#the amount of nonchalance he had spoke volumes to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sxdmoonchxld · 4 years

Text

Proven Wrong | KTH

Taehyung x reader

Words: 4k+

Genre: smut

Warnings: Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Fingerfucking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Begging, Multiple Orgasms, Very Big Dick Tae, Like Scary Big, Like Gut Splitting Big, Unrealistic Sex, Belly Bulge, Bad Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex, Gets A Little Dubious Consent Towards The End

Summary: You call his dick small. He proves that it’s not, by wrecking your pussy ;)

a/n: again i use to be lizardsocial. this was my most popular story on here so im bringing it back as well. i think you can find the original one on here somewhere. i don’t expect it to get half as many notes it did the first time but thas okai. i’ve edited kinda heavily so it's a little different from the original. its filthier. anywhos. Enjoy!

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Loud music blasted throughout your apartment, the rumbling bass from the speakers reverberated through your bedroom walls. Pictures and posters rippled with each vibration, struggling to retain their original position. You groaned in annoyance, you honestly thought your request was quite simple. Just a couple of hours. 120 minutes of quietness was all you asked for so that you could study for your upcoming calculus test. He knew how important this exam was to you. He evened 'pinky promise, cross your heart hope to die'. That he would give you the silence needed to stay focused. And everyone knew you don't break a pinky promise.

Even now in your annoyance, his voice still played on a constant loop in your head.

"Oh! Yea ___, not a problem. I can keep it quiet for you. So don't you worry a hair on your pretty little head!" Taehyung had said, waving his hand in the air feigning nonchalance.

That cute signature boxy smile of his planted face. You actually thought that for once he would keep his word, and you could get some precious studying time, but no. The tiny 2-bedroom shared apartment was full of heavy jazz music and high-pitched shrieking from what sounded like a cat being skinned alive. Who even listens to jazz music when trying to fuck?

The last thread of patience had now been pulled too thin and finally snapped. Your desire to study was gone with the wind, and in its place, irritability and wrath began to take root. You slammed your laptop closed and threw it to the end of the bed along with your papers and textbook. Jumping out of bed, you stomped your way out of the bedroom, eyes searching frantically for your target.

"Taehyung!" You yelled once you began to process the scene that was in front of you. The living room was in shambles, Taehyung's phone was hooked up to the speaker, the volume loud enough you swore angels in heaven could hear. An empty soda bottle, chip bags and clothes littered the floor. Don't even get you started on the couch pillows! Your one of a kind thrift finds were strewn all over the place. You felt your blood pressure rising, the vein at your temple fattening in rage and pulsing wildly. Your jaw threatening to ache from how hard you were grinding your teeth out of anger.

Your eyes investigated the vicinity for Taehyung and low and behold there he was on the now bare couch. Lying underneath him was the source of the vexatious screeches. He was dry humping on some random chick with his mouth fiercely attached to her neck, deep purple bruises vivid from where you stood across the room. You rolled your eyes at the pair. You knew damn well Taehyung's thin lips and weak thrusts didn't call for all that useless screaming.

You stomped over to the speaker, your sock padded feet slapping against the hardwood floor, and yanked the cord from the wall. Already the apartment was halfway quiet except for the banshee that was still squawking her head off.

"Hey! Shut the fuck up with all that noise!" You roared, scaring the girl and finally bringing their attention to your heated figure. Taehyung separated his lips from the girl's neck with a wet smack dislodging himself from between her spread thighs.

"Y/n, so nice of you to join us. How is studying going?" Taehyung spoke with a grin plastered on his handsome face. You resisted the urge to reach out and slap it off. He knew that you couldn't or anybody for a fact, could study with all the noise that was just previously filling the confines of the apartment. Yet here he was playing with the smidge of patience you had left by trying to simulate naiveté.

"All I asked was for you to be silent so that I could study for my upcoming test, and you said that you would. But instead, I am interrupted by your noisy ass music. Jazz music at that and this bitch here screaming at the top of her lungs!" You growled out between clenched teeth. The female gasped at your words embarrassment transforming her features, while Taehyung sat there with a blank look on his face, apparently unamused with your little rant.

"Oh my! Please excuse my rude roommate Mino. Obviously, her parents forgot to teach her basic manners. Let me walk you to the door." Taehyung spoke his fluffy curls swaying with the shakes of his head. A look of disappointment aimed your way as he began helping her gather her things and walking her to the front door.

"Umm, actually my name is Mina." She corrected Taehyung, but you could see it on his face that he could care less about the girl's name. Taehyung looked at her for a few seconds, as if he was processing the correct information of the girl's name.

"Yeah. Mona, that's what I said, isn't it?" Taehyung deadpanned, pushing her through the front door. Mina huffed at the fact that Taehyung continued to get her name wrong. You observed the pitiful interaction as you began to clean up the mess they made. You could tell from the look in Mina's eyes that she wanted more with Taehyung, but you knew that would never happen. Taehyung was a manwhore, a fuckboy, man thot, whatever the preferred term was. He had a new girl every night, and if he did try the whole "relationship smorgasbord" as he called it. The relationship usually didn't last for more than a week, before he was on to his next conquest.

"Tae?" You questioned meekly.

"Hmm?" He hummed head-turning slightly in your direction.

"Why do you do these things to me." You were genuinely curious as to why he made it his mission to push your every button. This wasn't the first time his action has hindered you from completing an important task. You just didn't understand why he chose to make your life more complicated than it already was.

"Awe is little __ j-jealous?" Taehyung taunted in a high-pitched voice used to entertain babies or puppies.

"Huh?!" You gasped choking on your saliva. Shit, you almost gave yourself whiplash with how fast you swung your neck to make full eye contact.

"Did you wish that was you, I was grinding on?" Taehyung continued to taunt as he walked into the kitchen to rinse his mouth out with water. That Mina girl had put way too much perfume on her neck. Now he was left with a sour aftertaste in his mouth. It tasted cheap, and Taehyung didn't do cheap.

If he was sincere with himself, he did wish it was you he was giving all his attention instead of these random girls. He considered you cute and innocent, with an air of sexiness. That he was pretty sure you weren't conscious of. In all actuality, Taehyung was smitten with you from the first time he saw when you came to ask about the roommate needed sign he had posted. The cute little freshman with a quirky personality and full of ambition. Those first 10 minutes of meeting you had him sprung like no other. You were way different from the usual girls he was used to. Which shouldn't be much of a surprise since most just wanted to fuck, have money spent on them. Oh! Of course, the bragging rights, that they actually got to fuck THE Kim Taehyung.

Don't get him wrong, there had been a countless amount of times he had tried to gain your attention. But you were too busy holed up in your room with your pretty little head stuck in a book to give him the time of day. So instead Taehyung reverted back to his middle school ways and chose to torment and irritating you as a way to receive some type of reaction from you. He would take whatever he could get, he was becoming that desperate.

"What exactly did I have to be jealous of? You do know she was faking it right? I didn't think you to be so naive Tae, because you and I both know that them thin ass lips-" You stopped to point at the box that made up his mouth. "And that speck in your pants that you call a dick can't make anyone scream." You declared assuredly, moving your pointer finger down to his crotch. Pride and confidence swelled in your chest at the insult thrown at him. 'Good one __'

Taehyung spat out the water he was swishing around in his mouth and whipped his head in your direction. Did you just stand there and try to insult his manhood? Nah, clearly his hearing had to be a little off, right?

"Excuse me, what did you just say? My ears must be failing me." Taehyung said wiping the stray droplets of water from his mouth, sticking a finger in his ear to loosen the imaginary earwax there. Amused, he sauntered towards you, a ghost of a smirk rising on his face.

"You heard me, Mr.Kim. Your micropenis couldn't pleasure anything but your hand if even that." You said backing up, as he prowled closer to you, his shoulder in a tense bunch raised close to his ears. Any amusement his face could have held was gone, in its place was a dark, unreadable expression. His mouth fixed in a firm line, and the tip of his ears blossomed red. Flames of anger and lust flashing in his chocolate eyes.

"My sweet __, nothing about me is little. I can guarantee that." Taehyung growled out, his already deep voice deepened in tone. You scoffed trying to portray indifference but continued backing away from his advancing until your back made contact with the wall. Shit.

Taehyung placed his hands beside your head, caging you in. Your eyes fluttered softly as you breathe in his rich cologne encased your senses, dark, woodsy with just a hit of a floral note. His eyes roamed your face, taking in your features before settling on your lips. You self-consciously licked them before tucking them between your teeth. Taehyung leaned his face closer to yours.

"Such a pretty little mouth you have. Has anyone told you how troublesome it could be though?" Taehyung questioned, his thumb on his left coming up to your upper lip.

You could feel your heart beating against your ribcage, feel your cheeks heat up, and dare you say; a gush of wetness in the seat of your boy shorts. The sexual tension was too powerful for your weak defences. Against your better judgment, you let your eyes flutter closed, and lips pucker expectantly anticipating the moment his lips would meet yours. Except Taehyung had other plans.

He shifted his head to the right, placing a gentle kiss on the lobe of your ear. Slowly moving his lips up to the outer shell of your ear.

You couldn't help the surprised moan that left your mouth as you unconsciously tilted your head back, offering your neck to his probing advances.

"Would you like me to prove you wrong?" Taehyung challenged in a whisper. His deep voice sending shocks of pleasure zinging down your spine. He trailed his lips down your neck, pressing gentle kisses against the surface. You had to choke back the moan that threatened to escape you at the feeling of his soft lips on your neck.

"N-no, Taehyung." You panted breathlessly.

"I don't feel like finding my glasses to look at something too small for the naked eye to see." You spoke, resolute on getting in one last insult. Taehyung pulled his face away from your neck, growling at your words.

"Haha, hilarious." He laughed humorously.

He pulled your body away from the wall, hoisted you up over his shoulder with a small grunt, and made his way to his bedroom. Kicking the door open before unceremoniously throwing you on his plush king-sized bed. 'Not good'.

Taehyung stood at the edge of the bed staring at you with unadulterated lust clouding his eyes. His chest heaved heavily with anger or arousal, you weren't sure. But based on the sizable tent in his pants, you could guess the latter.

"Taehyung! I already told you I don't want to see your baby-." You started but was cut off by Taehyung grabbing your ankles and pulling you roughly to the edge of the bed, pouncing on you. His lips met yours in a kiss that stole your breath away. The kiss was sensual and firm, but you could tell he was holding back.

Taehyung snaked his hand up your body, and into your hair, giving it a sharp tug. You gasped at the slight pain giving him a clear path to ease his tongue into your mouth, coiling itself around your own, deepening the kiss further. He thoroughly explored your mouth not leaving one surfaced untouched by his tongue, greedily swallowing your needy moans. Fuck he tasted good. Like oranges and burnt sugar.

Taehyung detached from your mouth to remove his shirt and to help you remove your tank top as-well. Your nipples pebbling from the chilly air and arousal. His eyes studied your body, you wanted so badly to shield yourself away from his unwavering stare.

"You're so beautiful. I've waited so long for this." Taehyung whispered before attacking your throat with kisses. You whined out in pleasure, your hips bucking up with every love bite he delivered, your body was aching in need for more.

"Tae. P-please more. G-give me m-more." You keened in between pants of air.

Your hips now undulated in tiny circles as Taehyung trailed his kisses down your neck, to your breast. He sucked and bit the soft skin around your nipple lightly. Soon his tongue gently wrapped around your nipple, sucking it into his warm mouth, while his hand teased the other breast, kneading and pinching your nipple. Your moans were increasing in volume, at his assault.

Your legs widened on their own accord, making more room for Taehyung. Your pussy was weeping profusely. The boy shorts you were wearing were thoroughly drenched, and with each movement of your hips, your arousal perfumed the air. Releasing your nipple, he continued his way down your chest, moving his lips across your stomach. Down, down he goes until he's kissing you down to where your torso joins your pelvis. He trained his eyes on you, eager to see your reaction as he pulled your boy shorts off from your body with a wet smack.

"Tell me what you want love. Use your big girl voice for me." Taehyung cooed in a provoking tone. You would have told him to fuck off if it wasn't for his mouth hovering right over your clenching core, his hot breath attacking your pussy lips.

"Cat got your tongue? You sure did have a lot of things to say earlier." Taehyung teased once more. You moaned with each word he said, your hips thrusting upwards, hoping to find his mouth.

"Please! Just touch my pussy, lick it, do something! Stop teasing me!" You urged, bringing your hands up to stimulate your breast, you didn't know how much more teasing you could take. You could feel your essence seeping between your ass cheeks and coating the bed. The dull ache in your stomach was intensifying, and he had barely touched you.

"Mmm, well since you begged nicely." Taehyung replied, wasting no time in attacking your pussy. His broad tongue licked wide strips up against your pussy. Splitting your lips with the appendage with each pass to dip his tongue into your pulsating hole. Your hands found his soft brown hair as your back arched off the bed, pushing your cunt deeper into his face.

"Y-yeahfuck! Like that it's so good!" You whined slurring your words.

Taehyung shifted his probing muscle's attention to your clit, attacking it with kitten licks. You shouted loudly, as your thighs were beginning to shake. The coil in your stomach tightening almost painfully. He wrapped his strong arms around your thighs, your knees were hitched higher up almost touching your chest in this position.

But this way, he had much more leverage to devour you. The comforter on his bed bunching uncomfortably beneath your ass but at this moment you gave zero fucks. Taehyung had total control now, showing no remorse as your upper body thrashed about on the bed. Your hands were no longer able to reach his hair, so you opted for your own instead, pulling harshly on your roots.

"Fuck, Taehyung!" You wailed shrilly. Taehyung chuckled at the sounds you were making, remembering your words from earlier he couldn't wait to hear what you sounded like taking his dick.

He then rubbed two thick fingers in the abundance of fluids that your pussy was producing and gently eased them into your tight core.

"Not only is baby girl surprisingly noisy, but she's also pretty tight too." You clenched even more around his fingers, your wall throbbing wildly around them.

"I can't wait to feel you around my dick." Taehyung moaned sucking your clit into his mouth, delivering hard sucks as his fingers pumped into you at a moderate speed. Sadly, the introduction of his fingers was your undoing. You couldn't help as your legs stuck straight in the air. Body arching off the bed and bowed forward as your orgasm hit you like a freight train knocking the wind from your lungs.

Your eyes were shut tightly, and your mouth hung open in a silent scream as your body convulsed from the intensity of your orgasm. Taehyung had a hard time holding you down but continued his assault on your creaming pussy. He slurped as much of your cream as he could, absolutely addicted to the way you tasted.

"T-Tae, stop-p." You called out to him pathetically. Your intense orgasm had passed, but he was still thrusting shallowly inside your tight core, lapping at your clit. The oversensitivity was becoming too much, as you struggled to wiggle away from him. Taehyung withdrew his fingers and ceased his licking with one last kiss on your clit, making you flinch at the contact.

Taehyung beheld your fucked out appearance with pride. Your legs splayed open, displaying your spasming cunt. The way your chest was swiftly rising and falling as you struggled to catch your breath. Your hair stood up in every direction from your previous pulling, body trembling with aftershocks, and all he did was eat you out and finger you.

"Wow." You mumbled your eyes closing, sleep trying to claim you.

"Oh, nonono. I'm not done with you yet." Taehyung proclaimed, flipping you onto your stomach. He had to admit he was the hardest he had ever been in his life. His pants were now unbearably tight, and a wet spot at the crotch of his pants started to become visible. Taehyung tugged the offending material off hissing as his massive erection made contact with the air, free from being confined. You lifted yourself with jelly arms onto your knees, wanting to see what the commotion was behind you.

You choked on your spit for the second time today, as your eyes made contact with the angry red monster Taehyung called his cock. Not only was he unbelievably thick; a little bigger than your wrist, but he was also long. In his hands was the living definition of a third leg. He was crazy if he actually thought that would fit inside of you?

"Fuck that shit!" You cursed trying to scramble to the headboard of the bed, but Taehyung halted your escape, grabbing your ankles and yanking you back.

He would have laughed at your reaction, but he was too turned on, there was so much blood rushing to his cock he felt lightheaded. He wasted no time in putting you back in your previous position. Pulling your ass up so that it was sticking in the air and your torso was lying flat on the bed, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

"Tae! Wait...you can't be serious!" You tried pleading with him terrified that thing he called his dick was going to tear you apart.

"Not so little am I baby?" He snickered

Don't worry, you can take it I'll go slow." Taehyung groaned his voice strained, his arousal was beginning to take a toll on him. Taehyung grabbed his shaft and brought the bulbous tip of his cock to rub against your clit. You mewled with pleasure, his tip was hot and the pre-come he was leaking added to the sensation of relaxing and reigniting your body.

Taehyung continued to stroke his tip along your clit thoroughly coating it with your thick fluids. He placed the thick head at your entrance, your juices helping him to slide in. He watched in amazement as your leftover cum gather around the head of his cock in a coating out creamy white. Your body tensed up at the massive intrusion, your cunt pulsated wildly around him, drawing a deep groan from his throat.

"Baby relax, you're squeezing so tight." Taehyung moaned out affected by your spasming core. He reached his hand underneath your body and strummed at your clit once again, coxing you to relax.

Taehyung took your distraction as his cue to shove the offending length inside your prone pussy. You squealed at the sudden fullness and intense burning. Bucking your hips, trying to dislodge him. It was too much to take, especially at this position. Your pussy was going to rip in half.

"B-bi-iig-g. To-o mu-ch." You whined out stuttering horribly.

Taehyung gripped your hips harder to stop your fitful twisting and bucking. He felt as though he was about to explode you were so damn tight and wet, your bucking didn't help his case any either. He didn't wait this long to finish early. He refused to be a one pump chump. Taehyung reached his hand back underneath your body to locate your clit, rubbing it in firm tight circles, to help relax you, and sure enough; like magic, after you adjusted to his massive size, your body was suddenly filled with mind-numbing pleasure. Your whimpers turned into loud groans as you threw your hips back onto Taehyung, giving him the okay to start moving.

"Hell yeah. That's it, baby girl work this tight little cunt on my cock." He grunts before he withdrew his length and slammed back in, his dick splitting your sensitive walls, hitting every spot inside your clenching cunt. His strokes were fast, broad, and powerful, never had you felt so full in your life. Your mouth was gaped open, as shrieks of pleasure fell from your jaws, drool dripped from your lips, and dots blurred your vision. You could feel him in your guts, branding himself inside you. The coil in your stomach was quickly tightening, ready to release what was no doubt, going to be the most intense orgasm your body was about to experience. Taehyung could feel your core tightening up further, your tight little pussy was far better than he could have expected, he wanted to punch himself for waiting this long to indulge in you.

"You're taking this big cock so well, baby. Such a good girl." Taehyung growled.

"But I have a secret to tell you." You shivered as he stopped mid-stroke. You felt the warmth and damp skin of his torso drape over your back. Like pudding in his hands. You didn't even flinch as he brought his large callused hands up through the part in your breast to wrap around your throat.

Ever so slightly he squeezed the sides of your neck, you felt him throb in your stomach as you clenched even tighter around him at the action. Slowly he lifted your head up with his hand still on your neck. Again he squeezed. Bringing his lips down to your ear, he said, "Would you believe me if I said you're only taking half of me in."

The way your jaw dropped and your eyes bugged out of your head would have been comical. If you weren't genuinely terrified, that is.

"O-nly half! That's impossible I swear your touch my small intestine already." You tried to look back to see if he was lying or not, but he tightened his hold on your neck, forcing your head back to look up at him. Your body was now bowed in an almost perfect 'C' shape. You felt his other hand snake around your abdomen and press on the bulge that was his cock poking through your stomach. Again he throbbed in excitement.

"You were talking such a big game earlier baby girl, what happened? Surely you could all of a dick that's as little as mine. Right?" Taehyung scolded in your ear.

Little by little, he began pulling you more on his cock by your neck. And fuck he really wasn't lying he really had more length to feed your cunt.

"Ta-ae, pleaseplease n-o more-e, I can't take it m-my stomach hurts." You whined

"Hmm? But you're so close to taking all of me in. Just a few more inches, and I'll be all in." He responded.

Not wasting any more time he released your neck, and before you could fall down to the bed. He locked his fingers in your hair and firmly yanked, lifting you off the mattress, and into his arms, allowing himself the rest of the way in.

You screamed out as his hips met your ass with a wet smack. The increase in pressure coupled with the new position broke the levee to your release. You trembled uncontrollably as your orgasm started from your toes. Quickly spreading to your arms and head before finally spreading throughout your whole body, you were rendered speechless as your orgasm claimed you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as a burst of white light flashed behind your eyes, incoherent sounds of what was supposed to be Taehyung's name filled the space around you.

Through it all Taehyung continued to fuck into you almost violently, allowing your cores convulsions to wash over him. His body dripped with sweat as he briefly picked up his speed, his hips beginning to stutter. He held your thrashing body close to his as delivered his last couple of thrusts before moaning loudly and exploding his hot seed inside of your wrecked cunt.

You both fell breathlessly on the mattress, sweat polishing your skin, exhaustion quickly making its way to claim you. Taehyung pulled slowly out of your battered and swollen pussy. On wobbly legs, walked to the restroom to get a washcloth to clean the mess that was between your thighs. You moaned at the textured touch of the cloth and the dampness of it soothing the hot burn from your pussy.

Your whole body was numb, and you were utterly worn out, so much so, that when Taehyung pulled you into his arms, you didn't even argue.

In the morning you will definitely be having a word with him. But for now, you let his racing heartbeat lull you to some much-needed sleep.

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definitelynotkatesblog · 4 years

Text

Beg ∣ Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

A/N: Hi, friends! This is my first time writing a fanfic piece, so of course it had to be for my love, Dr. Spencer Reid! This literally started out as a blurb in the notes app in my phone of maybe.... one line of dialogue?

Also, I am ready and willing to receive feedback! Please enjoy!

If this opening scene was in a movie, the opening lines of Me & Mr. Jones by Amy Winehouse would be playing.

Nobody stands

In between me and my man

Me and Mr. Jones

(Me and Mr. Jones)

What kind of fuckery is this?

Category: Smut (and some cuteness at the end)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Cursing, Dom!Spencer, PostPrison!Spencer, bondage, unprotected penetrative sex, con/non con, safe word mention (not used, just mentioned), mention of overstimulation, orgasm denial, forced orgasms, indication of sub-drop? (then after care).

Word count: 3.0k

Prison had changed Spencer. Obviously. Your once timid, tightly wound, germaphobe genius was now eerily patient, quicker to react, and able to eat in group settings with less hesitation. He was also more dominant with you in and out of the bedroom- just more assertive in general. Even his coworkers at the BAU mentioned his demeanor had changed when working on cases.

You had assumed it was due to him not feeling in control for those months he was property of the prison, and needing to exert his control in other aspects once he could eat and sleep on his own schedule.

Before Spencer had gone away, your sex life was great- he was always sweet and attentive but rough when he needed to be. It was a mirror of his personality.

Though you’d never know the extent of what happened in those concrete walls- and you’d never actually say this to Spencer- you weren’t terribly upset about the changes that resulted in the man who came out on the other end.

This man was more primally need-driven, more calloused and hungry than the Spencer you knew before. His words became fewer while his actions spoke volumes. He devoured you like you were his last meal on earth every time his hands were on you, like he was afraid this time might be the last time you two would be together.

His hands were more strong and confident with his touches, his mouth and movements more sure. Gone were the hesitant questions asked by fingers skimmed lightly over skin, and here to stay were imprints left from sure grips, unafraid to show signs of possession.

His hunger and drive, these new deeper and darker urges had also allowed you to come out of your sex-shell. You weren’t afraid to ask for things that you feared my have intimidated Spencer before. There wasn’t anything you couldn’t ask for and nothing he wouldn’t do to you, for you. Did it make sense to trust him more now that he’d gone to prison?

You knew his newfound desires could be a sense of shame for him, but you wouldn’t let them be. If anything, you wanted him to be the one he explored them with more than anything.

You rose to the challenge and arrived on the other side victorious- usually in a sweaty heap of bliss.

******

Murder in your eyes, you watched him cross the room to fasten your wrist in the restraint dangling from the bedpost.

Once he was satisfied you wouldn’t be able to move from your slightly spread eagle position, he rounded the corner back to the foot of the bed, leaning forward to place his palms on the soft duvet, just staring.

“Comfortable?” he asked nonchalantly, like he was asking about the fucking weather.

You tried to lunge forward, but the restraints at your wrists quickly snapped you back, reminding you of what a not great idea that was. The fabric stuffed in your mouth as a makeshift gag caught most of the profanities you spat at him and turned them into nonsense.

He chuckled and shook his head, “Glad to hear it.”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the rise and fall of your chest quickening as you realized the gravity of the situation- you really couldn’t get out of these restraints. And you really weren’t sure if you wanted to.

“Do you know why I like when you’re tied up?”

Attempting to keep your face as stoic as possible, you offered no reaction and turned your head away from him, opting to look at the artwork on the wall instead.

“Because when you’re tied up, you can’t get in my way of taking what I want.” His voice was level and low, speaking matter of factly.

At this statement, you couldn’t help but throw him an incredulous look and an over-the-top eye roll.

“And you can’t stop me from fucking you and making you cum as many times as it takes to break you,” he continued.

The idea of that kind of delirious pleasure instantly caused a pool of heat to flood your lower belly, spreading through your veins.

He made his way around to the side of the bed, watching your face with a thoughtful expression.

His hand caressed the side of your face, cupping your cheek before forming a strong grip on your jaw. You tried keeping your face turned away, but were quickly humbled by the sharp turn of his wrist.

Your eyes searched his, trying to determine how much truth there was in his statements.

“Do you remember your safe words?” he asked softly.

You nod, flexing your wrists against their restraints, and mumble around the fabric in your mouth. “Yeyow ng wed” you sighed, feigning annoyance.

“Good. And if your mouth is full?” he prompted.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your fingers for ‘yellow’ and snapping them for ‘red’.

He hummed and left his position at your side and returned to the foot of the bed, content with your answers.

He crawled up on the bed and pulled your legs towards opposite sides of the bed with enough room between them for him to sit on his knees.

You watched as he brought a hitachi wand from behind his back and place it in your line of sight. Your eyes narrowed, trying to unravel his plan.

Suddenly his words made a lot more sense- You can’t get in the way. Make you cum as many times as I want.

His finger traced the line between your clit and quickly dampening entrance, teasing with the lightest amount of pressure.

Your hips involuntarily made almost indiscernible movements to increase the friction, but with each movement, he would stop his ministrations and scold you with a ‘tsk tsk’.

His thumb found its way to your clit, drawing slow languid circles through the thin fabric. You tried your best to appear unbothered, but the fabric in your mouth wasn’t doing enough to stifle the whimpers slipping from your throat.

“I bet if I checked right now, you’d be a wet fucking mess. Is that right?”

Even though you’d been betrayed by your body, you opted to test your luck with shaking your head no.

“Hmmmm, see, I don’t think that’s quite right.”

His hands found their way to the edges of your panties and dragged them down your hips, thighs, knees and eventually off your body.

Suddenly feeling very exposed, you pressed your knees together in an attempt to salvage your remaining dignity- well, what was left, after being bound to a fucking bed.

He shook his head and placed a hand on each knee and forced them apart, staring at the apex of your thighs. His tongue poked out and made a quick sweep of his lower lip.

You knew, you just fucking knew you were in fact a wet mess, despite your best efforts to resist being turned on by the nonchalant, condescending, cocky fucking asshole he was being.

He half smiled and chuckled, looking back up at your face.

“Oh baby, was I right.” With that, he took a single finger and collected evidence of your arousal and brought it up to your eye level as proof.

Without breaking eye contact, he popped the finger into his mouth, making a show of swirling his tongue around it, hollowing his cheeks, and slowly pulling it out of his mouth with a slight moan.

Your eyes narrowed, a mixture of humiliation and raw attraction driving a fire to ignite and course through your veins.

“God, you taste so fucking good.” he said slowly, emphasizing each word.

Quickly returning his hand between your thighs, he dipped inside for a moment with one finger before adding another.

The intrusion was dreadfully delicious, your hips bucking in an attempt to ride his fingers. An involuntary moan escaped your throat, muffled by the gag.

Spencer started lazily thrusting into you, curling his fingers to meet just the right spot every time. The slow pace was agonizing- your head falling back, begging the gods above for him to grant you some sort of mercy.

Your head fell forward with a drawn out groan. Every time you tried to created more speed or friction, he would slow down or stop completely.

You let out a frustrated whine, knitting your brows together to convey your displeasure with the pace he’d chosen.

Without warning, Spencer ’s fingers started plunging into you at a brutal pace, eliciting a surprised squeak and heavy pants from your lips.

The muscles in your core tightened, your wrists pulling against the restraints as the breathy pants became moans of anticipation.

The slow burn in your core continued to build, rushing to beat him before he decided to stop again.Your walls began convulsing around his fingers, indicating your impending orgasm.

Then, just as quickly as his fingers were there, they weren’t. Your eyes shot open, immediately searching for his.

“Oh, did you think I was going to let you cum that easily?”

If looks could kill, he’d be one dead motherfucker.

“I don’t think you deserve to cum yet, baby. I don’t think you want it bad enough”

Spencer’s other hand came to rest just above your mound, applying pressure on your lower belly while his thumb started circling your clit once more.

Between the deep pressure, stimulation on your clit and his relentless fingers fucking you blind, you were about to explode. Silent sobs left your chest, no air in your lungs made for a hard time breathing.

“I want to hear you beg me to fuck you” he said, his voice low and dark.

Reaching up, he removed the fabric from your mouth, tossing it to the side.

“Beg.”

“Fuck you,” you spat. Knuckle deep or not, there was no way you were giving in to him.

Arching an eyebrow he shook his head, reaching to his side, pulling something white into the space between his knees.

Your eyes widened at the hitachi wand in front of him, then darted to his face in an attempt to find any indication of his intention.

He climbed off the bed to remove his pajama pants. From your compromised position you had the perfect eye line to watch his dick strain against the waistband of his pants before springing free.

Your bottom lip found itself between your teeth as a means of controlling the drool pooling in your mouth. Spencer’s laugh drew your eyes up his body until your eyes met.

Pumping his fist a few times over his already hard cock, he climbed back onto the bed and towards you, gathering some of your wetness with the tip of his cock before positioning himself to enter you.

Before he moved, a wicked grin flashed across his face as he reached for the wand and turned it on to its first setting, pressing it gently to the top of the hood of your clit. The introduction of the direct stimulation on your clit made every muscle in your body tense, white hot adrenaline coursing through your veins.

His thumb guided him to realign with your entrance, and he wasted no time with teasing. He quickly sheathed himself inside of you, now pressing the wand’s vibrations head deeper into your folds.

God you wanted to fucking scream, but all that came out was a whorish moan. Your hands instinctively made a move to remove the source of the overstimulation, but were quickly reminded that wouldn’t be possible by the strain against your wrists.

Your walls tightened around him, encouraging him to bottom out with each thrust. His aggression and moans mixed with curses let you know he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Should I let you cum too?”

His relentless thrusts did not show signs of slowing, and his clenched jaw and flared nostrils made him look, well... criminal.

A quick flick of his wrist caused the wand to hit a sweet spot- eliciting a squeal. He pressed the buzzing head harder against the spot, wiggling it ever so slightly. Your hands formed fists as your head thrashed to the side, craning your neck- your breath hitched and came in short, shallow breaths as your body prepared to be pushed over the edge into bliss.

That was, until Spencer removed the wand from its promising position, tossing it onto the bed beside your leg. The sound of buzzing against the sheets was dull in the background as your head swam at the loss.

In a swift motion, his arms hooked under your knees and pulled your bottom closer to the edge of the bed as far as your wrist restraints would let you. A surprised squeak left your lips as his hands positioned your ankles by his ears.

This new position allowed him deeper access, hitting your cervix with each thrust. This new sensation caused your head to fall back against the pillow and eyes to squeeze shut.

Quickly grabbing the wand from beside him, he matched the movement of the wand with the patterns of his thrusts, making it difficult to tell where the pleasure started and ended.

“Please please please I want to so bad,” you begged, “Oh my god, please!”

“Hmmm, want to or need to?” he asked quickly, chasing his own orgasm.

“FUCK, need! I need to! Please I need to cum, please Spencer!”

“Cum.” It was one word, but enough to be your undoing.

Your walls clenched around him as your hips buckled against the head of the wand.

Your heels dug into his shoulders beneath you, arching your back off the sheets as he buried himself deeper into you.

Air burned your lungs as they tried to force enough oxygen in between pants, a moan ripping the rest of the air from your chest. The waves crashed into you, over and over making up for lost time.

Fire raced through your veins, curling your toes and causing your hands to form shaking fists in their tethered positions. You cried out senselessly for him to stop.

“Good girl,” he cooed. “One more.”

You shook your head vigorously, unable to even able to wrap your head around cumming again.

“Yes,” he said. There was no room or invitation for argument.

Voiceless pants left your throat, your mouth dry from gasping for air.

Your eyes begged Spencer to give you just a moment to breathe, which he promptly ignored.

Setting the wand to its next highest setting, Spencer’s thrusts found a faster pace.

His name came out between mangled moans and broken sobs.

“Cum for me baby, come on,” he forced out between clenched teeth. You knew he had to be close too.

Your second orgasm tacked on to the tail end of the first and possessed your body with more power than you thought possible. The vibrations racked through your body leaving flames in its wake until you couldn’t register your body as your own anymore.

The feeling of Spencer throbbing inside of you, emptying himself only added to the pleasure, your walls continuing to milk him.

Involuntary sobs escaped your lips as you came down, Spencer’s thrusts slowing, the wand returned to its lowest setting-allowing you to ride the rest of your wave down to planet Earth.

Watching your chest heave, gasping for more air, he removed the wand from your clit and slowly withdrew himself from you.

Sweat glistened on your forehead, your cheeks flushed and hair disheveled, now dripping a mixture of your releases.

“God you’re so fucking beautiful” he murmured, kissing the inside of your calf before gently removing your ankles from his shoulders and placing them on the bed.

After a few moments, an overwhelming wave of emotion crashed over your body causing tears to spring to your eyes. Your lip quivered, but you bit it between your teeth in an attempt to collect yourself.

“Shh shh shh,” he said, quickly undoing the restraints at your wrists and pulling a blanket from the foot of the bed around you. He sat on the bed and pulled you into his chest, his legs around your body with your legs thrown over one of his, gently rocking the both of you.

“You did so good, baby. So good,” he said kissing the top of your head.

You didn’t have any witty or snarky remarks for him. The hot tears slid down your cheeks as you pulled the edges of the blanket tighter around your body.

His hand rubbed big, soothing circles into your back while he tucked your head under his chin.

You pushed the blanket off your shoulders, needing to be closer to him than you currently were. He watched you turn and straddle his waist, wrapping your legs around his torso and your arms around his neck- grabbing your opposite elbows to bury your face in his neck.

He let you settle before wrapping his arms around your back, hugging you closer to his chest.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said matter of factly between dropping kisses on the top of your head.

You hummed in response, too tired for real words.

He held you for a few more minutes, rubbing your back with small circles and offering praise.

“Do you want to take a now bath, baby?”

You grumbled a sound of protest into his neck and felt his body shake with a laugh.

You always wanted to take a bath, baths with Spencer were your favorite thing. But at this moment you were blissfully content and unwilling to move.

He pulled you two apart for a moment to look at your face. Brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear, he inspected your face for any residual tears.

Your eyes met his and found a softness in his eyes you didn’t think was possible from the man who had just teased, edged and fucked you so thoroughly.

“Five more minutes,” he conceded, kissing your forehead.

You nodded and nestled back into your spot, pressing your lips into the side of his neck.

———

Tell me all about it!

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #Spencer reid #Spencer��Reid imagine #Spencer Reid smut #Spencer Reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds smut #Spencer Reid x fem! reader #my writing

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cassandraclare · 5 years

Text

Our December flash fiction piece, A Lightwood Christmas Carol, is the second part of a two part story. If you didn't read part one last month, or want to refresh your memory, click here:

Otherwise, read on!

PART 2

“So,” Gideon said to Will the next night as they patrolled together in Mayfair, “the whole thing was a wash. I’m not murdering some poor bastard’s dog.”

Patrol with Will was normally a relaxing experience for Gideon. They enjoyed each other’s company, and demons had become so scarce in London that almost all of the time it was only a night stroll with a friend. Will even periodically recommended that they investigate for any suspicious activity in some local public house known to him.

Tonight, of course, there would be no ordering a quick round as a cover story for interrogating, i.e. merrily chatting up, the barstaff; Will was far too full of Christmas spirit. He had insisted on taking them by Trafalgar Square and spent many minutes in admiration of its temporary giant tree, and had stopped—twice!—to admire groups of carolers and applaud them. Gideon was bearing up well, he thought, considering. He even got into the spirit a very tiny amount, which is to say he was willing to eat some of the roast chestnuts Will bought.

Now Tatiana (and the dog news) had deflated Will’s mood, and Gideon felt a little badly about it. Will was frowning thoughtfully. “Why not just offer her money?” he said.

Gideon sighed. “Because Tatiana has plenty of money, all of our family money. And Gabriel and I have only our salaries as Shadowhunters. She doesn’t need money.”

Will looked scornful. “Everybody likes more money.”’

“Normally I would agree with you,” Gideon said, shaking his head, “but you did not see Tatiana’s state of mind. She cannot be approached in the way you would approach a rational person. I must do this task for her, but of course I cannot. Hurt a dog, of all things. I would never. Disgusting.”

Will stood looking past him for a long moment, and eventually Gideon said, “Will?”

“We will take care of it,” Will suddenly said. His gaze snapped back to Gideon’s face, and he was smiling. “We will give Tatiana what she wants, and we will not hurt any animals in the process.”

“We?” said Gideon, raising his eyebrows.

“Well, it’s my plan,” Will said reasonably. “So obviously I’ll be along.”

Despite himself, a smile played at the edges of Gideon’s mouth. That was the one thing he had over Tatiana, after all. He wasn’t alone.

###

The front door of Chiswick House swung open with somewhat more speed than it had two days prior, and Tatiana’s suspicious face appeared. She was wearing the same dress she had been wearing before, to Gideon’s dismay. In her left hand she carried the cleaned skull of some unidentifiable small mammal; Gideon didn’t wish to inquire why.

Tatiana’s glare quickly moved from Gideon to Will, who was bopping up and down nervously behind him. Will had insisted on coming, against Gideon’s better judgment, and only now did he realize the possibility that Tatiana might not even see him if Will was along.

Will, for his part, did his best. “Hullo, Tatiana my love,” he said. “Many greetings of the season! How excellently you’ve kept up the place.”

Tatiana blinked at him, startled out of whatever she had been about to shout. Gideon knew that Will had three good nips of brandy in him, and reckoned that was probably the best way to handle the situation. Meet the unexpected with the unexpected.

“Why have you brought my nemesis to my house?” Tatiana said, in the same tone she might have used if she were asking why Gideon had failed to return a book he’d borrowed.

“Crikey,” said Will. “Nemesis? Tatiana, I bear you no ill will. Have I ever, even once, interfered with your life? With your going about your business?”

“Yes,” said Tatiana. “Twice. Once when you murdered my husband, and once when you murdered my father.”

Will made a choked noise. “I murdered your father because he murdered your husband! And I didn’t murder him, he’d changed into some kind of great serpent.”

“A worm, Will,” said Gideon quietly. “He was a giant worm. Not a serpent.”

“As I remember,” said Will, “it were a great wyrm, from the depths of the Abyss, that we dispatched.”

“It was not,” said Gideon.

“It was my father,” ground out Tatiana, “and I wish to know, Gideon, why you have brought him here? I asked you to perform a task for me.”

“And I have performed it,” Gideon said briskly. “Mr. Herondale was good enough to come along, to help protect me from this most vicious of dogs that you described.”

“It’s actually quite vicious,” Will agreed.

“If you’ll just let us come in,” Gideon said.

Tatiana squinted at both of them as if trying to see through a possible glamour. “Well, come in, then. But you won’t get tea.”

“Tatiana,” Will said with an understanding chuckle. “There’s obviously no way I would ever consume any food or drink at your house.”

This was going rather well, Gideon thought.

Ensconced back in his father’s office, with no tea offered nor taken, Tatiana said, “Well?”

Gideon reached into his jacket and lay a dog’s collar, a weathered length of leather cord, down on the desktop with a flourish.

Tatiana looked at it and then up at him. “What is this?”

“It is the dog’s collar,” Gideon said. “A trophy of our dispatching it.”

She looked at it again. “This tells me nothing. You could simply have taken the collar off of that dog.”

“Madam,” said Will, “if I may? No man could possibly have taken the collar off of that dog. I would advise no man to put their hand within several feet of that dog’s neck, if they wish to retain said hand. Now that that collar is off, no man could ever put it back on.” He spoke in serious tones.

“I need something more,” Tatiana said. “If you killed the dog, you must know where it is. Go back and bring me the dog’s tail, or something.”

“Tatiana,” Gideon began, but Will interrupted.

“If I may again,” he said, “the dog resides on the far side of the very tall and very pointy iron fence that stands between the dog’s property and the road. Climbing over that fence at all is a feat that I would advise only the most well-trained of Shadowhunters to attempt once, and I would recommend they do it empty-handed, rather than carrying some random bit of dog. I’m afraid that the collar will have to suffice.”

Tatiana sat back and shook her head, dissatisfaction wrinkling her mouth. “Proof that you have dispatched the dog,” she said, “and not merely that you have encountered it.”

Gideon waited for Will to jump in again, but Will was silent. He seemed unsure how to proceed. Finally, he said, “Tatiana, give him the papers. Because it’s Christmas.”

“What?” said Gideon in disbelief.

Tatiana looked at Will with loathing. “Mundane holidays are meaningless to me.”

“I should have guessed, yes,” muttered Will.

“Please,” said Gideon, at the end of his rope. “My son—he’s…he’s like your son.” Tatiana stared at him in silence for a moment, so he pressed on. “He’s…he’s very small, and he’s often ill, and we worry about his survival. We worry about when we will put Marks on him. Like you do, with your son.”

Tatiana continued to watch Gideon in silence with a lizard-like stare.

“I know we do not see eye-to-eye on our family history,” he said doggedly, and ignored Will’s quiet hmph! from beside him. “But we are family nevertheless, and we may both have…inherited something. From our father. Something we’ve now passed to our sons. I must look through the papers to see if there is any clue there.”

She stared for a long and agonizing moment, and then she said, “Get out of my house.”

“Tatiana,” he began.

“How dare you compare your son and mine!” she said, her voice rising in volume. “Anyone could guess where the weakness in your son originates, and it is obviously with your decision to mix your blood with the most mundane you could find!” Her voice had risen to a shout.

“Sophie is an Ascended Shadowhunter!” Will shouted back, staunchly, and Gideon realized he was happy that Will was there.

“I don’t care!” Tatiana shouted. “My son is of the blood of two of the oldest of the Shadowhunter families. He is not weak like your son. Go back to your weakness, Gideon. Get out of my sight, get out of my house, and do not darken my door again. I have not missed your company, nor your brother’s, and I am relieved that my child will not grow up under the corrupting influence of either of you.”

Gideon made to stand up, but Will said “Tatiana, if I may yet again,” and he sat back down. Tatiana glowered at him. “I think,” Will went on, in a newly serious tone, “that if you and I could step outside into the hallway for a moment and talk in private—just for a moment. Give me three minutes, that is all. And after that, we will depart and we promise never to return. Right, Gideon?”

Gideon did not much wish to promise never to return to the house he’d grown up in, so he only said, “Whatever you wish.”

Tatiana examined Will’s face carefully, and then said, “You have two minutes, starting from this moment.” She rose from her seat and made for the door.

“Will, what are you—” Gideon began.

Will put the tip of his finger to his lips to quiet Gideon. “Trust me,” he said. “I believe that I can create a Christmas miracle.”

Helplessly Gideon watched his sister and his friend depart and close the door behind them. The seconds ticked by. Two minutes passed, then another two, then three more.

Then Tatiana came back into the room, followed by Will. Gideon tried to read Will’s expression, but it was neutral, nonchalant.

In Tatiana’s hands were two notebooks, packed with loose papers supplementing their own contents. Their covers, and the loose pages, were densely smeared with soot. “The papers of Benedict Lightwood,” she said. “You do not deserve them. And I am not gifting them to you. They are part of the house, and the house is mine, and they are also mine. You shall have them to peruse or copy at your leisure for the term of one week, and if they are not returned by that date, in their original condition, may the Angel have mercy on your souls. Both of you,” she added in Will’s direction.

Will threw up his hands in surrender. “I really just came for the dog-wrestling.”

Wondering, Gideon took the papers from her. He turned to look at Will, who murmured to him, “A Christmas miracle,” with a small smile.

“Come now,” Gideon said in the carriage on the way back from Chiswick, “what did you say to Tatiana to make her concede?”

It was snowing, that rare snow with very little wind, so flakes fell in a picturesque fluttering, rather than battering at the carriage like they might have as they made their way through Hammersmith, back in the direction of Central London. Will leaned back in his seat and gazed out the window.

“Well, if you must know,” he said, “I delivered an extremely well-considered speech, touching on the topics of the importance of family, the virtue of forgiveness, the need for all Shadowhunters to be allied in the fight against demons, the smallness of the sacrifice being asked of her, the pointlessness of revenge, and, of course, the giving nature of the season.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” said Will eagerly. “And then, I counted banknotes totalling two hundred British pounds sterling directly into her hand.”

“Will!” said Gideon, shocked.

“I told you,” Will said airily. “Everyone likes money. Even mad revenge-seeking sisters, with the dried blood of their husbands on their frocks, like money.”

Gideon was flummoxed. It was an enormous sum. “You didn’t have to do that, Will,” he said. “She doesn’t deserve the money.”

“What she doesn’t deserve,” Will said hotly, “is the moral victory. It was money well-spent to be gone from that house.”

Gideon opened the journals, marveling at Will Herondale. His financial standing was better than Gideon’s own, surely, but two hundred pounds was an enormous amount of money, well more than Will could throw away on a lark. And yet he’d not hesitated to wield that money for Gideon’s sake, had in fact, Gideon now realized, brought the money with him on purpose.

So strange, Gideon thought with a sidelong look at Will, who continued harrumphing to himself quietly in victory. At this moment this boy he’d despised as a child was more his family than his own actual sister. And he found he was able to accept that. A Christmas miracle indeed.

“I really had better return these to Tatiana in a week,” he said, examining the journals again before he started reading. “Or she’s like to set a demon on me.”

Will chuckled. “Ha. Maybe she would at that.”

Gideon paused. “She might, you know. All jokes aside. It’s a legitimate possibility.”

“It is,” agreed Will, a little more grimly.

Minutes passed, during which Gideon skimmed the papers, frowning. After a time he found himself back at the beginning, and he wrinkled his brow, bemused.

Will turned back from where he had been watching the Bath Road go by. “What is it?” he said.

“There’s nothing here,” Gideon said, frustrated. “Plenty of terrible things, of course. My father was a…a…” He struggled for the right word.

“Monster?” suggested Will.

“Pervert,” said Gideon carefully. He shuffled through the pages until he found one that was only an elaborate diagram his father had made up in pencil and showed it to Will.

Will blinked at it. “Jiminy,” he said.

“But there’s nothing here that would cause weakness or fragility in his descendants,” Gideon went on. “No curses, no hexes, no demon poisons….”

“Only the pox, then,” Will said dryly.

“Yes, but that isn’t hereditary,” Gideon said. “We looked into that years ago for our own sakes.” He shuffled the papers. “All that trouble, and for nothing. Thomas remains frail and I remain unable to do anything for him.”

There was a silence and then Will said, “Gideon, it is Christmastime, and Christmas is a time to tell the truth. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“If you say so,” Gideon said, waving his hand. From his experience Christmas a time to sing in the street and eat a goose, but who knew what strange traditions Will had from his mundane childhood. “In any event, I’d agree you should tell the truth whatever the time of year.”

“Gideon,” Will said, clapping his hand on Gideon’s shoulder. “There is nothing wrong whatsoever with Thomas.”

Gideon sighed. “That’s very kind of you to say, Will, but—”

“But nothing. Thomas is just small. Sometimes children are small. He’s not cursed or hexed.”

“He gets sick,” Gideon pressed. “All the time.”

Will laughed. “Do you have any idea how sick Cecily was as an infant? She was colicky, and then she had fevers…she cried more than she slept, those first few years.”

“And then what?”

Will threw up his hands. “And then nothing! She grew! She fell ill less and less often. That is the way of children. And we did not have terrifying mute telepathic doctors to take care of us. Does Thomas eat? Does he exert himself when he does feel well?”

“Yes,” Gideon admitted.

“Well then,” said Will, leaning back as if his point was made. “Put your mind aside from your supposed cursed family. Tatiana’s son is sickly—does that surprise you, now you’ve seen the house? Now you’ve seen Tatiana? No, of course not.” He looked at Gideon intently. “Thomas’s only trouble,” he said firmly, “is that he is an adorable wee thing.”

Gideon stared at Will. Then he broke into laughter. Will laughed too, his usual hearty chuckle, and Gideon found himself feeling better. He was still worried about Thomas—he would be for a few years, he knew, until the boy had passed the time of worrisome childhood ailments and could be protected with runes—but he felt better nonetheless. He had thought of many ways he might feel on the way back from his sister’s house, but “better” had not been one of them.

“Christmas miracle,” Will whispered gleefully.

Well, thought Gideon. Some kind of miracle, anyway.

#the infernal devices #the last hours #tid #tlh #gideon lightwood #cassandra clare #tsc #shadowhunters #cassandra jean #william herondale #flash fiction

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zangyo · 3 years

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five times touched; somewhat selectively accepting || @muriokusho

🖐️

01.

Gojo was rather shameless – this is the first thing that Nanami learned upon being greeted by his ‘senpai’ his first day at Jujutsu High’s Tokyo branch. Rather than greeting him as Shouko or Geto did, instead, he practically threw an arm over his shoulder and loudly proclaimed that he could rely on them – him most especially – since Nanami was their ‘little koukai’. Nevermind the fact that Gojo was but a year older than him with the only difference between them being the fact that he just had more experience fighting curses. Nanami scowled, already aggravated and he just got here. ❝You know, there’s something called personal space.❞ Alas, he would come to know that there was no such a thing when Gojo was involved. All space was his space, and no amount of complaints or attempts at putting arm’s length between himself and the other would ever truly be successful.

02.

Gojo had changed after that incident with that girl. It might not have seemed big when his personality was basically the same, but it was the little things he noticed that spoke volumes. The increased training, the obsession over growing stronger and truly learning the ins and outs of one’s abilities… Before, the older boy had been nonchalant and perhaps a little lazy too, for he could be that way when he was already ridiculously strong even by sorcerer standards, especially at such a young age. Gojo had liked to call himself ‘the strongest’, quite proud of that proclamation and intent on making sure that everyone around him knew of it too (oh and enemies came to learn it rather quickly). Any and every mission tossed his way was taken, and each time, that strength soared to levels that none could be on equal ground with. Even Geto, the one who also prided himself on strength, must have felt left behind. Quietly, Nanami tilted his head, examining the other with a raised brow. ❝So, not even a finger can touch you? Really?❞

Wasn’t it a bit extreme to push oneself like this? A part of him was concerned, yet another part was uncertain if he had a right to be. When you were always high above death, when it caught up to you unexpectedly, he was sure it was a traumatic moment. Maybe that was why Gojo was like this now. Reaching out, he made to poke the other’s cheek, hand unable to go any further as if someone was holding back his wrist. The older boy grinned, amused even if Nanami couldn’t quite see his eyes. Still, he might not have been able to touch Gojo, but Gojo could touch him. He even made sure to tease him and poke his forehead soon afterwards.

What a brat.

03.

❝I’m leaving.❞ It was a blunt statement devoid of embellishments, green eyes shifting to meet the other’s shaded ones. ❝I finished up my training and now I’m done.❞ This wasn’t a place for someone like him. Nanami couldn’t bear to see those he knew dying around him anymore and had reached his threshold (or maybe he had reached it a long time ago). ❝You’ll do fine, Gojo-san.❞ He didn’t need anyone, most of all Nanami. When he left, things would continue on as if he hadn’t been there. He would just be another memory, one soon forgotten as the other ascended to the heavens. There must have been something in his tone because he wasn’t stopped. Instead, Gojo reached out, a hand resting upon his shoulder and a firm squeeze offered.

‘Good luck.’

04.

❝Personal space, Gojo-san.❞ How long was the other going to hold him anyway? Thank goodness no one else was around to see any of this, although it wouldn’t have been a surprising sight. The students were used to their teacher’s antics and how he, much like a cat, did anything he so wanted at any given moment. Nanami gave a long sigh, staring at nothing in particular as he gazed ahead. When he had decided to come back, he had not expected this kind of greeting. Honestly, considering who was holding him now, he should have. ❝It has been…how many years now? And you still don’t listen to me.❞ And he was still the ‘cute little kouhai’, apparently. A groan would have passed his lips if he knew it wouldn’t fall upon deaf ears. He could still recall the laughter on the other end of the phone when he had called Gojo that day he decided to quit his office job and return to being a Jujutsu Sorcerer – the grin he knew had tugged on the edges of those lips upon seeing his number appear on that cellphone. Had Gojo been waiting for him? He must have. After all…

He kept his number.

05.

❝May I?❞ Nanami asked, his hand outstretched, held out towards the other’s cheek. Gojo seemed surprised -- it was hard to tell with that blindfold covering his eyes. Perhaps it was just the fact that he knew the other a little better than most of the general populous that he was able to discern this slight change, but that barrier that seemed to surrounded the other at all sides was gone in an instant, and in that instant, he could tell there was discomfort there in having it down, especially so out in the open where an attack could happen at any given time. That man he had fought back when they were in High School really left his mark there, hadn’t he? It was said that beings and creatures of great strength would always recall that moment of their mortality when met with someone who could harm them. Even the gods themselves would feel that paranoia inside their hearts if a mortal appeared, lowly, and weak, somehow managed to leave a lasting wound that could never heal. That must have been how the other felt. Nanami never brought it up, never mentioned it, yet he understood.

Fingers brushed against skin, the blood that was left smeared upon that usually pristine flesh soon wiped away and transferred to fingertips instead. ❝You can’t go back to Ijichi looking like that. Have some decency.❞ Though…there was not much that could be said for the blood upon the other’s shirt. It was a dark stain, darker than the black he wore, and the scent was strong and heavy even now. That was minor. What could be seen by the naked eye was what held precedence first and foremost.

#muriokusho #;v: purify the impure #answered #;;inbox #;ask reply meme

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lia-jones · 4 years

Text

Growing Pains - Chapter Nine - The King and the Thief

Needless to say, I spent my weekend thinking about Victor and that particular event in my kitchen. My heart lingered in the memory of his warmth like a guilty pleasure, while my mind kept telling me what a bad idea it was to fall in love, especially with my boss. But my greatest flaw and virtue came to this one thing: no matter the dispute between my head and my heart, my heart always had the upper hand. That was something that gave me both great joy and great grief.

I wondered if something meaningful would’ve happened if his phone didn’t ring, and my heart beat yes. My mind though, warned me of the danger of misreading signs, particularly in this case. A wrong step could break both my heart and my career, but the humiliation would be even worse.

I arrived at the office promising myself I would only focus on work and nothing else. I was probably seeing things, anyway. That guy probably had all the women he could have, attractive tall women with beautiful hair and eyes of exotic colors, supermodel material. What would he want to do with a plain brown haired and brown eyed short girl?

I walked quickly to my old desk, expecting to see all my stuff there again. I imagined he wanted the privacy of his office back again, and since I did a good job in Creekwood, my punishment would be over. But my old desk was stubbornly empty. Goldman saw me and came to me.

“What are you doing here? Victor wants you in his office. Now.” Goldman’s voice was way too serious for my liking.

“Is he mad at me? Did I do something wrong?” I asked, feeling a little nervous.

“How the hell should I know?!?” Goldman was clearly irritated. “Do you think he writes me a memo every time he gets pissed?”

I raised my hands, urging him to calm down.

“Ok, ok, I’m going. Jeez.”

I knocked before coming in. Victor raised his eyebrows at me.

“Why did you knock? You work here. You don’t have to knock.” His voice had a touch of anger, but it didn’t seem directed at me. I relaxed.

“I was just trying to be polite.” I answered, concealing the fact that I was not wanting to aggravate him even more.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you speaking to Goldman just now. Glass doors.” He pointed at the doors, and then looked me straight in the eyes, calling my bluff. “How long will it take you to figure out you don’t have to be afraid of me?”

“I’m not. I’m not afraid.” I didn’t lie, I wasn’t. Sure, Victor could be harsh, and I surely didn’t want to feel the effects of his anger, but it wasn’t fear. Respect, maybe? I couldn’t put my finger on it. “It came from respect, not fear.” I added. Victor kept his gaze on me, like he was confirming if I was being truthful.

“I need you to take a look at these.” He said, handing me a folder.

“They’re Ted’s partners.” I said, recognizing the companies names in the documents. “Is something wrong?”

“The accounting department noticed some inconsistencies on money transfers to these companies. Probably some data was lost when the servers went down. You worked with Ted, perhaps you can fill in the gaps.” He tried to keep a nonchalant tone, but his almost unperceptively furrowed brow spoke volumes. This was troubling him.

“Where is Ted? These are his clients, after all.” I asked, starting to feel a bit tense. I didn’t want to be the one causing Ted trouble.

“He’s not answering his phone.” Victor almost whispered. “I need you to do it.” He ended the conversation right there, turning to his laptop.

I turned to my own laptop and opened the server files for those companies, comparing them with the transfer receipts in the folder. After some time, I could see why Victor was so upset. The transfers were each over a hundred thousand dollars, all of them combined indicating a loss of millions. After checking with the company files, I found nothing that could indicate why he had transferred those amounts. I started rubbing my forehead in distress. Victor quickly picked up on that.

“Something’s wrong?” He came closer, eyeing my screen.

“I can’t really find why these transfers were made. You should really ask Ted, before making any assumptions.” I could feel Victor’s warmth irradiating from his body. And he smelled so good. Why the hell does he have to smell so good? “Or maybe…” I said, trying not to get lost in his scent. ”Maybe I could just email the partners, tell them we had a server problem, ask them to confirm the transfers? I know it’s a bit of exposure, but we would find out.”

Victor rested his elbow on my desk, supporting his chin with his hand.

“Yes, send an e-mail to the partners. Let’s hear from them.”

We both resumed our work, and after I had sent emails to pretty much every one of Ted’s partners, I heard Victor answer a phone call.

“Ted?” It was visible Victor was trying to control his anger. “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you since last night!” He paused, hearing from the other line. “The server went down, we are missing some information about some money transfers you made.” Another pause. “Send them to Andrea as soon as possible. She’ll update the files for you. Feel better.”

I was hanging on the edge of my seat.

“So?” I asked.

“This is why I insist you backup all your work outside the servers! Information gets lost and then it’s all on you!” He spoke loudly than usual, but I could see he was just venting. He noticed his tone, and softened it a bit. “He caught the flu, he’ll stay home for a few days. He is going to email you the receipts. Do you have the reports from our business trip?” He said, leaning on his seat and exhaling, seemingly relieved.

“I have the drafts, I was going to finish them this morning. If you have nothing else, I’ll finish them right now.”

“Yes, do that. Take your time, I just need them for the afternoon.” He got up and was about to leave, but then turned to me. “I’m going to get myself some coffee, would you like some?”

“I can get it for both of us. I need to peel my eyes off the screen for a few minutes.” I said, getting up.

“Come along, then. I need the same.” Victor said, opening the door for me and following close behind. We headed for the coffee room.

He grabbed the pot before I could and filled two cups with coffee.

“Sugar?” He asked, holding a sugar packet.

“Just black, thank you.” I said, absent mindedly. I was leaning against the table, watching a different scene unfold. Victor came to my side, handing me the coffee cup. We stood silent for a while.

“What are we looking at?” He asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Goldman and Diane.” I had been watching Goldman bring Diane coffee from a known coffee house we usually frequented. They were chatting and smiling at each other.

“They’re just talking.” Victor said, furrowing his brow.

“No, no. You see, he brought her coffee.” I said, giving Victor a meaningful look. “And not just any coffee. By the way she reacted, he knows how she likes her coffee.”

“And? It’s just coffee.” He wasn’t really getting it. Of course he wasn’t. Some men.

“No, it’s not just coffee. It’s a thoughtful act. You guys think we need grand gestures, serenades in the moonlight, and large bouquets of roses. Sometimes all it takes is a cup of coffee.”

“Is that so?” Victor smiled and I could see he was mocking me. “I bet if someone did the same to you, you wouldn’t even notice.”

“If someone was that thoughtful to me, I would.”

“Idiot.” Victor shook his head, chuckling. He grabbed his cup of coffee and walked towards the office.

I was left by myself fuming. What the hell did he mean with that? And what the hell did he know anyway? He wouldn’t know love even if it hit him in his nose.

I took my time to finish my coffee, hoping the heat in my face would eventually fade away.

When I got to the office, Victor was focused on his laptop. I opened mine and noticed my inbox was full of unread messages.

“Your computer has been beeping non-stop.” Victor said, not taking his eyes from his computer.

I read the first message and my heart nearly stopped. Praying to be wrong, I read five more. They all said the same.

“What the hell, Ted...” I said, under my breath.

“What’s the matter?” Victor asked, as he got up and stood behind my chair, bending to look at my screen. I took a deep breath and started opening the emails for Victor to see.

“The partners answered me. None of them recognizes the transfers, or the account numbers, for that matter. I’m sorry, I should have checked the account numbers, it totally slipped my mind…” I rubbed my forehead, overwhelmed with the situation. Ted, one of the closest coworkers I had at LFG, was embezzling? If this was hitting me hard, I could only imagine how Victor must have felt. They seemed friends.

Victor stood up and just kept looking at the screen, lost in his inner turmoil. His expression turned from one of disappointment to anger. He lightly squeezed my shoulder and spoke softly, even though he couldn’t completely hide the heat in his voice.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t think of it either. We both wanted to believe in his innocence.” He went to his laptop and closed it, taking his cellphone and jacket. He walked to the door, turning before leaving.

“Finish the reports and go home. I will be away all afternoon. I will call you later if I need anything.”

And with that, he closed the door behind him.

I finished my reports, not caring for lunch, and went home early. I took a shower and put on my slacks and a cotton sweater, deciding to make a tea for myself. Even after the steaming shower, it was hard for me to relax. I knew Ted had his flaws, but it was hard to believe he would do that. Specially to Victor, who he seemed to respect so much. I was startled from my thoughts by my ringtone. It was Victor.

“Are you home yet?” He asked, his voice was tense.

“For about an hour now. Do you need anything?”

“No, just… Calling to see if you got home safely.” I could hear exhaustion in his voice, but most of all, I could hear sadness. His voice was of someone who carried the entire world on his shoulders.

“So he did do it?” I asked shortly. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer. Victor sighed loudly, but didn’t say a word. After a moment, he spoke again.

“I’ll need you to come to work tomorrow at 7 am. I’ll have someone pick you up.”

“You don’t need to send anyone to pick me up. My car is working, I can drive myself.” I wasn’t seeing the point of being driven when I could perfectly do it on my own.

“Ted’s clients have been calling and emailing me since this morning.” Victor quickly changed the subject. “He seriously compromised the company with his inefficient work and we need to deal with it fast. Since you worked closely with his accounts, you’re the best choice to help me fix it.”

“I already said I would go, I was just pointing out you don’t need to send anyone for me, I’ll go by myself like I have been since ever.”

I heard Victor sigh once again.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, ok? Just do as you’re asked. When the car arrives, just get in and come to LFG.”

And with this he hung up. I went to the cabinet and grabbed the bottle of tequila. If I wanted to relax, I’d need something stronger than tea.

#Growing Pains - Series #growingpains #mlqc victor #victor x oc #mlqc #li zeyan #mlqc fanfic #mister love queens choice #love and producer

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dinglemingle · 4 years

Text

Tonight (I Wish I Was Your Boy)

Ao3 link

Robert Sugden was a prick. That was something Aaron was sure. Of course, he hadn't exchanged many words with the upper sixth lad in recent years but that didn't stop him from forming an opinion. If the rumours, Andy's slagging off sessions and his cousin Debbie's tears last summer were anything to go by, then he knew perfectly well what Robert was like. Cocky, arrogant and willing to shag anything with a pulse

That didn't stop Aaron from fancying him though, sure he was an arse, and straight and Vic's brother, which made things awkward when he was checking Robert out instead of listening to her droning on about some pop band when he was up at the farm, but Aaron couldn't help himself when Robert stood there all blue eyes and plump lips

It didn't mean he liked the lad though, Vic had tried to get Aaron to be friends with her brothers, it didn't work. Andy was too boring and Robert was too smug. No this wasn't a crush Aaron had told himself, just him appreciating Roberts messy blonde locks and smooth freckled skin and the way his uniform trousers fitted his thighs so well

Only the lump in his throat every time Robert looked at him and the nerves that brewed in the pit of his stomach when he spoke to him begged to differ.

Aaron ignored it, of course, he had done for the past year when these feelings started to surface, tried to convince himself everything was the same as it always had been. Aaron had known Robert forever, and he'd always liked the older lad. When they were kids he'd liked playing with him and Vic, and kicking about a football every Saturday at the top of the field near butlers. When they'd gotten older the trio would hang around at the cricket pavilion, only 11 and 12 yet gossiping about the most recent drama from school and playing silly pranks on the village pensioners.

Of course, when Robert had turned 13 that all changed, he'd discovered girls and larger and popularity and suddenly decided he was too cool to hang out with his little sister and her best friend.

Yes, Aaron had been bitter, tried to act not bothered, but he spent two months sulking around the pub and biting off his mum and Paddy's head when they tried to ask what was wrong. And maybe, just maybe he'd cried into his pillow one night when Robert had called him a baby and told him to go play with the other kids, after the younger lad had suggested a game they used to always play to Robert, in front of his new,cooler,older friends. Aaron would pretend not to care, still not quite sure why the boy's rejection hurt him so much.

Over time the pain started to sting less and as Robert began to become more infamous around school and his exploits where weekly common room gossip, he began to like Robert less and less.

It was easy to ignore Robert for a few years, Vic didn't mention him that often, somewhat ashamed of her brother's antics, and in school, he blocked out people's tales of Roberts weekend escapades. When he was up at the farm, which was rare, considering Jack and Andy's shiny opinion of the dingle family, Robert usually wasn't there, and when he was a quick nod off the head would suffice, before one of them would scurry off away from the other, usually Robert, off to add another conquest to his ever-growing list.

Aaron hated that. He didn't care much for the drama that floated around the school halls anyway, but something about hearing Katie giggle in the canteen about another girl Robert had been caught snogging in the bathrooms bugged him. He told himself it was just because he didn't like seeing Robert mess about all these girls, and for a while, he believed it, especially when his cousin Debbie had fallen victim to Sugden's charm. However somewhere deep down Aaron knew there was another reason, it's not like he was the most sympathetic person at the best of times and these girls all knew about Roberts reputation

So when at 15 he'd began to find Robert really fit, he supposed it had all made sense. The younger lad knew he'd had an attraction to boys, still not fully comfortable with it and definitely not accepting he was gay, nevertheless, he still knew it was there, he hadn't expected Robert to be the subject of his desire, however.

To Aaron it had come out of nowhere, when he went over to Vic's, promising to watch that new rom-com she got on DVD he hadn't expected these feelings for Robert to emerge. There he was one minute, blissfully living a Robert Sugden free life, and the next Robert had wormed his way into his thoughts.

It was Saturday. It was raining. It was dull. Aaron was positively bored out of his mind. He was sat in the kitchen having a cuppa with Vic, whilst they waited for their pizzas to cook. To be honest, he'd rather be home playing FIFA but he knew him and Vic hadn't spent much time together recently and that the stress of the tensions at home had started to get to her, so he'd begrudgingly pulled on his winter coat and trudged out to the farm

That's how he found himself sipping a milky tea in his mates freezing kitchen whilst she ranted about Andy and Robert

"I just wish they could get on you know, for once, for me" the brunette sipped her tea and sighed, clearly exasperated at her brothers bickering

"I know" Aaron spoke, gently patting the girl's arm. The Sugden brothers feud was common knowledge, and Aaron knew how upset Vic got every time the boys came home with bloody noses and bruised fists after beating seven bells out of each other. He hated seeing this side of his friend, fragile and vulnerable, and he hated her brothers for making her this way.

It was even worse on the rare occasions when she spoke about the rows, she could go on for hours about their physical fights, because she knew that a punch over a silly spat was temporary, however when it came to their slanging matches and tense words over the dinner table it became more difficult. The younger Sugden knew that the words lingered for much longer, that Roberts resentment over Andy being the golden child was always hanging in the air, waiting to strike whenever the lads disagreed over something. Robert always brought it up, how Saint Andy could do no wrong, how he'd stolen his father's affections. Jack never helped, she hated to admit it but Vic knew her father was less than subtle with his disappointment over Robert and always did tend to side with Andy when arguments arose.

Aaron had sat in Vic's room when a fight erupted between the pair one too many times to see how it affected her, she'd curl into herself and go quiet for a moment, the chirpy grin wiped off of her face in an instant, then she'd pick up the remote and turn the volume up on whatever show they'd put on that evening, in a desperate attempt to drown out the shouts of her brothers and dad.

It was one of the main reasons he held such a strong dislike for Andy and Robert, neither of them ever giving up a fight or letting anything go, all at their little sister's expense. He hadn't been shy letting them know how he felt on several occasions when he got fed up of wiping Vic's tears. It was safe to say the Sugden men weren't to keen on Aaron or his friendship with Vic, which is why he was repeatedly checking his phone, hoping the pizzas would be ready soon so he could hurry off to his mate's room without seeing one her relatives.

Luck wasn't on his side today then, as all the three men came booming through the door. Jack was first, the patriarch looming over the table making his presence very much known "Kettles just boiled," Vic said, quickly masking her upset from her family, praying they wouldn't hear the croak in her voice or notice her red eyes from crying.

"Go on Andy, a nice cuppa will warm us all up" Jack called out to his son, who was bumbling his way through the door, the younger Sugden obliged, scurrying for the cups, never one to disobey his dad.

And then in strolled Robert, calm cool, collected, an air of arrogance wafting around him. He threw his farming gloves on the table and pulled out a chair to sit, taking pleasure in the way the screeching against the old wooden floor displeased his dad and brother. Today had been one of the hair occasions where the three were getting on and had somehow managed to work on the farm without killing one another.

Aaron sheepishly looked up from the floor, anticipating some remark from one of the three, but was caught off guard by Roberts stature over the table. Suddenly, Aaron was staring up at the older lad, mouth agape and head spinning, captivated by his beauty. Robert was tall, taller than the last time Aaron had seen him, his broad shoulders standing out as he towered over Andy and levelled with Jack. In the farming overalls, he could see every curve of Roberts body, his rolled-up sleeves exposing toned arms littered with freckles. Aaron continued to stare, only now noticing Robert in all his glory.

"What's the matter Dingle" Roberts jovial toned shook him out of his thoughts, his eyes snapping up to Roberts as he clasped his mouth shut

"You look like you've seen a ghost, or is thought of me doing farm work that shocking?" Rob asked, as charismatic as ever

"Yeah" Aaron muttered, attempting to seem nonchalant, "thought you were allergic to hard graft" Aaron relaxed into the wooden chair, brushing off his true feelings. Robert smirked, before plopping down across from him and thanking Andy as he passed him a steaming cup tea

"Well what can I say, sheep really get me going" Robert quipped, holding Aaron in a strong gaze

Andy made a lame joke about the Welsh that Jack seemed to find vaguely amusing, but just earned a sigh from Vic and in synch eye rolls from the boys, the pair smiled at each other before Rob retorted back at Andy's bad attempt at banter

"Not quite what I meant but sure, although I think that's more your style, the amount of time you spend up on that field" Robert joked, a glint of something mischievous in his eye at seeing his brothers scowl.

Aaron sniggered into his tea, finding the blonde he usually opposed hilarious for some reason, a reason that had nothing to do with how rosy his cheeks were or how attractive he looked when he licked his lips, no nothing to do with that at all.

"Something funny dingle" Andy barked glaring at Aaron, never one to take a joke

Robert rolled his eyes again, muttering something under his breath about Andy being a pratt again, he caught Aaron's eyes and sent him a reassuring smile, something that looked genuine and real, Aaron thought.

"No nothing," Aaron said gulping down his tea, anxiously waiting to leave

Vic seemingly read his mind

"They're ready" she called, holding up two plates of perfectly sliced pizza, Aaron not even noticing she'd left his side, him being too caught up in her brother, which one he cared not to admit.

He stood up from his chair and carried his cup to the sink, before making his way to Vic and taking a plate from her

"Right that's us off then" Vic stated before turning to bound the stairs, Aaron following close behind, but not before giving a tight-lipped smile to the three men and taking one last peek at Roberts toned body, his infatuation with his best mates brother growing in a matter of minutes.

With that he hastily moved out of the room and spent the rest of the afternoon watching films with Vic and snorting at her daft impressions, ignoring all thoughts of her very fit brother.

A year had passed yet Aaron was still unable to shift those feelings awoke in him that day, in fact, they'd grown stronger, and Aaron was struggling to contain his want to jump Roberts bones every time he saw him. He still resented the lad and the pair hardly exchanged friendly words, yet there were a few times when they shared a joke and Robert beamed a smile in his direction, those moments made Aaron's heart flip, admiring how beautiful the other boy was when he was smiling like that. Unfortunately, it was scarce Robert smiling at him and when he did the moment was often fleeting.

None of this helped Aaron's feelings, he tried to push them back and deny them, adamant that it was just lust, nothing more, but it was becoming harder as the months past and with his start at college in a couple of weeks he knew these feelings for Robert Sugden were going to have to go, and soon. He hoped maybe a new school would help with that. What Aaron couldn't have anticipated was that Robert had caught on to his crush, and was determined to have some fun.

It seemed college couldn't come soon enough.

#first chapter!#robron #my work #robert sugden #aaron dingle #fanfiction #all feedback welcome #first chapter will be on here and ao3 and then the rest i'll just link #i'm actually proud of this #it's not the best but it's something #been working on it for a few weeks now #got a couple chapters ready to post #exciting times #i've proof read this and spell checked it but there is probably a million mistakes sorry #.

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tlhnetwork · 5 years

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DECEMBER’s Chain of Gold Flash Fiction by Cassandra Clare

A Lightwood Christmas Carol

PART 2

“So,” Gideon said to Will the next night as they patrolled together in Mayfair, “the whole thing was a wash. I’m not murdering some poor bastard’s dog.”

Now Tatiana (and the dog news) had deflated Will’s mood, and Gideon felt a little badly about it. Will was frowning thoughtfully. “Why not just offer her money?” he said.

Gideon sighed. “Because Tatiana has plenty of money, all of our family money. And Gabriel and I have only our salaries as Shadowhunters. She doesn’t need money.”

Will looked scornful. “Everybody likes more money.”’

Will stood looking past him for a long moment, and eventually Gideon said, “Will?”

“We?” said Gideon, raising his eyebrows.

“Well, it’s my plan,” Will said reasonably. “So obviously I’ll be along.”

Despite himself, a smile played at the edges of Gideon’s mouth. That was the one thing he had over Tatiana, after all. He wasn��t alone.

Will, for his part, did his best. “Hullo, Tatiana my love,” he said. “Many greetings of the season! How excellently you’ve kept up the place.”

“Why have you brought my nemesis to my house?” Tatiana said, in the same tone she might have used if she were asking why Gideon had failed to return a book he’d borrowed.

“Crikey,” said Will. “Nemesis? Tatiana, I bear you no ill will. Have I ever, even once, interfered with your life? With your going about your business?”

“Yes,” said Tatiana. “Twice. Once when you murdered my husband, and once when you murdered my father.”

Will made a choked noise. “I murdered your father because he murdered your husband! And I didn’t murder him, he’d changed into some kind of great serpent.”

“A worm, Will,” said Gideon quietly. “He was a giant worm. Not a serpent.”

“As I remember,” said Will, “it were a great wyrm, from the depths of the Abyss, that we dispatched.”

“It was not,” said Gideon.

“It was my father,” ground out Tatiana, “and I wish to know, Gideon, why you have brought him here? I asked you to perform a task for me.”

“And I have performed it,” Gideon said briskly. “Mr. Herondale was good enough to come along, to help protect me from this most vicious of dogs that you described.”

“It’s actually quite vicious,” Will agreed.

“If you’ll just let us come in,” Gideon said.

Tatiana squinted at both of them as if trying to see through a possible glamour. “Well, come in, then. But you won’t get tea.”

“Tatiana,” Will said with an understanding chuckle. “There’s obviously no way I would ever consume any food or drink at your house.”

This was going rather well, Gideon thought.

Ensconced back in his father’s office, with no tea offered nor taken, Tatiana said, “Well?”

Gideon reached into his jacket and lay a dog’s collar, a weathered length of leather cord, down on the desktop with a flourish.

Tatiana looked at it and then up at him. “What is this?”

“It is the dog’s collar,” Gideon said. “A trophy of our dispatching it.”

She looked at it again. “This tells me nothing. You could simply have taken the collar off of that dog.”

“I need something more,” Tatiana said. “If you killed the dog, you must know where it is. Go back and bring me the dog’s tail, or something.”

“Tatiana,” Gideon began, but Will interrupted.

Tatiana sat back and shook her head, dissatisfaction wrinkling her mouth. “Proof that you have dispatched the dog,” she said, “and not merely that you have encountered it.”

Gideon waited for Will to jump in again, but Will was silent. He seemed unsure how to proceed. Finally, he said, “Tatiana, give him the papers. Because it’s Christmas.”

“What?” said Gideon in disbelief.

Tatiana looked at Will with loathing. “Mundane holidays are meaningless to me.”

“I should have guessed, yes,” muttered Will.

Tatiana continued to watch Gideon in silence with a lizard-like stare.

She stared for a long and agonizing moment, and then she said, “Get out of my house.”

“Tatiana,” he began.

“Sophie is an Ascended Shadowhunter!” Will shouted back, staunchly, and Gideon realized he was happy that Will was there.

Gideon did not much wish to promise never to return to the house he’d grown up in, so he only said, “Whatever you wish.”

Tatiana examined Will’s face carefully, and then said, “You have two minutes, starting from this moment.” She rose from her seat and made for the door.

“Will, what are you—” Gideon began.

Will put the tip of his finger to his lips to quiet Gideon. “Trust me,” he said. “I believe that I can create a Christmas miracle.”

Helplessly Gideon watched his sister and his friend depart and close the door behind them. The seconds ticked by. Two minutes passed, then another two, then three more.

Then Tatiana came back into the room, followed by Will. Gideon tried to read Will’s expression, but it was neutral, nonchalant.

Will threw up his hands in surrender. “I really just came for the dog-wrestling.”

Wondering, Gideon took the papers from her. He turned to look at Will, who murmured to him, “A Christmas miracle,” with a small smile.

“Come now,” Gideon said in the carriage on the way back from Chiswick, “what did you say to Tatiana to make her concede?”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” said Will eagerly. “And then, I counted banknotes totalling two hundred British pounds sterling directly into her hand.”

“Will!” said Gideon, shocked.

“I told you,” Will said airily. “Everyone likes money. Even mad revenge-seeking sisters, with the dried blood of their husbands on their frocks, like money.”

Gideon was flummoxed. It was an enormous sum. “You didn’t have to do that, Will,” he said. “She doesn’t deserve the money.”

“What she doesn’t deserve,” Will said hotly, “is the moral victory. It was money well-spent to be gone from that house.”

“I really had better return these to Tatiana in a week,” he said, examining the journals again before he started reading. “Or she’s like to set a demon on me.”

Will chuckled. “Ha. Maybe she would at that.”

Gideon paused. “She might, you know. All jokes aside. It’s a legitimate possibility.”

“It is,” agreed Will, a little more grimly.

Minutes passed, during which Gideon skimmed the papers, frowning. After a time he found himself back at the beginning, and he wrinkled his brow, bemused.

Will turned back from where he had been watching the Bath Road go by. “What is it?” he said.

“There’s nothing here,” Gideon said, frustrated. “Plenty of terrible things, of course. My father was a…a…” He struggled for the right word.

“Monster?” suggested Will.

“Pervert,” said Gideon carefully. He shuffled through the pages until he found one that was only an elaborate diagram his father had made up in pencil and showed it to Will.

Will blinked at it. “Jiminy,” he said.

“But there’s nothing here that would cause weakness or fragility in his descendants,” Gideon went on. “No curses, no hexes, no demon poisons….”

“Only the pox, then,” Will said dryly.

There was a silence and then Will said, “Gideon, it is Christmastime, and Christmas is a time to tell the truth. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Gideon,” Will said, clapping his hand on Gideon’s shoulder. “There is nothing wrong whatsoever with Thomas.”

Gideon sighed. “That’s very kind of you to say, Will, but—”

“But nothing. Thomas is just small. Sometimes children are small. He’s not cursed or hexed.”

“He gets sick,” Gideon pressed. “All the time.”

Will laughed. “Do you have any idea how sick Cecily was as an infant? She was colicky, and then she had fevers…she cried more than she slept, those first few years.”

“And then what?”

“Yes,” Gideon admitted.

“Christmas miracle,” Will whispered gleefully.

Well, thought Gideon. Some kind of miracle, anyway.

#the last hours #the shadowhunter chronicles #the infernal devices #chain of gold #will herondale #gideon lightwood #cassandra clare #tsc #tlh #tid

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acockius · 5 years

Text

couples costume.

this is my halloqueen gift for @tenementfunzter, who so graciously gave me an extra few days to let me get this to a place i felt comfortable with. Your satan loves you dearly, and i hope you enjoy this silly little piece i’ve written with you in mind.

warnings: mentions of sex, fluffier than cumulus clouds, bed sharing, friends to loves, roger in drag, etc.

Roger leaned over your heaving chest to retrieve his pack of cigarettes from the nightstand. He pushed himself to a sitting position, leaning against the headboard and placing a butt between his lips before lighting it. You adjusted the fitted sheet around yourself with one hand and combed your hair out of your face with the other. Roger took the opportunity to replace your hand with his, his fingertips ridding your hair of any knots and massaging your scalp. You sighed quietly, toes curling at the feeling. It wouldn’t be the first time tonight that he’d gotten that reaction out of you.

You and Roger had been hooking up for months now. It was hard to put a finger on how it exactly happened, but the fact that you both were absolutely smashed the first time it occurred could’ve contributed to it. After the next couple of times, neither of you needed liquid courage. It always started it the most innocent of ways, and there was no awkwardness once you were finished. It was a mutual understanding that sometimes you just needed each other in that way.

“What’re you thinking about?” Roger asked, breaking the silence as he moved your hair from your shoulder.

You shrugged, turning your head to look at him.

“Nothing really. My mind’s still a little hazy.” You’d never admit what you were actually thinking about; The pillow talk that you shared was starting to become more intimate. There were little gestures he made, like playing with your hair, snuggling with you, and kissing your head that made you think that this could become something more than it was.

“That just means that I did my job correctly.” Roger sneered at you with his tongue playfully pinned between his teeth.

You shoved him before attempting to slap him in jest, but he just let out an airy laugh before catching your wrist in the hand that wasn’t holding his cigarette.

“Alright, you wanker. What are you thinking about?”

“Fred’s Halloween party.”

You gasped, mocking offense.

“You’ve already moved onto sorting out your schedule? Am I really that bad of a shag, Roggie?” You pouted and gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

Roger pretended to ponder for a moment, clicking his tongue. You freed yourself from Roger’s grip and wound back once more. The sheet had fallen from your chest without you noticing, and Roger did his best to look you in the eye instead of letting his gaze wander south.

“You are a great shag.” Roger leaned over and pressed a kiss to your nose to punctuate his sentence. He stamped out his cigarette before covering your chest once more with the fitted sheet. withholding any brash comments. You couldn’t help the blush that appeared on your cheeks.

“I didn’t know Freddie was throwing a Halloween party.” You sat up joined Roger against the headboard, resisting the urge to snuggle against him. You didn’t want to push your luck and be let down.

“It’s somewhat of a recent development.” Roger explained. “And you know how he is with his extravagant parties…”

The statement made you chuckle. Freddie Mercury has thrown the greatest parties you’d ever been to. Any other function you’d attended in your lifetime couldn’t hold a candle to even the tamest of get togethers Freddie has hosted.

“I was thinking you’d maybe like to go with me.” Roger scratched that back of his head, a nervous habit of his.

You were truly taken aback. You weren’t exactly sure what Roger’s intentions were. You already knew that you’d be invited to the party, so there was no reason to go with Roger. Unless he wanted you to, that is.

“As in….?” Your brow was furrowed out of curiosity, hoping that Roger would so graciously provide you with more information.

“We should go together. As in, we should dress up together and then attend the party.” Roger explained, somewhat vaguely.

“Dress up together? Like - a couple’s costume?” You tried to keep a steady tone, so that Roger couldn’t distinguish your feelings about the idea.

“I guess if that’s how you want to look at it.” Roger grabbed the ashtray from the night stand and stamped out his cigarette.

“How do you want to look at it?” You breathed through your nose with an amused smirk.

Roger sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes.

“I’m looking at is as that we should wear costumes that compliment each other and attend the party together.”

You nodded your head at the idea. You did your best to remain nonchalant, but your inner monologue was just a high pitched squeal.

“I think I would like that very much.” You agreed, taking the opportunity to nudge Roger’s shoulder with yours.

“What kind of costumes were you thinking?”

“See, that’s the issue. I don’t want to do something overdone or absolutely cliche.” Roger explained.

“So definitely not like peanut butter and jelly or Bonnie and Clyde?” You teased inquisitively

Roger pushed your shoulder and then pulled you to him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“Can you be serious for just a few moments?” Roger asked, practically cradling you.

“What can I say? I’m just trying to channel my inner Roger Taylor!” You poked his nose and smiled widely.

Roger looked down at you dumb-foundedly, which caused you to pull your hand back quickly.

“Bloody hell… That’s brilliant!” Roger took your face in his hands and kissed your forehead.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll go as me, and I’ll go as you.” Roger explained. “So, we’ll go together but as each other.”

You broke into a delightful fit of giggles, which Roger hesitantly joined you in.

“I’ll finally know how it feels to be the hottest one there!” You wagged your eyebrows at Roger.

“Does that mean you’ll do it?” Roger asked, taking your wrists in his hands, holding your limbs in a pleading pose.

“I’ll do it.” You agreed with a nod and huge grin, and Roger sighed and kissed your hands as a thank you.

——

The preparation for Halloween was much more difficult than you thought. You wanted to make sure that you wore something that complimented who Roger was. You would be bummed out if he thought that your costume made a mockery of him. So, you took to your scrapbooks to study his style.

In prior years, Roger was a hodgepodge of different patterns and fabrics. For anyone else, it would’ve been absurd, but for Roger it defined him perfectly. They didn’t call him “Rainbow” for nothing. As Queen grew as a band, Roger’s style somewhat revolutionized. His outfit became a little less haphazard and a bit more sophisticated. Every piece of fabric complimented his body exquisitely, making him even more irresistible than he already was.

You grabbed every pair of jeans that you owned, and tried them on to see which pair was the tightest. Roger’s jeans never left anything to the imagination. After much deliberation, you’d settled on a white collared shirt, with the sleeves cuffed to the elbow. To really drive the point home, you’d leave the top few buttons undone, exposing as much as your chest as you could without it becoming problematic. It was nothing a little double sided tape couldn’t fix.

Roger suggested getting ready at your place, as you would be helping him apply some minimal makeup (at his request). He asked to borrow one of your dresses to wear - a silky paisley dress that you usually only wore on fancy occasions; you were surprised that Roger requested that one specifically. You set out a few pairs of necklaces that would match, and paired your outfit with a choker that complimented your look. You asked Roger to borrow one of his vests and a pair of drumsticks, knowing that’d tie the look together.

You were looking forward to the party, of course. It was extremely rare to have a bad time with your friends. Freddie wouldn’t stand for anything but a fabulous time. That didn’t mean you weren’t extremely nervous about how everything would go. You were pretty convincing every time you spoke to Roger about your costumes. It was easy to convince him that the idea of you together, as each other, wasn’t consuming your every thought. Any time he talked to you about the party, you’d try to remain as passive as possible. Thankfully, there wasn’t any time for you to spend alone before the night of the party, or else you probably would’ve given yourself up.

——

You sat in front of the mirror, using your curling iron to try and mimic the volume of Roger’s hair. There was a slight wave to your locks that resembled Roger’s, but his exact look was certainly difficult to replicate. You sprayed your hair with a generous amount of hairspray, hoping that your hairstyle would last the night.

You stood and examined your reflection, pretty pleased with yourself. You actually looked quite good. You hands adjusted the choker around your neck and then smoothed over your shirt. The shirt showed off your cleavage, and you didn’t exactly mind too much. You hoped Roger wouldn’t either.

You began to set out some lipsticks, blush, and your mascara when you heard a knock at your front door. Taking a deep breath, you confidently walked through your living room and threw open the door.

“Happy Halloween, Rogie!” You exclaimed, opening the door wide enough to let him in.

Roger stared at you, silently lingering in the hallway with a bag in his arms.

“Wow…” It was all he could muster after a few moment.

“…What?” you nervously bit your lip.

“It’s just - You look…”

“Like you, silly.” You finished for him.

“Now get in here so I can make you look like me!” You giggled and tugged Roger inside of your apartment.

He closed the door behind himself and lifted up the bag he had in his arms.

“I’ve got the goods in here: drumsticks, one of my vests, my wristbands, and shoes I borrowed from Freddie that I think would go quite nicely with your dress.” Roger handed off the bag proudly and smiled at you.

“Wristbands… now why didn’t I think of that?” You set the bag down and grabbed the white wrist bands, sliding them past your each of your hands.

Roger’s cheeks were tinted pink, watching how delighted you were over something as trivial as his wristbands. He felt like he couldn’t think straight. It was clear that you put so much effort into your costume, when all he’d really done is bring a pair of shoes and make a suggestion of what dress he could wear. You knew him better than anyone else did. He never doubted that you’d be able to pull off dressing as him, but he never thought you’d do it so perfectly.

“Let’s get you dressed, yeah? Then we’ll put some makeup on you and fix your hair.” You took Roger’s hand and lead him to your bedroom.

Roger wasn’t a stranger to your room. Aside from any sexual experiences, he’d spent the night several times throughout the years. You didn’t have the heart to banish him to the uncomfortable living room couch. Your evenings sharing a bed started sleeping back to back but have turned into you falling asleep against Roger’s chest, drifting off to the sound of his heartbeat.

Roger rid himself of his shirt unbeknownst to you before taking the dress off of the hanger. He placed it over his head and pulled it down and in place. He fixed the sleeves and ran his hands over his collar bones.

“I’d say that you fill it out better.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled under your breath, looking at two different necklaces. After deciding on one, you went to Roger and stood on your tip toes. He tilted his head forward in assistance, feeling the chain fall around his neck once you’d gotten over his head.

“Perfect!” You proudly clapped your hands together.

“You are…” Roger murmured.

He’d said it so faintly that he wasn’t sure if you’d heard. He was too nervous to say it any louder. Ironically, you were too nervous to confirm that you’d heard it. Your heart had stopped after the phrase had hit your eardrums and you were too panicked to acknowledge the compliment.

“You could use a little mascara.” You smirked and parted from him to grab the tube, needing a moment to catch your breath.

Roger let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in and stepped out of his joggers before sitting on the bed. He figured you’d have an easier time doing his make up if you could reach his face without a struggle.

You rejoined him with the mascara wand in your hand and placed yourself in between his legs.

“Open your eyes wide for me, and keep ‘em open.” You instructed.

Roger did what he was told, and you leaned forward and began to run the wand through his eyelashes. He placed his hands on your waist, doing his best to steady you. You were hoping he couldn’t feel how your muscles contorted nervously under his touch, even though he was so used to holding you there.

You set down the mascara once you were finished and pulled a tube of lipstick from your pocket. You uncapped it and held the color up to his skin, humming to yourself.

Roger watched you closely, dedicating every last bit of his attention to you. His heart fluttered at the way your brow knit and your tongue jutted out in concentration. How could he have been so blind?

“This color will definitely bring out your eyes but I’m worried that it’ll make you look pale.” You pondered.

Roger took the cap from next to him on the bed spread.

“Don’t put that on yet.” He took the tube from you and recapped it.

“Okay then… Blush instead?” You suggested.

Roger shook his head and moved his hands from your waist to cup your face.

“No blush. Not yet.”

“Roger… what are you doing?”

Roger didn’t reply verbally; he softly pressed his lips to yours, moving them gently while silently willing you to kiss him back. He pulled away after a moment, hoping he hadn’t upset you. Your face was pale with confusion, bottom lip bright pink and swollen.

“What was that for? We - we didn’t talk about fooling around tonight or anything. And you know, we probably shouldn’t. At least until later tonight. That’s if you even wanted to come back here with me. And you definitely don’t have to.”

You crossed your arms nervously as you rambled, a large gulp apparent from beneath the choker that adorned your neck. Your shaky breath rippled through your exposed chest, falling and rising in time with your inhale and exhale.

“We’re — so stupid for doing this. We’re not fooling ourselves by trying to hide how we feel about each other.” Roger’s fingers fiddled with the pendant that hung around his neck, trying to ground himself as he spoke to you.

You raised your eyebrows and shook your head.

“Rog, don’t do this. Let’s just - finish getting ready and go to the party.”

You looked down at the ground nervously, and that’s when Roger closed the space between the two of you. He took your face in his hands once more, his thumb caressing your bottom lip.

“I love you, and I think that you may love me, too..” Roger’s voice was quiet like before, but he was sure you’d heard him this time.

“Maybe.” You replied, turning your head to look away.

“I’ll take a maybe. As long as it isn’t a no.”

You chuckled and placed your hands on top of his.

“Why now, Roger? Why’d you have to put the pieces together now?”

“Now? Now’s the perfect time! What a better way to profess our love to each other than to show up to a party where all of our closest friends will be in a couple’s costume?”

“If that’s how you want to look at it….” You mocked Roger with the same answer he gave you during his proposal.

Roger clicked his tongue and leaned in to kiss you again, and this time you kissed back.

“I love you, Roger. Always have”

#halloqueen gift #roger taylor fic #roger taylor blurb #roger taylor imagines #tenementfunzter

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devnny · 5 years

Text

CHAPTER TWELVE.

JTRM — THE “R” STANDS FOR RECOVERING!

PREVIOUSLY.

GOD THIS TOOK FOREVER!!!!! it’s 6k fucking words too, jeezus lord. at least its cute, and sad, and cute.

the events of my old ass drabble TOUCH. is mentioned briefly in this chapter too, should you have not read that and would care to :]c ANYWAY, ENJOY

[Dear Diary,

I had another dream about killing Devi.

They’ve become too vivid… I’m growing more and more worried that my mind will blur fantasy with reality, and I’ll attack her thinking it’s a dream. I don’t know why I would do that… I don’t want to attack her. I don’t want to hurt her, ever.

So, as a precaution, I’ve decided that I won’t be sleeping anymore. Staying awake is all that I can do combat these shitty nightmares.]

Johnny scratched the final letter of his latest diary entry firmly into the paper’s face, then closed the cover quietly. He tucked the book under his chair, careful to not alert Devi, who was painting a few feet away, that he was making any unusual movements.

He felt badly to keep these dreams a secret from her, since he was confident that Meat was interfering with his sleep somehow, but he buried those prickly feelings of guilt to the best of his ability. The only other reason for these reoccurring nightmares would be that he, in fact, was thinking them up all on his own, which was even worse as far as Johnny was concerned. Either way, he was terrified that if he mentioned it to Devi that she would again grow suspicious of him.

After regaining so much of her trust, it would kill him inside to see her hesitate to accept his company, or linger on her words or her decisions in what she allowed him to do with her, all because he wasn’t in control of his subconscience. Very few people were able to control their unconscious mind, but Johnny still felt immensely paranoid that Devi wouldn’t be understanding, regardless of if it would be because of actual resentment, or simply out of fear, even though she would still want to trust him. That might sting even worse, actually.

They had built such a comforting routine in her home; working away on creative endeavors together at all hours, and enjoying each other’s company over shared meals and television in their downtime. It was so soothing, bidding her ‘goodnight’ and ‘good morning’ each day. Devi’s sleep schedule had returned to its atrociously inconsistent cycle since he moved in with her, so sometimes he would be saying ‘goodnight’ at 5PM, and other times saying ‘good morning’ at 5PM, but it was gratifying all the same. He didn’t know, after he was ‘better’ and was supposed to return to his own house, how he would go through each day without being able to offer her such daily pleasantries. Maybe he would be able to do so over the phone, he thought, but it wouldn’t be the same.

His eyes lifted from the scantily-worked-on page that was fastened to his drafting table and settled on Devi’s kneeling figure a short distance away. Johnny smiled to see the small smirk on her face while she blotted color across her canvas. She had been toiling away on this commissioned work for almost a week now, and she always seemed to enter some kind of frenzied state whenever she was nearing a piece’s completion. It was a large project, she had told him, and would offer her a very hefty paycheck once it was finished. Maybe it was the thought of money that pushed her into such an energetic fit of creation – Johnny could only speculate. She grinned and rubbed a bit of paint from her cheek as she stepped back to review her efforts.

His lips pursed into a longer smile; how could he even consider sullying her mood by bringing up useless things like night terrors? He couldn’t. He would handle this himself, and leave Devi to her work.

DAYS LATER:

Devi beamed, squiggling her brush down her canvas to the rhythm of the song she currently had blasting from the speakers of her art room. Nothing was more satisfying than going to the bank and depositing a nice, big, fucking check, and she could only express her delight by jumping right into a personal project as soon as she and Johnny had returned home. It felt so good to have enough money, for the time being, to indulge in painting what she wanted to for more than an hour.

“Hey!” Johnny’s voice piped up over the music, and Devi turned to see him pull his headphones off of one of his ears. His headphones were his only defense against her deafening taste in music, so it must be important. Devi searched the floor for the dinky little remote that controlled the speakers, and lowered the volume to a reasonable level.

“Yeah?” She grinned at him, and he met her smile with one of his own.

“Can you hold your arm out like ‘this’ for me?” Johnny stuck his arm out and twisted it downwards in a fist to give her an example. Devi scoffed, used to him asking her to pose for reference by now, and tried to mimic what he had requested.

“Like that?”

“Ummm, no, down a little more. Ehhh—” He wiggled his fist in her direction. “—put your shoulder up more, maybe? Give me… ‘intimidating’.”

Devi laughed.

“Shut the Hell up.” She huffed a few chuckles and brought her shoulder up as instructed.

“YES. HOLD THAT.” Johnny exclaimed and hurriedly resumed his sketching. Devi’s smile remained while she watched him work.

She had to admit she was proud of how far he had come since this whole thing started – he hardly ever devolved into a crying mess when his drawings weren’t progressing to his liking anymore. The last time Devi remembered him throwing a fit was shortly after the ‘leash and collar’ situation began, and she figured that that was more out of pent up frustration for that small bit of humiliation, and not so much because he was a creative loose-cannon.

The way his tongue poked out while he drew was a little more endearing suddenly, but Devi dismissed the thought, chalking it up to the current carefree feeling in the air. The evening was set to be lighthearted the moment she had gotten paid; the plan was to have whatever the fuck she wanted for dinner, and then binge-watch the entire movie series of The Beast What Licked Me, which was the main trilogy and all of its subsequent, horrible spinoff movies by less-than-admirable production studios. Devi smiled at the idea of having fun for once.

“You know, the lofty smile doesn’t really give me that ‘intimidating’ vibe.” Johnny spoke with a teasing laugh, earning a dismissive, blithe scoff from his model.

“Shut your mouth—aren’t you hungry yet?” Devi snorted, wriggling her shoulder to rib at him further. He stuck the end of his pencil into his lip curiously.

“Are you?”

“Sure, and I think my hand’s had enough painting for one day.” She straightened her posture with a widening grin. “You done?”

“Well, I am for now, if that’s alright with my, er, mentor…” Johnny replied with the question in his stare, and Devi snickered again.

“You are excused for the evening. Now, let’s order Chinese, for delivery. I don’t feel like leaving the house again today.” Devi mused while she walked out of the room. Johnny smiled giddily at the comment – one trip outside was enough for one day, he’d agree wholeheartedly!

FIFTEEN-MINUTES-OR-LESS LATER:

Johnny threw the wad of cash that Devi had so-entrusted him with directly into the delivery boy’s face, knocking him over with the force of the impact as he snatched the take-out bag from him. He slammed the door shut callously, and hummed in approval at the now familiar smell of Devi’s favorite Chinese restaurant.

He strode to the kitchen with it, and began laying out the bag’s drippy contents onto the counter. He jumped when he felt something jab into his side, but hardly had to turn his head before he recognized Devi’s head peeking into his peripheral. She gave him a cheeky grin, and he smiled back shyly.

“You’re already finished showering?”

“Yeah, heh, just needed to rinse off that outside-world smell.” She crossed her arms over one of his shoulders as she leaned to see what he was doing. “…Why’d you bother bringing the food in here?”

Johnny gesticulated his hands loosely around the counterspace as he attempted to explain, but it was difficult with Devi touching him.

“WELL, it’s—” Another swat of his hands. “…greasy!”

Devi snortled and slid off of his shoulder, giving his back an additional plap with her palm before moving to inspect tonight’s dinner. She popped open one of the containers and couldn’t help but jam a pair of chopsticks into it right away, scooping a pile of noodles into her mouth happily.

She exhaled contently through her nose while she chewed, then turned a curious eye to Johnny, who was picking at the fabric of his shirt where she had just been pressed against him. It was only for a second, but it was enough to take notice of before he tilted to look through the boxes and find which one was his entrée. Devi swallowed, and watched his thin fingers play with the lids while she thought.

When had she gotten so comfortable with touching him? It had been a long time since physical contact with anyone had been so nonchalant for her. If she could guess, it was probably due to the whole ‘close proximity of the leash’ thing, or maybe the whole ‘living together’ thing, but either way it was bizarre that she hadn’t realized how casual things had become until she noticed Johnny’s slight change in demeanor in response to it.

One wouldn’t have to ask Johnny ‘when’ the touching started; he could tell you with one-hundred percent certainty that it was the night that they went to pick up a few groceries from a nearby 24/7. Devi had approached him, and set a hand on his arm for an undiscernible amount of seconds while she spoke to him – undiscernible because his brain had just about exploded from the direct contact. He had returned the casual touching with a modest hand on her shoulder, and she hadn’t killed him for it. Johnny would probably remember that night for the rest of his existence.

But Devi was left to ponder at what point she had regrown enough trust for him to poke and prod at him without wanting to carve her own skin off afterward. He was a lot less horrible now, and she enjoyed his company again, so she supposed that said something, at least. She shrugged it off and stuffed a piece of chicken in her mouth.

“You ready to get this hideous marathon underway?” Devi asked while she chewed. Johnny carefully lifted the top off of the horrendously spicy dish he’d ordered.

“Yes!” He beamed at her eagerly, brandishing a spork as though it was a beacon for his well-equipped-ness for the evening.

FIVE MOVIES IN:

“Oouughh…” Devi vocalized her agony with her fingers pressed to her sore eyes.

“Yeah, that FX make-up is garbage. Worse than the one in Spawn of The Beast What Licked Me.” Johnny replied lazily from his side of the couch, half-melted into the cushion. Though his corneas burned just as badly, the pain didn’t register with him the same way.

“No,” Devi griped. “my eyes are killing me…”

A yawn punctuated her complaint, and Johnny lifted his head attentively. She was tired. He’d come to learn the signs of her exhaustion quite well, and despite his current feelings about sleep, rest appeared to do Devi some good.

“Are you going to go to bed?” He asked and reset his head onto the back cushion of the couch comfortably. Devi peeked at him from the armrest on the opposite side, where she had devolved into a lumpy ball as the night wore on. Her ear pressed into the cushy fabric, and she slanted her mouth in discontent.

She didn’t particularly want to go to sleep. There was only one more movie to go, and it felt weak as Hell to give up now when she was so close to the end of a movie binge. Devi lulled her head in the direction of the TV, and winced away in regret when the flashing light burned her eyes.

“Ugh.” She grunted in defeat. “Yeah, I guess.”

“We can finish these last two tomorrow.” Johnny offered to ease her frustration, and Devi smirked through her exhaustion.

“Yeah, okay.” She agreed and rolled into a seated position. She struggled to stand with her tired legs, but managed to force herself up.

One of her hands came down to point at Johnny as she passed him, her finger hovering just out of reach of his nose.

“—And don’t you dare watch ahead.” Devi smiled despite her threatening tone. “You turn that shit off, you don’t get to watch without me.”

Johnny grinned uneasily, half of him delighted at how she joked with him.

“Yes, of course.” He assured her, and Devi nodded appreciatively before hobbling off to bed. Johnny watched her door click shut, then searched for the remote and turned the TV off.

His body slumped against the couch, the satisfied feeling in his torso weighing him down into its pillows. He debated what he could do for the rest of the night with his lazy, fried brain. The dull feeling in his arms made drawing seem impossible, and he didn’t want to turn on the TV again until he was sure Devi was soundly asleep. So he laid on the couch and thought to pass the time.

It didn’t take long for his thoughts to turn to Devi, and he smiled comfortably as he reviewed the day’s events. Johnny laced his fingers over his chest and contemplated if their relationship would progress further than this, or if it had reached it’s peak at her not hating him and offering him passing physical contact. He was perfectly happy with how things were now, but he would have said the same thing about her begrudgingly tolerating his company two months ago. Now he couldn’t imagine going back to that time and being satisfied without her smile, or laughter, or rib jabbing.

A sigh slipped past his lips as he smooshed further into the couch at the memory of her forearms crossed over his shoulders early this evening. It was so nice. Everything was so nice now; he felt like he could exist like this forever. The impermanence of his situation was lost from his mind for the time being, and he nestled his brow into the cushion while he let his tender thoughts carry his brain away.

Without realizing, his eyes slowly began to settle closed, and he drifted into an impromptu nap.

Johnny reaffixed his grip on the handle of his knife, the tendons there further visible under the gaunt skin of his hand. He would usually wear gloves for something like this – it was so messy – but a kill such as this one, that was so personal and passionate in nature, had no room for measures of tidiness.

She deserved this so much; she was so mean. Cruel. She never treated him like this before, when they had their nice, engaging conversations at the bookstore. Everything was so pleasant then. He could still imagine her, with her short black hair and uniform apron, and her dark, painted lips that made his heart go berserk when they tilted up into a smile for him. Him, bringing a smile to someone else’s face. How abnormal.

His own mouth twitched upwards more, making his grin look more unhinged than it already did. The little spatters of blood on his cheeks and nose smeared under the creases it brought.

Devi lay below him – on the floor, if he wasn’t mistaken – looking up at him in fear. He’d only stabbed her a few times so far, but Johnny could tell by the terror in her eyes that she knew those wouldn’t be the only ones. He crouched over her form, as he had over so many others, and held her shoulder with his left hand while the right started its habitual swinging.

The blade plunged into her chest again, marring her shirt with another bloody hole. Then another, and another. He could feel the flexible bones of her ribcage bend under the base of his palm, compressed by the weight of his blows.

It felt so GOOD. She earned all of these! All of her stabbing, painful comments – she should have expected this outcome. This new, purple-haired, pigtailed Devi was not the one he cared so much for; she was a demon! A bastardized version of his Devi; one that smirked coolly at him as though she owned him; one that barraged him with pointless tests and berated him with cutting words when he failed.

“You deserve this!” Johnny breathed, digging the knife into her torso again. Devi did little to stop him, as she had so far, and only looked at him painfully. YES! She deserved this pain!

“You deserve this – you deserve this—!” He ranted, continuing to repeat the phrase over and over as he stabbed her. He watched her eyes – those pretty, green eyes – filled with hurt.

But it wasn’t the hurt that he had originally thought.

It wasn’t like the looks his other victims gave him, eyes filled with tears from the physical agony they were in. It wasn’t even the same as the horror he’d seen on her face before, when he had lunged at her in his home. Johnny’s smile slowly began to drop, seeing the unusual emotion in Devi’s eyes. She looked at him with so much betrayal – almost longingly, as if to ask “Why?”, or to say, “How could you?”.

Why wasn’t she fighting him? She should be able to get away. She’s always gotten away from him – always refused to be a victim to him. Why was she just LAYING there, letting him kill her?

That’s what he was doing. He was KILLING HER.

Devi seemed to acknowledge her impending death at the same time he had, and her expression grew wearier. Johnny felt anxiety rapidly mounting inside him, and only removed his fixation away from her face when he felt her hand gingerly grip at his fist. He looked down and watched her fingers, matted with blood, trying as best as they could to grasp onto him. He also realized that he was still holding the knife firmly in her sternum.

With a jolt of fear, he yanked the knife away, and Devi cried out for the first time that he could remember. It made him drop his weapon, and settle both hands onto her shoulders.

He yelped her name, as if that would do any good. What had he done? He had killed her – she was dying. He didn’t want to believe it, and the sound of her labored breathing brought him to tears. This shouldn’t be happening – Devi had helped him. She offered him so much of her; her time, her support, her home – and he had reduced her into a gored mass on her bedroom floor.

No, no, no. This wasn’t right. He wanted to scream and sob, but that would do nothing to fix this.

A sticky sensation on his cheek brought him out of his panic, and he realized after a moment that it was Devi’s hand, wet from her own blood. Despite the slippery, unpleasant feeling of the blood, Johnny was drawn to the delicate touch of her fingers, and tried to lean into them despite the weakness in her digits. He wanted her palm – he wanted it to cradle his cheek, and indulge in the forbade softness from her that he himself had ruined his chances of.

Johnny didn’t get what he wanted, of course. Devi’s hand slowly dropped away from his face, lingering until all the strength left her limbs, and her arm fell to her bloodied stomach. Johnny refused to take his eyes off of hers, and the anxiety he felt previously worked into a massive ball of dread as he saw the glint in Devi’s eyes begin to dull.

No, no, no, no—

Johnny almost gagged from the abrupt force of the gasp that brought him back to consciousness. His leg kicked out, knocking over some empty containers and cans that had been left on the coffee table, and he scampered away from the sound with startled fear. A hand came up to palm away the wet lines that streaked down his cheekbones, but cold tears were the least of his concerns with his lungs beating air out of him faster than he could bring it in. Johnny tried to gather himself and calm his breathing down, but his heart wouldn’t allow it, and continued pounding against the walls of its boney prison like a furious captive.

His eyes shook with anxiety as his pupils flashed from side to side, trying to use some amount of logic amongst his hysteria to convince himself everything was fine, and that his panic was just the result of another Godawful nightmare. Johnny noted the dark living room, the messy table, the quiet television set; nothing amiss or broken, nothing to indicate that anything in the apartment was any different from any other night, besides his quaking form bundled up on the sofa.

He turned his attention to Devi’s bedroom door, and his haggard breaths immediately stopped. Her door was ajar. He had never seen her door open when she was sleeping, ever.

A shaky inhale sucked down his throat, and he started shivering from his shoulders down his arms and to his stomach. There was a sudden, paralyzing feeling of nausea woven through his guts, and it was almost painful to make his knees lift him into a standing position, like forcing a rusted bolt to twist. He couldn’t get his back to straighten fully as he stood, so he crept with a nervous hunch in his shoulders toward Devi’s bedroom.

Johnny swallowed past the dry flesh of his mouth as he reached the threshold of the doorway. His breath trembled again; he was terrified that upon pushing open the door fully, he would find Devi’s lifeless body on the floor, right where he had ‘dreamed’ it was. He couldn’t bear the thought that his worst fear had come to fruition – that his crappy, broken mind failed to recognize reality from fantasy, and either it, or Meat, had tricked him into murdering Devi with a rage that he didn’t even have for her.

Despite his paralyzing fear, his hand settled onto the front of the door, and he creaked it open slowly. Johnny shakingly took a step inside, and even with the only light in the room being the dim reflection of a billboard outside, he could tell that there was nothing on the floor besides the usual scattered belongings. Certainly no bodies, and definitely not the one that belonged to Devi.

He brought his attention up to her bed, and his lips wibbled fearfully at the unidentifiable shape under the purple covers. He could see what would be assumed to be Devi’s head poking out of the lump, resting on a pillow, but that was all. Johnny gulped quietly again. His paranoia couldn’t let him leave it at that – he had to make sure that she was well, instead of just assuming she was sleeping peacefully.

He hurried to the side of the bed, and stared down with wide, fearful eyes at her neutral face that was tucked so snugly behind her curled hand. She wasn’t making any sounds, and he couldn’t tell with his own body shaking the way it was, if she was breathing or not. He continued staring, trying with all his might to determine if her body was rising and falling with lifegiving breath, and only grew more and more panicked the longer he couldn’t stop trembling and focus enough to confirm it.

With a renewed burst of anxiety, Johnny shot forward, jabbing a knee into the fluff of her comforter. He grabbed her by the shoulders to shake her awake with terrified urgency, unable to think of any other way to quell his fears fast enough. Devi’s eyes opened right away, rattling around in her aching head with confused alarm until she heard Johnny’s wailing.

“DEVI! DEVI, DEVI—!” His face pinched miserably as he saw her irises flicker into view and focus squarely on him. His fingers tightened onto her shoulders further as his began to shake again, and he drooped like a dejected, wilted flower against her collar. He continued calling her name, but his voice garbled as he deteriorated into sobs.

It took Devi a moment to register what the Hell was going on, but her shocked expression melted into a tired, exasperated one as she realized Johnny was just having a fit about something, again.

“Nny—Nny!” She tried to urge him out of his crying with a few shoves on the arm, but Johnny only continued blubbering. He was trying desperately to explain himself, Devi could gather that much, but he was completely incoherent. She sighed in exhaustion, desperate to calm him and go the fuck back to bed.

“Johnny,” She set a hand on his head, lazily leading it to lay flat on her mattress. “relax, please. Relax.”

Johnny, whose figure had been half-collapsed on her bed already, buckled from his distress, and he laid loosely at her side like a ragdoll.

“—you were dead, you were dead—!” He managed to blather out, and Devi sighed again. She assumed that this was the result of another nightmare he had, and papped his hair with as much sympathy as she was willing to muster in her fatigued state.

“I’m not dead, Nny. I’m fine… see…?” She mumbled with her eyes closed. Johnny stifled his crying as he tried to accept what she was telling him, but even with the affirmation that she was alive and well, he couldn’t stop his body’s pitiful reaction to fear. He hadn’t been so terrified in a long while – he couldn’t even remember what he would do to ease the feeling before.

A sudden sensation against his hairline startled him out of his grim thoughts, and he realized after a moment that it was Devi’s thumb idly brushing against his skin and into his hair. He stared at the sheets in surprise, unable to do much else besides focus on the strange scratching at his skull. Slowly, his eyelids lowered, but his somber expression remained. Johnny brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them tightly, hoping the pressure would help him relax.

Devi’s fingers stilled after a minute, and he felt her wrist settle loosely on his temple, then eventually slip lower until her forearm rested across the side of his neck. He sniffed, and bent his head down more, but instead of his forehead settling onto his kneecaps, it was obstructed by something warm and flat.

Johnny tilted his head up at an angle, and was surprised to see that what he’d bumped into was Devi’s collar – or rather, the area right below her collar. Her sternum; the bone that he had so viciously impaled with a knife several times in his newest dream. Guilt demanded that he pull his head away from where it rested, but as he turned his head, his ear pressed against her and he felt the light thumping of her heart tickle at his skin. Johnny froze, and his stillness offered him the full, uninterrupted rhythm of Devi’s heartbeat.

Even with his own heart pumping erratically, the sound of Devi’s heart was so audible and loud to the ear that was currently resting against her chest. It was just like any heartbeat, he supposed, but it was so calm and steady, much in contrast to his own which was still wild from coming down off of terror-induced adrenaline. The stable rhythm slowly began to calm him, and he took deep solace in the fact that as long as he could hear that drumming in his ear, it meant that she was alive. He curled further into himself, making sure that his temple was still pressed firmly against her collar.

Johnny chastised himself for a moment, trying to argue through his emotional exhaustion that this was, to some extent, inappropriate, and that now that he knew Devi was safe, he should leave her to rest. But he couldn’t resist the lure of Devi’s soft skin on his cheek, or her arm that was draped over his head, that made him feel oh-so cozy and secure. His eyes settled shut, and with a few lingering post-sobbing sniffs, slipped back into sleep.

THE FOLLOWING MORNING:

Devi mumbled in the back of her throat as she roused from slumber. There was still a dull ache in her brain, and she wasn’t currently at all fond of the idea of opening her eyes or waking up. Her lip twitched at a weird texture flittering against it, and she snorted to encourage whatever it was to fuck off. Her breathing started to slow again, but after a moment, the tickling feeling moved up to her nose, making it curl and huff in annoyance.

She brushed the unknown irritant away with her hand, and opened her eyes bitterly as she accepted that going back to sleep wasn’t going to happen now. She stretched her back out with a groaning sigh, and brought the same hand up to rub her face clear of any grogginess. As she did, the tuft of annoying, plumy things that had woken her up settled back against her mouth. Devi glared out at nothing in aggravation, then flicked her eyes down to finally see what it was.

Her eyes widened in confusion to be greeted with a pile of twisted, black hair. The confusion was short-lived as she realized that the hair was attached to Johnny, who was curled up in a ball beside her within the small space that her bent legs allowed, his head tucked comfortably under her chin. She blanched, and her cheeks quickly grew red from embarrassment and disoriented, shocked anger.

With a jolt of ego-preserving violence, she shoved him away and off of the bed, leaving only his skinny legs splayed in awkward angles atop the mattress. Devi sat up and glared at his boots.

“Johnny, what the Hell!” She huffed, her cheeks still tinged with color. Johnny rebounded from the initial shock of hitting the floor rather quickly, scampering up into a kneel at the side of her bed.

“OH, UH, I—” His own face blushed in shame, and he looked up to Devi’s glowering face, hoping that she wouldn’t be too angry with him. “I uh, I guess I… I fell asleep, after, um…”

His fingers drummed awkwardly against the sheets as he looked around the room noncommittally. Devi’s expression dropped as she remembered, foggily, Johnny coming into her room during the night in absolute hysterics. She grunted and scowled with some acceptance that he’d ended up passing out beside her.

“You moron.” Was all she could say. Johnny raised his eyes to look at her dejectedly, and she scoffed. She threw her legs off the other side of the bed, and walked around it, and Johnny, to reach her bathroom.

Johnny’s lip stuck out curiously. He wondered if that was going to be the extent of his punishment for unwanted physical contact, but dared not ask. Instead, he pulled himself up to sit on the corner of her bed and waited patiently for her to return. He hoped she didn’t come back with anything to hit him with, like the good, old-fashioned, ‘bar of soap in a sock’ flail.

Devi only washed her face, then reentered her room to frown at him. She crossed her arms at the sight of him sitting on her bed, and Johnny held his hands between his knees, timidly avoiding what he assumed was a bitter glare from her. Devi rolled her eyes as she sighed, and joined him on the edge of her mattress.

“Another nightmare, Nny?” She asked. Johnny’s head lowered from the annoyance in her voice.

“Yes…” He mumbled, twiddling his thumbs nervously. He heard Devi scoff again, and he felt further guilt that she was unaware of the seriousness behind his night terrors. After her unintentionally warm comforting the night previous, he felt compelled to tell her the truth.

“Devi, uh, I actually… there’s something I must confess.” Johnny looked to her, and Devi’s mouth flattened in surprise. She hoped silently that this wasn’t something romantic, given the already ridiculous start to her day. Johnny swung his legs absentmindedly.

“Well, you see…” A sigh. “I’ve been having these… “nightmares”, for months.”

“All of them have been about, well, killing you.” Johnny grimaced as he said it, and Devi’s expression shifted to a different kind of surprise. Johnny continued. “Each time I fall asleep, they get worse; more vivid, more violent. Last night’s was the worst one to date. It was so real, Devi, I—I swore that I’d killed you. I was so certain…”

His hands gripped at the fabric of his pants nervously.

“…I think Meat’s behind it.” He said finally, and Devi took new, startled interest in his admission. They were quiet a moment before Devi replied.

“You really think the dreams are his doing?”

“I do.” He affirmed. “He doesn’t speak to me very often now that I live here, but I’m sure it’s him. I… I don’t know why he’s doing it, but I’m sure that he’s influencing them to be so gory and… awful… and you-related.”

Devi pondered this new development with a healthy amount of bitter suspicion. As far as she knew, Reverend Meat wanted Johnny to live, and had yet to try and influence him to kill anyone. What he wanted Johnny to do was engage in normal human-y things, and lose himself to his emotions, to his feelings. His feelings for her, in this case specifically. She slid her attention back to him with her suspicions hidden, as to not inadvertently express it to Johnny, and Meat, by extension.

“Did you have a nightmare after you fell asleep in my bed?” She asked.

Johnny blinked, having not bothered to even think about that until she mentioned it.

“Oh… no, I didn’t.” He replied. Devi pursed her mouth, convinced she knew the reason for Meat’s meddling this time.

He was trying to drive Johnny directly into her arms, like a bovine herder whacking his cattle with an electric rod. It boiled her blood to think of that shitty little parasite being so crafty. It would be easy for Meat to convince Johnny, without words, that he was urging him to commit violent acts, like Johnny’s previous voices, when in actuality, he was still just pushing this ‘physical longing’ crap.

“I’m sorry Devi…” Johnny’s head hung pathetically. “I know I should have told you. I was just so afraid… Afraid that you wouldn’t… trust me, again.”

He lifted his head.

“So much has changed since we, uh, ‘reunited’, if you’d want to call it that.” He mumbled. “I was scared that everything would regress back to the way it used to be. Everything is so nice now, I didn’t want to disturb it if I didn’t have to.”

Devi frowned at him in disbelief. She was still unused to any kind of heartfelt comments from anyone, especially him. For a moment, she debated whether or not to inform Johnny of the conclusion she’d just come to.

It could be beneficial to let him know, even if that would let Meat know as well, but then Johnny would probably go out of his way to avoid any touching, and maybe even hide his emotions more, just as a precaution to keep any and all feelings for her in check and not vulnerable to the Reverend, as futile as that would be. Devi hated to admit that she… didn’t want that. She liked bothering him, and it was nice to have such a casual friendship with someone after all these years of crappy people and self-made solitude.

She let her shoulders sag in defeat to her own wretched feelings.

“Yeah, things are nice now.” She smiled at him. Johnny was surprised that she would agree with him, and grinned shyly back at her.

“You still should have told me though, idiot.” Devi added with a meaner smirk, and Johnny shrugged in reply with a laugh. Devi pushed his shoulder.

“I’ll forgive you if you make me breakfast.” She offered, and Johnny jumped at the opportunity.

“Okay!” His smile grew wider, and he began slinking off toward the kitchen, lingering as though he was urging her to follow him.

Devi snorted a laugh and got up to join him. She would just keep these nightmares under close observation for now, until she was sure that she was correct about Meat’s intentions.

NEXT.

#this ones also gory so like.... keep that in mind #im so happy to have gotten this over with!!! it was so long kill me #jthm #jtrm #mine #devnny #gore/#chapter

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chu-ni · 6 years

Text

miscommunication – ljn.

pairing: jeno x reader

genre: fluff, angst, royalty!au

word count: 19.6k (uff the most ive EVER written...)

warnings: jeno is a lil bit of a dickhead, sorry if the ending is a lil rushed bc i just wanted this fic GONE, hope its not as tedious for you to read as it was for me to write! this whole fic was inspired by this post! happy reading!

In a bid to preserve the future safety of their neighbouring kingdoms from the growing dangers of the northern empire, your parents, rulers of the southern isles, had you betrothed to the immediate heir of the southern mainland, Lee Jeno. You were 8 years old, and quite frankly didn't even know how to spell betrothal, let alone define it. True to tradition, Jeno, with his glasses, bowl cut, and stuffed cat toy came to stay with you for the next four years before he'd have to return to take up responsibilities as future ruler.

Upon first meeting, you thought Jeno was probably the nicest person you'd ever met, if a little boring. He was quiet, soft-spoken, giggly, and a little shy; you'd realised after he'd barely said more than 2 words to you that it would take you a while to bring him out of his shell. You dragged him on various mini adventures as kids (stealing cookies from the palace kitchens, watching the knights train from a bush just beyond the sparring grounds, playing in throne room and impersonating your parents when nobody else was there), and although at first he was reluctant, he became almost as bubbly and loud as you were -- while you preferred to live in the moment, saying and doing whatever you wanted, you were kids after all, he tended to think before he did things, always thinking about what could happen later on. In that sense, despite your differences, he became your moral compass of sorts, stopping you from being too reckless and bailing you out whenever you got into too much trouble. Did Jeno think he'd probably go bald before he turned 20 because of all the stress you put on him, whether that be you ditching tutoring to go climb trees and him reluctantly tagging along, or him having to practically drag you away from the stables before your parents found out and scolded you for the fourth time that week, or even that one time the two of you got locked in the kitchens at 3am with flour everywhere and the two of you had to clean it up and find somewhere to hide until the morning? Yes, and despite his constant state of anxiety and his frequent joking expression of his wish to go home already so he could finally get some peace and quiet, he still cared about you. Would probably jump in front of a carriage for you. Still considered you his best friend above all. Still appreciated you for bringing him out of his shell and changing him for the better. You and Jeno, as best friends would, spent all your time together. Getting married, the betrothal… it was in the backs of your minds, but at 11 ("Almost 12!!" "Shut up, Jeno,") years old, you liked to pretend you at least had the freedom to explore your romantic options (even if you both always managed to find flaws in every girl and boy. "His hair's too long," "She's too short!" "He looks mean," "She looks too nice,"), that you lived a different life, where royalty and alliances and all that jazz didn't exist for the pair of you. Where you were just two kids, two best friends who could do whatever they wanted and never have to worry about the consequences. As much as you liked to pretend, however, it was just that. Pretend. An imaginary scenario that only went on for a limited amount of time before you inevitably had to return to reality. The two of you returned to reality 3 days before Jeno's 12th birthday, when your parents received a letter dating his return to the mainland. It was less than a week before he left you for, well, ever. You had 5 days to say goodbye to your best friend, your closest confidant, your reluctant partner in crime. And you had no idea what to do. Jeno didn't like talking about leaving, so the two of you avoided the topic and hung out just as you'd always done.You were both in the library, his last day before he left, helping Jeno find a book he wanted when you brought up the topic. "Jeno." You murmur, stopping your search to look at him. At first glance, he seemed fine, but you knew he wasn't really. At least, you hoped he wasn't. Not in a bad way, no, never; but you hoped you'd made a strong enough bond as friends for him to feel something about leaving you for whoever knew how long. He replies with a nonchalant "Hm?", eyes still focused on the rows upon rows of literature in front of him. "Do you-" you clear your throat, trying to build confidence. "Do you think we'll see each other again?" He's silent for a moment, lips pouting and eyes to the ceiling, as if in thought, before stating, with confidence: "I know we will." You're not fully convinced, and it must show because the way Jeno smiles as brightly as possible calms your worrying heart. Jeno leaves the next morning, and you say goodbye with a tight hug that Jeno is 53% sure is the reason he wouldn't stop coughing on the boat home, and a pinky promise to write to each other every day, week, month, and so forth. He makes you promise not to cry. You break it as soon as he boards. You keep breaking it every night he's gone for the next 3 weeks, after which your parents are basically forcing you to make new friends. They've arranged playdates, tea parties, dances, balls; but absolutely nobody was going to replace Jeno, which is exactly what you thought your parents were trying to do and as such you made every effort not to let that happen. Did you deliberately cause trouble? Yes. Did you think Jeno would agree with what you were doing? No, but you were doing it for him and you were sure he'd understand anyway. So the next 2 months are littered with failed playdates, ruined tea parties, messy dances, and disgraceful balls, and even though you felt a little bad when you overheard your parents relentlessly apologising to the other adults, a bigger part of you was happy you wouldn't have to talk to any more stuffy noble children. At least not for the foreseeable future. It was only when your parents gave up trying to make you make friends that you, ironically, made one. You met Haechan while exploring ("Trespassing, more like," "Shut up, Haechan!") the knights' quarters one day. You'd overheard shouting and insults, so you peeked through one of the doors to see a kid who looked around your age, eyes pinned to the floor and fists clenched at his sides as the imposing man who stood in front of him spewed swear words and other things you weren't sure you could repeat anywhere else. At that, you immediately stepped in to defend the boy, using your status to take Haechan back up to your own quarters in the palace, where the two of you properly spoke, or at least tried to before a handmaid had burst into your room, panting slightly, saying you'd both been summoned by your parents to the throne room, at which point your heart had leapt into your throat. The throne room, much like the rest of the palace, was lined with windows to let as much light in as possible. The walls were a pastel yellow, with paintings of previous rulers across the walls, and the floor was covered with rugs various shades of verdant green. The thrones themselves were nothing special; the only thing that denoted their specialty was the engraving of your family crest at the top of them. Seated upon them were, of course, your parents. Your mother was tall, lithe, and with an imposing gaze she often intimidated those she came into contact with. Behind all that, however, she was the goofy mother who'd sung made up lullabies to you as a child, who'd laughed when you stamped everything in your parents study with the royal seal, who'd nearly jumped out of her skin when you used flour to 'teleport' in front of her at the age of 6; she just hid it very well. Your mother had always taught you the importance of controlling your emotions, given you irreplaceable advice on the topic, advice you rarely ever put to use, but took in anyway. Your father, by contrast, was short -- well, not that short, but most people looked short when put next to your mother -- on the heavier side, with a trimmed beard and an open smile. Contrary to your mother, he was often the stricter, more disciplined one of the two. He nagged you often, something you didn't think you'd ever not find annoying, but he had your best interests at heart. The two of them, with their almost opposing personalities, made a good match for each other, and you saw the love they had for one another every day; with the way they looked into one another's eyes, the way your father, even with his short stature, would step in front of your mother at the first sign of her feeling threatened, the way they worked together to solve every problem that ever appeared like magic, and you wished someone would look at you like that one day. You and Haechan, gazes fixed to the floor and hearts beating so fast you were sure anyone in a 50 mile radius could hear them, both trembled slightly as your father, who you'd hoped wouldn't be the one scolding you today, let his voice, low and commanding, travel across the room. "Y/N," His tone is expectant, quiet in volume, and you know what that means. You look up at him, and although he appears straight faced, the slight scowl and squint of his eyes betrays his annoyance. You could tell this was going to be another long-winded lecture. "Do you know why you've been summoned here?" He continues, re-adjusting himself to be more comfortable. You mumbled a reply, hating the fact that Haechan would be witnessing what was basically a daily occurrence. He says your name again in warning, and you speak up this time. "….My insolence," At that, he descends into a tirade that you stopped taking seriously once he mispronounced one of his words, at which you and Haechan made amused eye contact and hadn't stopped doing since. You tuned in and out of his rant catching bits of the same old same old story about "Fixing your manners!" And staying out of "Knightly affairs," until your father couldn't be bothered to speak any more and simply brought in the knight you'd scolded yourself earlier. At much pressure from your father and mother, you apologised, not without gritting your teeth and sending an icy glare your father's way. Seeing as your father had summoned both you and Haechan to the throne, you'd naturally assumed he'd also be scolded, but you had to fight your jaw dropped when your father simply apologised to Haechan for the whole affair and sent him on his way. He was midway through opening the door to exit when you interrupted, "But father--" he'd raised a hand to cut you off, already being done with the conversation. "Who is the princess here, Y/N?" You snarled a "Me," under your breath, a part of you knowing you'd lost the argument before it'd even started. "So that makes it your responsibility to control yourself around others." He turned to go, before whirling back around, a finger pointed directly at you. "Especially the knights, damn it!" At that, he left, your mother following behind him, leaving you alone in the throne room. You waited till they were out of sight before releasing a frustrated groan, trudging back to your room, desperate for some alone time to sulk in your own emotions. You groan again when you find Haechan reading through one of your books on economic development (not like you'd ever read it anyways), not even bothering to acknowledge you until you stamp over to him and snatch the damn thing out of his hands, "Don't touch my stuff." You hiss. He pouts, disappointed, before rolling his eyes. "Thanks," he sighs, blasé. "For earlier." You open your mouth to reply, but judging by how he gingerly sits at the edge of your bed, you wait for him to continue. "If you hadn't come in then I probably would've said something I'd regret, and then my parents would be super mad, and then I'd probably have to start something stupid, like alchemy or something. God, I hate alchemy--" As bad of a mood as you were in, you couldn't help but to laugh. His deadpan yet relatable way of expressing himself reminded you of yourself a little, and you smiled softly to yourself. The sound of him whispering an accomplished "Yes!" under his breath causes you to look up at him in question. "That's what I wanted." His gaze softens as his eyes fall on yours, "You looked a lot worse before. I didn't think it was fair, given what you did for me. So that was my way of saying thanks." The two of you sit in a comfortable silence, you also noticing that Haechan's gotten more comfortable on your bed, as you both stare at the ceiling. You break the silence a little while later. "You're welcome." You'd originally planned to end the conversation there and go back to staring at the increasingly mundane ceiling of your room so you could seem cool and aloof, but you had a feeling Haechan wasn't the kind of person to care about things like that. "And….thank you, also." The tables turn. This time, it's Haechan who's looking at you, brows furrowed, lips curled, in question. "I'm not very good at knowing when to shut up, which you've probably noticed," he visibly scoffs at that, and you playfully glare at him in return. "I'm not very good at acting like a princess, either, so I find it hard to relate to other people in my, um, circle?" You question, mainly asking yourself, but he interjects anyway. "Don't you have any friends?" You swallow, gritting your teeth. "I was getting to that," Embarrassed, Haechan slowly turns to face the window to his left. You sigh before continuing, "Anyway, I had a friend, but he moved away. And I hate the other noble kids; they're all the same, with their ugly clothes and weird hairstyles and the fact that they're only nice to me when their parents are around--which is barely, by the way-- and how stupid they all are--" Haechan has turned back to look at you at some point during your rant, and there's a mysterious glint in his eyes as he smirks at you. "You're funny. Like me," he studies you for a second, his smirk growing into a grin. "We should talk more sometime," He sighs, then stretches as he stands from his position on your bed. He says nothing as he opens the door, turns to wave at you, and then disappears, closing the door behind him. To say you were a little confused was an understatement. Not only had you inadvertently revealed more about yourself than you'd learned from him in an attempt to get him to open up, your kind-of acquaintance had also simply up and left in the middle of your conversation. Haechan kept to his word of talking more to you, though, as he'd come to find you whenever his assigned knight (who'd been switched to someone nicer after the incident) gave him a break. Over time you'd managed to find out more about him; that he was born and raised a noble, but had always wanted to be a knight, so had begun his squire training this year in the palace -- it was why you'd never seen him before then, that he was actually a lot like you but a little more ("A lot," "Shut up, Y/N!") sharper-tongued. He liked to express himself through jokes and humour, which was a plus as all the time you spent shedding tears of laughter helped take your mind off of Jeno's departure. Like you, Haechan liked to talk about anything and everything-- sometimes this led to irritation between the two of you because you both always had something important to say and you were both the only people who'd listen -- but you liked hearing what he'd talk about as you knew you'd learn something new from him every time. You meet your second new friend at your 13th birthday ball, something you vehemently opposed the second you heard the idea…except you didn't hear the idea, you were just told it was happening 2 hours before it was supposed to start. To make matters worse, you didn't even have the energy or the time to try and sabotage it given the fact that your parents had someone watching over you at all times, be it a handmaid, a guard, a servant; practically anyone your parents could get their hands on. The ball itself wasn't even that bad, even though you'd never say that out loud. The ballroom was decorated to look like the sun your people worshipped so much; fabrics of yellow and gold were draped across the room in every hue; tables were filled to the brim with fruits, confectionery, and other foods you couldn't pronounce the name of. Musicians were seated in the corner of the room, playing pieces you recognised from your lessons but never really remembered all that well. Did you appreciate the effort? Yes. Did you care for it all, though? Absolutely not. To make matters worse, there was no sign of your current confidant, Haechan, anywhere -- the whole place seemed to have been populated with the same noble children you hated and their equally as annoying parents. Leaving clearly wasn't an option, given the servant currently offering drinks was doing a really bad job at subtly watching you from their position within the group of noble parents. Sighing, you left the buffet table and all of its tasty comforts to explore the floor, taking great care to avoid the group of obnoxious 13 year olds in the centre of the room.

You'd be lying if you said you discovered some amazing secret that would change your life forever in between the designated tables and their vases filled with flowers, the overwhelmingly sweet smell of which was beginning to give you more than a headache. Almost the entirety of the ballroom was the same no matter where you went-- the same old stuffy adults in one corner, the same stuffy disrespectful kids your age in another, the member of staff assigned to you changing every quarter of an hour the only constant, ironically. If anything, you'd say the only thing you'd discovered during the increasingly painful amount of time you'd been here was the fact that you hated birthday balls, and you would be all too happy if someone told you you never had to have one again. Uncaring for whoever it was that was watching you this time, you storm towards the exit, a scowl marring your features. Someone's arm slinging itself over your shoulder and a slightly terrified whisper of "Keep walking, please," spurs you on for the moment, but when you successfully get out of the ballroom (to your own surprise), you fling the arm off your shoulder, stop walking and whirl to face your temporary escapee. Judging by the boyish timbre of his voice earlier, you'd expected someone a little different than whatever the kid currently sheepishly grinning at you was. He was dressed in robes that looked like they'd come from somewhere far away; his face was both adorable and yet belied almost the same air of mischief you'd noticed around Haechan upon your first meeting with him, but there was something different about this one. Unconsciously, your eyes narrowed as you studied him some more, failing to notice the fact that his previous grin had dropped, been replaced by a concerned gaze. You also failed to notice that his mouth had been moving for quite some time now; it's his hand, again on your shoulder, that breaks you out of your trance. "Hello? Are you okay?" He shakes you slightly and you nod before he can cause too much of a fuss. This time, you didn't really care to know who the unnamed boy was or why he'd even snuck out with you in the first place, thoughts of finding Haechan and ranting to him the at the forefront of your mind, but the boy decided to tell you anyway. You'd begun walking, hoping he'd get the hint that you had somewhere to be, but he simply fell into step beside you, continuing his life story. When you bothered to tune in, your mind still set on finding Haechan, and giving little hums here and there to at least give off the vibe you were listening to your unwanted guest, you'd found out a multitude of things. One, that he'd come from the Eastern continent, somewhere you'd only read about in the few books you liked reading, and that he was rich enough to practically be royalty. Two, that the succession crisis over there and the accession of the new ruler caused his family to move to the southern isles to avoid persecution. Three, that his parents own a "nice restaurant in town. You should visit sometime!" Oh, and four. The kid just wouldn't shut up. But you could've guessed that from the moment he started talking anyway. You also found out he was younger than you "Wait," you're cut off by Haechan, eyes widened in recognition. "You're Zhong Chenle? That kid with the huge house?" You look over to Chenle, analysing his reaction "It's not that huge, I mean--" Haechan cuts him off again, and you tune out of the conversation as soon as they start talking about Chenle's apparent neighborhood popularity. You never do find out why Chenle wanted to leave that party so badly, and the thought of asking always slips your mind. What you do know, is that you see Chenle around a lot more often, but that's only cause after trying some of his mom's restaurant's food you haven't been able to stop making orders to the palace for it. There had to be something in that braised beef of hers that made it so addictive, and Chenle delivering it was a plus, cause it meant the three of you could talk and do whatever for as long as you wanted. So you had friends, at long last. The three of you grow up and mature together, Chenle, offering knowledge far beyond his years despite him being the youngest of the three of you, Haechan, getting a lot better at holding his tongue and being less mischievous, and you, though still a little rebellious at times, have managed to ultimately, tone it down. You still stress out your tutor, Taeyong though-- every time you trick him into letting you go early from your lessons and he finds you in the midst of climbing some tree with Chenle, or beginning to mount a horse with Haechan when you really should be studying he swears he loses more and more years off his life. You're less outspoken, more articulate when you speak; You choose your battles more carefully now, instead of blowing up whenever you disagree with someone -- by around a year or so, and called Chenle. During the course of your one sided conversation, punctuated by monotonous hums of agreement from you here and there, you found yourself in front of Haechan's quarters at long last. Unsurprisingly, Chenle followed after you, even as you opened the door to find him half dressed. "Oh my-- Do you know how much I hate it when you do that!?" Startled, Haechan drops to a crouch, trying to salvage some modesty. "You're acting like I haven't seen it before," you sigh, dragging your tired feet over to his bed, flinging yourself down onto it and closing your eyes. Pulling his tunic over his shorts, dragging a palm down his face, he snaps, "That's when it's just you, idiot," he nods at Chenle to come further in (the poor boy had been awkwardly standing in the doorway throughout your exchange,) "At least let me know if you're going to bring guests." He whines, sitting directly on your stomach, using as much force as possible. "Haechan you-- Ow!" You wheeze, the breath knocked out of you. Struggling against the fabrics of your dress, you finally manage to shove him off, kicking him in the process, and not missing the red tinge to Chenle's face and his extremely poor attempt at hiding his laughter. You look to Haechan, glaring, and see him smirking back at you; you make a note to beat him up properly for it later. You take a deep breath, willing your annoyance away, and introduce the two. "Haechan, this is Chenle, Chenle, this is--" that doesn't mean you don't still rip people to shreds if they have a wrong opinion, though (Your parents are still apologising to the western continent's representative after you cursed him out over his 'inflammatory comments', ( "He said women were inferior beings and that it was amazing I could read, given my smaller brain, mother!" "I don't care what he said, Y/N. he is a guest of ours and you will respect his beliefs!" "….") Jeno, while back home, matured as well. He chilled out (he's still a little weird, but only around his friends) in the sense that he's kind to everyone, respectful to everyone, the epitome of the perfect prince; because he has to be. His parents were stricter than yours were, exponentially so due to the growing threat of the northern continent. And although he finds the continuous prim and proper prince act a little tiring at times, and wishes he could be himself (A goofy, weird, sometimes airheaded, huge cat-lover) all the time, he knows his parents would never allow it ( "That's not how a prince should behave, Jeno."). As a result, he's secretly irritated a lot of the time, anger bubbling beneath the surface. No-one would ever know, though; he's just that good at hiding it (Until, of course, he meets you again 6 years later and snaps at you by accident). As the years went past, you'd never really forgotten Jeno; in fact, you still thought of him from time to time-- but it was a lot less than when he first left. You'd first exchanged letters every week, but as time passed and the two of you became busier and busier, him with his preparations to be king and you with your own preparations to take over, the letters went from weekly, to monthly, to barely any at all. Sometimes he'd cross your mind and you'd wonder how he was doing, what he looked like, whether he'd grown even taller, if he was still the same old giggly boy you'd dragged around the palace 6 years ago -- but then Chenle or Haechan would be doing something that you just had to see -- and the thought would be gone. You didn't think Jeno would be returning to your corner of the southern isles any time soon, anyway. Life on the southern mainland, for Jeno, at least was hopelessly, mind-numbingly, boring. Those 4 years he'd spent in the southern isles had gone too fast for him, for now he was stuck back with his controlling parents that never let him just be, and it only got a little better the older he got. Jeno had returned home, to his bland room with its white walls and paintings of old men the only decoration his parents would allow. He'd been practically thrown in the deep end when it came to his royal duties; he was supposed to greet this lady, bow to this lord, smile at this diplomat, pretend, pretend, pretend -- because emotions were never becoming of a prince, of a 'future king'. He'd come to hate those 2 words in coming years. -- Seoyoung was the closest thing to a replacement version of you that Jeno could get. It had been a year since he'd forced himself back into the perfect box his parents had always pressured him to fit into, a year since his unwanted goodbye to freedom and the Southern Isles. The letters exchanged with you had slowly but surely died out, and being left with your own company in a palace as big as the one he lived in was like his own personal hell. Being forced to be a certain way all the time, never being allowed to truly express emotion, along with a clear lack of understanding from his already closed off parents had led to him slipping away from the high walls of the palace and out into the bustle of the local towns beyond. It was there, after running away from some moody teenagers he'd unwittingly bumped into, hiding in the nearest open door available to him, that he'd met her. "Hey!" Jeno whips round, chest still heaving, back pressed into the wooden ridges of the door he'd just shut. "Who the hell are you," she growls, advancing towards him with a pan that looked more and more threatening by the second, "And what are you doing in my house?" Soon enough, he can feel the cool edge of the pan pressed into his neck, and, grimacing, he pleads, "Please, please don't kill me," and he hates how he very loudly whimpers as the girl presses the pan deeper. Her laugh, a tiny giggle that sounds like addictive music to his ears, changes the mood. “Relax,” she snickers, a sly tear coming out of her eye, “I’m not gonna kill you! What kind of person do you think I am?” She’s thrown her head back now, laughing louder, and Jeno can’t find it in himself to get angry. “I wouldn’t know?” he probes, "We just met, so.." Jeno peels himself off the door, standing awkwardly as the girl drags a chair, flinging herself onto it. Rubbing her eyes, trying to calm down, she asks, "Seriously. Why are you in my house." "Oh, I just, like, bumped into the wrong group of people.... I guess I got on their bad side, cause they chased me through town. This was the nearest open door to hide." She starts laughing again, and Jeno's confused once more. His explanation wasn't *that* funny, was it? And the longer she laughed, the more he was beginning to suspect Seoyo was laughing *at* him, not at what he said. He didn't know how that made him feel, but it wasn't good. "I can't believe," she wheezes, "You got chased...by Minho's gang!" she sputters. "Are you new here or something? Everyone knows Minho and his crew are a bunch of boneheads, they were probably just playing with you," Upon reflection, perhaps the smiles those 'moody teenagers' were sporting as they followed him were less menacing and more...welcoming. But he wasn't going to take his chances either way. "So what if I am new here?" He retorts, "They didn't look very friendly when they starting running after me down the street!" She looks at him for a long moment, before mocking his words and laughing again. "Hey!" he snaps, but his voice breaks as he says it and it sounds more like a childish whine.

Pushing herself off the chair, she begins rummaging through cupboards and drawers, pulling out various ingredients as she goes. "You must be hungry," she snickers, but she can tell that any more of her incessant mockery would genuinely offend him, so keeps it to a minimum. "Sit down, and I'll make you something to eat." Tentatively, Jeno sits at the table, round, chipped at the edges, and worn from years of use. An aroma soon fills the air, drifting to his nose. Whatever it was, it smelled better than any of the stuff from the palace kitchens- and when she placed the bowl of soup and vegetables in front of him, it tasted much better, too. "So, where are you from?" He chokes on a carrot. "You said you moved here recently, right? Where from?" Now, it was at this point where Jeno hated the fact that he was never that great at lying, because he now needed to come up with a believable backstory and actually stick to it without giving himself away as the freaking crown prince, for goodness sake. "An island." He states, and hopes she'll be satisfied with that.

"Near the, uh," he downs a spoonful of soup to buy thinking time, "the Southern Isles?" Sounding confused was definitely not going to look believable, but he still prayed to all the gods in the universe, even the ones he didn't believe in, to help him out here. Just this once. "Okay," she sounds suspicious, he notices, but he's thankful enough she doesn't press further and leaves the thought at that. "I'm Seoyoung," and Jeno inwardly screams as he knows what question is coming next, "What's your name?" What was his name? Meaning, what was his fake name going to be? Like an idiot, he almost gives himself away, "I'm Jen-- Jen. Yeah, Jen." He can practically feel the disbelief in her expression, and quickly goes back to the soup to avoid her gaze. "What about your surname?" 'Are you serious?' Is what he wants to say, but plays along for the sake of hiding his identity. "Uh," he notices the material of the table, and blurts out a "Wood. Jen Wood."

"So your name is Jen...Wood." "Yes." She sighs, gets up to wash her own bowl, and shakes her head. "I didn't think you'd lie for that long." Yeah, he's busted. "I know you're the prince, by the way. Nobody eats soup with a spoon around here unless they're a noble, and you gave yourself away when you basically said your name, Prince Jeno."

His shoulders sag, half in relief, and half in an apathetic resignation to the fact that now that she knew who he was, so would everyone else. And then word would reach his parents that he'd snuck out of the palace and he'd have to say goodbye to any sliver of a chance at freedom until he either ascended the throne or died before then. "Do you think, you could, like, maybe, not tell anyone?" Being unsure of yourself and not even putting up a fight was not how his mother had taught him to negotiate, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "Please?" He begs. "I won't say a word. In fact, you were never here," Oh, yes! Freedom was still a possibility- "On one condition." Never mind. "You keep coming here. To see me." Honestly speaking, there was no true reason why Jeno would have to go see Seoyoung on a regular basis, aside from avoiding the wrath of his parents, but even so, hanging out with her more often seemed like an attractive concept on its own. So he agreed. "It's a deal," and it was. From that point on, Seoyoung became his, well, your, replacement. He finally had a friend he could pour out his emotions to, one that wasn't handpicked by his parents to make worthwhile connections with, who he could be the same Jeno from the Southern Isles with, not the uptight prince from the Mainland. The addition of Jaemin, the son of rich merchants who sometimes made Jeno question why he was a prince when Jaemin seemed so much better suited, and Renjun, a noble who understood Jeno's struggles even if he was a little too blunt for his liking, altogether made Jeno, for the first time in a long time, feel at home in his own home. And so life continued like that; going out with Jaemin and Renjun to meet with Seoyoung. Games of tag and hide and seek in the woods soon turned into intense chess battles, mock swordfights, in depth discussions about literature, learning more about the subjects Jeno would soon rule over - there wasn't a single way life could get any better. It's the end of a day spent just with Seoyoung for Jeno. They're sat in their usual spot, across from each other on the same wooden table they had their first meeting on. A candle, mid-burnt, sits in the middle, its wavering light hitting all the right points on her face. Her eyes, a warm brown, are illuminated, her hair, a deep burgundy, looking so silken Jeno's afraid to even breathe in its direction so as not to disturb it, and the curve of her lips, forever locked in a halfway point between the smirk he's grown to love so much and a simple pout, look more appealing now than they ever have done. Locking eyes with her, he moves the candle to one side and leans in, asking for consent. There's a nod of her head and a coy wink and suddenly his lips are on hers and it feels so, so amazing- and then she pushes him away.

"You're a prince, Jeno. We can't do this," she whispers. "What if someone sees you?" He looks at her for a long moment, throwing all thoughts of you out of his mind. Who knew when he'd see you again anyways? "I don't care," he grins, "I'm here with you now, and that's all that matters." He leaves Seoyoung's house that night with swollen lips and a heart so light it could float off into the distance and Jeno wouldn't even notice. He arrives home, cheeks hurting from smiling so wide, parading around his chambers like a lovesick fool, when he sees it. Sealed with the usual blue wax stamp of his parents, resting on his desk, lies an envelope. Tentatively, he opens it, skim reading the contents until he finds the sentence that shocks him so much he has to read it twice: 'You shall be returning to the Southern Isles within the next 3 days. Prepare accordingly.' After removing all thoughts of you from his mind, the memories he has with you return like opened floodgates. The heaviest thing on his mind is how to tell you about Seoyoung- the right thing, the noble thing to do would be to break up with her - but that would break her heart, and telling you about her would break yours. He could always not say anything and spare both of you the pain...Yes. Yes, he could do that. He was going to do that. -- When you got the news that Jeno would be returning to your kingdom, you were, not to sound like a cheesy young adult novel or anything, beside yourself with excitement. You'd rushed to your chambers upon hearing the news, penning letter after letter while also throwing letter after letter away, just until you could find exactly the right words to greet him with. When you received your first letter back from him - your first letter back from him in a long time - you could practically feel through his familiar and yet different messy scrawl just how much he'd changed. Personality wise, that was. You had to admit that the only image you had of Jeno was the bright eyed, quiet little 12 year old you'd waved goodbye to 6 years prior, so you'd envisioned that image when writing to him. When you formally greeted him in the throne room of your palace, though, you were most definitely surprised, to say the least.

Gone was the Jeno whose height you'd always make fun of - now he was taller, had grown into his features - which had gone from rounded cheeks and a soft profile to harsher lines, a defined jawline and an aura that gave off the feeling that he was now more royal than anything else. He was lean yet built, his previous bowl cut, now changed into straight black locks, strands of which fell across his forehead in the best way you could imagine. You were sure that if you looked up the definition of 'prince' in a dictionary, a picture of Lee Jeno would be right beneath it. The fact that you were betrothed to him had never been an important aspect of your thoughts, never something you even deigned to think about, but when he looked like that, you were beginning to enjoy the prospect of seeing him every day in your near future. You walk up to him and curtsey, trying your best to fight the grin arising on your face. "Your Highness," you breathe, eyes sparkling. "Princess," he nods, one corner of his mouth turning up into a half smile, while you try your hardest to ignore the sudden increase in your heart rate. His eyes, a warm chocolate brown, were so intoxicating could stare into them forever, and for what felt like it, you did. You took a step forward, but a quick eyebrow raise from Jeno and a nudge to your side by your mother soon reminds you of your apparent duties as a host, guiding your betrothed to his rooms being one of them. On the way there, you ask him as many questions as you can; how he's been, what he's been up to, what friends he made - but his answers are all short sentences and one worded, a haughty mix of 'yeses', 'no's' and 'I don't know's'. Sneaking a sideways glance at him, you wondered when he'd become so closed off. His expression looks downcast and yet apathetic; like he'd rather be anywhere else than here. You ask him if he received your last letter, and he barely replies with anything more than a noncommittal "Mm." The walk continues, silent and uncomfortable, and when you do finally arrive at his chambers he storms in without a thanks or a goodbye. You're left confused, unsettled, and more than a little hurt. After all, this was supposed to be 2 best friends reuniting at last, not two strangers meeting for the first time. Dinner goes worse. Multiple times you try to make conversation and multiple times he letter away, just until you could find exactly the right words to greet him with. When you received your first letter back from him - your first letter back from him in a long time - you could practically feel through his familiar and yet different messy scrawl just how much he'd changed. Personality wise, that was. You had to admit that the only image you had of Jeno was the bright eyed, quiet little 12 year old you'd waved goodbye to 6 years prior, so you'd envisioned that image when writing to him. When you formally greeted him in the throne room of your palace, though, you were most definitely surprised, to say the least. completely ignores you. You look at your parents, who are engaged in their own conversation, and you roll your eyes - at how oblivious they are not to notice their own 'son-in-law's actions, and how frustrated you are at said son-in-law as well. You go to sleep that night even more confused, and you wake up disgruntled and unimpressed. At breakfast, you attempt to make eye contact with him sat directly across from you only for him to, again, blatantly ignore you. Clearly irritated, you stab at your food, making your emotions (however childish) known. "Y/N, do you have something to say?" Your intense eating caught the attention of your parents, while the one person's attention you wanted was still engrossed in his meal. Great. "No, Father. Just hungry." You try your best to control your tone, not in the mood for another lecture about your attitude at dinner. While they had become less frequent over the years as you matured, times like these, where your temper got the best of you, still arose. "It doesn't look as though you are just hungry. What have I told you about your attitude when eating, Y/N?" ...This couldn't be serious. Much to your distaste, your mother decides to join the conversation, "You should really try to be a little more considerate, Y/N. It's not polite to be so... aggressive around your betrothed." Knowing your mother to be the more relaxed one of your parents, it's hard to say you don't feel a little betrayed at her taking your father's side. Luckily, your father changes the subject and you hold back sighing in relief. "Speaking of aggression, have you heard about the Northern Empire's movements lately?" "Ah- yes, I did hear from one of my advisers - their leader is claiming one of the western border towns as their own - troops are already stationed there, apparently," You look between your parents as your mother shakes her head, running her fingers through her perfectly styled hair, the crease in your father's brow deepening as he frowns in worry. "It seems the the threat of the Northern Empire is manifesting sooner than we thought, dear." The Empire's occupation of the Western border towns meant it would only be a matter of time before they invaded the Southern Mainland, and soon enough the Isles - bad news for you, and even worse for Jeno. "The question is now, what to do before we find them at our doorstep - Y/N, what are your thoughts?" You clear your throat before speaking. "Wouldn't the obvious thing be to send diplomats to work out a deal, but prepare troops at home for when they do arrive?" It made sense in your mind; you had the best of both worlds - peaceful talks with protection if worst came to worst. Your father shakes his head, pursing his lips. "That would take money, resources, and most importantly, time." Looking towards you, he adds, "Time we don't have!" For emphasis. Your lips curl, annoyed at his blatant shutdown of what you thought was a great plan, but school your features into neutrality when he glares at you briefly. "What do you think, Jeno? This is a matter that concerns you the most, after all." Your ears prick up at the mention of his name, mildly intrigued to hear his take - if he even bothered to reply. "I actually agree with Y/N," he says. You hear your mother squeal in joy and fight to keep the cringe off your face. "Darling, how cute," she whispers, "Husband and wife agreeing with each other!" Your father coos along with her, while you look on, unimpressed. You look across to see Jeno blush, and are pleasantly surprised to see that even after 6 years, he still blushes just the same as he used to -- eyes cast down, lips turned up in a shy smile, hand reaching to run through his hair before it stops mid air and falls down again, anxious not to ruin it. Breakfast finishes with no further interruption- that is, until your parents stop the two of you as you're leaving to recommend (read: force) you both to take a walk through the gardens to see how things have changed. -- He's ignoring you. Again. Why you thought there'd be a sudden change in the pattern of Jeno blatantly blindsiding you every time you were alone was beyond you, but the feeling doesn't get any less uncomfortable every time he does it. Having had enough, you pull to one side, the force almost throwing the two of you off balance and into some bushes, but you ask - no, demand - just what exactly his problem is, and his reply isn't what you expect. "I don't have a problem, Y/N." Oh, please. "Someone who doesn't have a problem wouldn't pretend their childhood friend doesn't exist after not seeing them for 6 years, Jano," You hiss, "So I'll ask again. What is your problem with me? What have I done?" You hate the pleading lilt that infects the tone of your voice in the second question, and you hate that you can't help it when he still looks so stoic. His expression breaks though, shoulders sagging for what you notice is the first time since his arrival, a defeated sigh leaving his lips. "You didn’t do anything, Y/N,". "I- I guess I'm just used to acting a certain way back home-- it's hard to adjust," "You were never like this before," "That was then. This is now."

You felt a sense of regret at not sending more letters after Jeno left - as his best friend, you should've done more to let him confide in you. Then, at least, you wouldn't have this uneasy feeling in your chest that you needed to get to know him all over again. "Sorry, though." He continues, "For acting so cold towards you - I guess I was taking out my frustration at always having to be a certain way out on you - you didn't deserve that." "I know we haven't really spoken for a long while, but I'm still your best friend. You can tell me anything." There's a look shared between you both, and you get the feeling that Jeno understands. "You're in my kingdom, now, not yours. Things are different here, remember?" You tease, lightly nudging him with your elbow. The two of you chuckle at that and continue walking, simultaneously falling into step and into the easy, free flowing conversation you'd wanted to have since he'd arrived, It's dotted with reminiscing and head thrown back laughs at old inside jokes - and it's finally like nothing had changed. You listen in rapt wonder as he goes into depth about the adventures him and 2 other boys named Jaemin and Renjun go on, you smile in adoration as he describes his 3 favourite cats he's forced to keep in the servants quarters due to his allergies and the wrath of his parents if they discovered 'vermin' in the palace, as they described it, and you heave a sigh of nostalgia as he complains about not being able to have intense flour battles in the palace kitchens in the early hours of the morning, like the 2 of you used to, when he was here. He listens in content as you tell him about the situations that led you to meet Chenle and Haechan, as you giggle to yourself while describing them, watches the way your expression lights up as you tell him about all the new hobbies you'd picked up, the new places you'd discovered and had quickly marked as yours, and jumps as you grab his wrist and drag him along, through winding paths and bushes of flowers sculpted into arches, into an open spot, surrounded by flora. The vibrance of them almost blinds him, their beauty enough to render anyone speechless. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" You smile at him, pleased at the astonished look in his eyes. "I come here when I want to relax," you continue, understanding his silence. "It's amazing," he breathes, before looking at you with a smile so bright it throws you a little. When you grab his wrist a second time to lead him to other places, the slip of his hand into yours doesn't go unnoticed. -- Jeno was only meant to be staying for a few months this time before it was your turn to visit his lands for the impending wedding. The past 2 months of his stay, although awkward at first, had been just like old times, with the exception of various instances that were more reminiscent of a couple and less of 2 best friends.

It was one instance in particular, though, that signified a shift in the air between the two of you. It was humid in the city - the air hot and sticky and the typical royal wear the two of you wore, although thin, seemed to exacerbate the uncomfortable feeling that dominated you both. You'd been sent on an outing through the town to greet the people and make a good impression, as your father had put it, for once leaving his study to speak to the both of you. The humidity you felt wasn't just because of the weather, though - for the entirety of your walk, every face you smiled at, every conversation you made, every cat you'd be forced to stop and pet - Jeno's hand had been firmly clasped in yours. The only time you were apart was when Jeno had left to 'get something'. What it was, you didn't know. Walls painted a pure white to reflect as much sunlight as possible, Shelves around the shop filled with touches of domesticity - a picture here, a souvenir there - and the slightly irritating smell of the flowers, displayed around the room in bouquets of varying sizes are what welcomed Jeno as he stepped into the flower shop. The florist, a middle aged lady with a twinkle in her eye and a knowing smile, waves as Jeno walks in, him nodding in return as the two make small conversation before she turns to work. "Take good care of her," she calls, busying herself with various bits and bobs here and there, shaking Jeno out of his brief gaze around the store. "I swear to," He replies, running his fingers over the petals of the various bouquets. "Are you sure? The people would have your head if you didn't." He turns to face the florist. Her back is towards him, but her tone of voice commands his attention. It's a beat too long before he replies. "Of course I'm sure!" He smiles, as wide as his cheeks sill let him - the florist turns to face him, her expression mimicking his. He hopes her eyes, seemingly searching for something in his gaze, don't notice the guilty pang in his chest. She seems satisfied with whatever she finds there, breaking the stare and taking a weight off Jeno's shoulders as a result. Busying herself compiling flowers together, a bouquet, she speaks again. "Y/N..." she begins forming a bouquet , picking flowers here and there to add to it. "She's like a beacon to us, you know? She's our princess," the florist pauses for a second, looking nostalgic. "When she was born, the country celebrated for 3 days and nights. I still remember it like it was yesterday." He can see her eyes getting glassy, and he hesitates whether he should make an effort to comfort her or leave her alone. He chooses the latter. "And now... now she's all grown up! Betrothed, to be married! So take care of her," she leans forward, near-pleading. The bouquet is done, and she hands it to him. "I- I will. I promise," Jeno declares, his clasp on the bouquet tightening with his words. The guilty pang returns as he leaves, and increases in intensity as you come into view. The promise he made in there sounded as real as ever - because he'd forgotten about Seoyoung for a second. The closer he got to you, however, the better he saw your eyes light up at his presence, your features breaking into a relieved smile, widening further once you noticed the bouquet in his hands, the clearer it became that he was playing you for a damned fool. -- There's a comfortable silence in your carriage home. Feeling tired from walking around so much, you find your head leaning towards, and then resting on, Jeno's shoulder. It was less than comfortable considering the texture of the road caused your head to bump his shoulder a little too hard every now and again, but you didn't mind. He calls your name, breaking the quiet. "Y/N." You grunt a reply, flitting in and out of consciousness. "Y/N," he calls again, a whine to his voice this time. You grunt again, wanting to stay in your reverie just a little longer. "Y/N~" You look up at him, exasperated. "What?" You cry out, before his lips are on yours and then suddenly gone. It was a quick peck, a mere meeting of the lips, for lack of a better phrase. Short, sweet, but oh-so meaningful. He says nothing for the rest of the ride, but the strawberry flush across his cheeks tells you everything you wanted to know anyway. Yes, Jeno kissed you - just to get his mind off Seoyoung. But the heat he felt bloom across his face and the sharp increase in his pulse made him question if his feelings for Seoyoung were as intense as he thought they were if just one kiss with you made him feel this way.

-- You have to hide the obvious shock in your expression when he starts sitting next to you at breakfast the next morning. "Jeno." "Hm?" "What are you- Why are you here. On this side." "Am I not allowed to sit next to you?" "No, it's just- never mind." You have to hide the embarrassment when he asks himself when you'd become so breathtaking loud enough for you to hear. "You're so beautiful," He breathes. He's sitting a table away from you, in the palace library. "What? What did you say?" "Nothing! Nothing," You have to force yourself not to bury your head in the nearest pillow, fabric, hell, cloth - when he starts sneaking kisses from you at every opportunity. "Y/N, my leg hurts." He's draped himself over the chaise longue in your chambers, preferring to spend most of his time there rather than anywhere else. You’re stood over him, hands on your hips. You found his presence a welcome occurrence, happy to get closer with him. "...Okay, let's go to the infirmary together. I'll walk you," "No, no! Not the infirmary." You frown, suspicious. "I think I need a different kind of treatment..." He looks at you expectantly, batting his lashes. "I don't understand." You hear him grumble under his breath, before his hand snakes around your waist and drags you so close your nose s are touching. "Do you understand now?" He whispers, eyes locking yours into place. His lips brush yours, still holding that gaze, and you almost lose the strength to stand as he kisses you properly, smoothly, before pulling away with a cursed wink. You start as a servant bursts through the doors, chest heaving, running towards Jeno and pressing an envelope, sealed with the familiar blue wax stamp of his kingdom, into his hands before running right back out again. The two of you share a look, then focus on the letter as Jeno opens the envelope and you lean over to read it's contents. The Northern Empire has invaded. Return at once. Concise. Clear. Just like the king and queen of the Southern Mainland. At the news, he immediately turns to leave your room, you following, but struggling to keep up. "Where are you going?" he asks. "I'm coming with you, obviously," you say, a little breathless. You stumble, bumping into him as he abruptly stops. "No, you're not," he says, looking confused. "Yes, I am," you reply, daring him to challenge you on the matter. "If you think I'm going to let you put your life at risk-" "I won't be putting anything at risk, because we'll be together." You caress his jaw, a thumb rubbing circles onto the skin. "I can't protect you all the time. You're safer here," he presses, frowning in worry. "Stay," he begs. "Please?" You take a deep breath, looking directly at him. "Jeno. I'm going with you." You shake your head at his open mouth, stopping him from saying the words he so desperately wants to say. "We're going," your hands move to his shoulders, squeezing them lightly, "to solve this, together. Because that's what a future king," you say, raising your eyebrows at him for emphasis, " and queen do." You continue, still holding his gaze. "And as my future husband," Neither of you can deny the increase in the pace of your hearts at that phrase, "You should have faith in me to defend myself. Okay?" He releases a breath through his nose, eyes fluttering shut in frustration. "Okay," He whispers. "Okay." He says, louder, as if confirming something within himself. -- The first thing you noticed when you stepped off the boat was how fundamentally different everything was. Where the Isles had streets, although a little less than clean, filled with housing that never looked alike, due to the owners having free reign in how they built it, the Mainland had rows upon rows of identical houses, streets so pristine the suns rays practically reflected off of them. Where the Isles had a mixture of well established shops and stalls that the city's residents would set up and put away each working day, the Mainland had stores on every corner. The whole city was organised, like everything and everyone had a place to be. It was mesmerising, to say the least. The palace, and its inhabitants, gave ample reason as to why the city looked the way it did. Matching the overall aesthetic of the city, the Mainland Palace was tall, angular in shape, with white, grey, and blue dominating the overall colour scheme - not a hair out of place - a stark contrast to the golds and greens of the palace back home. The people, especially Jeno's parents, were exactly as Jeno had described in the short months you'd been together and gotten to know each other even better than you did as kids - uptight, stiff, and closed off, even more so now there were northern empire troops; the same troops your parents had betrothed the two of you together to avoid, now stationed further out in the country. You didn’t know whether to feel offended or not when they simply nodded in return to your greeting of them, but an explanation from Jeno as he guided you to your chambers soon let you know that the nodding were his parents actually being nice, for once. Your heart sank as you wondered if this was the kind of atmosphere Jeno had to deal with when he’d returned here 6 years ago, and how he’d even managed to survive it that long. “I know what you’re thinking,” he states, a smirk in his voice. He’s looking directly ahead, but he sensed the change in your mood the second you went silent. You look at him, studying his profile, the same profile you adored looking at so much; studying the length of his eyelashes, the slight to-and-fro sway of his fringe, the natural pout of his lips, and wonder again how a boy so perfect could’ve been subjected to somewhere like this. A place that looked perfect, but seemed far from it. “Don’t feel bad for me,” he warns, turning the handle to your chambers as he stops outside of it. “I’m fine now. I have you, don’t I?” you look at him a beat longer, studying his face for any sign of restraint, of sadness, and slump in relief as there is none. You nod, half-smiling, "Yes. You do," and walk in.

-- It was amazing, you thought, just how fast the Northern Empire had managed to take a quaint little town on the edge of Jeno's kingdom, once filled with the typical repeated angular structure of housing commonly seen in the Mainland, and turn it into a home of their own - every roof of every house was plastered with the angry and intimidating red and black flags of the Empire, a reminder who had control, who would gain more of it if you and Jeno didn't get them out by today. The first thing you noticed, as the two of you trekked up the hill to the Empire's camp, were the fire-lit torches. The smoke they emitted smelled vulgar, the wind that blew never once affected their flame. You could see the opening of the town they'd invaded the closer you came, managed to get a glimpse of a citizen being roughed up by one of the guards, before a figure clothed in red and black, wearing a mask disguising their face, appears. "Royalty," they murmur, their voice travelling along the wind, barely noticeable yet just loud enough to understand. You feel the visible shiver running down your spine, the strangeness to their voice making you uncomfortable. Jeno's clasp on your hand, pulling you backwards behind him doesn't go unnoticed by the figure. "Cute." They chuckle, before lightly beckoning the two of you to follow, heading further into their camp with an unnatural smoothness to their gait. Jeno tilts his head, sure some notes to that quiet whisper of the stranger's voice were familiar to him, that he'd heard them before - a different time, a different place, perhaps. He's so engrossed in his thoughts he barely notices you dragging him along, trying to keep up with the stranger while simultaneously avoiding the harsh gazes of the Empire's guards stationed everywhere. He bumps into your back, and you stumble as you stop in front of what you assumed to be the captain's tent, the stranger who greeted you at the gates clapping twice outside the flaps before disappearing. Mystery seemed a recurring theme amongst the soldiers of the Northern Empire, all including the Captain, hiding every feature but their gaze with the same red and black mask. Personality wise, the Captain spoke in circles, sometimes cryptic, sometimes misleading - but it was worth it when you and Jeno left the tent with a stamped agreement that would soon get the Northern soldiers out of Jeno's lands. "I'm proud of you, you know." You're the first to break the silence, beaming at him as you get nearer to the carriage. "You did really well in there - like a king," you add, elbowing him for emphasis. He scoffs and smiles, a slight tinge to his cheeks at the compliment. "I couldn't have done it without you, though," he steps aside to let you board the carriage first, climbing in after you, "Queen," he teases, mimicking your movements from earlier. The ride back to the castle was uneventful, and neither of you failed to notice the gradual steady slump in each others shoulders the further away you got from the unsettling loom of the Empire's camp.

News of the agreement was music to everyone's' ears - especially those of the rulers of the Southern Mainland. Both you and Jeno have to force your jaws from dropping at the announcement of a ball to celebrate your combined success, but only one of you has to strategically hide his fingers curling into fists, taut with fear at the secret in danger of being revealed from the roving gaze of his parents. -- The palace did not look so different from its usual appearance when sculptures, fountains, and tables you hadn't seen before decorated areas around the ballroom floor. You'd spent the first few minutes of the ball with Jeno; you'd followed with him as he greeted nobles, nodded in his parents direction, and introduced you to his friends, the ones he'd told you about when you were in the humid heat of the Isles, before quickly disappearing off, summoned to his parents side to 'discuss courtly matters,' he'd said. You had no issue; after all, a peck on the forehead from him was a sufficient goodbye until he found you later. Jeno was right in his description of Na Jaemin; the man was beautiful, truly no other way to describe him - and, for the son of merchants, exuded a royal air far stronger, far more used to, than any other royal you'd met prior. Where Na Jaemin was kind words bordering on a flirt, smiles bright enough to melt the coldest of hearts, Huang Renjun was, despite being born into nobility, as you'd learned, more rough around the edges than anything else. It was a wonder, you'd noted, that the two boys hadn't been switched at birth at some point long ago, given the stark difference in their personalities. A contrast to Jaemin, Renjun was blunt, had jokes that sometimes made you question whether he meant them maliciously or not, but overall carried himself with an adult sort of grace that you'd come to respect in your short conversation with him, before both him and Jaemin had been dragged off to dance with ladies neither of them knew of. Jaemin and Renjun seemed like good people - this you knew - but why did their eyebrows raise, why did a look of surprise - however fleeting - mar their faces as Jeno introduced you to them? It was that thought you pondered on, had your forehead lightly pulsing with pain as your brow became more and more creased the further into thought you went, when you found him. Found Jeno, or his silhouette, at least, dancing with a girl whose features you couldn't quite place. Well, dancing wasn't a crime - you could go and say hello, tell him how you were feeling about the ball, about his friends - in fact you'd even taken around 4 steps towards the two, hope rising in your chest, when you saw it. Jeno's forehead leaning against the girls, the two of them sharing a longing stare you'd never seen directed towards you, as they, in the presence of all on the ballroom floor, like they hadn't a care in the world, kissed. Kissed. There's a heaviness in your body, a visceral pang in your chest; you aren't sure if you can even take another step - but you carried on, pressed on, towards their dreaded spot, determined to confront the liar who had been your betrothed through all these months, weeks, years. The girl is the first to notice your presence, and you try not to get to caught up in the fact that your own husband to be was so wrapped up in someone else that he couldn't even deign to notice you. "Oh, hi!" She waves. "Are you a friend of Jeno's?" She didn't even know who you were. Of course she wouldn't. Why would he tell her he was betrothed to marry a girl from a different kingdom and had been for the past decade. You nodded in reply, swallowing to try and get the lump out of your throat. Glancing at Jeno, you noticed how he'd visible stiffness to his posture, like he'd been caught doing something wrong. The problem was that he had. He had been caught doing something wrong, and that made it worse. Why? Because it confirmed that he knew. The whole time since he'd returned to you, he'd known. You didn't think the pain could get any worse. "Who are you, if I may ask?" You can barely get out more than a choked up whisper. Your eyes heat up as her perfect smile widens. "Oh, I'm Jeno's girlfriend!" Four words. Four excruciatingly painful words. Love was never a familiar concept to you, at least not in the romantic sense, but you felt that you'd begun to learn what it was during your time with Jeno. She introduced herself as Seoyoung. The longer you stood there, forcing yourself to act as though you weren't feeling your heart break into pieces, the more you saw the appeal. An angelic smile, a kind voice with an addictive country twang to it - safe to say it did wonders for your own self confidence. Introducing yourself afterward, you curtsied and left as quickly as you could, trying not to be rude but at the same time not really caring. You brushed past Renjun on the way out, eyes hot with tears, and the pitiful look on his face you saw - albeit a little blurry - confirmed everything once more. Just how stupid could you be? How stupid did he think you could be? To lead you on, to make you fall for him, to feed you false dreams while he was living them with someone else the entire time? How could he? Not caring about where you went, just that you needed to be alone, opened the first door that seemed unlocked. What a coincidence, then, that the first door you opened led into the room of the last person you wanted to see. Forest green bed sheets, stark white walls, everything organized and in its place. Vanilla and nutmeg permeated your nostrils-- of course the room would smell like him, it was his room after all. You walked around, finding paintings of him and his family on the walls, papers, organised into neat piles on his desk, a black leather-bound book on his dresser. You had an inkling of what it was, and against your better judgement, you opened it. You read line after line of somewhat mediocre poetry dedicated to Seoyoung, scattered journal entries about Seoyoung, drawings of Seoyoung. Everything was about Seoyoung. And if it wasn't about her, it was about everyone else but you. His parents, his servants, his tutors, his friends-- it was as though you didn't exist. Had you meant anything to him, at all? You hear footsteps, the door opening and closing, and freeze. A hand rests on your shoulder and you whip round, coming face to face with the last person you wanted to see.

"Y/N." he calls, tentative. You have to clench your hands into fists to avoid slapping him across the face. "Can we- Can we talk?" You've never felt more hurt, more saddened, but most of all, embarrassed - the last thing you'd ever want to look like is a fool and yet here he is, someone you thought you could trust more than anyone else, playing you for one. "Why." You reply, cold. As the two of you stand in uncomfortable silence, you begin to connect the dots. "Because I need to explain. Listen, I-" "Was it a lie?" You cut him off, and Jeno hates how defeated, how quiet you are - like he's made you into a shell of the person you were. "What? Was what a lie?" "The explanation. Was it a lie." It made sense, when you thought about it. He wasn't closed off because of his parents, because of the life he had to lead - he was closed off, blunt, rude, every disrespectful name under the sun; because by not getting close to you, it would make it easier for him to go back to his little girlfriend back home and pretend his little stint with you in the Isles was nothing more than a trip for princely activities, if she ever asked. "No, of course not. I could never lie to you about that, Y/N." You scoff, rolling your eyes. "Oh please." You say, having had enough. "You didn't want me to come here because you were scared I'd see her. You only let me come here because you thought you could somehow keep her a secret, have your fun with her and then come back to me and lie to my face. You didn't leave me to talk to your parents. You left me to go and find her. Because you don't care about me, Jeno. You never did." You push past him at that, heading for the door, ignoring his cries after you. "Y/N, will you just wait! Please," He grabs your wrist, forcing you to a stop. "Jeno." You warn, "I want nothing to do with you." At that, he lets you go, and you storm off, through the hallways into your own room, wincing as you bark at a handmaid to begin packing your things, readying to leave. You were over the Southern Mainland. You just wanted to go home.

A crash and a scream break you out of your sombre mood. Opening the door a sliver, you peek out of your room to see absolute chaos - members of the royal guard shouting and yelling at people to be calm, gentry, nobility, and everyone else running to find an exit in panic, and men you don't recognize in familiar uniforms locked in battle with knights clad in the white and grey of the Southern Mainland. Creaking the door wider, as you watched more and more southern mainland knights fall one by one, you realised why the uniform seemed so familiar; because it belonged to the Empire. They'd disregarded your agreement and come to attack anyway - and there's a sinking feeling at the pit of your stomach as you consider the implications of it.

Opening the door wider, you break into a run, heading back to Jeno's room, despite your mind screaming at you not to. Irrespective of how much you hated him right now though, you needed to know if he was okay - if there was anyway you could both try and fix this mess. You find him before you get there, sword in hand, locked in battle with an Empire knight, and you wish you had a weapon of your own to fight with. There - peeking out amongst the mix of the fallen and injured, you grab a sword from a fallen enemy and slam it's pommel into the head of someone behind Jeno, the thud of their collapse alerting him to your presence. "…You saved me," he says, voice heavy with gratitude. "Don't mention it. Where are your parents?" You demand. "I don't know," he admits, "Haven't seen them since I left the ball." A pregnant silence falls. "…I haven't seen her either, if that's what you were gonna ask." "I wasn't." You grit out, picking up the sword again and swinging at another attacker with it. The knight meets the blow with a shield - he stumbles with the impact, but the blow isn't hard enough as he moves to attack again. This time it's Jeno who saves you, subduing the attacker permanently. He looks at you expectantly, but you brush him off, dropping the sword, and break into a light run, signalling him to come along. "We should keep moving. Find your parents and figure out what to do," He nods. You don't say anything else. He doesn't either. Both your minds are too preoccupied with the growing destruction around you - the yells and battle cries, the groans of pain, the screams of civilians -- it almost gets too much, but you shove those feelings away. You can't afford to be weak right now - you have people to protect damnit and you'd sooner die than let anything get in your way. The two of you check a multitude of places in the palace as you look for Jeno's parents - the ballroom, the study, the library- all empty. Its when you check the throne room, however, that you find what you seek. Surrounded by countless soldiers all bearing the northern empire emblem, there Jeno's parents knelt, unable to move. Luckily, you hadn't been discovered just yet, but you could tell from the corner of your eye that Jeno was going to ruin it. Digging your nails into his wrist, you shoot him a look - his eyes burn with protest at first, but he submits as you strain your ears to listen in. The voice you do hear, spitting venom, sends a visible chill down Jeno's spine. The previous bubbly lilt had gone, replaced with a hard, rough growl. Uncomfortable, in disgust, you watched as she kicked, pushed, and laughed at jeno's parents, and you felt Jeno himself shake in anger, ears getting red as he tried to hold it in. Angrier and angrier you felt him become; until he just... stopped shaking. Like a heavy calm overtook him, like he was on the border of extreme anger and extreme apathy. There was no question that you were a hair's breadth away from saying you despised Jeno right about now, but the sight of Seoyoung, someone he obviously trusted, blatantly disrespect his parents made your own blood boil - but so far you'd managed to stay composed. It was only when she asked - no - demanded the king and queen kiss her feet that you broke your silence. "That's enough." Your heart leaps into your throat as you say it, a sliver of regret already entering your mind, and you gulp as she languidly turns to look at you. "Oh? Looks like we have guests." She makes some kind of signal to her guards, you don't know what, but you do know it results in the king and queen being removed from the area, through doors and into a room you don't know the contents of. Your arm begins to ache with how hard you have to grip Jeno to stop him from going any closer to Seoyoung, and it gets worse as he speaks. "Lay a hand on them Seoyoung and I swear-" "-Oh I won't do anything to them," she grins, catlike. "As long as you do something for me." Eyes narrowing, you step back, apprehensive. Seoyoung looks at Jeno stepping in front of you, hand on his hilt, and laughs - quite familiarly, you note, to the figure that greeted you when you went to the Empire's camp a few weeks prior. "Why so afraid? It's fairly simple…. I should hope." "All you have to do," she continues, voice lowering to an unsettling purr, the contrast to her earlier persona still throwing you off, "Is kneel before your queen," she preens, ascending the steps and positioning herself comfortably on the queen's throne. Jeno grunts in frustration, Seoyoung simply grins in satisfaction. "What is it that you want?" He pleads, strained. As slowly as she sat down, Seoyoung rises, making her way to and around Jeno, her movements serpentine. "Oh, I just want what every young girl wants," she sighs, dreamily, trailing a finger down his arm as she circles the room, "True love and a reckoning, blood, fire, a pony…" She stepped closer, lips brushing his ear, "the precious little crown you're going to inherit."

Eyes aflame with anger you shoved between them, "The people would never accept you as their queen." You spat, and with an unnerving tilt of her head, Seoyoung's gaze met yours, lips curved into a half smile. The next second, as she continued to stare, you saw a flash of something flare up in her gaze. You realised what it was as your legs were suddenly screaming in agony, a sharp pain forcing you to kneel and a dark aura radiated from her. Looking to Jeno for help, you tried to get his attention, only hearing his grunts of pain to tell you he was in the same boat. "With all due respect, darling," she purred, bending to your height, her half smile widening into a complacent simper, "I think they will." She nodded at her guards, and together they left with a flourish, the slam shut of the door you and Jeno had entered through finally allowing the pain to stop. Bodies exhausted, dregs of agony still refusing to leave your bones, you help each other up and set off to find Jeno's parents. The walk is rightfully silent, the clack of your shoes against the floor the only sound permeating the air. You find them, thankfully okay, just unconscious and tied up, and the two of get to work undoing the ties. "We should wake them up," you grunt, back towards Jeno, "Tell them to get somewhere safe." "I think we should leave them here. Let them rest and wake up in their own time." "There are people dying as we speak, Jeno, and you want to leave your parents here? To rest?" "At least I'll know where they are. I can send a guard to stay with them-" "Every guard is in battle with the Empire's forces right now! And if we leave them here, you forget that Seoyoung will know where they are as well." You pinch the bridge of your nose, progress to rubbing a thumb back and forth across your brow. "Do you- do you want her to find them?" Jeno is silent as you turn around, looking directly at him. "Are you working with her?" "Y/N, no. No, I would never do that, ever, not in a million years! You know me, Y/N," You give him a long look, taking a deep breath. "No, Jeno. I don't." A part of you feels like you shouldn't have doubted him that much, but a larger part of you knows you were right. You don't know Jeno. At least, not anymore. Once you get both parents awake, you give a brief summary of what went on and warn them to leave - and they do, albeit sceptically. Jeno's worry shows clear on his face, but you say nothing of it as the both of you continue to go through the palace, trying to find an exit that isn't barred by enemies, avoid Seoyoung and at the very least, find Jaemin and Renjun to regroup with all at the same time. Thankfully, you arrive at the palace courtyard in one piece, and find Jaemin and Renjun messily defending themselves against 4 other knights, who's swords kept dangerously close to Renjun's arm and Jaemin's neck. Exasperated, you huff, find another sword to use, and ram it into the nearest soldier - his choked out groans of pain combined with the coppery tang of his blood as it leaked out was enough to make bile rise in your throat, but you force it back down as you and Jeno join the battle to help take the weight off of Jaemin and Renjun. After subduing all of them, plus some extra who had appeared, the four of you leave the palace courtyard, running continuously until you're sure you're safe, and there's another awkward silence, everyone pointedly avoiding your gaze. You feel Jeno's hand still clasping yours, and shake it off, his touch uncomfortable. "So…where do we go from here?" Jaemin's the first to break the quietude. "We go home," you state. Renjun looks at you and then in the direction of the castle, confused. You huff, rubbing your temples. "My home." -- The four of you board a boat to the Isles early the next morning - after barely getting any sleep in the palace stables you'd had to take refuge in the night before - to avoid detection. You'd had no idea whether the Empire's forces had overrun the whole kingdom yet, and didn't want to take any chances by leaving later on when there was currently a bounty on the heads of those travelling with you. You all arrive home in one piece, and go your separate ways upon arrival; you and Jeno towards the palace, and Jaemin and Renjun towards the city to find a place to stay. You blatantly ignore Jeno for the first few days back - you return to sitting across from him at breakfast, you barely reply to his questions most times, and generally act like he doesn't exist. It works - but you know you can't keep it up for long. You conveniently hid the piece of information about Jeno practically cheating on you from your parents,so you knew you couldn't keep ignoring him forever without them noticing at some point and asking questions. It seemed that Jeno had come to this realisation also, as he cornered you in your room on one day that you'd been especially ignoring him, brushing him off whenever he even so much as breathed in your direction. "Jeno, get out of my--" "We need to talk. And I'm not leaving until you hear me out." You folded your arms. "There's nothing to talk about. You led me on, I fell for it, I found out, and now I hate you. What more is there to say?" His face fell. "You really hate me?" You sighed. Of course you didn't. But every time you closed your eyes, you saw the image of him kissing her again - so would it really be such a lie if you said you did? "…Just get out of my room, Jeno." He turned to leave, looking at you one last time, before going, shutting the door behind him as he went. Sighing, you threw yourself back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling, happy to be alone, when the door opened once more. It was Jeno again. "I'm sorry I just--I can't leave without telling you the truth,"

"What truth? That you loved her all along and now that she's shown herself to be some evil villain you think you can just come in here and- and use my feelings as some way to make yourself feel better?" Your voice began to shake, the lump in your throat appeared again, and your eyes watered and you hated that you were crying in front of him, that he'd made you like this because it wasn't fair, Goddamnit.

It wasn't fair that you still hurt so bad, while he didn't seem that hurt at all. If anything he seemed inconvenienced. Inconvenienced that everything had to come out like this. "I'm--I'm sorry, Y/N." His voice was a little rougher, a little choked up, and you could tell he was on the verge of breaking. He sat down at the edge of your bed, placing a hand on yours, tentatively. You don't pull away. "I met Seoyoung a year after I left. My parents didn't tell me when I would see you again; I didn't even think this would happen this soon," You nod, signalling him to continue. "I was lonely, and I found it hard to adjust to the way I used to be when you'd shown me so much more. Nobody but her really understood how I felt. She gave me an escape." A little smile graces his features, and your heart chips at the fact that if you weren't sure he loved you before, you could be certain he didn't love you now. Either way, you were finding this all a little hard to process - some girl he'd barely met when he moved home became his only friend due to his weird relationship with his parents. "I guess I just wanted to live as freely as I could before I was tied down forever." Tied down? Is that really what he thought being married to you would be like? Had he forgotten how close you were as children? "What about the ball," you whisper. "Huh?" his eyes flick over to yours and you meet his gaze. "I said. What about the ball. When I saw you," you struggle to get the final two words out, coming out as a reluctant mumble "….kissing her." He stiffens at that. "I didn't mean to kiss her," You cock a brow, heaving an exaggerated sigh. "Not in there, at least!" "So you meant to kiss her somewhere else? So I'd never find out?" You exclaim, scandalised. "No, no, that's not what I meant-- just listen to me--" "--I am, Jeno. And I'm struggling to see the point." He runs a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words. "I was going to tell her then. That we couldn't be together, that I was betrothed. But she kissed me and I--I don't know. I don't know anymore," "Then why lead me on? Why kiss me, why make me think that you wanted this, why use me?" "Because," he breathes, leaning towards you, "I love you, Y/N. I always have," For a moment you felt as though your heart could explode with joy. Your childhood friend-turned-crush-turned-lover confessing his love for you. If this was a different situation, it would've been everything you'd ever wanted. But you knew better. "Oh, save it. You're just saying that to make me feel better. You don't love me, Jeno. You just think you do." "I meant it, Y/N. I really do love--," You hold up a hand, cutting him off. "You love Seoyoung. Not me. We need to focus on stopping her anyways," The two of you make eye contact, Jeno's intense gaze meeting your stubborn one. Wordlessly, he goes to the door once more, saying one sentence before leaving. "I meant what I said. I'll prove it to you." You knew he didn't,at least you thought so. You thought you knew him better than anyone and you were clearly wrong about that so maybe, just maybe, you were wrong about this. But you had enough faith in yourself to know you were right. You avoided Jeno for the rest of the day aside from dinner when you absolutely had to be around him, and all through that he'd smile at you and pretend everything was okay. It made you sick to smile back, but you pushed through, determined not to let your parents suspect anything. Events in the Mainland and the issue of trying to protect the Isles already commanded most of their attention - letting them know that the practically lifelong betrothal they'd arranged had gone horribly wrong wasn't something you wanted to disclose just yet. Besides, if staying with Jeno meant the safety of your people, a little sacrifice of your happiness wouldn't be too much of a price to pay, you thought. The knights quarters had always been a second home to you - it was where you first met Haechan, where you made friends with Chenle, where you gave advice, got advice, told stories, played pranks, shared secrets - and now you were going there to share the biggest secret of all. You find Haechan's door, and you're about to enter when you pause. You can hear Chenle's signature laugh, Haechan's teasing lilt; that was fine - but why were Renjun and Jaemin's voices mixed in with them? You wouldn't call yourself childish, and you wouldn't call yourself petty either, but hell, you couldn't care less if people called you those things and more because the idea of Jaemin and Renjun making friends with your best friends made you feel more than slightly ill. Your parents had insisted Renjun and Jaemin stay in the palace once you'd told them all that had happened back on the Mainland - at first you'd been somewhat indifferent about it, but seeing them through the crack of the door - heads thrown back in laughter, eyes turned into crescents from their wide smiles - makes you suddenly wish you hadn't told your parents about them at all. You stand at the doorway, swing the door fully open, and wait for them to notice your presence. It's almost laughable, really, how fast Haechan and Chenle brighten even more when they see you, and how fast Renjun and Jaemin lose the smiles and clear their throats, trying to make a quick exit as Chenle grabs your wrist and drags you further in. "Y/N!" He beams, his smile easing the suffering in your heart a little. "Come sit!" You stand, uncomfortable, as Renjun and Jaemin's eyes are both suddenly pinned to the stone tiles of the floor. The grin slowly falls off of Chenle's face as he notices the cooling of the room's mood. "...Uh, guys?" He says, hoping someone other than him breaks the silence and soon. "I think we should go," Renjun suggests, sheepish, him and Jaemin both leaving before Chenle can even ask why. Throwing yourself onto Haechan's bed, just like you used to, you let out a defeated sigh. "Something you need to tell me about?" He jokes, lying next to you. "There are many things I need to talk to you about," you reply. "Hey, what about me?" Chenle chimes in, standing over the two of you. "The both of you," you correct, "There are many, many things I need to talk to the both of you about." And so you vent. You tell them everything, from beginning to end, and by the time you're done, it's a struggle trying to get the two of them not to go and give Jeno a piece of their minds. Chenle can do nothing but sink to a crouch, mouth open in disbelief. "I just don't get it," Haechan breathes. "You seemed so close, how could he- do something like that?" He grabs your hands and pulls you into his arms. "Y/N, I'm so sorry." Face half smushed into his chest, half not, you smile to the best of your ability. "It's ok," you mumble, defeated, "Well it isn't, but it's ok as it's going to be. I guess." Haechan's embrace is warm, tight, reassuring. As his hand rubs circles into your back, slightly rocking back and forth, you wonder if life would've been easier if you'd never been betrothed. If you'd somehow, by some weird stroke of fate, fallen for him instead of Jeno. At the very least, the biggest thing you'd have to worry about when marrying Haechan would be getting him to shut up. Being talkative was one of the traits the both of you shared, to a fault. You untangle yourself from him and meet his confused gaze. "Haechan, I need you to promise me something." "Of course." He nods along, wary. "Please, please don't bring this up to him," you wince as you say it because you can feel his judgement. "Y/N, you can't be serious." "Please, Haechan. I don't- I don't really want to hear about my husband cheating on me any more than necessary, you know?" The way your voice trails off in the latter part of that sentence loosens Haechan's resolve. "Fine," he grumbles, folding his arms. Chenle puts an awkward hand on your shoulder - he'd never really been one for physical contact - finally gathering some words to say. "No matter what happens, Y/N, we'll support you." The two of you nod at each other, and for once, the plague of Jeno on your mind is lifted, as you appreciate just how lucky you are to have friends as priceless as these. The reprieve is temporary, though, as two knocks in quick succession and a push at the door reveal Jeno, looking a little more exhausted than the last time you'd seen him. Chenle moves in front of you, and Haechan stands, the both of them stony-faced. "Is it okay if I come in?" Jeno asks, still standing at the threshold of the door. "I don't know," says Haechan. "Is it okay if I let a liar into my room?" You try to get his attention, to tell him to relax, but his focus is firmly fixed onto Jeno. "You can come in," whispers Chenle, and Haechan's head whips round to glare at him in shock. Chenle ignores it, and continues speaking. "Why did you come here?"

"Because," Jeno begins, "Because I wanted to know if I could make things right. If she'd let me." He tries to meet your eyes, and you can feel him looking at you, but you ignore it. He'd done enough damage, and you didn't even want to give him the time of day. Haechan seems to notice this, and speaks for you. "You want to know how to make things right? Get out of here," Jeno's expression goes from hopeful to crushed - you're glad he hasn't noticed you started looking at him. "Stop walking around here as though everything is fine, and go fix the mess in your own kingdom- a kingdom you're supposed to be future king of - before trying to save a marriage you ruined. What kind of king abandons his country in need?" The ire in Haechan's voice is so palpable you've never been more thankful that you weren't on the receiving end of it. There is a long silence after his speech of sorts, and all you hear from Jeno is a simple "Thank you," before he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. "Before you get all angry at me, you never said I couldn't say anything about him, right Chenle?" Haechan begs, looking back and forth between you and Chenle, looking at you to make sure you don't kill him, and at Chenle for moral support. "He is kind of right there, Y/N." You groan at the both of them, rolling your eyes. -- You couldn't be angry at Haechan - because you agreed with what he said. He was right in what he said to Jeno, which was why you were angry at yourself for the fact that you were currently chasing Jeno down the hallway, for reasons you'd probably address when you were alone in your room at night - or any other time that wasn't right now. "Jeno!" You call, and chuckle, mirthlessly, at the irony of how it was now you doing the chasing and not him. His hair flutters and settles beautifully as he turns abruptly, and you almost, almost, forget you're supposed to be angry at him when you see the innocent widening of his eyes and slight opening of his mouth as he turns to your calling of his name. You catch up with him, taking a minute to catch your breath, and cursing yourself as you still have trouble comfortably speaking. "I just," you wheeze, "I just wanted to tell you...not to listen to Haechan...he's angry for me," For all that tree climbing you did as a child, it was crazy how you wouldn't be at least somewhat more fit than you were now. "He's right," he replies, and you raise an eyebrow, still trying to catch your breath. "I have a plan - Haechan said I needed to fix things, and I will." Before you can even get out a 'How?', he cuts you off. "Just trust me." He doesn't give you any more information than that, and goes back to borderline running through the hallways, leaving you alone, having caught your breath too late to call after him. -- You're greeted at breakfast the next morning by an empty seat across from you and questions from your parents that you can only make just about believable answers to. A quick search and some asking around leads you to find that Jeno is gone, having only left a note for Jaemin and Renjun notifying them of his departure - meaning if you wanted to know where he'd gone and what he'd gone to do (though you already had a pretty solid idea), you'd have to talk to the two people you most definitely had more of a dislike for than anything else. It's Jaemin who notices you first, unsure of what to do or whether to go as it becomes clear that you're actually approaching the two of them, and not just taking a walk around the palace courtyard. "Y/N," he smiles, and you can tell he's just trying to be polite by the way the smile doesn't reach his eyes and his smile looks more and more like a grimace the longer he holds it. "Is there anything we can help you with?" A corner of your lips quirks a little as Jaemin nudges Renjun to turn around. "Did Jeno tell either of you where he went? I can't find him," Its Renjun who tells you that all Jeno left for them was a note with five words: I'm going to fix it. And with that, your suspicions are confirmed; Jeno had most likely gone back to the Mainland, to 'fix' the problems that plagued it there. However now, and only now, was when you felt angry at Haechan for his outburst a day earlier - because now Jeno was gone, and you still had questions that only he could answer, whether you liked what you would've heard or not. "Um...while you're here," says Renjun, breaking you out of your reverie, "I-" a sharper nudge from Jaemin, one that actually looks painful, causes him to correct himself. "We, wanted to apologise. For the ball. As Jeno's friends, we should've stopped him as soon as it started." You disliked Renjun and Jaemin for their role in the whole Jeno being a cheater debacle, but truth-be-told, you weren't all that angry at them, because they had no real loyalty to you. Jeno was supposed to be your best friend. By principle, he would've been the last person you'd expect to ever betray you. And yet, he did. So you weren't angry at Jaemin and Renjun for siding with their own friend. You felt hurt, by Jeno. "It wasn't your fault." You mutter to the pair of them, before turning to leave. -- It was sickening. Sickening, Jeno thought, how easily he'd let himself be fooled for so long, by someone he trusted so much. As he mounted the steps two at a time into the palace, he wonders if that's how you had felt, when everything had fallen apart just over a week prior. He still felt a pang in his chest every time he pictured the look on your face from that day; hurt, betrayed, disbelieving. As he entered and saw the Empire's flags strewn all over the previously pristine castle interior, he wondered just when he'd lost himself this much. Haechan was right - what kind of king was he? He'd barely any idea of where his parents had gone after that night; if Seoyoung had taken them again, if they were safe; he hadn't even bothered to find a way to check up on his kingdom, which was already beginning to lose its shine and lustre at the occupation draining the life out of its veins. He felt like a waste of a king - no, he was one. But at the very least, the least he could do as a king in its own right was save his kingdom from the invaders that plagued it - he had a plan, and it was going to work. It had to; he had no other choice. Seeing the door of the throne room again brought back memories Jeno didn't really want to think about; it simply reminded him of his own horrible, horrible mistake - but he steeled his resolve and pushed open the door. It's entirely too laughable how Seoyoung is sat in the same place she was when he left - perched on the queen's throne, red hair tied back, and eyes that looked dull and soulless. Was that what he'd allowed himself to fall for? "Jeno!" She croons, beckoning her guards to bring him closer. "I missed you," Her patronising manner of speech, like a mother to its child, felt like nails scratching down a chalkboard to his ears. But he pushed through it, put on the best smile he could muster, and began to execute the first step of his plan. "Really?" He asks, eyes coy. "I thought you would've wanted me gone." He's directly in front of her now, can see in detail just how much the old Seoyoung, the one he used to know, was gone. But was she ever really there? That was a question Jeno had been asking himself since he'd arrived at this place. "Oh Jen," she purrs, and its a struggle not to narrow his eyes at the old nickname, "I wanted everyone else gone," She rises off of the throne to meet him face to face, slinking around him to put her hands on his shoulders, lips brushing his ear as she speaks. "But you and I, you with your crown and I with my power," It's somewhat frightening how absorbed she sounds, "Jen, we could rule the world! You and me," How stupid did she think he was? It was all too clear to Jeno what she was doing; the nickname to soften his resolve, the enthusiasm in her words, the closeness to try and distract him from what she was really saying - that she wanted him to give up his throne to let her rule the world, not them together - but just her. So he agreed. "We can rule the world," he breathes, realisation tinging the edges of his voice. "Together," he half asks, half states. "Yes," she sighs, "Together." -- There are a lot of things Jeno comes to find out, the longer he stays with Seoyoung. One; He was right - ever since he'd agreed to joining Seoyoung's side, she'd taken the lead in everything, and had gotten strangely irritated whenever Jeno tried giving his input (not that he did often, of course). Two; His parents, thankfully, were still safe. From keeping his ear to the ground and bits and pieces of information he'd managed to scrape from the servants of the palace, he'd found out that they were in hiding, and that Seoyoung already had guards looking for them. "To bring them home and keep them safe," she said when he'd asked. But he knew what she really wanted to do with them. Three: You were right - when you said she'd never be accepted as Queen. Jeno soon learns that the only guards who truly respect her are the ones left from the crew she stormed the palace with - and that the original palace guards were still loyal to him. --. They're in the throne room when it all comes together; the planning and secret preparation he'd been working towards for the past 3 weeks. This time he would put Seoyoung away, once and for all - especially now that he'd learned that his parents had been found and that they were locked in the dungeons, courtesy of Seoyoung, of course. "Promise me you'll stay with me forever," she whispers, and Jeno's stomach turns as her lips graze his. "I promise," he says, opening his eyes to find Seoyoung's still shut. It's in this moment where his chance arrives - he clicks his fingers 3 times, and lets out a low whistle; the code he'd devised with the guards a few days prior to summon them. As the guards file in, coming closer and closer towards the two, Jeno's hands rise from her clasp to cup her face - which, from this angle, Jeno thinks, almost looks innocent. He offhandedly wonders what may have happened to make Seoyoung such a contrast to her features. "Jeno." She mumbles, eyes still shut, forehead still leaning against his, a hand rising up to cup his. "What are the guards doing here?" He hums, voice low. "Just trust me," A sliver of a smirk graces his features as he continues, "I have a surprise." He takes her hands and lowers them, still holding them - trying to make it as easy as possible for the guards to slam the restraints on as fast as they can. Slowly, delicately, he steps away from Seoyoung; a tilt of his head signalling one guard to come forward and do the act - and, like a cliché flash, it happens. He lets go, the shackles come down, and Seoyoung's eyes finally snap wide open; the same flash from that night occurs again in her gaze, but it does nothing. The shackles were made of iron - specifically to block her from using any of her tricks to get away. At her inability to inflict harm the way she desired, Seoyoung's expression crumples into a horrid mix of anger and shock. "Jeno," she calls, tone shaky, uncertain. "What are you doing?" He says nothing - simply allows himself to giggle loud enough for her to hear as the guards drag her down to the dungeons. As she should be. As she should've been all those months ago. -- "I'll give you whatever - money, power, control - freedom from your parents I know you hate so much - all you have to do is join me, Jeno." She'd been down here for over a week, allowed no contact with anyone while he tried to restore order in the kingdom above. It seemed, from the borderline feral look in her eyes and the fatigue that plagued her very being, that being in the dungeons was taking its toll. No, it didn't seem so; the longer she spoke, Jeno knew it was so. "What happened to ruling the world, together?" She pleads. Trying to appeal to him using his own words, he notes. He says nothing, simply keeps eye contact with her and lets her continue. A guard barks at her to keep quiet - she glares at them, grunting as the shackles on her wrists prevent her from doing what she so desires, and returns her gaze to Jeno. "Jen, stop being stupid and tell them to let me out, please." Again with the nickname, he thinks. Before, long ago, when he'd first met her, his heart would've fluttered, cheeks would've reddened at her use of the name. Now, though, all it did was send an uncomfortable shiver down his spine. "Jen? Jeno, tell them to let me out." She's less desperate and more irritated now, his silence, his blank, uncaring, stare making her ever angrier. He wonders, as he's done so many times he's had to be around her, as she nags and scolds and patronises, just who Seoyoung even was. If he ever knew her. He wonders, for the second time, if this was how you felt. She's gone back to being desperate now, but with some emotional guilt-tripping to really try and pull at his heartstrings. "If you love me, Jeno - if you ever loved me - you'd let me out. Please," He's silent. "If you love me, you'll do the right thing! Jen, please!" If he loved her. He inwardly scoffs at the thought. What he had for Seoyoung, he realised, wasn't love. No - maybe it was love, at one point. But now, now he realised that it had turned into infatuation. And after her big reveal, that infatuation had quickly left, leaving nothing but disgust in its wake. "You don't get to call me that name. Not anymore," He says, brows furrowed, lips curled into a sneer, as Seoyoung grips the bars of the cell, tears rimming her eyes. "I never loved you, Seoyoung. And I am doing the right thing," he spat, leaving her to rot in her cell, her calls and shouts sounding like static the further away he got. -- With Seoyoung out of action, Jeno uses her as ransom to get the Empire troops to leave - and they do this time. Once they're gone, he stays in the mainland for a while, working on re-establishing the monarchy. For once, he thinks, maybe the title of king truly belonged to him. His parents, since being freed, had done nothing but pull Jeno into a tight embrace, and had then kept mostly to themselves. The embrace was probably the most amount of affection Jeno had ever received, but it was a start. At last, he felt, things were beginning to change. -- You were anxious. More than anxious, you were worried. You'd heard a little here and there of the events that had happened, of Jeno supposedly joining forces with Seoyoung to betray her in the end, and safe to say, your own feelings about him were now a mess of emotions. On the one hand, a part of you was still angry at him for leaving, for putting you through all this, for practically breaking your heart - on the other hand, you had to respect his diligence; he said he was going to fix things, and he did. He also showed that he was done with Seoyoung; he'd had the girl imprisoned, for goodness sake. But still... were you really ready to forgive him? It's these thoughts that have you deep in the trenches of your mind before the doors to the throne room, where you're so nervously pacing, open and shut. You look up, suspicious of who it may be; maybe a handmaid, maybe Jaemin or Renjun wanting to have a chat, maybe- "I fixed it," he breathes. It's him. You're speechless, lost for words, can barely function as Jeno's arms engulf you, as vanilla and nutmeg overpower your senses, as his grip on you becomes just a little tighter, like he couldn't ever bear to let you go. You pull away, putting some distance between you. You missed him, *yes*, but there were things you needed to discuss. You almost rush back into his arms at the flash of hurt that graces his features, but steel yourself. There were things you needed to say, this you knew - so why was it so hard for you to speak? There's a weird silence between you both; Jeno clearing his throat, you fiddling with your dress - you're almost there, have almost found the right words to say, but as usual, Jeno seems to beat you to it. "I wanted to give you a proper apology," he starts. His hands are shaking, and he balls them into fists. "There's no excuse for what I did, at all. And-" he stutters, "And if you've decided you don't want to be with me anymore, then I understand. I'll tell our parents everything. You deserve a lot better than me, Y/N." Your heart finally feels somewhat at peace. All the turmoil, all the heartbreak; It was only an apology, but you felt like you could start to build something with Jeno again. "I do deserve better," you acknowledge, and Jeno swears his heart chips a little at the thought that he really had lost you forever. "But I don't want better." You breathe slow. "I want to give us another try." Jeno grins so wide his cheeks ache, then takes a step towards you. "Also," you continue, "I need to apologise. I shouldn't have doubted you, that time with your parents. I went too far, and I shouldn't have." Jeno shakes his head vigorously, "No, no! I deserved everything I got. If anything, I'm happy you're even willing to have me," He takes your hands in his, leans his forehead against yours, and feels the tension in his shoulders that had been there for who knows how long, finally release. "Could I- Would I be able to-" He sighs in annoyance at himself, and you feel a genuine smile begin to form for the first time in what seems like a long time. "Can I kiss you?" He asks, hesitant to overstep a boundary. You close your eyes, look into his, and see no secrets there. "Yes," you whisper. Jeno kisses with emotion - like you're a fragile thing he simply mustn't break, but also like he'll never see you again. Jeno puts everything he couldn't put into words into this kiss, as though its your own secret language - a language you had no difficulty understanding. As he cups your cheeks, leans back a little, and simply looks, deeply, into your eyes, you catch the second of his unspoken messages. I love you, his eyes say. I love you, say yours.

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velvetgons · 5 years

Text

byounggon x reader; first kiss

[00:56] the music seemed to make the air around you pulse. or was that the only the press of people crammed together in a single house that was giving that effect? you couldn’t really tell anymore. all you knew for sure was that the music was loud and the house was crowded with unknown faces. if you had to guess, you thought you knew less than a quarter of the people here by name or face. though, you didn’t suppose that mattered too much, especially not when you had no worry of being without the ones you did know.

you had assumed the kitchen would be the least populated area of the party. and maybe it was, although you were starting to believe more in byounggon insisting that upstairs would have been immensely quieter than anywhere else. but the kitchen is where you had gone when you were still trying to find seunghun, and the kitchen is where you had stayed once you had found him. the music was playing from speakers in the living room, although you couldn’t have guessed it from where you stood. the bass seemed to move through your body enough to settle in your chest, and every brush of somebody moving passed you made you want to cringe back. you were beginning to think that even the smell clinging to every room was too much for you to continue handling.

the only feeling you weren’t desperately disliking in the moment was the weight of byounggon’s arm slung around your shoulders. the sound of his voice was mostly drowned out by the volume of everything else, although you could still feel his chest rumble as he spoke. and the feeling of his arm draped over you made you feel somewhat more comfortable in the mess of noise of bodies around you. as more people glided past you to make their way to the drinks, you found yourself slipping further into byounggon’s hold. even as he engaged with seunghun, he offered you a few glances that assured you he hadn’t forgotten you were still there.

byounggon dipped his head down, his mouth closer to your ear so he knew you’d hear him this time. “everything alright?” he asked, eyebrows raising at you warily.

you shrugged. “yeah. why?”

the wariness turned to suspicion. “you’re almost standing on my feet.” he offered by way of explanation, and you glanced away from him, feeling a flush of heat crawl up to your cheeks.

you tried to make yourself appear more unbothered, more aloof and uncaring. yet, you found yourself looking down to the floor – which was even worse, as you could see swarms of feet moving past you and milling about the space of the kitchen. “it’s just, kinda loud in here, isn’t it?” you suggested, hoping he’d catch on.

he did. and when he smiled down at you and responded only with, “yeah, and it’s hot, too. wanna go get some air?” you weren’t sure why you’d even been nervous in the first place. his arm dropped from your shoulders, moving to intertwine your hands instead. he said something that you couldn’t hear over the music to seunghun, who only smiled understandingly at you and pointed the back door out to byounggon.

moving through the crowd proved to be more challenging than slipping away from your friends. the mass of people all in their own conversations or their own circle became more of a struggle than you’d expected, and by the time you got to the part of the room crowded most thickly, you’d started to think that staying put would have been a better idea. if byounggon was bothered by the sheer amount of sweaty bodies knocking against him – as you found you were uncomfortably aware of in your own case – he didn’t show it, only continuing on through his path to the back door with your hand tightly gripped by his own.

the thinning of the crowd didn’t seem to happen noticeably. only one moment you were trying to make yourself as small as possible to get past everyone, and the next you were stood in front of the door, staring through the window on it into the darkness outside. byounggon pushed the handle down lightly, testing to see if it was unlocked before pushing it forward. for a fleeting second your breath caught in your throat, as you tried to quickly deduce what you’d do if the door was locked and there was no way out but back through the house to the front door. but when a slip of cold air greeted you, only growing more prevalent as the space between door and frame widened, your heart settled.

the night air was cool against your skin, a comforting change from the humid air of packed-in bodies inside the house. even as byounggon tugged you further towards the end of the garden, away from the people sat on the low wall and talking or smoking at the table, you felt your head begin to clear. once you’d both reached the bench by where the fence turned into a wall separating this garden from the neighbour’s, you felt almost normal again. even the air seemed cleaner out here, and you found yourself returning byounggon’s grin as you settled against the chilled wood of the bench.

“better?” byounggon asked, resting your interlocked hands against his thigh as he looked over at you.

his eyes looked darker than they had inside, which should have been an obvious thing except in the moment it made your heart feel tight with anticipation within your chest. you nodded quickly to answer his question, stumbling over a, “yeah, thank you,” as you watched his lips curl into more of a grin than before.

he nodded, humming as he didn’t glance away from you. usually he would, and you would both fall into a comfortable silence as you waited for either of you to have something to say. but his eyes were straying to look at your lips, and the hand that wasn’t pressed to yours was moving hesitantly to cup your cheek. the grin pulling your lips upwards seem to give him courage, and he let himself lean in until you could feel his breath fan against your face.

you almost didn’t hear his voice over the sound of your heart pounding against your chest. “can i kiss you?” he asked, voice light and verging on teasing. another smile lifted your lips even higher as you nodded at him, relishing the way his eyes flickered from your own back down to your lips as he leant closer.

when his lips touched yours, you felt a sudden bout of nervousness move through you. what if byounggon did everything right and you did everything wrong? what if he was a great kisser and you were the worst? what if he kissed you and then decided he didn’t actually like you that much? you tried as hard as you could to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of your mind, but it seemed impossible to forget. until his thumb began to trace small circles onto your cheek, as if he knew you needed distracting.

and once you’d been distracted, you were again left with the feeling that you didn’t know what you’d been nervous about in the first place. byounggon’s lips moved slowly and gently against your own, the taste of whatever he’d been drinking earlier still lingering and yet somehow not tasting bad. there as a nonchalance to his actions – from the way his hand loosely adjusted to cup your jaw to the lack of touching in general – that made you tighten your hand around his. the pressure in your chest was gone, leaving it light and full of an unreleased excited and childish laugh. you could feel byounggon smile against your lips, falling away from you as the grin spread too wide.

the moment after his lips were no longer pressed to yours, you found yourself missing the feeling. he didn’t say anything for a small while afterwards, only letting you drop your head to his shoulder in hopes of hiding the blush resting on your cheeks. when he seemed to eventually find his voice, or string together whatever words he thought were right, he only mumbled, “i love you.”

“i love you, too,” you mumbled against his hoodie. it barely took you a moment to think about responding, but when you recalled that you’d never heard him say those words yet – and you’d never had the courage before – you pulled away from him. your brain failed to think of something to say, and so you only smiled again, though softer this time. “can you kiss me again?” you heard yourself asking, though you weren’t sure where the sudden bout of any form of confidence had come from.

if byounggon had taken any notice of your sudden shift between too-flustered-to-speak and your question, he made no show of it. all he said was a quick, “of course,” before he leaned in to reconnect your lips to his.

#i'm uhh a lil rusty #writings//#ygtblbr #ygtb imagines #ygtb scenarios #ygtb reactions #byounggon imagines #lee byounggon #lee byounggon imagines #cix imagines #cix scenarios #cix reactions #i hope that's the right tag....oof

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7hyuns · 6 years

Text

almost touching

changkyun x reader

warnings; smut, swearing i think maybe, unprotected sex

word count; 4.4k

song rec; sunsetz - cigarettes after sex

the resounding sound of rap music surrounding you in his bedroom almost consumed your mind so entirely that your thought process was fully unintelligible. it was difficult, next to impossible almost, to have clear or cohesive thoughts when you could almost feel the bass of the different songs practically reverberate in the floorboards you stood on. smoke still lingered in the room around you, creating a cloud of grey that you attempted to still be able to observe the now empty room around you through.

it had seemed much less dismal when you’d first gotten here, you concluded. the walls hadn’t looked so dull and blank despite the posters they held when there had been people distorting the amount of wall space you could actually see. the mess that had evidently built up over time had seemed so much less apparent when there was movement within the room. the lifelessness that was now increasingly noticeable had been covered over when you’d walked through the door, and you wondered how he spent most of his time in this room despite that.

footsteps, you could only assume his, made their way up the stairs and down the hall, back-tracking their earlier course towards the bedroom you waited in. even with the mixed feelings in the pit of your stomach, you couldn’t feel any hint of nervousness that made you think of doing anything but remaining rooted to your spot. or was that for an entirely different reason? it didn’t matter, you decided, you wouldn’t need to think about it after you left this room; you wouldn’t need to let yourself overanalyze anything that had happened here as soon as you finally managed to gather the spirit to leave this house entirely.

the door was already open, and so if you hadn’t of been looking up you wouldn’t have been able to tell he’d even entered the room. even as you kept your eyes from drifting to directly meet his, you could tell he was staring straight at you, waiting for you to say something. maybe he wanted to hear you struggle through an excuse, maybe he wanted the same as he always had and wished for you to argue back with him instead off staring into space with blank eyes. you weren’t sure you could do either of those things, or even if there would be any reason to even begin to make an attempt at them.

you heard him clear his throat, and as if by some natural instinct, you let yourself glance over at him, feeling regret press to your chest as you realised what it was you were doing. his eyes, even with the short distance between you, reflected what they always had. you’d always told him he had deep brown doe eyes, much to his annoyance, although even as you looked at him with the vague hint of something resembling upset in your chest, you couldn’t think of another way to describe them. all of the features you’d come to know and remember like your own had refused to be dirtied in your memories, as if you were in a constant loop of trying and failing to feel genuine anger towards him.

he held your eye contact for a few silent moments before he swallowed thickly, sighing before he spoke, “why did you come here?” he inquired, and the question left you with no immediate answer.

you didn’t know, you couldn’t give him an answer because you knew you couldn’t lie to him. from the very moment you’d walked through the door, you hadn’t really understood what had made you lose your inhibitions and go to a party at your ex-boyfriend’s house. who has on-the-spot answers for those sorts of irrational decisions? but something about the tension in the room was demanding you to find an answer, even if he’d be able to see right through you if you couldn’t stutter your way through the truth.

you instead offered him a nonchalant shrug, “maybe i wanted to come to a party,” you suggested, watching as he scoffed and turned to look away from you.

“it had to be mine?” he asked, looking back over at you with his eyebrows raised and a light grimace beginning to meet his features.

realistically, you could have come up with a better answer than that, one that couldn’t be plucked about by a single logical thought so easily. it wasn’t even that you hadn’t had time to think of something, you’d been there since before midnight, you just hadn’t found the right string of words to pull into an explanation. “does it matter, anyway?” you sighed, trying to deflect the point of the conversation, “why did you ask me to stay later than everyone else?”

changkyun seemed to blanch lightly at your words, as if you’d placed him into the same position you’d been in seconds before. you wondered if he still felt the same way he’d described to you when he got flustered, if he still felt that rush when he got himself out of moments that put him directly on the spot. it lead you to trying to figure out whether or not you’d given him chance here to reach that rush or if you’d pushed him into a corner.

“i thought you’d have something to say to me,” he mumbled, the evenness in his voice sounding worn down, as if he was too tired to keep talking to you. you wanted to believe this was just because it had gotten late, and you’d start to hear birds chirp and see the dark colour of the sky start to raise to a softer blue soon. you couldn’t. “people usually have a lot to say when you give them six months to think.”

his comment bit into you, made you feel like you’d walked out into a winter night in your shortest dress with no jacket. breathing in sharply, you tried to recall if he’d ever been this harsh with you before. assuming by the way you could feel your heart slam against your chest harder than it had been all night, he hadn’t. although, even at this, you couldn’t be sure if the sensation of everything having an exaggerated heartbeat was because of the anxiety starting to bud in your veins or because of the sheer volume of the new song that had come on.

you considered answering, and then assumed that on top of having nothing to say, the music would make anything virtually impossible to make out anyway. you let yourself look up from the floor that your eyes had dropped to, looking back over at mark as it appeared his gaze had never left you. you weren’t sure if shame should be flooding your chest, or if you should be growing to meet his level of subdued anger, but instead, you felt void. your chest felt empty and crowded over with something you couldn’t place. being in his presence wasn’t giving you any form of soothing as you hoped it would, as you had imagined it would in the months he had been gone.

“you know, what, changkyun?” you spoke, your words passing your lips dripping in bitterness as he rose his eyebrows at you once again. “i know six months gave me time to think,” you began, “but what about you, hm? did you ever think of a way to give me a reason?”

he blanched again, his lips parting slightly while no words came out. for a moment, he looked as if he was going to jump to his own immediate defence, although he caught himself and stilled at the last minute. “no,” he answered simply, remaining silent after the single syllable passed from his mouth into the air around you.

falling into the silence with him, you pondered over what you were supposed to say in response to this. did you argue back with him, finally? did you give him whatever kind of passion he had evidently been seeking when he told you that you weren’t what he wanted before touring for six months? could you actually give him that anyway? and most of all, did it even matter if you could or couldn’t be something he wanted? you’d said it, you’d passably lied to him, or maybe you hadn’t. you’d told him you’d been thinking about over the last six months, but in reality you were sure having a thought process required some kind of logic, some kind of plan that results because of it. instead of doing this, you’d just spent the time he’d been gone doubting yourself, questioning all the basic day-to-day things you used to do.

after noting that he was still looking at you, you nodded at him, pushing yourself forward to head towards his door. “then, what does it matter? i’ll stay out of the way,” you concluded, wondering if you should pause and wait to see him react or walk straight out of the room.

as you moved past him, his hand caught your wrist lightly, far lighter than you’d expect when you could practically feel an element of anger radiating from him. “why are you always leaving?” you heard him ask quietly, and you looked up at him, bevelling your head at him in response.

you thought, as intensely as you could with the vague lingering hint of alcohol still present, about where this could have come from. if you remembered correctly, and you had no doubt that you did, it had never been you who left. it had always been you who waited, and waited, and did nothing but remain patient for him and support him when he decided being an idol was what he wanted in life. where did he think you’d run to?

“what?” you asked, regretting the blunt choice of words as soon as they’d left your mouth.

changkyun offered you no direct reaction to the sharpness in your tone, as if he expected it of you in response to his statement. “every time i’ve come back to you since i got back, all you’ve done is leave.”

you recoiled slightly, almost pulling your arm out of his grip and storming out and away from the building completely. he hadn’t, you were sure that from the moment one of your mutual friends had mentioned that he was back from his tour that he’d broken up with you a week before that you hadn’t seen him even once. you hadn’t even heard his voice, if you were still remembering correctly.

“i have no idea what you’re talking about,” you rushed, glancing away from him as you struggled to believe yourself. you knew this was a common issue, even if you were sure of something it was as if the moment you were asked to be definite a string of doubts would unravel in your stomach at the prospect of not really knowing.

keeping your eyes trained on his, you tried to see if they gave anything away, if they made anything obvious or clear to you. they remained blankly focused in on yours. “i came straight back to you,” he said softly, so quietly you almost completely missed him speaking entirely, “i came straight back to you the second i got off the plane, i swear.”

your mind spun in return, as if you couldn’t believe him if you couldn’t even comprehend what it was he was suggesting. “no, you didn’t, i would’ve known, okay? i’m not stupid, changkyun, you can’t just lie to me.”

he shook his head adamantly, “i got to yours, and you were leaving. you were with friends and,” he paused for a second, as if too better to let the next string of words leave his mouth, “and you looked happy. i didn’t wanna interrupt that.” you continued to stare forward at him, mouth hanging open slightly as you tried to comprehend what he was getting at with this. you couldn’t be sure if this meant he’d tried once and given up, or if his mind was just moving as fast as yours so he couldn’t think of something else to say.

“you were at a party one night,” he mumbled, “you were wearing that black dress you got for our anniversary last year, and you, i don’t know, you looked so perfect.” you felt a lump form in your throat. you knew everything he was saying was factually correct, you’d done all of these things, but you hadn’t realised he’d ever been close to you. “i went to go to you, but, i don’t know, i thought you saw me, you left.”

blinking slowly, you reached a hand to cautiously cup your hand around his cheek, “that’s twice, changkyun,” you started, “you told me we weren’t what you wanted, that just changed in six months?”

“i say a lot of things in the heat of the moment, you know that,” he defended gently, seemingly cautious to not feed into the tension in your chest, “but, yeah, i know that’s what i said.”

you debated pulling yourself away from him, but his eyes were smouldering as they looked into yours and you weren’t sure you had the will to. “i went six months thinking you didn’t love me anymore, changkyun, is that worth it in the heat of the moment?” you pushed, chiding yourself harshly as you did. if he was trying not to argue, why were you suddenly so intent on pushing every button you knew of? you didn’t know, part of you couldn’t find the energy through your forming haze of tiredness to care.

it seemed to be changkyun’s turn to recoil from you, his eyebrows furrowing and his lips turning into a grimace. “you seriously believed that i could ever stop loving you?”

the hurt in his voice made guilt bubble in your stomach, but you remembered to breathe in deeply to even your voice out before talking again. “you didn’t make it hard.”

the words had barely left your mouth before you suddenly became impossibly aware of changkyun moving closer to you, the proximity of his lips to yours feeling almost suffocating. you could no longer feel a sense of anger radiating from him, simply hints of regrets and something that was probably too drowned out from the music you’d almost convinced your brain to forget about. you weren’t sure of what to do with yourself, you didn’t know if you could just lean forward to connect your lips to his or if you were supposed to feel as rooted to the spot as you did.

“can i kiss you?” he asked quietly, noticing the hesitance that had suddenly come over you. for a silent second, you thought it over; you wouldn’t be able to walk away now if you kissed him, and for the sake of your personal turmoil you knew it would be smarter for you to say no, to turn on your heel and head straight out the door, leave the house and never look back. if he walked away once, he could do it again. but so could you, you supposed.

you nodded, curling your arm around the back of his neck and placing the other to rest on his jaw. he seemed to disbelieve you for a moment, his movements more conscious and careful than you’d noted them being before, his hand coming to feather-lightly cup your cheek as he pressed his lips to yours. the kiss almost felt surreal, as if it shouldn’t have been happening in this place at this time with this person. you weren’t even sure at first whether you’d begun kissing him back immediately or if there’d been some kind of delay, some kind of short-circuiting in your brain that had made you seem caught off-guard. if there had been, neither of you had taken much notice of it, for the better or worse.

as his lips smoothed calmly over your own, you could feel a sense of urgency build up within you. his thumb moved to trace over your cheekbones, his other hand steadying itself on your waist softly, while you began to mess up the soothing rhythm he’d created. you deepened the kiss, feeling desperation start to cloud your mind as you willed him to notice without you having to say anything, or without him having to ask anything. your hands felt like they were attempting to map out over him, as if something would have significantly changed in the time you’d spent apart from him.

he pulled away from you, his eyes staring into yours as if he was trying to figure something out, as if there was something you would be telling him without having to open your mouth. you simply nodded at him, confirming something that would settle him and get you both a temporary respite from the noise you were sure was shared in both your brains. he reconnected his lips to yours, the soft pace from before replaced with a tone that matched the speed your heart had started to pound at inside your chest. everything blurred in your mind, like you were pressing pause on every thought that wasn’t to do with the feeling of having changkyun this close to you.

his hands moved to push your shirt up, letting his lips slip away from your own for the minimal amount of time it took for you to pull your shirt up over your head and discard it away from you. you whined against his mouth, a non-verbal plea for him to take something off so you wouldn’t have to feel so bare in front of him. a light chuckle past his lips, his lips leaving yours for a second time so he could mirror your previous action. things again seemed to be moving too slowly, and you could feel a growing annoyance within your chest, a need to do something more despite being unsure of where you were even supposed to put your hands.

you let your hands slip away from changkyun entirely, dropping them down to your jeans and beginning to undo them hastily, failing to fully account for whatever reason was behind the light tremor in your movements. feeling changkyun’s hands cover yours, knocking them away as he began to pull them down for you, you moaned softly in anticipation. you felt more of you bare skin meet the air of the room, only now noticing the drift of cold air coming from somewhere you hadn’t observed it to possible before.

as he rose to stand back at your level, you felt his hands land casually on your hips again, turning you in the direction of his bed in the corner. you wondered briefly if he’d moved it from the middle of that wall to underneath the window before or after he’d left for tour. you weren’t sure if the idea of him moving it before he even broke-up with you stung more than him making changes to forget traces of you from his life. scrunching your eyes closed, you forced the thoughts to the back of your mind as changkyun’s lips brushed against your neck. you felt yourself relax at the sensation, a small glimmer of guilt making itself apparent as you did little but let changkyun make the decisions.

he drifted further down your body, his lips leaving open-mouthed kisses but avoiding making marks as he did so. letting your head fall back further into the pillows underneath your head, you felt changkyun hook his fingers around the sides of your underwear, the pit of desperation within you making his actions feel painstakingly slow. he bit softly into the skin of your inner thighs, drawing a whine from you. his lips attached themselves to your core almost too suddenly, a surprised moan of his tumbling past your mouth and out into the atmosphere louder than you had wanted any noise you made today to be.

you felt him release a breathy exhale of a chuckle against your core, making your thighs go to close around him at the feeling. he pushed them back open, his mouth re-attaching to your core as you jolted, biting your lip to keep yourself quieted. you found your mind drifting more than you wanted it to, your mind drifting away from being completely caught up in changkyun’s ministrations. you assumed this would mean the thoughts swarming around in your mind would stop you from focusing at all, but your hips still bucked off the surface of the mattress of their own accord and a sigh still tumbled past your lips. you weren’t even sure what you were thinking – if you were even able to genuinely think of anything other than the way changkyun’s mouth felt against you.

“changkyun,” you moaned softly, “more.”

the words hadn’t of been past your lips for longer than a few moments before he moved, his movements consumed with a haste you hadn’t noticed all night. his hands fumbled messily with his belt, frustration radiating from him as his hurry got him caught in undoing his buckle. the air around you now felt too hot, the draft from earlier seemingly disappeared without you noticing. the temperature only rising as his lips re-attached themselves to yours, and you struggled to decipher what it was that was lingering behind the way his mouth felt pressed to yours.

everything felt so rushed, and you thought for the first time that maybe you’d moved things along too quickly, realising the implications that going forward with this could cause for you. letting your eyes flutter closed, you concluded that it wasn’t something you wanted to waste the moment thinking about now that changkyun was hovering above you. as he lined himself up with your heat, any thought that wasn’t of him through the dreamiest of lights disappeared from your mind entirely.

these differing thoughts drifted even further away as he set a pace you could barely keep up with in your head, though you decided all it did was help to distract you. your breathing began to shallow out as the coil in your stomach already made itself apparent, much to your embarrassment. you knew, realistically, it was just because of how long you’d gone without having his mouth against your core, but that didn’t help you rationalise it in the moment. gripping onto his upper arm in the familiar way you always had to let him know you were close, you felt a pang reach your heart to be reminded yet again that things weren’t and couldn’t be the same after this.

tightening your grip on his arm, you felt him tense against you, letting you know he was close to hitting his high too. you opened your eyes, wanting to see his features twist in euphoria, especially if it was the last time you’d get a chance. his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes closed tightly, lips parted just slightly as grunts and a groan of your name passed his lips. you felt the tightened coil in your stomach snap finally, no longer hearing anything other than the sounds leaving his mouth, the light praises that mingled with curses as he joined you in hitting his high. you knew as he finished having you both ride out your highs that something was bound to change, that the numbness in your chest was just supposed to return. but as his lips connected sloppily with your own you felt a false sense of hope, a sense of knowing it wasn’t just going to go back to being how it had been before you’d had this chance to see him again.

changkyun disconnected himself from you, already moving to grab articles of clothing and redress himself. the speed in his recovery from everything had seemed to crash by in a blur made your head spin more than it already was, and you found yourself feeling increasingly bare in front of him once again. with his back still partially turned to you, you reached over to grab the nearest article of clothing near you, your hand curling around your shirt as you pulled it over your head again. this did little to make you feel secure in the moment, the draft deciding it was the perfect time to make itself notable again, goose-bumps rising on your legs in retaliation.

changkyun seemed to sense the new switch in your moods, and so he set himself the task of grabbing different articles of your clothing and handing them back to you. for a moment, it felt as though he was about to turn his back while you pulled the clothes to cover you, but he simply smiled bashfully at you, keeping his eyes elsewhere as you redressed yourself completely. afterwards, you simply stood still, trying to figure out what the right thing to say after moments like this was. you drew a blank.

you observed in quiet nervousness as changkyun dropped himself to sit on the edge of his bed, his eyes training onto the floor. chewing lightly on your lip in indecision, you dropped yourself to sit beside him, breathing in deeply and releasing the air with a deeper sigh. again, your mind seemed unable to compute what the situation around you really was. you didn’t know where you were standing and you were only now beginning to realise how much that scared you. swallowing thickly, you reached one of your hands that had been tangled with the other in your lap over to his, linking your palm with his gently.

he offered you a sad smile, “i have to leave again soon,” he spoke, his voice dropping back down to his usual mumble as he did. the lump in your throat returned as you nodded, not even looking to check if he was paying you attention or not. “i can’t stay, i can’t just, stay, like you did for me. i’m sorry, i,” he paused to breath in sharply, “i’m sorry i can’t be the person you were for me, for you.”

you let out a tearful chuckle, “like i did?” you retorted, “i never said i was done staying, changkyun.”

letting yourself catch his eyes seemed like a bad idea when you felt a tear slip down your cheek, only to be quickly swiped away by changkyun in response. “you shouldn’t have to wait for me, you don’t deserve that, especially not with the way i’ve treated you.”

at this, you offered him a light shrug, having nothing to come to his immediate defence with. “does it matter?” you prompted him, watching as he bevelled his head at you, “i’m still gonna be here when you get back, no matter what you think.”

a smile fought to turn the corners of his mouth upwards, “if that’s really what you want,” he cleared his throat again, “then i’ll always come back to you.”

#anyway when can i get a kiss from sir i.m.#writing #g; mx #m; ick #g; smut #g; angst #monsta x smut #monsta x scenarios #changkyun smut #changkyun scenarios #kpop smut #kpop scenarios

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aceofwhump · 5 years

Note

Are you doing requests? If so I'd like to see a story from before Luthers accident where Diego gets injured doing his vigilanteing and has to go back to the academy because as much as he hates Reginald and luthor he has nowhere else to go (bonus points if luthor and Diego run into each other while both trying to help at the same accident)

Thanks for the request! I hope you like it :D

“What are you doing here?” Luther shouted as he threw another one of the bad guys across the large lobby of the bank. The man crashed into the wall and slid to the ground unconscious.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Diego responded back as he lett one of his knives fly, hitting the shoulder of the guy hiding behind the counter. The man dropped to the ground with a shout of surprise and didn’t get back up.

Diego had been mopping up at the boxing club, earning his place in the boiler room he now called home, when his police scanner announced a bank robbery in progress. He dropped his mop, grabbed his gear and ran out the door throwing his leather harness on as he ran to his car. The various leather straps and holsters he put on his body held a innumerable amount of knives. He always felt more comfortable with the world when he wore it. Years and years of living with those knives in his hands and now he felt naked without them. Diego threw on his black diamond shaped mask, reminiscent of his old Academy mask, and pulled out of the parking lot. He turned the police scanner’s volume on max and listened for the precise location of the robbery.

He expected a couple of guys with maybe a gun or two at one of the smaller banks. They tended to get robbed often due to the size and horrible lack of security. Seriously what’s one old guy pretending he was still able shoot a taser going to do to stop bank robbers? He would drop in quietly and quickly take them out with a knife or two. Easy peasy. He’d be home in an hour or two with a few less thugs on the streets

He didn’t expect the bank robbery to be at the largest bank in the city or for there to be a dozen employees and customers held hostage while a large group of suspicious figures dressed all in black, ski masks and all, pointed semi automatics at them.

Diego also didn’t expect to see his brother crash in from the ceiling and start throwing punches when four of them broke off from the group and started heading towards the large vault in the back. Diego, who was hiding out of sight, observing the situation from afar and waiting for the perfect opportunity to make his move, startled at the loud explosion of concrete and glass that rained down on the bank. He stared in shock at Luther who was wearing his old Umbrella Academy uniform, the tight leather jumpsuit they all wore as kids and black mask making him stand out amongst the richly dressed patrons of the bank. Immediately, Luther started fighting his way through the group of robbers.

As soon as Diego saw Luther start throwing punches, he cursed and broke through the front door, the element of surprise completely gone now thanks to Luther. Luther lifted up a nearby table and threw it at the man coming towards him.

“Dad sent me,” Luther said as the table went flying across the lobby and knocked the man down, “You?”

Diego ducked behind the counter as one of the guys started firing off a few rounds at him. The hostages were screaming, throwing themselves on the ground to avoid the chaos. Diego crouched low and threw another knife. He curved the blade around the corner and towards the sound of the gunfire. It landed in the guys hand making him drop the gun and cry out in pain.

As he jumped back over the counter and into the fray he shouted at Luther, answering his previous question, “I was in the neighborhood.”

The two brothers landed in the center of the lobby at the same time as a momentary lull in the battle settled. They stared at each, sizing one another up, before Luther nodded his head and said, “Okay.”

Diego smirked and nodded back, “Okay. Can we take out these assholes now? Several of them ran off towards the vault before you crashed in and distracted me.”

Luther scoffed at the last part but chose to ignore it for the moment. He nodded his head and gestured for him to go on, “After you Number 2.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Before they could take a step towards the vault, one of the robbers shouted from behind him. Diego spun around and froze. Three of the robbers were holding several hostages at gunpoint and shouting at him and Luther to not move. The hostages knelt on the floor in fear, several of them crying and begging for them not to hurt them.

Diego, without taking his eyes off the robbers spoke to Luther who was standing several feet behind him, “Go to the vault. I got these guys.”

“You sure?” The sound of Luther’s voice told Diego that he was about two seconds away from launching himself at these guys. If that happened the hostages were as good as dead. Luther always did think with his muscles over his brain. Planning ahead wasn’t his forte. Yet another reason Diego thought he should have been the leader.

“Oh yeah,” he said, a wicked smile making its way across his face. “I got this. Go to the vault.”

Diego slowly, and as inconspicuously as possible, drew two knives out of the holsters on his thighs, “This’ll be fun.”

He heard Luther run off after a moment’s hesitation and soon it was just him and the bastards holding guns to the heads of innocent people.

“Get on the ground or I’ll shoot her!” the head douchebag screamed at Diego.

“Alright. Just take it easy,” Diego slowly raised his arms in surrender, waiting for the perfect time to attack.

The guy who was shouting at Diego earlier swung his gun away from his hostage and pointed it at Diego, prepared to shoot him in cold blood.

Diego smirked. Just what he was hoping he’d do. Got you now, you asshole.

Now that the gun wasn’t trained on an innocent he could make his move without worrying about the idiot shooting his hostage. He threw back his wrist and released one of the knives at lightning speed. The man fell to the ground grasping at the knife now embedded in his throat. He was dead before his hit the ground.

All hell broke loose once the man hit the ground. The other two turned their weapons on Diego and fired. The hostages slammed themselves to the ground to avoid being hit while Diego dove for the nearby counter. Bullets flew towards him and Diego leapt across the room, throwing the second projectile at the second gunman as he dodged the flying bullets. Right as he let go of his knife he felt something strike him in the ribs but he ignored it and threw his last knife at the final gunman. He went down just like the first shooter, knife hitting him straight in the heart.

Diego landed behind the counter and crouch low as bullets from the third man’s gun rained down upon the counter. He pulled out another knife and aimed it. Letting the knife fly, he felt it curve through the air towards its intended target. The guy would never know what hit him. A grunt of pain and the absent sound of gunfire told Diego his knife hit its mark.

He stood up from his hiding place behind the counter and found all three gunmen dead, the hostages slowly getting up from their crouched positions on the floor and looking around in fear and confusion.

Diego heard footsteps coming from behind him. He whirled around, prepared to throw another projectile but stilled when he saw Luther coming around the corner. He relaxed and put his knife away, already looking around for his other knives which were scattered around the lobby. He tried not to leave any behind if he could help it. It wouldn’t be good if the cops picked them up as evidence considering he wasn’t supposed to be doing this kind of stuff. So he went to the closest bad guy and yanked his knife out of his chest, wiping the blood off on his shirt and putting it back in its holster.

“I heard gunshots. Everything okay?” Luther asked, slightly out of breath from his own fight.

“All good. What about the guys in the vault?”

“They’ve been taken care of,” Luther said as he rushed over to the scared hostages and tried to calm everyone down.

Diego hummed in reply and leaned over to pick up another knife. As he bent over his vision whited out and a sharp spike of pain shot through his chest causing him to pitch forward and land shakily on knees. He caught himself from falling completely on his face by slamming a hand to the ground and squeezing his eyes closed. The pain continued to increase and he bit back a groan. He pressed a hand to his ribs, where he remembering feeling something slam into him earlier, and felt wetness. He pulled his now shaking hand away and saw dark red blood coating it.

Fuck!, he swore. He’d been shot.

Diego quickly glanced at Luther but he hadn’t noticed anything amiss. He helping an older woman stand and reassuring the others that they were okay now. Diego picked up the stray knife and stood up, moving stiffly, one arm pressed to his side trying to stem the flow of blood without alerting anyone (mainly Luther) to the fact that he was bleeding. He was grateful for the black outfit he wore because it hide the blood rather well.

He slowly made his way around the room, pushing down the pain, and gathered the last of the remaining knives. By the time he picked up the last one he was breathing hard and sweating. His side was now covered in blood and he was getting weaker. He felt a bit light headed and wobbly. Definitely losing too much blood, he thought.

Diego heard the increasing sounds of sirens coming towards to the bank. That was his cue to sneak out of the bank, preferably before the cops arrive, and take care of his injury. He stifled another groan of pain and turned towards the exit, focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

Luther stopped him before he made it out of the lobby, “Diego wait! Where are you going?”

Diego did his best to look nonchalant as he turned around slowly to address his brother. “Gotta split before the cops get here,” he explained.

Luther looked a little put out but he nodded his acceptance, “Okay. Well…It was good to see you Diego.”

“…See you around Luther.”

——————————————————————————————————–

The drive back to the boxing club was a blur to Diego. Focused on preventing himself from passing out and bleeding out in his car, Diego didn’t really remember the drive back. Someone he managed to arrive more or less in tact and stumbled into the gym, one hand pressed to the wound on his ribs as he tried to staunch the blood freely flowing through his fingers.

It hadn’t slowed down since he left the bank and he was pretty sure there was no exit wound which meant he had a bullet he needed to get out. The hospital was out of the question. How would he explain how he got shot? They’d end up calling the cops and he really didn’t have time to deal with that. No he’d have to try and take care of himself.

Diego ignored the worried glances from the boxers around the gym and stumbled to the boiler room he now called home. A lot of the boxers who frequented the gym had gotten to know the stranger who lived in the boiler room. Some only knew he mopped the floors at the end of the day. Those who were here more often knew it was more than that. He was a part of the gym. Most didn’t question when he walked in strapped to the nines with various sharp and deadly weapons. Nor did they didn’t question why he occasionally walked in bleeding. Like now for instance. A few thought about offering assistance but they knew Diego would just brush them off and move on. He always did. So they glanced at him, made sure he made it down the hall okay, and returned to their sparring.

Throwing open the door to his room, Diego all but fell down the stairs to his first aid supplies. He dug out the box from under the sink and fumbled at the case’s latch. He frowned at the meager offerings his first aid kit now offered. He hadn’t replaced most of the items after the last time he was injured and he certainly didn’t have enough to take care of the bullet lodged in his side. Sighing, he grabbed the remaining bundles of the gauze to put together a temporary bandage that would hopefully slow the bleeding.

Diego moved to his bed and plopped down. Removing his hand from the wound he winced at the flow of blood. He quickly pressed the gauze to the wound and pressed down hard. Pain exploded through him and he groaned, his vision tunneling for a minute before he got a handle on the pain.

As the stabbing pain died down to roar, he finished wrapping up his ribs, grabbed a jacket to help with the cold that was now seeping into his body (a sure sign that he was losing too much blood) and summoned up all the energy he could.

He made his way back outside and climbed into this car, momentarily resting his head against the back of the seat as he caught his breath. He didn’t have the energy nor the time to go shopping for new supplies and he couldn’t go to the hospital. There was one other option but Diego loathed it. He’d run away from that place for a reason. But if he didn’t get this wound taken care of soon it wouldn’t matter. He didn’t have a choice. Back to the Academy he went.

Diego groaned for an entirely different reason than the pain in his side and reluctantly made his way to the mansion that had once been his home. When he left at the age of 18 he swore he wouldn’t come back but he knew he didn’t really have a choice. He needed help from someone who wouldn’t ask questions or report him to the police.

Diego turned the radio on while he drove, hoping the litany of voices would help him stay focused. Halfway to the mansion the radio station began to speak about the “return of the Umbrella Academy” and how two of the masked heroes had just saved a bunch of people at a bank. The thought of him being associated with the Academy again pissed him off and he punched the button to turn the radio off, effectively shutting off any further discussion on the topic. He’d spent years trying to separate himself from being “the Kraken”. Will this stupid city ever forget? That was one of many reason he hated that Vanya wrote that stupid book. Maybe people would have forgotten if she didn’t write her tell all book about them.

The house came into view and Diego pulled down the back alleyway. He put the car in park and slowly pushed himself out the car. Clenching his jaw against the pain, he pressed a hand to his bleeding ribs and stumbled through the door leading into the kitchen. This was the one place he knew Dad wouldn’t be. He’d just go in, hopefully unseen by anyone, grab some supplies from the infirmary and get the hell out of here. Easy.

Unfortunately things didn’t go according to plan. Did they ever? As he painfully made his way towards the stairs, one step at a time, breathing harshly against the pain, he ran smack into Luther.

Fuck! So much for in and out unseen.

Luther stopped in his tracks, eyes wide in surprise at seeing his brother twice in one day. He had changed out of his uniform and was now wearing regular a pair of jeans and and a simple t-shirt.

Diego watched as Luther’s face went through half a dozen emotions including surprise and confusion before he noticed the blood now dripping onto the floor beneath Diego. The sight of blood seemed to kickstart his brain.

“Diego? What-? Is that blood!? You’re bleeding! Ho-hold on. I’ll go to get dad!” Luther panicked. He started to head back up the stairs but stopped abruptly when one of Diego’s knives embedded itself on the wall in front of him. Luther spun around and was startled by the aggressive anger on Diego’s face.

“Don’t! If you go get Dad I’ll leave right now. I don’t care if end up dying in alley, I’m not seeing that bastard. Don’t you fucking tell him I’m here.”

“Are you insane? You need help! Why didn’t you go to the hospital?” Luther was still surprised by the vehemence in Diego’s tone but his desire to help his brother overtook anything else. Even though they argued with each other over everything, he loved his brother and right now he looked terrible. “Should I get Mom?”

“No. Don’t bother mom. I just needed supplies to get the bullet out. I didn’t have what I needed at home. Knew Pogo would keep this placed well stocked.”

“Bullet!? You were shot? Jeezus, Diego.”

Diego didn’t have the energy to argue with Luther anymore. He started to move forward again but his knees gave out on him, the blood loss finally taking its toll. He reached out to catch himself but missed the wall and fell to the ground in a heap. He bit back a scream as the wound in his stomach burned fiercely. Fire raced through him and he curled up into a ball, desperate to quell the pain eating at him. Darkness slowly edged his vision as oblivion finally took him.

——————————————————————————————————–

Diego woke up slowly, awareness coming one sense at a time. The sound of faint beeping behind him. The feel of the sheets beneath him. The bright light streaming in behind closed eyes. The smell of antiseptic. The dull ache of pain in his side.

He shifted and groaned as the dull ache grew to an annoying throb. He pried his eyes open and found himself surrounded by the familiar sights of the Academy infirmary.

“You’re awake!”

Diego turned his head towards the sound of the voice. Luther was sitting in a chair next to him, eyebrows raised in surprise and the hints of a smile on his face.

“Luther? What happened?”

“You passed out and were bleeding pretty badly so I carried you to the infirmary.”

“Did you do this?” Diego gestured to the bandage wrapped around him. They had all been trained in basic first aid but he didn’t know Luther knew how to remove a bullet. Mom always handled that kind of stuff. Diego had learned due to necessity but he’d be surprised if Luther had actually taken the bullet out of him.

“No. Mom did. She’d be here but she said she had something else to do for Pogo and Dad. Don’t worry she won’t say anything to them about you being here. I made sure since you were so adamant about it earlier. Oh and she said that the wound wasn’t too bad. Didn’t hit anything major. She pulled the bullet out and patched you up. You should be fine with a few days of rest.”

Diego shifted and felt the pull of something on his his hand. He raised his arm and blanched at the sight of a needle sticking out of him. Quickly looking away so he didn’t puke or faint, Diego shut his eyes tight and focused on not passing out. Don’t think about the needle currently attached to your skin. Don’t think about the needle. His skin grew clammy and he began to tremble. He was pretty sure he was about to pass out when Luther grabbed him lightly by the arm and pulled him back to reality.

“You alright? You don’t look so good. Maybe I should go get Mom again. I’m not the best at this.”

“Stop. ‘m fine. Just…just give me a minute,” Diego said, shaking off Luther’s arm. He took a second to pull himself back together before quickly yanking the needle out of his hand and carefully climbing off the table. His legs were still weak and the movement made him dizzy. His hand darted out to grab the edge of the bed while he waited for the lightheadedness to die down again. He heard Luther chuckle and shot a glare at him.

Luther stopped chuckling under Diego’s glare. “Sorry,” he apologized. “It’s just..the big bad, knife wielding vigilante is still scared needles?”

“Shut up. At least I don’t have my head shoved up dad’s ass.”

“Diego!”

“Luther!”

The two of them glared at one another before Luther spoke again. “Did this happen at the bank?” he asked seriously.

“What do you care?” Diego replied as he attempted to walk again. He winced as the action pulled on his newly stitched up wound but ignored the pain and started to gather up the items he needed.

“You’re my brother, of course I care. Why didn’t you say anything? I could have helped.”

“Didn’t concern you.”

“That’s bullshit. You should have told me you were hurt.”

Diego ignored him and shoved several clean bandages, some pain meds, and other first aid supplies he was out of into a bag and headed out the door. He was halfway down the stairs when he heard Luther shout after him.

“Diego, wait! Are you really just gonna leave like that? You passed out! You’ve lost a lot of blood. You should rest.” Luther’s voice followed him down the stairs and into the kitchen. Diego spun on his heel to face him and had to reach out and grab the nearest table chair to keep himself upright as a wave of dizziness hit him. He squeezed his eyes closed until it passed and he felt he equilibrium return.

“What do you want me to say Luther? I’m fine. I can take care of myself. Been doing it for a long time now.”

Luther crossed his arms over his chest and scoffed, “Yeah clearly.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Diego shot back.

“I mean you’re reckless. You always have been. You got hurt today and you could have died. Dad trained us better than that. You could have been killed because you didn’t know what you were doing. You shouldn’t have even been there. You left the academy of your own free will. You have no business acting like you’re still apart of it!”

“Fuck you, Luther. At least what I do actually helps people. You’re still trapped in this stupid bubble that Dad built for you. You can’t see the truth. Dad doesn’t know shit about leading a team. He really doesn’t know how to be a fucking father. He fucked us all up and yet here you are, still blindly following his orders. One of these days you’re blindness is gonna get you killed.”

“I’m not the one who got shot today.”

Diego had enough. He shook his head in frustration and turned around heading for the exit once more. Nothing he could say would change anything. Luther would always follow their follow. Always do what he said. Always believe what he told him. He couldn’t listen to any more of Luther’s bullshit. He was leaving. Now.

“Diego!”

Diego stopped, one hand on the door handle, and turned his head slightly. He kept his back to Luther but turned far enough to show Luther he’d wait to hear what he had to say. One last chance.

“I- I just…take care of yourself, okay?” Luther said, “And for what’s it worth, it was good to see you.”

Diego swallowed, his emotions getting the better of him momentarily. He tamped them down and turned to look Luther in the eyes, “Someday you’re going to realize that Dad isn’t the perfect father you believe him to be. And when that happens, don’t come crawling to me.”

Luther was startled by the harshness in Diego’s voice but recovered quickly and looked at Diego with irritation and disappointment. A look Diego had gotten many times from his brother before.

Without another word, Diego opened the door and stepped into the night leaving this house, Luther, and his past behind him once more.

#the umbrella academy #tua fanfic #whump #diego hargreeves #luther hargreeves #ace writes stuff #my writing #mod post #the-big-cat-dream #injured #gunshot #shot #diego whump

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