.” 

“What makes you so sure?” 

“I don’t...” Vivi sighed in frustration. “You wouldn’t understand. None of you stupid demons do! So just leave it alone.” 

“You talked to Storm, though. So there’s something she did that helped, right?” Satan slowly inched his way across his bed as he spoke, hoping she wouldn’t notice how cautiously he approached her. 

“Storm is...different. She’s the only one who at least kind of understands what growing up with-” Vivi paused, clenching her pen in her fist. “Just forget it. It doesn’t matter.” 

Satan’s expression softened further. “It does matter though. You don’t have to talk about it, but that doesn’t mean whatever is bothering you doesn’t matter.” 

Vivi stayed silent, though Satan could her their breath start to falter. 

“I care about you.” He stated matter-of-factly, and just the statement alone was enough to release the flood gates on Vivi’s tears. They curled into themself, trying desperately to hide their face from Satan. He immediately leapt from his bed, crouching next to them. For a moment though he hesitated to touch them, remembering Storm’s emphasis to him and his brothers on consent before offering any sort of physical comfort to her, and figured he should apply it here too. “Would you like a hug, Vivi?” 

There was a pause, and the only sound that could be heard was the sound of Vivi trying to regain control of their breathing. They didn’t speak, but saw their head move from beneath their arms, indicating an affirmative.

Satan smiled, pulling them tightly into his arms. They cried softly into his chest. He rubbed their back as they cried, offering small words of reassurance for them to cling to while he comforted them. Eventually, he had Vivi pulled onto his lap, cradling them as they tried to regain their ability to breath smoothly. Once they were calmed down, he decided to speak to them again. 

“Do you want a distraction? I guess I could like...read to you, if you wanted?” He shrugged, glancing back at their glistening eyes from beneath the mess of purple and black hair that was plastered against their forehead. They gave a small nod, which Satan returned with a wide smile. He snatched a book from a nearby stack and began reading, holding Vivi close to him while he did so. 

Eventually, he heard their breathing slow, and he glanced down to see their eyes fixated on the page as he read. His chest felt warm as he continued reading, glancing at them out of the corner of his eye as he did. They were cute like this, clinging to his chest like a sad lost kitten. He wanted desperately to do more for them, and he wish they’d tell him what had got to them so badly. His mind raced with possibilities, knowing it surly couldn’t just be Lucifer’s hovering that had them so depressed.  

After about an hour, finishing 3 chapters of the book he was reading to them, he set it aside. He returned his focus to making sure they felt comforted as he rested his chin on their head, unconsciously rocking them back and forth subtly. 

“Are you still not wanting to talk? It’s okay if you don’t, but I want to know what’s wrong or if I could help.” Satan brushed straggling strands of hair back from their eyes, searching them for a sign that he could be let in. 

“No...but I...” Vivi sighed, rubbing their eyes and smearing makeup down their cheeks. “...I appreciate...y’know...this.” 

Satan smiled sadly. “Okay. Well, I hope you know that whoever made you feel this way would easily get their spines shoved up their ass...if I had anything to say about it.” 

Vivi snorted. “Thanks. I’d like that. I’ll send you a list. Maybe you could start with your goth wannabe older brother.” 

Satan let out a loud laugh, nearly flinging Vivi off his lap in the process. Soon enough, they were laughing along side him. 

Lucifer rubbed his eyes and stretched, finally haven woken up after a nap he had needed for centuries. He felt well rested...calm, even. Through the small gap in the curtains on the window, he could tell that it was well into the evening. Now realizing he had definitely been asleep for longer than an hour, he immediately sprung up from the couch, tossing the blankets off of him as he did so. 

“Storm, I thought I told you to-” His annoyed tone faltered as his frantic darting glance fell onto Storm, who was curled up in the armchair next to the couch. Her textbook laid open on the arm, some jumbled notes scribbled on the note pad next to her. He sighed. It was hard to stay mad at her when she looked so cute. 

He grabbed the blanket that he had been covered with, gently spreading it over her instead. He folded her notes into the book, being careful not to lose her page, and set in atop the coffee table. To his surprise, he now noticed the coffee table had been completely cleared off, spare for a couple glasses of water. Lucifer furrowed his brow, now gazing around the room to see the status of the rest of it. His eyes widened when they fell onto his desk, noting that the papers that had been haphazardly piled onto it and the floor were now in neat, pristine stacks. He approached curiously, seeing sticky notes on the top in a familiar chicken scratch that was less messy than she tried to convince him it was. 

Review and Sign. Bills. Professor evaluations. Program reviews. Requests for funding...each small stack had their own sticky note attached to the top. One huge pile on the floor remained, with a piece of paper that said Completed on it. He picked up the stack, looking through it carefully. The things in this pile appeared to be a mixture of documents completed by his brothers that needed to be reviewed and approved. Atop each was another sticky note with instructions. Send to Diavolo for final approval, no errors. Review at council meeting on Wednesday. No further action. His jaw dropped in flipping through the easily two-foot stack of papers, each set of documents containing their own note of what was completed and what was needed to do next. 

Lucifer set the stack down and plopped into his chair. He carded a hand through his hair, seeing that Storm had easily gone through almost half of what was needed to be done, and even organized the rest so it could be completed faster. He glanced over to her in the arm chair, where the gentle rise and fall of her chest could be seen even from where he sat. 

She neglected her own work...for me. 

Lucifer felt warmth spread to his cheeks from his chest, finding himself flabbergasted that she would even bother to help him rest, let alone do his work for him. His heart felt full at the care she took to reduce his stress, which only added to her own. He sighed, picking up a stack of papers and setting them on the coffee table. He sat back down on the couch, debating briefly if he should move Storm to her bed. After watching her nuzzle into the blankets he decided against it, figuring she looked comfortable as is. He smiled to himself as began sorting through the bills, occasionally glancing over at Storm’s peaceful, slumbering body. 

The ease he felt with her here was immeasurable. So much so, that he barely noticed the slight pain in his head that began snaking through his temples once more.