#you know the word love can be found in violence

[i-wanna-write]

If One’s Different, One’s Bound to be Lonely - Wolverine Fanfic

Fic Synopsis: We know Wolverine and Sabertooth but the reader is known as Jackal. Just like the other two, their mutation is animalistic, lending them healing factors, enhanced physical abilities, and animal senses. This fic details their relationship with the Anchor!Wolverine and how they ended up meeting the Worst!Logan

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Chapter Warnings: Violence, cutting, mentions of sex but no smut, ANGST, brief mention of rape but no details/descriptions

Word Count: 3.5k+

A/N: We’ve finally reached a movie!!!! This chapter doesn’t have much dialogue but moves the plot along!

\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///

It’s been years since your intimate night with James. You recall it having been 1965 or ‘66 when you two finally gave into your instincts, sharing that night together.

He left a few days later, leaving to join the Vietnam war with Victor. It made you feel weird. You felt different knowing you wouldn’t run in to him. That you wouldn’t move and see him randomly in the woods, or at a gas station, or a bar.

Rather than dwelling on that thought for long, you fell back into a your old routine. Moving every 3 months, hunting for food, and reading. Only this time, you had soemthing to look forward to - the end of the war.

And It finally did end - in 1975. So your focus shifted to waiting for James to return. To looking forward to where your life would take you next, maybe James by your side.

Months though turned into years, and years turned into five. Now it’s 1980 and you haven’t seen James. It’s been about fifteen years and at this point, your night with James and all past run ins seem like a dream.

A year or two ago you found a cabin in Canada, secluded just how you like it. You were in town to stock up on food when you visited the library with the intent to steal some books. However, you somehow ended up with a job there.

The job allows you to be around the thing you love, and not interact with most people. You simply organize the books and put them away once they’ve been returned. You may have to answer the occasional question, but for the most part, you’re alone.

Just how you like it.

The library is quiet so you have no overwhelming sound. Not many people visit so you don’t have to fight your instincts. You can just be around what you love in silence.

Your days consist of work, reading, and watching the moon at night. Your cabin is secluded enough you are able to enjoy the silence of nature, no sounds of the city to bother you.

All that led you to now, partaking in your usual nightly routine. You’re currently sitting on the porch, whiskey in hand as you watch the moon rise into the sky. If you had to guess, it’s almost a full moon and you like thinking the animals will soon be noisier.

You take a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air. With your mutation you’ve come to understand through the years that another reason you love solitude is the smell. Being in cities and around others was never a pleasant aroma.

You take another breath when you catch a familiar scent. You immediately tense, feeling your heartrate begin to increase. Your mind has to be playing tricks on you.

It can’t be.

You haven’t smelt the familiar whiskey and cigar in so many years.

Your gaze moves from the moon to the tree line to the first floor when you see a familiar build. There standing, flannel donned with a bag slung over his shoulder, is James.

You rise, forgetting your whiskey and immediately running off the steps and towards him. He seemed to have the same thought as you meet in the middle. His bag dropping as you jump into his arms, legs hugging around his waist.

Your own arms are around his neck while his own hold you up by your ass. Your lips immediately find his and you moan on the contact.

They’re soft, tasting of tobacco and solely James. Your mouths move hastily against each other, neither of you able to get enough of the other. He presses his tongue into your mouth and you let him take over the kiss, content to just be in his presence.

The kiss ends all too soon but James doesn’t let you go. He allows your legs to drop form his waist but keeps his hands on your ass, keeping you close. Your head is tucked into his chest, his own resting on your head.

You’re both silent a moment, just relishing in being together again. His heart pounds strongly beneath your ear and you have to stop tears from falling. He’s finally here.

“Fuck I missed you sweetheart.” He whispers against you before placing a kiss on your head.

“Fifteen years James.” You mumble against his chest.

“I go by Logan now.” You pull away at that, looking into his brown eyes, eyes you missed so much l, as you arch an eyebrow.

You’re able to take him in. Though fifteen years has passed he still looks the same. His hairs is longer than before, tufts still on either side but more prominent. He has a few wrinkles and there seems to be bags under his eyes.

You frown at that, not knowing what he’s been through. You lower your hands from his neck, grabbing his to take them off you. You grab his right hand in your left.

“Come, I’ll make dinner and you can tell me anything you want.”

…

That night, after dinner and many moments together to try to make up for the past years, the two of you lay in bed, sweaty and naked. He shared with you how Victor and he fought in the war for a few years before Victor fucked it up.

Ever the narcisstic masgonist he is, he attempted to rape a vietnamese woman and killed a Senior officer who tried to stop him. This led to himself and Jam- Logan, being brought in front of a firing squad.

He shared how he and Victor were than imprisoned because the bullets obviously didn’t work. How they were approached by a man named William Stryker to join a team of mutants.

They took him up on the offer.

James decided to go by his biological father’s surname - Logan. You finally learned how Victor and James were half brothers - that they shared the same father. It was only revealed when Logan went through puberty, as his mutation showed itself and Victor, being older, already had the mutation.

He shared how, throughout his time with weapon X - the mutants team - it turned into something he didn’twant to be a part of. The other mutants on the team and Stryker himself were brutal. Viscous. They couldn’t control themselves and had no empathy for those they were after or can across. All this was what James was against.

So he left.

He finally left Victor.

In turn, you shared with him your time apart. Your job at the library and how you’ve lived in this cabin awhile now. You live a quiet life, not worrying about being found out or running to the next cabin.

You were almost happy there.

He of course teased you about ‘becoming domesticated’. How he was off using his instincts while you were the one who ignored them. How the two of you seemed to have switched.

But you tell Logan how he was always the piece missing. How you missed not hiding your true self and instincts like you did with him. How being with him, you didn’t feel different. Didn’t feel lonely.

So Logan settled in with you, getting a job as a local lumberjack, putting his flannels to use. You lived a quiet life together for six years. You both left each morning to go to work, returning for a quiet night of dinner, whiskey, and sex.

Until everything changed again.

…

Tonight you and Logan lay in bed naked, tangled in your sheets and drenched in sweat. You’re laying with your head on his chest, right arm playing with his chest ahir. One of his arms is around your waist, the other smoothing your hair back and forth, a cigar hanging from his lips.

You tried to stop him from smoking in bed but it was a losing battle. Besides, the scent of them became soothing to you and now helps you fall asleep everynight. That, and just knowing he’s here, safe and with you.

The only lights in the room are his cigar and the moon. The embers alight Logan’s face, showing his stubble that lines his jaw and his deep brown eyes. To you, he looks the most peaceful in moments like this.

Like he hasn’t fought in numerous wars, seen terrible things, done terrible things. It’s moments like this you cherish the most. You can both be yourself and not care about all the factors of the outside world.

Logan catches your eyes and gives you a quizzical look. “What?” He asks, cigar between his teeth.

“Nothing.” You say to him, continuing to just stare.

“I can feel your eyes on me.”

“Just admiring your beauty.” You say, smiling brightly.

Logan chickles. “Smartass.” He says before taking the cigar from his mouth to place a kiss on your forehead.

You smile at the feeling, always feeling safe with him.

“Want to hear a story I read today.” You ask him.

He places the cigar back in his mouth, taking another drag. You watch as the smoke leaves his mouth, always amazed at how cool he makes it look. It’s funny that nothing can really kill him. So he may as well relish in the things the average human cannot do so often without the risk of cancer.

“What’d you read about today, sweetheat?” He places his hand back onto your hip, pulling you closer if possible.

“It’s about why the moon is so lonely.” You start, your voice soft. “It used to have a lover named Kuekuastheu and they walked the skies together. Everyone was jealous of the relationship but a spirit, Trickster was the most envious and planned to break the relationship.

He told Kuekuastheu that the moon wanted some wild roses from the normal world. So he went to get them, not knowing that once you leave the spirit world, you can never come back.

When Kuekuastheu returned he found out he couldnt re-enter. The moon was so sad so she got help from the sun to give her light power to her love. Keukuastheu asked the Master to turn into a wolf because when he went into the forest, he saw how harsh men were.

He saw how they cut a wolf to get its fur and eat it, so he chose a wolf to help them. He made people fear them and good came out of it, for whenever a wolf barred its teeth, it was a better option to run rather then hit or kill it.

But Keukuastheus still loves the moon so much that at night he goes to the cliff top and howls her name. For she can never be with him again.” You finish, a tear leaving your eye as you can’t imagine that kind of loss.

“You know what Keukuastheus means in the Native American language?” Logan whispers, looking you in your eye.

You shake your head. The sad fable did not reveal that.

“Wolverine.” Logan says.

You frown at that, suddenly not liking the symbolism. You don’t want to be his moon. He your Keukuastheus.

“Well, now it’s creepy and sad rather then romantic and sad.” You point out, a pout forming on your lips.

Logan snorts, shaking his head. He discards his cigar with his hand on your waist, stuffing it into the ashtray on his night stand. He then re-grabs your hip, pulling you half on top of him before lowering his head into your hair, giving your head one more kiss.

“It’s just a fable sweetheart, go to sleep.”

You close your eyes, feeling safe, happy, and not alone.

…

You're standing in your kitchen, making dinner for you and Logan. Another bright side of settling down near a town is frequent grocery shopping. You’d be lying if you said you missed hunting rabbit and deer as your source of daily protein.

You’re in the middle of seasoning some steaks, prepared to peal potatoes when the front door opens. A smile graces your face, surprised but happy Logan is home early.

“You’re home early.” You say, turning to face him.

Only it’s not Logan. Instead, it’s someone you havent seen in twenty years.

Victor.

“Sorry frail, figured you and I have some catchin’ up to do.” He says, walking closer to you.

You take in the man you loathed from the moment you met him. He still looks the same. Short hair on the top of his head with stubble lining his jaw. His canines are on full display, his claws grown on his hands which are at his side.

“Wasn’t expecting company.” You say, watching his every move, ready to fight if needed.

He continues to walk closer to you, looking around the place you’ve grown to call home. He slides his nails over the top of the couch, ripping it and you watch as the stuffing falls out. He moves closer to you and you take a step from the counter, knowing not to get yourself backed into a corner.

You watch as Victor leans his head up, nose flaring as he takes in the scent around him. He flashes you a smile. “Seems you and the runt might end up with some runts of your own based on the smell of this place.”

“What do you want Victor.” You say, arms crossed over your chest.

You know he’s not here for chit-chat. But you’ve ripped his throat out twice and you wont hesitate to do it a third.

Victor shrugs. “I mean, we’re practically family. Just wanna see how my little bro is treating his misses.”

“Cut the shit.” You snap, anger rising and teeth threatening to elongate. “I know what you’ve done the past years and I know sure as shit you’re not here to ‘catch up’.”

Victor smiles again, shaking his head. “Knew he didn’t like you just for your looks.” He crosses his own arms across his chest, mirroring you. “My… Colleague, has an interest in you. He wants a little meeting.”

You let out a laugh. “Not a chance in hell. And i suggest you fuck off before I make you.”

“I’m not sure, domestication seems to have made you soft.”

You growl at that, teeth elongated and claws growing. You know he’s bating you into a fight. You know he is. But your instincts are telling you to attack. To go for the throat. To finally make his heart stop beating.

Your instincts win out.

With a growl, you go to attack. Victor is just as ready. The two of you meet in the middle, his claws slicing into your shoulders while your own enter his stomach.

You grunt, pulling away and turning back to look at the man. He moves to attack again and you take the defensive, blocking the hit. You quickly turn, claws out and manage to slice his arm. He looks down at it, rage in his eyes before coming at you again, teeth bared.

He goes for your throat but you manage to get your own hand up, him taking a chunk out of your arm. You groan at the pain and grab the nearest thing, your potatoes peeler, and shred it down his face so he lets go.

You go to attack again as he’s momentarily distracted, swiping at his throat and managing to scratch him but not missing the jugular. Blood sprays your kitchen and you grab a chair, aiming to hit him. He quickly rips it out of your hands and growls.

He lands a punch to your face, your head going to the side and body flying back as you land on your on your ass and elbows. He rushes over to you but you move your legs, swiping his out from under him. This time he’s the one to land on his back and you quickly straddle him.

“Want to be with a real man?” He grunts to you, bucking up his hips.

You grimace in disgust and lean down, teeth aiming for his neck. They never get to make contact as he bucks again, this time with his hands on your hips and flip your position. His hands immediately find your neck and they enclose around them.

You feel your breathing cease and throat start to crush. You try to move you head up towards him, teeth bared to snap at his arms. Your hands are on his face, scratch any surface you can get but to no avail. He’s older, stronger, quicker, and more feral.

“Thanks for the rematch frail.” Victor says before you feel a pinch in your neck and everything goes dark.

…

“It’s amazing she isn’t already with child.” A voice calls you out of your unconsciousness.

You slowly open your eyes, the vision blurry before coming into view. You’re met with a room that looks like a hospital operation room, the scent of saline and disinfectant meeting your nose.

You look down to see you're in only a hospital gown. Your legs are spread open, knees and ankles strapped down. You let out a low growl, teeth and claws growing as you try to free your hands.

You hear a loud, fast beeping and hear someone speak. “She’s awake, sir.”

You try to look around for the noise but cannot see who spoke it.

“Fuckign Mutants, can’t do anything right. Give her another dose, I’m not done extracting yet.”

You have no idea what that means but know it’s not good. You immediately start to pull on the restraints, trying to free yourself. Soon though, you feel another prick in your neck and the world turns dark again.

…

The next time you awake the smell is the exact opposite of the first time. It's the stench of body odor, feces, and blood. You slowly open your eyes to see you’re in a cell laying on a dirty cot.

You immediately rise to your feet only for them to collapse, not able to hold your weight. You slowly stand back up, moving to sit on the edge of the cot.

You look around to notice the room is dark, only one window outside of the cell and in the hall. The cell itself having no window of its own. It consists of only the cot and a bucket in the corner.

Next you move back to your sense of smell, already covering the stenches. You can make out two unfamiliar scents and nothing else. You allow your ears to strain, hearing two separate heartbeats and breaths.

“Hello?” You call out, noticing your voice is hoarse.

“New girl, that you?” A voice calls from your right.

“I guess.” You reply, hand reaching out to rub along your throat as if to soothe the hoarseness.

“They’ve had you sedated for a month. Never saw someone fight as hard.” The voice from your left calls.

Your mind swirls You have no idea where you are. You don’t remember anything that has been done to you. Moments like this you’re grateful but also upset that you have your regenerative ability. You have no idea what has been done to you.

That thought scares you.

“Where are we?” You question.

“A facility they experiment on mutants.” the voice says angrily.

Great. Of course fucking Victor would drop you off here. Your mind thinks to Logan, wondering where he is. If he’s looking for you. If he thinks you’re dead.

You know that when he returned home he saw a blood massacre in the cabin. He probably would have smelt Victor as well as yourself, knowing the two of you fought. The question is, what did Victor do to him once Logan found him?

You don’t have time to think more on that, as an alarm is sounded throughout the hall. You rise, your legs cooperating this time and watch as your cell opens. You rush out, seeing that the two on either side of you are just kids, no older then the age of fifteen.

“Damn!” the boy on your left shouts. “You look like shit.”

You glance down, noticing that you’re in a half ripped shirt and dirty sweatpants. You see that you cell neighbors, the other a girl, are dressed in clean white t-shirts and sweats. Looks like you didn’t get any special treatment.

You lift your head, listening for any sound or smell of someone else. You hear feet moving from outside your hall, following them and smelling they’re all the same as the children next to you. Mutants running towards freedom.

“Come on,” you tell them, turning to your right. “Outside is this way.”

“How do you know?” the girl questions, looking scared.

You tap your nose with your finger, then repeat it to one of you ears. “My mutation.”

You then start running towards the hallway exit, knowing they’ll follow you. You open the locked door easily with your strength, looking out to see more teenagers running in the direction you suspected.

You allow your neighbors to go first before following, running along with the kids. You look around and notice this hallway is just a stretch with doors on either side, you’re assuming housing cells like the one you were just in.

You continue to run, noticing how there are staff on the floor, dead. You hold no ill feelings towards that, happy to just be out of this hell hole where you don’t even remember what you went through.

Soon, sunlight reaches your eyes and you soon exit the facility, grass under your bearfeet. You watch as the children are guided on to a jet, a woman dressed in black ushering them in.

You want answers. You want to know where Logan is, what happened to him. Where Victor is. You wouldn’t mind tearing out his throat, for good this time.

Deciding to not follow the others, you turn to walk towards the tree line. You’ve survived in the woods numerous of times and you know you can do it again. Your plan of action is to find out where you are, get home, then find Logan if he’s not there.

A hand suddenly stops you, causing you to turn and ready to fight. Having grabbed you is a man also dressed in black, similar to that of the woman. He’s wearing sunglasses and is tall, probably six feet with broad shoulders.

“Where are you going, jet’s this way.” The man says, his hand now on your own.

You jerk your hand out of his grasp. “To get answers.” you say, not owing this man anything.

“Revenge wont get you anything.” The man says, trying to persuade you to come with him.

You shoot him a smile, all teeth elonged and claws grown.

“I’m the Jackal. I can get anything.”

You then turn your back to the man, continuing to walk to the treeline.

…

After escaping the facility, you found out you were still in Canada and only about two hundred miles from your home. You stayed moving in the woods for a week, hunting and gathering your strength.

Afterwards, you found a nearby cabin that was empty but lived in. You broke in, helped yourself to a shower and change of clothes before packing a bag of food and leaving. You trekked through the woods for another week, allowing your scent of smell to guide you back home.

Finally you reached it, noticing how it looked run down. You immediately ran in to see the aftermath of your fight with Victor from a month ago. Blood was all over the kitchen cabinets, piles on the floor. The couch was torn apart, the kitchen table broken.

You walked into your bedroom, seeing the room the same as when you were last there. You sat down on the bed, the scent of Logan lingering.

Tears suddenly gathered in your eyes and you let out a sob as they continued to fell. You were angry. So angry. How Victor could come in and take you. How you were able to let yourself be taken and experimented on.

You were frustrated. Confused. You had no idea what has happened to you the past month and frustrated you couldn’t remember. One of the kids said you were sedated for a month and you cannot imagine what happened during that time.

You were sad. Sad for all those kids that undergone something that you might’ve. That they were just different and that meant they could be taken and experimented on.

But most of all you were sad cause you lost Logan again. You had Logan for six years, you were finally normal, not different. But it all had to go and change. And you have no idea where he is or what happened to him.

It seemed you really were the moon, and Logan Kuekuastheu.

\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///

Tag List: @randomblogzsblog, @sebastianstanblog, @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @somiaw @sseleniaa

A/N: I cannot find where I found a fuller version of the Moon and the Wolverine story. I hope I did it justice.

[mortuusrege]

love/violence

when i become so ecstatic that my bones are buzzing underneath my skin, i do not yell and shout and dance to show it, but instead i sink my nails into my flesh and drag, down, down, down as if i will somehow relieve my ecstasy if i open enough holes for it to escape from i have never found love in kisses and affection, but instead the blue marks of nails on my skin, stunning, dazzling crescent moons, fallen onto me to create craters where i may store it.

[wildwestdean]

impetus

summary: dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 9.4k+

warnings: violence, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, gore, evil witches, reader and dean get attacked, swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, yearning, mutual pining, idiots oblivious to their own feelings, magical curses, hallucinations, nightmares, depictions of death, depictions of drowning, fighting/arguments, heart-to-heart, confessions, use of [y/n], nicknames, mature themes

“Right, well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Dean declared, rolling Baby to a stop before switching into park. 

You both sat quietly as you surveyed the desolate building, a feeling of unease washing over you. 

“Maybe we should wait for Sam,” you suggested half heartedly. He was only down at the Sheriff’s station, and it wouldn’t even take ten minutes for him to meet you here, but you knew Dean wouldn’t wait. 

“No,” he said, confirming what you already knew. “Someone else is missing and this is our best lead so far. If you don’t want to go in, that's fine, but I am.” 

“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” you snapped, sitting up as tall as you could despite the pit forming in your stomach. 

“Awe, you worried about me, sweetheart?” Dean teased, turning to look at you with a grin; one that was effectively wiped from his face when he saw the look in your eyes. “Hey, what is it?” 

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, shrugging lightly. “I just have a bad feeling about this.” 

“Bad feeling like what?” he questioned, his brows knitting together. 

You thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was you felt, but you couldn’t. “Just…. don’t go wandering off,” you ended up saying- begging, more like. 

“Alright,” he agreed easily. “We stick together, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.” 

“Right,” you confirmed with a nod. “Let’s gear up.” 

You exited the car as quietly as you could, making your way around to the back as Dean unlocked the trunk and propped up the panel to the arsenal.

“You and Sam better be right about this,” he muttered, digging out the box of witch-killing bullets. 

Your mind raced through the details of the case: An exsanguinated priest, a dead nun with her tongue ripped out, the president of the high schools abstinence club found without a heart, and various livestock missing various body parts - if this wasn’t a witch, you were a little scared to find out what else it could be. 

“We have to be,” you breathed out, loading your ammo. 

“Can you do me a favour and sound at least a little confident?” he asked playfully, lightly nudging your arm with his own before tucking his gun into his jeans. 

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, holstering your own gun. 

“It’s alright,” he said earnestly, handing you your favourite knife (one that used to be his before you claimed it as your own). “I’m just not used to seeing you so spooked.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as you took the knife from him. “I’m not used to feeling spooked.” 

“We’ll make it through,” he consoled, closing up the trunk. “Just like we always do.” 

“Just like we always do,” you echoed with a nod, following him towards the building. 

The overgrowth brushed your calves as you made your way up the walk, and after a quick survey of the facade, Dean swung the door open after picking the lock. 

“Wait!” you hissed, stopping him before he entered. “Sam does know we’re here, right?” 

You watched as his shoulders shrugged before stepping inside. “Probably.” 

“That’s… comforting,” you sighed, following him across the threshold. 

The two of you did a quick preliminary sweep of the main level before making your way to the top floor, finding nothing of significance in any of the rooms. Making your way back down, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard a clatter come from beneath you. 

“Of course there’s a basement,” Dean whispered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy ass witch be in the creepy ass basement of this creepy ass house?” 

“How do you know she’s a creepy ass witch?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe she’s hot. Or a guy. Or both.” 

He faltered over his response, considering your words for a moment. “I’ll bet whatever tab you drink up at the bar once we end up ganking this bitch. She’s creepy.” 

“Deal,” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him. 

You both chuckled, before another noise from the basement drew your attention back to the case at hand. Dean awkwardly cleared his throat before leading the way in search of the basement entrance, using the occasional noise as guidance. 

“God, I hate witches,” he muttered to himself, slapping away cobwebs as he descended the stairs. 

“I don’t think the witch put those webs there,” you said with a snicker. 

“No, they’re just the one turning this rotting corpse of a house into a lair of evil and despair,” he hissed. 

You rolled your eyes in response, unable to stop the fond smile from creeping onto your face as you made it to the bottom of the stairs. 

A muffled cry caught your attention, and Dean spared you a quick look before running in the direction it came from, you hot on his heels. Coming up on a corner, he slowed to a halt and peered around the wall. 

“It looks clear,” he decided after a moment. “Just be careful,” he added, continuing on his way. 

Upon turning the corner, you were enveloped in the warm glow of candles, which would have been nice, had it not been for the rest of the scene. An altar lay at the far wall, burning candelabras stood in each corner of the room, and the very person you were searching for was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of candles. 

Dean cursed and muttered under his breath, surveying the room. “I’ll get him, you get the altar.“

“Okay,” you agreed, running across the room. Once you reached the altar, you couldn’t help but stare in shock and disgust for a moment as you took in the sight; all the missing body parts seemingly staring back at you from where they lay soaked in blood. It took Dean shouting your name from across the room to bring you back to your senses, and you quickly upturned the altar as Dean instructed the now freed man to get out as fast as possible and wait by the car. As soon as the contents of the altar were scattered, an ear piercing shriek came from behind you. 

Quickly whirling on your heels, you were greeted by a cloaked figure, who seemingly came out of nowhere. 

“What have you done?” she screamed, dropping her hood as she stared daggers into you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned innocence. “Did I ruin your big plan?”

“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, slowly approaching you. “You’ll pay for this!” 

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean called out from behind her. 

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?! How many centuries passed by until the circumstances were right? I had it! I had it all! I was one spell away from seeing my love again!” she continued to scream, advancing further towards you as she ignored Dean.

“Back off, Grunhilda!” Dean roared from behind her, drawing his gun. 

“No!” she shrieked, barely lifting her hand in order to easily swing his gun away - and stop you from drawing your own. “You stupid little gnat. You think you can just come in here and mess with things you don’t understand? You think you can take this from me?!” 

Her shouting was drowned out by the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your throat constricted, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You felt your bones cracking beneath your skin as your feet left the floor, and you shared a look of terror with Dean before black began to cloud the edges of your vision. 

Without an effective weapon handy, Dean rushed the witch and tackled her to the floor, sending you crashing down. You met the concrete with a thud, and it knocked the rest of your senses out of you. You laid there for who knows how long, fighting off the waves of pain and nausea, willing yourself to move as you listened to the struggle happening a few feet away from you. 

By the time you managed to prop yourself up, Dean was pinned down as she advanced on him, and you desperately looked around for either of your guns. 

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you heard her ask, menace laced deep in her words. “To want something so desperately, to feel that desire within your very soul?!” 

Dean struggled against her hold as you struggled to pick yourself up, to at least crawl to a weapon if you had to.

“Well you will,” she sneered, cackling to herself. “You’ll know how it feels. To have what you want the very most to be so close to you, to have it at the edge of your fingertips, only to never be able to grasp it! For it to be the only thing you can think about!”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth, glaring at her. 

She only stepped closer towards him, cackling to herself. “Your strongest yearning, hidden deep in your heart, will nevermore be yours to part. Be it with sun or with rain, that which brings joy won’t be without pain.” 

“You finished yet?” Dean interrupted, before he had the wind knocked out of him, rendering him silent. 

Moving as quickly as you could without being noticed, you closed in on Dean’s pistol while the witch carried on. 

“Whatever you crave you cannot say, yet you’ll seek it out be it night or day,” she continued, hovering over him. “Consider yourself lucky, you useless toad. I’ve had countless lifetimes yearning to see my love again, and I’ll spend lifetimes more. At least you only have this one measly little life to yearn for what you want.” 

Grasping the gun in your hands, you carefully rose to your feet and steadied yourself to take aim. “Man, you really do talk too much,” you huffed out.

The shot rang out just as she turned towards you, though it was silenced by a roaring wind that accompanied a bright blue light. Within seconds, everything was calm and quiet again.

Fighting every urge you had to collapse back onto the floor, you trudged your way over to Dean in an attempt to help him up. 

“God, I told you she’d be creepy,” he gasped out, groaning as he stood. 

“You want a prize?” you asked incredulously, staring up at him. 

“I wanna get the hell out of here,” he said, ushering you to take leave. “Then I want those drinks you owe me.” 

After what felt like another entire day, you and Dean had dropped the victim off at the hospital, patched each other up, cleaned out the basement, showered, and filled Sam in on everything that went down. 

“So… she cursed you?” Sam asked curiously, trying to understand. 

“I dunno. She tried to, I guess,” Dean replied nonchalantly. “But [Y/N/N] put a bullet in her. No witch, no curse, right?” 

Sam shared a brief look with you, before turning back to Dean. “Yeah, but… there was no body.” 

“What?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“The witch,” you said. “I shot, but she vanished. What if she isn’t dead?” 

“Well, I feel normal, so I’m gonna say she’s dead,” Dean declared with a shrug. “Now, can we head to the bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink… or twelve.” 

Without waiting for an answer, he quickly stood and donned his jacket before looking back at you and Sam. “You guys coming or what?” 

“Oh, do I have a choice to not go?” you asked playfully.

“You can stay if you want, but your wallet comes with me,” he replied, smiling innocently. 

“Alright, let’s go,” you said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing your own jacket. 

Not long after, the three of you were sliding into a booth in the nearest dive, enjoying the lack of people; you guys seriously needed to decompress. 

“Alright, I’ll be back,” you declared, hopping out of the booth to get the first round of drinks. 

“Make sure you get a tab started!” Dean jokingly called after you. 

You flipped him off in response, taking a seat at the bar after placing your order. While you waited, Sam watched as Dean grew more restless in his seat. 

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” he finally asked, eyeing Dean as he fidgeted anxiously. 

“What?” Dean asked cluelessly, glancing around the bar. “I’m thirsty. She’s been gone for what, like, half an hour?” 

“It’s… barely been two minutes, Dean,” Sam informed him with an amused grin.  

“Yeah, well. I want my beer,” Dean mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around once more. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.”

Before Sam could even reply, Dean was already halfway across the bar, meeting you just as you got your final drink. 

“Need a hand?” Dean asked cheerfully, his sudden appearance making you jump. “Sorry,” he added with a snicker. 

“Dick,” you muttered with a laugh, hopping down from the stool. “Here you go,” you added, handing him his beer.

“Awesome,” he beamed, taking the bottle from your outstretched hand. 

He followed closely as you made your way back to the table, handing Sam his drink before sliding into the booth; Dean followed suit, leaving you nestled in between him and the wall. 

The three of you had a few more rounds before Dean slipped away, determined to teach a lesson to the arrogant ass harassing players around the pool tables - just because you didn’t need to hustle people anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t still fun every now and then. You watched him fondly, laughing quietly to yourself as you watched him fumble around with his cue before making a terrible break. Harder than it looks, you could just hear him say. 

Your attention was turned back to Sam when he cleared his throat, and you were met with his questioning gaze. “Does he seem weird to you?” 

“Weird how?” you asked, face scrunched in confusion. 

“I don’t know, strange,” he replied with a small shrug. “Like- like antsy or something.” 

Your eyes flit back across the room to Dean, who was very much in his element as he upped his ante, before focusing on Sam again. “I haven’t noticed anything, Sammy.” 

He sighed in resignation, seeming to already know that would be your response. “It’s probably nothing, just forget I said anything,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively before finishing his drink. 

“If you say so,” you muttered quietly, sipping your drink as you cast a worried gaze across the bar, getting lost in thought.

By the time you each finished another round of drinks, Dean made his way back over to the table; much to the surprise of you and Sam. 

“Done so soon?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at his brother. 

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the seat beside you.

“But you only played one round,” you said quizzically. 

“So?” Dean wondered, gulping down the rest of his beer. 

“So, you usually play a lot more than that,” Sam pitched in, shifting his gaze between you and Dean. 

Dean sighed, his bottle clanging on the table as he set it back down. “Why am I getting the third degree here? I played a game, he learned his lesson, I got over it. End of story.”

“Okay, grouchy,” you snickered, ruffling his hair a little just because you knew he hated it. Except he really did love it when it was you doing it.

“Whatever, anyone want another round?” he asked with a huff, lightly swatting your hand away. 

“No, I’m gonna call it a night,” you admitted, shifting to slip your jacket back on. 

“Yeah, me too,” Sam declared, starting to stand from the table. 

Dean stood as well, assumingly just to let you out. “Alright, let’s go.”

You and Sam both stilled in your movements at his response, sharing a shocked look with each other. “You’re… coming with us?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a scoff, shrugging his jacket on as he looked questioningly between you and Sam. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“We just didn’t expect you to call it a night so early,” Sam explained helplessly. “Gettin’ old, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little. 

“Yeah, I mean, you barely even wracked up a tab!” you declared with a laugh, before grinning mischievously. “Drinks just don’t agree with you anymore, do they, old man?”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, fixing his collar just to busy his hands. “Okay, alright, one more wisecrack and I’m leaving you both here.” 

Despite the finality in his tone, the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away - as did the hand he extended to you to help you slide from the booth. 

“Whatever you say, grandpa,” Sam teased, patting Dean on the shoulder before walking away with laughter in his wake. “I’ll be outside!”

You chuckled in response, and the stern look Dean gave you only made you laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry it up, chuckles,” he chided, wiggling his fingers at you. He surveyed the bar as you finally took hold of his hand, sliding out from your seat with ease and standing before him. “Ready?” he asked, gaze turning back to look down at you. 

“Yeah, I just gotta go pay,” you replied, nodding your head in the direction of the bar counter. 

“Alright,” he said with a nod. He gave your hand a squeeze, though instead of letting go like he normally would, he held it firmly as he led the way across the bar. 

You followed along quietly, trying your hardest to not read too much into it. Though when you stood before the bar and he had yet to release your hand, you gave him a puzzled look. “Did you wanna go get the car?” you asked hesitantly. 

He looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before he cleared his throat with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you out there. Don’t take too long,” he rushed, giving your hand another fleeting squeeze before shuffling away. 

Strange, you thought briefly, before shifting your attention to the bartender before you. 

As you paid the tab, Dean settled into the driver's seat of Baby, and Sam watched him impatiently drum his fingers against the wheel as he hummed along to whatever song was in his head; and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as Dean checked his watch one, two, three times since getting into the car. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chided with a laugh, shaking his head. 

“What?” Dean inquired, annoyance clear in his voice. 

“Dude, please tell me you see what’s going on,” Sam pleaded. 

Dean widened his eyes in confusion, glancing around the near empty parking lot before looking back at his brother. “What’s going on?” 

Before Sam could reply, their attention was caught by the opening of the bar’s door when you emerged from the building, a grin forming on your face as you caught sight of them waiting in the car. 

Dean matched your grin, quickly reaching for the door handle and scrambling outside. “There she is!” he greeted happily, opening the back door for you. 

“Fucking idiot,” Sam muttered to himself, staring out the window with an amused grin as you and Dean settled into your seats. 

The three of you made it back in no time, and, having to settle for a single bed when first getting to town over driving for another who-knows-how-long just to find another motel, shuffled out of the car and into your shared room with heavy feet.

“Finally,” Dean muttered with relief, shutting the door behind him as Sam took a seat. “Whoa, whoa,” Dean barked, holding up a hand. “What’re you doing?” 

Sam froze just as he sat on the bed, staring up at his brother. “What?” 

“That’s my bed,” Dean declared with a huff. 

“No, it’s not,” Sam answered with a scoff. “It’s your turn for the couch.” 

“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the pull-out!” Dean declared with finality.

“What, are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously. “You got the bed last time!” 

“Yeah, and I just got ragdolled by a crazy ass witch, I deserve a mattress!” Dean argued, stepping towards the bed. “Get up.” 

“No,” Sam argued stubbornly, relaxing further atop the sheets. 

“You guys are ridiculous,” you said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room. “I’ll take the couch.” 

“Not a chance,” Dean denied, not even sparing you a glance. 

“What, why?” you asked in confusion. 

“First of all, I’m not sharing with Sam,” Dean replied, turning to look at you. “Second, you got it worse than I did. I’m not shoving you on a pull-out.” 

“Oh, please-” you started to argue, before he cut you off. 

“I patched you up myself, [Y/N]. Don’t bother trying to lie to me,” he cautioned. 

You opened your mouth to argue once more, but the look on his face stopped you short. “Whatever,” you mumbled, turning towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Figure this out before I get back so I can actually go to bed, please.” 

The bickering resumed as you quickly retreated, shutting the bathroom door on Dean’s disgruntled declaration of “best two out of three.”

By the time you re-entered the room, you were met with silence. Surveying the surroundings, you found Sam digging through his toiletries bag while sitting in his original spot on the bed. Your gaze snapped over to the couch, where Dean sat looking like a kicked puppy. 

“You went with scissors again, didn’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

He met your gaze as Sam snickered behind you, causing his face to sour even more. “Shut up,” he mumbled before standing, bristling past you with slumped shoulders. 

You chuckled quietly to yourself and grabbed the spare sheets, quickly making up the pull-out for Dean while he got ready; hopefully he’d be a little less cranky about it all if this was at least already done. 

Once finished, you made your way over to the bed and curled up under the covers. After saying a quick goodnight to Sam, you were asleep before Dean even left the bathroom. 

Fear gnawed at Dean, his body frozen in place as a cold spread through him, panic clinging to him like ice. He tried to call out to you, but all that left him was a strangled breath as his lungs seized up. He watched as the waves carried you away, further and further from where he stood. By the time his legs finally moved to carry him closer to shore, his feet were so heavy it was as though he was wading through quicksand. 

“No, no, no,” he pleaded quietly, watching as the waters edge never grew near no matter how far he ran. 

Your voice cried out to him, surging him forward even faster as you drifted ever outwards, terror seeping deeper into his bones with every futile step he took.

He couldn’t reach you. 

He couldn’t save you. 

The realisation that you were gone caused his world to come crashing down around him as he fell to his knees. A roaring filled his ears, and he didn’t know whether it was the irascible water that held you captive or the blood racing from his pounding heart. 

As he stayed there - watching the crashing waves for any sign of you, listening for a call of his name, unwilling to move for fear he’d miss you - the water suddenly crept up around him, as if to mock him. 

The sky darkened as he let out an anguished cry, his voice blending in with the storm beginning to brew around him. Yet despite the deafening howls, he heard it clear as day: your voice, calling out to him.  

“Dean.”

The world stilled around him once more, your voice ringing out in a whisper as gentle as the wind. 

“Dean.” 

He stood, frantically searching the horizon for you. He tried to call out, yet his voice still never came. 

“Dean!” you called out, voice booming like thunder from above. 

A small hand gripped his own, pulling him so forcefully he was yanked off his feet. He let out a startled cry, a spark of lightning igniting so brightly before him that he screwed his eyes shut. 

“God dammit, Dean!” 

Another force shook him, and when we reopened his eyes, he was met with the suspiciously stained ceiling of the motel room. He bolted upright, heart hammering against his chest as he looked around. He caught your worried gaze as he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing as you leaned in closer. 

“[Y/N?]” he gasped out, pushing himself further upright.

His hand reached out automatically, fingers tentatively brushing against your cheek as if to evaluate your solidity. When he was satisfied that you wouldn’t evaporate, he surged forward to wrap you in a desperate embrace; the icy grip of terror finally starting to melt. 

“It was just a nightmare, De,” you soothed quietly, tracing a hand along his back. “Everything’s alright.”

“Yeah,” he said tightly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he let you go. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m alright, get back to bed.” 

“You’re okay?” you questioned, concern laced in both your face and tone of voice. 

“I’m okay,” he affirmed with a nod, casting his gaze aside so you wouldn’t see the panic still swirling within him. 

“Okay,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of his head before standing from the edge of the pull-out. 

Dean got up after you to grab a glass of water, his heart jumping in his chest as he remembered the sight of you being ripped away by the current. 

“Just a nightmare,” he reminded himself under his breath. “Just a nightmare.” 

Not having slept another wink after his nightmare, Dean was unsurprisingly the first one up the next morning. Taking it upon himself to get breakfast for the three of you, he found himself at the nearest diner waiting for his order. 

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the sticky linoleum counter, a burning desire to call you began to build within him. Knowing you were likely still sleeping, he decided to busy himself with a stupid game you downloaded on his phone. 

Yet the urge to reach out to you grew tenfold as he sat there, a sinking feeling that it might mean you were in danger starting to take hold of him. Just as his mind began to swirl with questions of what the hell was going on with him, he heard your voice calling his name. 

His head snapped up, expecting to see you sliding onto the stool beside him, ready to give you hell for walking here in search of him all by yourself in a random town. He figured you must’ve known he was here, and it wouldn’t have been a far walk from the motel, but it was still stupid.

Though the words died on his tongue as he realized you weren’t there, and that familiar feeling of dread trickled through him after scanning the diner and not finding you anywhere. 

Another voice called out, this time the waitress, announcing that his order was ready. He met her smiling face with nothing but confusion, her smile faltering for a moment.

“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly.

“Huh?” he asked, before snapping out of his daze. “Oh, yeah. Just a little too early for me. Thanks-” he paused, squinting to read her name tag. “Thanks, Edna,” he charmed, flashing his signature grin as he gathered the order. 

“Anytime, sugar,” she charmed, her smile perking back up as she sent him a wink. 

With one last - albeit awkward - grin sent her way, Dean quickly left the diner; already feeling lighter for knowing he’d be back at the motel soon. His grin only grew when he glanced across the street and caught a glimpse of you staring back at him, proving that he wasn’t crazy and you really did come to meet him. 

He took a step forward, intending to call out to you, when a truck drove by and blocked you from sight. The grin was wiped from his face and the coffee tray nearly slipped out of his hand when he noticed you had completely disappeared in its wake. 

Fearing the worst once more, he scrambled into the car and quickly called you, firing Baby to life as the line rang. 

“Hey,” you answered with a stifled yawn. “Please tell me you’re getting breakfast. And coffee.” 

“Yeah, I-” he faltered in his response, having to let out a breath of relief as he realized you were safe and sound. “I’ll be back in a few, you and Sammy still there?” 

“Where else would we be?” you asked with a giggle. 

While the sound would normally bring a smile to his face, your words only caused a frown to appear. “You only waking up now?” 

“Don’t judge me,” you teased. “It’s only… ten after seven, I barely slept in.” 

“Just not used to being up before you,” he lied, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. 

“Miracles really do happen,” you joked with a laugh. “You sound weird, is everything okay?” you added, worry tinting your voice. 

“Hm?” he wondered, not processing your question right away. “Oh, no- yeah, I-... just didn’t get much sleep.”

“Right,” you said, teetering on the edge of believing him or not. 

“Really, I’m good,” he assured, sensing your apprehension. “I just gotta catch some z’s and I’ll be good as new.” 

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then,” you relented. “Drive safe,” you added as an afterthought before hanging up.   

The line went dead as he stopped at a red light, his stomach churning as he stared at his reflection in the rearview.

“Just need some sleep,” he assured himself. 

“Dude, would you quit it with the pacing?” Sam snapped, setting his book down on the table for sheer lack of concentration. 

Dean stopped just long enough to stare daggers at his brother before marching down the library once more. “She’s been gone too long.” 

“She’s been gone an hour,” Sam informed, hands running over his face in exasperation. 

“Exactly,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam in acknowledgment. “Something must’ve happened.” 

“Dude, she’s at the grocery store. With Jack. What the hell could possibly happen?” 

“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, arms flailing as he whirled to face Sam. “Something must’ve! She hasn’t answered my last text and it’s been-” he paused, pulling out his phone to brandish the screen. “Seven minutes!” 

“Oh, my god,” Sam groaned, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t deal with this anymore.” 

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you worried?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“No, Dean, I’m not worried! There’s no reason to be worried!” Sam proclaimed. 

“No reason? She could be dead!” Dean barked, his face taking on an expression of disbelief. 

Sam sighed as he leaned over the table, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let me ask you this: why, exactly, do you think she’s dead?” 

“Oh, come on, Sam!” Dean grumbled. “We don’t exactly live cookie cutter lives here, you know. One minute she’s returning the shopping cart, and the next she’s got a damn knife in her back!” 

“Dean,” Sam soothed. “You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap.” 

“No,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything, you know why?” 

Before Sam could even respond, Dean waved his phone around before dropping it on the table. “Because she won’t answer her damn phone!” 

“Okay, this is actually ridiculous,” Sam declared. “How can you seriously not see what’s been happening to you?” 

“Knock it off, Sam,” Dean muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he began pacing again. “I’m fucking fine.” 

“You’re fine,” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re friggin’ cursed, Dean!” 

“I’m not cursed!” shouted Dean. “Would you quit it with that crap?” 

“Right, because nothing’s been going on with you lately, right?” 

“Right!” Dean agreed with a huff. 

“You haven’t been, say, I don’t know…. not sleeping? Feeling stir crazy? Getting paranoid?”

“Sam-” 

“No, I’m serious, Dean! How can you not see this?” 

“Because I’m fine!” Dean argued, stalling his movements to gather his phone from the table.

After a few moments of silence, Dean rolled his eyes and found himself once more walking the length of the library. “Okay, maybe I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, but I’ve just been tired - and you know what? I survived worse. So yeah, I’m fine!” 

“Right,” Sam said sceptically.  “And have you… noticed when it is that you feel… weird?”

“I don’t know!” Dean announced frustratedly.

“Dean,” Sam chastised. 

“What?” 

“You’ve been feeling like this all week, and it’s only getting worse. You’ve been like this since that witch cursed you - and don’t say she didn’t. Use your fucking head, Dean! You’re cursed!” 

Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to remain calm, taking a moment to formulate his response. “You’re insane,” he finally declared. 

“I think you’re the insane one,” Sam contested. “You were cursed to yearn for something, Dean. Only in this case… it’s someone.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

“C’mon, Dean!” Sam pleaded with a laugh. “The only time you get like this is when you’re more than ten feet away from [Y/N].” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered dismissively. 

“You’ve checked your phone another five times since you picked it up.” 

“So?” Dean questioned, failing to resist the urge to check it once more. “I’m worried, not cursed.” 

“You’re worried because you’re cursed!” Sam argued. 

“I’m worried because I lo-” Dean quickly fell silent as the words died on his tongue, his brain firing into total overdrive as he laughed nervously. “I care, that’s why I’m worried.” 

Sam stared at his brother in total disbelief, trying to find a way to make him realize what was going on- or, most likely, acknowledge what was going on. 

Yet before the conversation could go any further, the bunker door screeched open and the sound of your laughter fleeted down to greet Dean, effectively turning his scowl into an affectionate grin. 

“Hope you remembered my pie!” he called out, marching to meet you at the foot of the stairs without so much as a glance back in Sam’s direction. 

“When have I ever forgotten?” you asked, feigning offence as you held out the bag which contained his pie.

“Well,” he started, taking the bag from you. “There was that time in Redford-”

“Hey!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I didn’t forget, they were out!”

“See, I still don’t believe you,” he teased, heading for the kitchen. 

“Believe whatever you want, Dean,” you replied playfully. 

“I’m still waiting for it, you know. You should get me two next time,” he joked, though he was partly serious. 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice tentatively called out.

“Yeah?” Dean replied hotly, keeping his back to Sam as he went to grab a beer from the fridge. 

“Who, uh… who the hell are you talking to?” he asked carefully, surveying the empty kitchen. 

“Hilarious, Sam,” he said dryly, shutting the fridge. “I’m talking to-”

His mouth ran dry as he turned around, being met with just his brother, who was staring with concern from the doorway. 

“[Y/N],” Dean finished weakly. 

“Her and Jack aren’t back yet, Dean,” Sam said carefully, as though talking to a lost child. 

“Yes, they are. They got back, she gave me my pie, we came in here,” Dean said fiercely, his confidence shattering when he went to gesture at the pie he set down moments earlier and found it to be gone.  

“Maybe you should sit down,” Sam suggested, not knowing what to do. 

“I’m fine!” Dean shouted, hovering over the counter. “I’m fine,” he repeated, moreso to himself than anything. 

“Okay, look, how about I try calling [Y/N], okay?” Sam offered, hesitantly walking further into the kitchen. “See when they’ll be back.” 

“They are back!” Dean barked, glaring at Sam. “She was just in here!” 

Sam didn’t know what to say, the fear and concern for his brother crashing down on him. 

“She was just in here,” Dean repeated shakily, meeting Sam’s gaze with confusion. 

“Dean,” Sam started to say, before the familiar tone of your ringtone came from Dean’s phone, cutting through the air like a knife. 

Dean pulled the phone from his pocket, clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah?” 

“Dean, thank god,” you cheered, sighing in relief. “Listen, we came out to a flat tire and I don’t have a spare because I forgot to fucking replace it and there are too many people around for Jack to, you know, try fixing it,” you rambled anxiously. “Can you please come help?” 

“You’re still at the store?” Dean clarified, looking up at Sam with frightened eyes. 

“Yeah, we’re stuck in the parking lot,” you told him breezily. 

“Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I’ll be right there.” 

“Thanks, De!” you said happily, ending the call. 

Dean stood there for a few moments staring down at his unopened bottle of beer on the counter, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally lifting his gaze to Sam.

“I’ll, uh…. I’ll be back,” he told him, not waiting for a response before trudging out of the kitchen.

You found yourself yet again rushing down the hall to Dean’s room, his muffled yells waking you in the dead of night once more. 

He uttered your name as you shut the door behind you, and though it took you by surprise the very first time it happened - nearly two weeks ago, now - it was something you’ve almost come to expect. It was killing you, watching him go through this every night and not being able to fix it. You would sit with him, find ways to gently rouse him from his terror filled slumber and comfort him when he woke, but it never seemed like enough; he deserved more.

At first you didn’t think there was too much going on, figuring his shift in behaviour was just due to his lack of sleep. You didn’t believe Sam when he talked to you about it; Dean may have been acting a little more strange than usual, but it didn’t raise any red flags.

It wasn’t until the morning following your conversation that you noticed it, cluing in and realising how different Dean had been; how long he’d been different. The excess text messages, the increase in phone calls, the insistence on you not going anywhere without him and his exuberant reactions to you getting back safe when you did go somewhere without him, his constant questioning on where you were or where you’ve just been. Something else was going on, and you could only think it really did come down to the witch you two encountered.  So you and Sam called up Rowena, getting her take on the situation and figuring out what to do. 

Her words now echoed through your head as you perched yourself on the edge of his bed: “Magic isn’t simple. Some curses are anchored by the witch, ending whenever they were to die. But others are more complex, rooted not in the witch but the object of the curse itself, not breaking until their purpose is carried out one way or another. Perhaps if you can figure out what it is Dean needs, you can break the curse yourselves. If this carries on for any longer… I’m worried it will kill him.” 

While you ran your fingers through his hair, you decided right then and there that once he woke up, you wouldn’t leave without confronting him about it. You knew it would likely start a fight, and you felt a little guilty knowing you would all but interrogate him right after having another nightmare, but all that guilt flew right out the window the second Dean startled himself awake, the sight of his panic stricken face as he gasped for air nearly bringing you to tears; you’ve seen him like this too often as of late. 

“It’s alright, Dean,” you soothed, reaching out to him. “I’m right here, everything’s fine.” 

His gaze snapped to you, unable to hide the confusion and terror still coursing through him despite the relief he felt. “[Y/N]?” 

“Yeah, De,” you cooed, running a hand across his shoulder blades. “We’re in your room, everyone’s okay.” 

He let out a shuddering breath, hanging his head in his hands. “You’re okay,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.” 

You sat quietly with him for a few more minutes, patiently comforting him as best as you could while you thought of how to approach this conversation. 

Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to speak again as he rose from the bed. “Sorry I woke you again.” 

The dejection and shame laced in his voice tore your heart to bits, and you had to put up a good fight to keep your emotions in check. “You don’t need to apologize.” 

“Yeah, I do,” he disagreed, trudging to his sink in the corner. 

“Dean, please talk to me,” you pleaded, watching as he turned on the water. 

You fell silent, waiting for him to deny you and brush you off again. You waited for him to say something, to do something, but all he did was stare at the running water. 

“Dean?” you asked cautiously, slowly getting up from the bed yourself. 

“I can’t save you,” he muttered quietly, his gaze on the faucet unyielding. 

“What?” you asked curiously, not knowing what he meant. 

“I can never save you,” he carried on. “You always just… slip away from me. Every time. It’s always the same.” 

“What’s always the same?” you questioned, moving closer towards him. 

“I try,” he muttered, seemingly oblivious to your presence. “I run, and I fight, and I try, but I can never reach you. I can never get to you.”

He seemed to snap out of his daze a little, moving to splash water over his face before turning off the tap. “You keep dying. I keep watching you die. I can’t watch you die again, [Y/N]. I can’t.” 

“This is what your nightmares have been?” you wondered. 

He fell silent again for a minute before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah.” 

“It’s not real, Dean,” you told him softly.

“It’s real enough for me,” he muttered, turning to face you. 

“And is this why you’ve been… acting differently towards me?” you asked hesitantly. 

He averted his gaze, hanging his head as he considered your question. “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know.” 

“Dean,” you scolded with a sigh, plopping back down on the bed. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?” 

“Because everything’s fine!” he argued once again. 

“I’m not stupid, Dean!” you challenged. “I know you. I can see something's eating you alive and it’s fucking killing me to witness it. So please, tell me what the hell is going on.” 

“It’s just nightmares,” he lied, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“It’s more than nightmares!” you cried. “You’re withering away into nothing, Dean! I mean let’s face it! You’re practically a zombie nowadays with how little sleep you get, you’ve been acting like a puppy with separation anxiety, and let’s not forget how completely erratic you’ve been.”

He glared at you, jaw clenching as he decided whether or not to entertain this conversation. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t slept lately,” he admitted starkly. “But like I keep saying, I’m fine.” 

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?” you sneered, glaring up at him. 

He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to anywhere else as he shook his head. “No, but I’m getting tired of having this conversation all the time.” 

“Well too bad!” you yelled, abruptly standing from the bed. “Cause I’m tired of never having this conversation go anywhere! I’m tired of you brushing off the idea of you being cursed. I didn’t believe it at first either, but what the hell else could it be, Dean?” 

“Oh, come on!” he barked, running a hand over his face. “I see Sam got his hooks into you.” 

“Yeah, he did. And you need to listen to us.” 

“No, I really don’t,” he scoffed, starting to head to the door. 

“Even if it kills you?” you blurted out. 

“It’s not gonna kill me!” 

“God, look at you, Dean! It already is!” you argued, marching closer to him. “How would you feel if the situation were reversed?” 

He let out a sigh, pausing with his hand on the doorknob before turning back to you. “What?” 

“What if it were me going through all this instead of you? Would you let me get away with not even listening to you and Sam?” 

He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at you in silence for so long you expected him to turn away again. Instead, he let out a deep breath as he took a seat, gesturing for you to carry on. “Five minutes.” 

You almost went to argue before you thought better of it, knowing full well that if Dean never came around to the theory he would actually cut you off at the five minute mark. So, you did your best to recount the entire situation for him, reiterating what you, Sam, and Rowena had to say about it all in the hopes of getting through to him. By the time you finished, you knew it was well over five minutes, so you took Dean not interrupting you to be a good sign. 

“Okay,” he finally said with a small nod. “Well, I listened. Can I go now?” 

Your heart dropped to your stomach, anger and fear bubbling inside of you as you exploded. “God, you are unbelievable!”

“Well what do you want me to say?” he grumbled. “I just don’t believe that’s what’s going on.” 

“How can you not believe it?” you asked incredulously. “It’s obvious!” 

“Look, I said I don’t believe it, alright?” Dean snapped. “Why are you so hellbent on making this into some big fight? Just accept it.” 

“No!” you seethed. “I can’t just accept the fact that this could kill you. Especially not when there’s a way we could end this.” 

“No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “You can’t fix this, [Y/N/N]. You just can’t.” 

“I can!” you cried. “Just tell me.” 

“Tell you what?” 

“You know what,” you scolded. 

“This is so fucking ridiculous.” 

“Tell me anyway.” 

“Why the hell do you care so much?” he questioned exasperatedly. 

“Because I’m fucking terrified, Dean!” you exclaimed. “I’ve watched you grow more restless and anxious every day since the night we finished that case. I’ve seen the life drain from you more and more as sleep became nearly impossible for you. And I know it’s nearly impossible for you, because I have spent the last eleven nights sitting on that bed as you got terrorised by your own mind. I don’t care if you believe in this curse or not, Dean, because I do.” 

Dean stood quietly, absorbing what you said as the severity of the situation began to dawn on him. 

“I mean don’t you get it?” you asked sadly, cutting through the silence. “If something happens to you, if I lose you… that’s not something I can come back from.” 

Dean fell silent once more, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, pacing around the room a little as he turned everything over in his head. 

“I’m scared, Dean,” you reiterated softly. “Please, just let us try to fix this.” 

“There’s some things I should tell you, then,” he admitted quietly after a moment of silence, taking a seat on the bed. 

“About what’s been happening?” you asked hopefully. 

He nodded, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “Yeah.” 

“Okay,” you said, moving his desk chair to take a seat. “I’m listening.” 

He took a bracing breath, taking a few minutes to build the courage to speak. “Well, you know I’ve been having nightmares.” 

“I do,” you agreed quietly. 

“It’s always the same one,” he admitted, keeping his gaze cast downwards. “I could never figure out why. It didn't make sense to me why it was always the same thing. So I finally talked to Sam about it, and he had a pretty good theory. But, you know me. I didn’t want to believe it because it came back down to that witch and this stupid fucking curse.” 

He let out a bitter laugh, pausing long enough for you to speak up. “What did he have to say about it?” 

“I tried telling myself I was fine,” he continued, ignoring your question. “I was fine, at first. At first it was just not sleeping well… but then other things started happening.” 

“Other things like what?” you wondered quietly. 

“Like my blood feeling like it’s on fucking fire,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “And my skin feeling like it-… like it’s being peeled off my goddamn bones, and my face feeling like it’s melting… and how I get this- this bubble inside my chest that feels like it’s either gonna burst or suffocate me and how it all only happens-” he stopped in his rambling, taking a deep breath before chuckling in disbelief. “God, it only happens when you’re not around, [Y/N].” 

“I-... what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly. 

“Oh, come on, [Y/N],” he said bitterly. “I know you’ve noticed. I text you more, I’m almost always calling you. I just- I get this… this unwavering panic inside me when you’re not around. I keep-... I swear to god I see you everywhere when you’re gone. I catch sight of you across the street, I smell your stupid shampoo when I’m alone, I hear your voice when no one’s there. I had an entire conversation with you and you weren’t even there,” he carried on, shaking his head as he briskly wiped away an angry tear. “God, I’m going fucking crazy,” he added with a manic chuckle. 

“You’re not crazy, Dean,” you said gently. 

“That night,” he started, staring at the wall across from him. “She was trying to get back someone she lost… someone she loved.” 

“Right,” you agreed. 

“They used to drown them, people they accused of being witches,” he continued slowly. 

“Yeah, it was pretty common. Sink, and you were innocent. Float, and you were guilty,” you pitched in. “But… what does that have to do with this?”

“I think they were innocent,” he said simply. “Whoever she lost… I think that’s how she lost them.” 

“Why do you think that?” you asked curiously. 

Dean cleared his throat, staring pensively at his hands once more. “The nightmares. It’s always… you always drown. I keep-... I can never save you.” 

“I don’t get-” you started to say, before he cut you off. 

“It’s how she lost who she loves, [Y/N],” he said curtly. “It makes sense for me to see the one I love go the same way.” 

“I-... what?” you asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say. 

“The dreams, the hallucinations, the- the way I’ve been feeling… I didn’t want to admit it, I still don’t, but I can’t… I mean I can only ignore it for so long, right?” he said, scoffing quietly. “Especially with you and Sam breathing down my neck about it.” 

“Ignore what, Dean?” you asked breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“You,” he muttered. “They way I feel about you. The way I’ve always felt about you.” 

You didn’t dare respond, his words ringing in your ears as he fell silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts for a while. 

“I’ve always known that I love you, [Y/N/N],” he carried on, slowly meeting your gaze with glistening eyes. “But this… this curse, this whatever it is. God, it’s just made it all so much worse, and I knew. I knew it was you that my entire being was screaming out for but I couldn’t… I couldn’t admit it.” 

“Why not?” you asked shakily, feeling your tears starting to build. 

“How could I put that on you?” he asked, a few rogue tears slipping down his face. “You said it yourself, this thing is killing me. It’s gonna kill me, unless I get what I want, and given that that’s you, I’m calling it game over.” 

“No, Dean, it’s not,” you denied with a sniffle, cutting through your own stray tears. “You should’ve told me.” 

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, shrugging lightly as he looked back at his hands. “I told you now.” 

“Dean,” you sighed, wiping your face as you stood from your seat. “Do you trust me?” you asked, walking towards him.

“Of course I do,” he said quickly, almost offended by the question. 

“Okay, well, I’ll need you to trust me on this,” you replied, stopping just in front of where he sat. 

“Okay,” he said with a huff. 

“You gotta look at me, though,” you said, laughing softly. 

Sighing dejectedly, he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at you. 

You smiled softly at him, gently taking his face in your hands before wordlessly bringing your lips down to meet his. At first, neither of you really knew what was happening, and just when you thought to pull away you felt his lips moving against your own. His hands gripped your waist to hold you in place a moment longer before you each pulled away, staring silently at each other as you processed what just happened. 

“What, uh… what was that for?” Dean finally asked. 

“Well, it was either that or slapping some sense into you,” you said playfully. “Which I almost think you still deserve, because I can’t believe you honestly think I don’t love you back.” 

“What?” he asked, his grip on your waist loosening in shock before tightening once more. 

“You’ve had me since the day we met, Dean,” you told him softly, carding your fingers through his hair. 

“You actually…” he trailed off quietly, trying to focus his thoughts. “You actually love me, of all people?” 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.” 

“So I- well, I guess I could’ve saved a lot of trouble if I really did just tell you, huh?” he asked jokingly, laughing tightly. 

“I’ll give you hell for it tomorrow,” you teased, half serious. “For now, how about we try getting you back to sleep?” 

“Actually,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a better idea involving this bed.” 

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh, grinning fondly at him. “Oh, really?” 

He grinned back, laughing with you before taking on a more sombre tone. “Do you trust me?” 

“Always,” you said honestly. 

“Good,” he replied with a grin, laughing heartily at the shriek you let out when he tossed you on the bed. 

He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before painted on his face. “What?” you asked, giggling nervously.

“I love you,” he said earnestly, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. 

“I love you, too,” you replied shyly, grinning softly. 

He matched your grin, drinking you in a moment longer before crashing his lips upon yours once more. 

When Dean woke the next morning, it didn’t take long for a grin to spread across his face as he quickly realized two things. 

The first thing being that you, the love of his life, still remained tangled up in both his arms and the sheets, sleeping peacefully atop his chest. 

The second being that, for the first time in a total of thirteen days, he was able to sleep without being haunted by his nightmares. 

He felt you stir, and his grin widened as you nestled in closer, tightening your grip on him as you slept. He planted a kiss against your temple, pulling you in close as he blissfully settled in for another peaceful rest. 

Maybe witches aren’t so bad.

tagging: @roseblue373

let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

[hadersversion]

but daddy i love him!

“no, i’m not coming to my senses. i know he’s crazy but he’s the one i want.”

pairing: rafe cameron x innocent kook!reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut, minors dni!!! dry humping & fingering. corruption kink of sorts (rafe and an innocent reader has taken over me fully i apologize). parental violence/verbal abuse. fighting. rafe showing his true colors but quickly hiding it from the reader because rafe is a big softie for them. pet names (sweetheart, honey, darling, baby, pretty/good girl). aftercare. let me know if i miss any!

mood board!

rafe cameron was bad news.

anyone in the outer banks could tell you that.

he was a fighter, a shit-talker, a guy who you couldn’t trust.

but there was something so intriguing about him that you just couldn’t turn away.

from the day you moved to island almost 10 years ago, you haven’t been able to get him off your mind. you would see him at parties, the country club, when you would hang out with his sister, around town on his motorbike with his buddies. but you had to push that crush deep down because no one in their right mind would go after that boy.

except you.

you stretched yourself on the court, waiting for your dad to come out with drinks before your tennis match. that’s when you saw him and his friends making their way to the locker room. they had just got done their round of golf, you could tell by their bags. you tried not to stare, but your eyes seemed to have a mind of their own.

“hey, y/n.” you heard him call, with a smirk painted across his face.

your face blushed and you waved to him. “hey rafe.” play it cool, play it cool.

you can see him look you up and down, staring at your legs. “nice skirt.”

you looked down at the new, white tennis skirt your dad had bought you for your report card. your fingers found a loose thread, beginning to toy with it to deal with the embarrassment you felt. “t-thanks.”

he nods before looking behind you. “mr. y/l/n.” he nods with a quick wave. you turn around to see your dad with two waters and a stern look on his face. “enjoy your game.” he says before going inside.

your dad stands over you as you sit, handing a water bottle over. “that cameron boy…” he lets out a deep sigh.

“what?” you question, getting up and brushing your legs off.

your dad pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. “he’s not the kind of guy you want to be friends with, sweetie. he’s a bad seed.”

“but how do you know that?” you question, trying not to sound too suspicious.

your dad picks up his racket and makes his way over to his side of the net. “i know ward cameron. and i know how rafe is just like his dad, thinks he can get anything he wants. thinks there is no consequences to life. but there is. there always is.” your dad shakes his head. “i saw him beating up some kid here not that long ago. sure, he was a pogue but doesn’t give rafe the right to walk around like the king of the outer banks. but until someone stops him, humbles him, things’ll never change.”

you stand there, uncomfortable. all you wanted to do was defend rafe, though you weren’t close like that. but your dad is a one way street. it’s his way or no way. so all you can do is nod. “oh…okay.” you say simply, getting ready for the match.

“just promise me you won’t get mixed up with the likes of that boy, please?” your father looks sincere.

you bite your lip and look down at your clean, white shoes. “yes sir.”

“good, now watch me beat you in tennis.” he says with a laugh. i fake a smile, getting on with the game, but still have rafe in the back of my mind.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

you didn’t see rafe again until the night of a house party at topper’s house.

your friends and you walk in, buzzed from the pre-game. they immediately all go their separate ways, looking for drinks, boys, or both. this leaves you standing awkwardly by a table, talking to some people from school. they talk about prom, their grades, and teachers, making you mentally check out from the conversation. that’s when he catches your eye, he is talking to topper and kelce with a red solo cup in his hand. you watch his every move, how big and veiny his hands are, practically cover the entire cup. how he constantly pushes his hair back while he talks, almost seeming like a force of habit he has. he also licks his lips a lot, sending a very graphic image of rafe between your le-

he looks up, meeting your gaze. a blush forms on your face as you try to hide your embarrassment but taking a sip of alcohol from your cup. you give yourself some time, staring into the cup before looking up again. but when you look at him, he hasn’t stopped staring at you. the blush you fought so hard to keep away makes your face feel like it’s on fire.

you watch as he excuses himself and makes his way over to you. this has to be a dream? or some prank, right?

“hey there, y/n.” he snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts. every person who you are talking to looks over to rafe then back at you. “didn’t know you were coming.”

you awkwardly shrug. “last minute choice by my friends.”

his eyes burn holes into your body as he looks you up and down. “well, i’m glad you’re here.” you nod at him, offering a shy smile. “looks like you need another drink, come inside and i’ll get you one.” he nods his head towards the kitchen door. the group you're with is watching this conversation like it’s a TV show. you make my way through them and stand next to him. he automatically puts his hand on your back and leads you inside. the feeling of his touch sends chills down your spine but it almost feels like his hand is meant to be there. like his touch is the missing piece in your life.

you get into the kitchen and he heads towards the fridge, grabbing juice and handing it over. “you strike me as a vodka and juice, girl.” he says with a smile, making my insides melt.

“and what makes you say that?” you ask, putting your hand on my hip, playing into his little game of flirting.

“well, you’re sweet and you seem to play it safe. you don’t really drink a lot but when you do, you’re never blacked out.” he admits with a laugh, giving his diagnosis. “juice is sweet and vodka is the safest way to get a little drunk, in my opinion.” he stares at your face, waiting for a response.

“you’re good, rafe cameron. a little too good.” you admit, grabbing the juice and filling up the cup. he stands over you, giving me the vodka next. “didn’t know i was that easy to read.”

“you’re not.” he admits, staring down at you while you drink. “i just think i have a special interest in you.”

you freeze in place, there’s no way he’s admitting this to you. right now. the boy you’ve been pining after since the first grade. you can tell you're shutting down but you need to play it cool. “oh really?” you look up at his blue eyes, getting lost in them instantaneously.

“really.” he steps closer, inches away from my face. you know you are not that drunk but your head feels like it’s spinning under his gaze. he leans in a little closer, your noses brushing, when the kitchen door slams and topper can be seen stumbling in. his obnoxious laugh fills the room, making rafe close his eyes and sigh. “what could you possibly want right now?”

topper laughs and comes up beside rafe, he’s clearly fucked up. “i’m just looking for some weed, man.” he hits his chest playfully. “don’t let me get in your way.”

rafe pushes him away, making topper laugh harder at us. he looks at you before speaking. “sorry for being a cockblock.”

rafe narrows his eyes at him. “just get the fuck outta here, top.”

topper staggers into the other room, still laughing.

“sorry about him. when he drinks, he becomes an asshole.” he says, running a hand across his face.

“is he drunk all the time?” i ask with a new found confidence in my voice.

rafe looks at me and laughs. “seems to be.”

you both stand in silence, not moving away from each other but unable to bring the moment back.

“i like you.” he admits.

you stare at him, unable to speak. “w-what?”

“i think you heard me, y/n.” he smiles cockily, looking into your eyes.

you look back at him. “you barely know me, rafe.”

“doesn’t mean i can’t like you.” he sips his cup and nudges your shoulder with his. “i think you could say the same about me.” he gets closer, whispering into your ear. “don’t think i don’t notice how you stare at me when i’m around.”

you feel the air leave your body and you bite your lip. you feel like your cornered and have nowhere to go. “i-i-uh…”

he brushes his finger against your lip, almost like he’s shushing you. but you can’t even fight the way your body reacts to his touch. “it’s okay, honey. i like it. i like it a lot.” he says in a whisper, almost making you forget you aren’t the only two people in the world. it feels like you can read his mind just by looking into his blue eyes. he wants you…screw that, rafe cameron needs you. and you need him. forget what your father says, or the town, or even your friends. this seems to be all you need.

how am i ever going to recover from this? you thought to yourself.

you hear your friend call your name from outside. rafe looks over as they yell from outside. “i’ll see you around, how’s that sound?” you look at him, unable to think when he looks at you like this. his hand brushes against your face before walking back out into the party.

you stand there, still as your friend comes in. “you alright? looks like you seen a ghost or something.” she asks you, laughing a bit.

“all good.” was all you can get out, staring straight ahead at the door rafe just left in.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

ever since the party, rafe found little ways to be around you.

whether it was joining you at the country club while you played tennis or hanging around you when he saw you at the beach reading. he even started knocking on the front door of your mansion to just talk on your porch, something you had to hide from your dad. with these interactions, you had no idea what everyone was warning you about with him. he was one of the sweetest guys you ever met. for weeks, you and rafe had begun a nice friendship.

but the almost kiss at topper's party was never spoken of again.

the two of you sat on your porch swing, the air was warm as summer was slowly approaching. your legs laid flatly across rafe’s lap, looking directly at him. you poured a glass of lemonade for you both, sparking rafe to hit you with a “you sure you don’t want some vodka in this?”

when you’re with rafe, the conversations seem to just flow like you are the oldest of friends. you could talk about anything and nothing at the same time. he went on for the past five minutes about how he used to love playing lacrosse but one injury affected his whole career for him.

“it sucked, ya know? i never felt like i belonged anywhere, or had a close bond with anyone like i did on that team. then one fucking torn acl later and it’s all gone for me. i had college scouts looking at me and everything. i could’ve escaped this place and lived the real college experience.” he looked out into the water that faced your house. he turned to you and smiled awkwardly. “jeez, i’m sorry i just don’t shut up.”

you chuckle at him, loving how he put some of his walls down around you. “it’s okay, i like hearing ya talk. it’s soothing.” you smile innocently at him.

he gazes into your eyes and nods, his expression softening. “really?” you nod and he just stares at you. “you’re one of a kind, ya know?” his fingers start to rub innocent circles on your leg.

“and why’s that?” you ask him.

“i-i don’t know, i feel like i can be myself around you.” he admits. “don’t ever quote me on that because i’ll deny that shit.” he points, gaining a laugh from you.

“don’t want anyone to know rafe cameron can be a softie?” you tease him.

“shut up, i’m not a softie.”

“i think you can be behind close doors.” you say.

he stops rubbing your leg and turns to you. “oh shut up.”

“well, you’re gonna have to make me then.” you say without thinking.

rafe looks at you with a fire in his eyes that you haven’t seen since the party. “what was that?” he cocks his eyebrow at you.

you just stare into his eyes, straightening your shoulders back. a confidence striking you like never before. “i think you heard me, rafe.”

without missing a beat, rafe connects your lips. all of that pent-up tension, gone within that very second. his hands found his way to your face, cupping it ever so lightly like you were a delicate flower he was so lucky to have found. his hands slowly slid down your body, like he was trying to memorize every inch of your skin. "jesus, this is all i've been thinking about." he said breaking away, looking into your eyes.

"then, don't stop." you say breathlessly, climbing on top of his lap, kissing him again.

you can tell this move took rafe by surprise as he let out a soft moan in the kiss. the innocence he once thought you possessed was now all gone. you slowly began grinding yourself against rafe's clothed cock, which was slightly hardening. "fuck, who knew you had it in you, honey." he said as he kissed down your jaw. you never felt so needier in your life chasing a high with rafe that you thought you could only dream about.

your face blushed as you looked down at rafe who was staring up at you like you were a painting held high in the louvre. the more you looked down, the more self-conscious you became. your pace which was rapidly increasing started to falter. "hey, hey, sweetheart. don't stop now. what's wrong? talk to me." he caressed your face so lovingly.

you bit your lip and closed your eyes, still out of breathe. "i-i-i don't know. what if i'm doing this wrong? or it's weird for you? i'm just nervous, i never did this before."

"did what, sweetheart? dry humped?" he almost laughed, pushing hair out of your face.

you shrugged. "well yes and no..." your voice started to trail off.

"yes and no?" rafe stared at you with a puzzled expression, trying to crack the code. you watched as he deciphered your words and the gears started to turn. "y/n, have you ever been with someone like...sexually before?"

you wanted to cry, the embarrassment being too hard to handle. you just laid your head against rafe's chest and sighed. "please, don't think of me any differently. i just...i just haven't found the right person to do all this with, ya know? i used to be scared but with you...i don't know, i feel ready." rafe sat there in silence, his hands falling to your waist and gripping them. you break away from his chest and stare into his eyes, which have seemed to darken. "rafe?"

"you trust me?" he asks simply. you nod shyly, causing his breath to hitch. you can feel his pants grow tighter under you. "i want you to keep going, do you hear me? don't stop until you cum on my pants." it sounds like he is giving you orders. he brings his thumb across your lip and gives a menacing smirk. "you wanna be all mine, huh? you pretty girl. show me your mine."

with his reassurance, you pick up you begin to rub yourself against his pants. your hands grip his shoulders as he holds you down on him. "good girl, keep it going." the material of his jeans feel rough against your clothed cunt but it adds a sensation you have never felt before. "shit, look at how pretty you look on me. can't wait to bury my cock inside you. would you like that? my cock being so far inside you, you can feel it in your stomach?"

you let out a pathetic whine, your head falling back from the pleasure you have building up inside. "y-yes."

"good girl, but we gotta start with the basics, right?" his hands start to trail up your body, stopping at your closed breasts. he cups them with his hands and smiles when you cry his name. "i got you, baby. c'mon, you know you wanna cum."

you quickly grind against him, feeling desperate as you chase your high. with his words of praise and reassurance, you can feel yourself ready to release. with one quick movement, you feel the tension building up in your stomach release as you cum on rafe. tears prick your eyes as you repeat his name over and over again. "rafe, rafe, rafe."

he stares at you in awe as you finish on him. the sight of your teary eyes and his name falling from your lips in such a needy way pushed him over the edge. he found himself cumming in his pants like he was a high schooler all over again.

you both stayed there, out of breathe, not moving once. you felt like a whole new person even though barely anything has changed.

"you alright?" he asks, pushing hair away from your face.

you tiredly nod, not knowing how to form words. your hooded eyes just take in the view of rafe, his face read and sweaty with a cocky smirk painted across it.

he bites his lip and kisses you gently. "there's more where that came from, you know?" he says and your head reels. "i've been waiting for so long to have you to myself, sweetheart. i don't plan on letting go now."

you giggle into his chest and nod. "don't gotta worry about me leaving, trust me. i've never felt so good in my life." the sweet yet sensual moment you two shared came to a halt when you heard your dad's truck pulling up the gravel road to your house. "shit." you quickly climb off rafe, trying to compose yourself.

your father quickly exited the truck, slamming the door behind him. he seemed to race up to the two of you as you sat there. rafe's hand protectively went over yours as your father approached. "the hell is he doing here?" he fumes.

"d-dad, we're just hanging out." you lie to his face.

"yes sir, that's all we were doing." rafe says camly, looking at him in the eyes.

your father head snaps towards rafe. "was i talking to you, boy? no. stay outta it." his attention focuses back to you. "i told you to not mess with the likings of this boy and what do you do behind my back?" he screams at you. "you go around with this...this hooligan! i want him off my property now. acting like some easy girl, i raised you better."

"b-but, daddy." you pout, trying not to cry as rafe squeezes your hand.

"sir, you're being too hard on her. it's not her fault." rafe tries to calm him down.

your father's finger rests on rafe's chest as he gets close to his face. "oh i know that, rafe. it's you and your typical bullshit. my daughter wouldn't act this way if it wasn't for you. look at you, you're probably using her."

rafe's fists clenched as your father talks down to him, no one does this to him and gets away with it. "sir, i suggest you put that finger down."

"or what?" your father snickers in his face.

rafe's whole demeanor shifts, the sweet boy you were just talking to now gone. like he was never even there. it honestly scared you how fast rafe can change personalities. "you don't even want to know." he grits his teeth. you hate to admit the affect this took on your body, clenching your legs together.

your father drops his finger and turns to you. "inside, now." he says, grabbing your arm. before you can fight him off, he's dragging you away from rafe.

"it's okay, baby, we'll figure this out." he reassures as you are being brought into your house. "fuck!" he screams as soon as the door slams shut.

you watch as rafe makes his way to his truck, slamming the door shut and driving away. you turn to your father who just stares at you as you cry. "screw you!" you say before running upstairs and locking yourself in your room.

you finally had him and now you lost him.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

the days past since you saw rafe.

your father grounded you and cut you off from the outside world.

you sat by your window and waited, having some false hope that rafe would be your knight in shining armor and take you away from this place. your father pulled up the driveway and seemed to struggle getting out of his truck.

you met him at the door, ready to deal with the bullshit he would throw you today. when you opened your door, your father seemed battered and bruised.

"holy sh-i mean...what happened?" you asked, holding the door open for your dad as he sat on the recliner.

"nothing." he shuttered. "nothing happened."

you stood there and crossed your arms. "clearly something happened."

he shook his head, seeming almost fearful. "nothing happened, now drop it." you stood there as he turned to you. "you aren't grounded anymore. your phone is on my dresser." he seemed almost defeated.

you stared at your dad trying to understand what the hell is going on. are you in the twilight zone? you knew you wouldn't get an answer out of him so you grabbed your things and raced out of the house before he could change his mind. the sun was setting but you didn't care, you had one thing and one thing only on your mind.

you got on your bike and raced towards tannyhill. when you finally got there, you threw your bike down and almost ran to the front door. with two knocks, wheezie opened the door.

"y/n?" she said with a smirk.

"hey, wheezie, is rafe home?" you say, snooping around the insides of the home.

she rolls her eyes and opens the door. "in his room."

you walk up the stairs and stop right before his door. your fist hovering over it before connecting it to the wood. after a few seconds, rafe stands there in the almost dark room.

"y/n." he says, almost as though he was expecting you to be here.

you quickly jump into his arms, holding onto him by his neck. you missed this. the way he smelled, the way he felt, everything about this boy drive you wild. "i missed you."

"i missed you too, honey. come on in." he lets you into his room. this was your first time being in here. sure, you've seen it through snapchat and pictures he sends but that's it. it's the typical boy room but it felt authentic. it felt like rafe.

you sit down on his bed as he walks around, picking up clothes off the floor. "didn't think i'd be having guests." he doesn't seem like his usual self, maybe you caught him at a bad time? but he invited you in, so you stayed.

you laugh at him. "no big deal, the old man let me off the hook tonight. it was weird, he came home all messed up. i tried asking but he kinda pushed me away. it was weird."

rafe stood there, silently. "oh really?"

"yeah, super strange. he's not usually the fighter type. never has been." you watch him stand there. "you all good?"

he nods and turns to you. "i am, now that you're here."

you smile at him as he approaches you. you open your legs so he can stand in between them, looking down at you. he traces your face with his finger, stopping at your lips. "all mine, sweetheart. all mine." he says before bending down to kiss you. the kiss feels rough, almost as though you are a fresh breathe of air that rafe has been waiting for. he pushes you down onto his bed and crawls on top of you.

you break the kiss and look into his eyes, his room is dark so you can only make out certain features. but you bring your hand to his face and hold his cheek, which makes him wince. "oh, i'm sorry, did i hurt you?"

"n-no, it's all good." he tries to kiss you again but you stop him.

"rafe?" you ask him, making him stop once again. "what's wrong? tell me."

"goddamn! nothing is wrong, okay? i can't miss you." he says, running a hand through his hair. you try to study his face but can't even see him. you reach over for his bedside lamp. "no, no, leave it of-" before he can stop you, the light is on. his beautiful face has a large bruise under his right eye and cheek. his lip busted and knuckles bruised.

"rafe?" you question, sitting up.

"y/n, i can explain." he pleads.

then it all makes sense. your father coming home all battered and bruised, rafe's current state, you being let off the hook too easily.

"you don't even want to know."

"it's okay, baby, we'll figure this out."

his words from that night ring through your head. the way his whole demeanor changed that night into a person you've never seen before.

"d-did you?" you ask with teary eyes.

"baby, look at me. i can explain." he begs you but you start to get up.

"explain what? how you beat up my fucking dad!?" you yelled, trying to grasp the millions of thoughts you had. "h-how could you?" you stand by his door, pacing, with your head in your hands.

he walks up to you, grabbing your hand. "look at me, honey, please. look at me." he begs you, trying to grab your attention.

when you finally turn to him, you see the cuts and bruises again. "rafe, why?" you say with a tear slipping down.

"because i love you, honey. you're my girl and i don't give a fuck who it is, they cannot talk to you the way your own father did. calling you easy, acting like your dumb for being around me. nobody should ever talk to you like that, ever." you stop and he cups your face in his hands. "i just wanted to talk to him, okay? all i wanted to do was talk. but then he started again with how i'm a bad person and how you were being stupid for even acknowledging me. he said he didn't need a guy like me corrupting his daughter and i snapped."

you gazed into his eyes, they looked as though they were pleading with you to see why he did what he did.

"please, say something. please." he states.

you sigh and close your eyes. "rafe, i don't need you going around defending my honor, especially to my dad. it's not worth it."

"not worth it? sweetheart, look at me." you open your eyes. "you are worth everything to me, you hear me? everything. i would kill for you if you asked me to. i never had someone care for me the way you do, have someone listen to me, or even treat me normally. you mean the world to me, y/n. i love you."

and there it was.

rafe cameron, for once in his life, showed affection.

he told someone they love them.

"i'm sorry it was your dad, okay? sometimes, i black out and can't remember things when i'm angry. i act on my impulses. but with you, i never feel that way." he shakes his head, trying to contain all his emotions. your eyes water again, causing him to wipe the tears. "what's wrong, baby? talk to me."

you smile through the tears. "i just, i love you too." no one has ever made you feel so safe and loved in one moment than rafe has this past month. he's all you could ever ask for.

he beams down at you, shaking his head. "you mean that?"

"with every ounce of my body, i love you." you admit.

his heart swelled as he connected your lips once more to his. you were all his, all he ever needed in life to feel whole.

rafe pushes you against the door, a light moan slipping from your lips as he presses himself against you.

"you like that?" he asks, a satisfied smirk on his face as he kisses your cheek and goes down your neck.

you nod under his touch, like you're cast in his spell. "y-yes."

"you want more?" he asks, sucking on one spot of your neck for a long time. all you can do is nod, already becoming a mess because of him. he pulls away, having you almost whimper from the lack of contact. "not uh, baby, gotta hear some words out of that beautiful mouth of yours. i'll repeat myself, do you want more."

"y-yes, rafe, yes please."

he groans at your begging and nods. "good girl." he pulls you over to the bed and guides you toward it. you feel the bed hit the back of your knees and you sit down, looking up at him. he quickly takes his shirt off and tosses it to the side.

he kisses your lips lightly as his hands find the end of your shirt, lightly toying with the fabric. "y-you can take it off." with the reassurance, he slips the top off and leaves it next to you. his eyes take in your body, your breasts pooling out of a flimsy green bralette. he sucks his tongue and gently runs his fingers over your tits.

"so pretty and they're all for me." he slowly reaches behind your back and unclasps the bralette with one hand, letting it fall down your body. you could swear rafe has tiny hearts in his eyes as they bore onto your half-naked body. "lay down." you follow his orders and lay against his pillows. his bedroom light shines over his features and the cuts from the fight. you bring your hand up to touch them and he gives into your touch. "you okay?"

"more than okay." you tell him.

he kisses your hand then his lips meet with yours once again. he then lets his lips trail across your cheek, jaw, neck, and down to your chest. he stares at your tits before peppering them both with kisses. he then takes one nipple in his mouth, slowly, and grabs your other one with your free hand to give a squeeze. your body instantaneously reacts to rafe's touch, moaning at the sensation of his lips. "you like that, huh?" he almost teases, switching to the other nipple.

"m-more." you whisper out, clenching your eyes.

"what was that, honey? need you to speak up for me." he grins.

"please, i want more, rafe. touch me more." you raise your voice.

"you got it." his hand leaves your tit and trails slowly down your body, resting at the hem of your jeans. he unbuttons them and lets his hands slide down your underwear, his hands automatically getting soaked. "shit, baby, all this for me?" he runs ins finger down your cunt and gathering your slick, bringing it to his mouth. he sucks it off his fingers as you watch in awe. "you're just too sweet for me, you know that?"

he doesn't even give you time to think before he puts his fingers back inside you, swirling your cunt. your hands grab his shoulders, holding onto them for dear life. "it's okay, i got ya, i always got ya." he reassures as he slowly slips one finger into your tight hole. "jesus, honey, with a hole this tight i don't know how long i'll last." he says as he slips his finger in and out of you, his thumb still toying with your clit.

your head falls back as more moans fall from your lips. "more, rafe, please give me more."

he laughs slightly. "cocky little thing, aren't ya? if you insist." he adds one more finger, your hole clenching around him as his finger slip in and out. "look how pretty you look with my fingers inside of you." he says before kissing your mouth, collecting your moans. you're so wet you hear the noises your pussy is making around him. you feel overstimulated as rafe keeps going, not stopping once. tears prick your eyes as you feel your high approaching. his thumb rubs harder as your nails connect to rafe's chest, dragging them down. "my pretty baby, i just love you so much." he says, staring at you.

with those words, you feel yourself being pushed to pleasure. you cum all over rafe's fingers, crying out his name. "rafe!"

he lets you ride out your high before taking his fingers out and putting them in his mouth like he did before. "never gonna get tired of that."

he gets up and heads to the bathroom. you want to talk to him, ask him where he's going, but you're too tired. you've never felt this good, not even from your own fingers. rafe comes back with a towel in his hand, gently, he pulls off your shorts and panties, cleaning off your pussy. the water is nice and warm as he gets you situated. he drops the rag and crawls into his bed next to you, holding you tightly.

"you know, if you want me to go dow-" but before you can finish that sentence he kisses your forehead.

"no need to rush there, honey. i wanna take my time with you, wanna show you how good i can make you feel." your heart melts in your chest as he rubs your back lightly. "get some rest, alright?"

you fall asleep fast in his arms, he holds you there the entire night and doesn't plan on letting go.

[tonycries]

Dream A Little Dream - G.S.

Synopsis. For the strongest, it was a privilege to dream. Especially when his dream is you. 

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. fem! reader, established relationship, implied sex, fluff, soft and sleepy Satoru, very slight manga spoilers, just Satoru loving on you and your future together.

Word count. 0.8k

A/N. Probably gonna delete. Art by @_3aem on X.

It’s times like this - when the quiet morning sun is just peeking in through your window, in the still haze of your naked body peacefully intertwined with his that Satoru allows himself to dream.

He dreams of everything - from the strawberry lollipops he snuck into the Gojo Estate as a kid to the time when he forgot Megumi at the mall. 

But mostly, he dreams of you.

Eyes still veiled with sleep, wandering the expanse of your face, a hand tenderly running along the features he’s mapped a thousand times over. Thumb softly catching on the corner of your mouth, slightly quirked up, he wonders what you’re dreaming of. 

Do you dream of him too?

Because Satoru’s favorite dream will always be the one with you. 

Your laughter in the morning light as he smothers you in kisses, how it rings in his ears and carries through his day. If there’s one thing Satoru knows, it’s that he would burn this entire godforsaken world down to keep it there. Even in the face of violence, his favorite song.

Reaching out to softly kiss your fingers, the hands which hold his heart and his future. 

Unhurriedly, he caresses that empty spot on your ring finger. Soon. 

Little black box burning a hole into that hidden corner of his dresser, Satoru absentmindedly wonders whether you would go for a flowing gown or more of a sleek design? He dreams of the delicate lace under his fingers, the gentle sway of the fabric and the blue bouquet to match his eyes. 

A huff of laughter, followed by a melancholic twinge of his heart, finds its way into the still morning air as he imagines the way Nanamin would have been crying very reluctant tears of joy.

Long fingers deftly run along the expanse of your body, drawing patterns on the marks he’s left to remember him by, resting on your stomach. He dreams of a world where he is there to see you run around with a few white-haired bundles of joy. All of them with your personality of course - he couldn’t handle having to fight with some mini versions of himself over you.

And they may be closed for now, but he dreams of the twinkle in your eyes as they meet his, the promise of a beautiful day ahead. 

He can only pray that they always look at him that way. Even when the shine of your eyes dim with age, the chapters of your story showing on your face. The dream where you two complain about your first gray hairs - him cackling about you finally joining the club. 

It might not seem like it, but in the blood and merciless gore of jujutsu, a part of the strongest always thinks back to the heaven he’s found in you. 

The heaven where you both cry over your kids leaving the nest, and later he’d fervently deny his teary eyes - secretly wiping the tears off his glasses. 

Where you spend quiet evenings on the porch, wrapped in blankets and reminiscing about the adventures of your youth. Did he ever tell you that story where he lost the tickets to a movie and had to sneak into the theater with Shoko and Suguru? Boy, did he get an earful from Yaga that day.

The dream where he’s surrounded by you and all your warmth. In the cold pain that comes with being the strongest, he can only hope that a day will come where his strength - rather than being used to kill - holds your future with ready arms. 

Ripping his eyes off of your face, they wander the room bathed in the soft morning glow. Mapping the empty spaces which you two would fill with pictures. The walls which would echo with laughter and whisper tales of serenity.

First days at school, graduations, all the friends and foes lost along the years - and one big picture of you in that beautiful white dress, right in the middle. All beauty and grace. His beautiful bride. A dream where his last name is a melody not a death sentence.

He dreams he’s there to fetch your walking cane to stroll through your little garden with a cup of his famous morning tea. He’d hold your hand as he always does, both trembling and frail with age. He dreams he would kiss the beautiful wrinkles on the corners of your eyes, only for you to push him away bashfully complaining about the grandkids seeing.

Blue eyes faded and the joy of the years showing on his face, not as strong or as vibrant as he once was, limitless nothing more but a trick to make his grandkids smile. Not a weapon, but just your Satoru. He hopes you’ll still be there to love him.

And he dreams he’s there.

He wants to be there. 

“Satoru?”

Satoru’s heart lurches as those beautiful eyes crack open, still foggy with sleep. A glimpse of that smile he found heaven in, and you pull him closer. Understanding. Skin heated against his, no one but you two in this quiet world.

All is well in your little heaven.

Today, the strongest will face Ryomen Sukuna, the fate of the world burdened upon his shoulders. But for now, Satoru is held fragilely in your arms.

For now, he is yours. 

He only dreams he can be forevermore. 

A/N. Tony writing something that isn’t smut??? The world is coming to an end.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[sunnami]

❝watch me, don't touch me, love me, don't hurt me.❞

[title is from ive's accendio. gif not mine.] summary. you are the fop of the wizarding society, known for your shallowness and careless display of wealth, but as hogwarts faces another threat, the marauders and lily, find themselves drawn to you and the secrets hidden under your facade. (harry just wants to know what is going on.)

pairing/s. marauders x reader. (james potter/lily evans/remus lupin/sirius black/reader.)

wc. 24.1k.

tags. enemies to lovers, angst, hurt but the comfort is later, fluff(ish), i try slow burn for the first time (it hurts.), this is highly self-indulgent idgaf, set during goblet of fire but i decide what goes, voldemort isn't the only character who can revive from the dead, BITCH. OH, LMAO I FORGOT, THIS IS FOR THE DILF AND MILF LOVERS SDKJFHSF they're married, but remus and sirius keep their name for legal and plot reasons. adult marauders and adult reader! and i was careful this time to not use any specific pronouns or gendered terms so everyone can enjoy the pain!! every1 is hurting 2nite. proofread kind of, so we die like. . . harry potter?

cws. here we go... canon-typical violence, vivid description of injuries, pain, and blood, emotional abuse, trauma, self-destructive tendencies, minor character death (non-canon), pureblood society practices, voldemort is his own warning, brief mention of war, brief scene with abducted children, panic attacks, depictions of mental illness, suic!dal thoughts, bellatrix lestrange is also her own warning, morally-grey reader.

a/n: this is inspired by my most favorite finnick odair fic EVER! obviously, i won't ever reach that level of greatness, but i've had this idea in my head ever since i read that story. sometimes, i just want to cry at night to feel something, LMFAO. halfway through writing this story, i got insecure, so thank you to this eye-opening comment on reddit that i found that will forever change how i look at reader inserts: “for me, a reader should be faceless, but not soulless.”

to my dearest friends and readers, i hope you enjoy this world that i've written for you ueueue. (the next and final part is fluffier, i promise.) will upload to ao3 soon!

act i. dear god, please save the little man.

“RITA, DARLING, do get your wretched little quill for this one. I heard from a wee birdie that Vittoria Zabini was spotted in Rome, and not just wearing last season’s designer collection, but on her honeymoon, of all things! Can you believe it, dearest? If I remember correctly, this must be husband number five now.”

Like a wingless canary in a gilded cage, you are forced once again to sing for red-lipped witches and their grating laughter, and for wizards with their fat bellies, graying hair, and leering eyes. How kind of Narcissa Malfoy to host these decrepit creatures in her manor garden—and thrust the role of main attraction onto you. There you are, lonesome badger, dressed in the finest tulle for everyone to ogle at. A ballerina in a music box, turning, and turning, and turning.

(When will your cursed lullaby finally end?)

Isadora Bulstrode cackles. “Gold-digging wench must be at it again.”

As predicted, Rita Skeeter greedily whips out her Quick-Quotes Quill. The bloodthirsty journalist preys hungrily at your every word—and you’re more than willing to satiate the irritable, little pest. “Riveting.” She pushes her glasses upwards with a quirk of her lips. “We may have tomorrow’s front page in our hands.” 

Lavinia Nott brings the teacup to her mouth, her gaze slicing towards you. “Do tell us more. Where ever do you get your information from?”

You hide a coy smile behind the fine porcelain. “Why, Lavinia dearest, if I reveal my secret now, I might have to kill you!” The drove of ladies giggle amongst themselves as Lavinia sips her tea impassively. You play these people like a fiddle, and they’re none the wiser. But even vile women have to play their parts in the cruel world forged by mad men. Yours happens to be the most ill-fated of them all. 

“A shame you decided not to pursue the same path as your mother, but that is alright—not every one is fit to work.” The Selwyn matron raises her brow, offering you a tight-lipped smirk.

“Oh, Elinor, my love, I’m surprised you’d even suggest such a horrible thing!” Your grin grows wicked and wider. You know perfectly what the wizarding society thinks of you: the orphaned heir, the shallow socialite who only cares for gallivanting about in pureblooded extravaganzas. A status you’ve so carefully fashioned; utterly beloved and adored by these people, flowers falling at your feet with so much as a whisper from your lips. 

Your gaze drifts to a familiar crowd of people to the side. It’s the pack of lions and The-Boy-Who-Lived. There they are, the marauding bunch and their displays of loyalty and whatnot; hideously coordinated outfits, but capturing the world’s attention constantly and effortlessly. 

How repulsive.

In spite of that, you are intrigued. They are the section that plays out of tune in the orchestra you have been conducting for years.

And so you bid your goodbyes to the witches; they fawn and beg for you to stay for an hour more. You pout your lips and say with faux sympathy, hand flying to your chest.  “Oh, don’t worry, my dears! I’ll be back soon enough after greeting some of the other guests. You lovely ladies might tire of me if I stay for too long.”

Melina Traverse brushes you off. “We could never! You know you’re like family to us, pet!”

With a delighted gasp, you say, “Don’t tell Narcissa, but you’ve always been my favorite Slytherin.” The venom flows endlessly from your lips. You owe your life to only a handful of people. Narcissa Malfoy, who raised you when your mother no longer could, is one of them. Finally, you’re able to sneak away from their freshly manicured talons as they tittle-tattle amongst themselves.

Once your back is turned to the rest of them, you roll your eyes until your head begins hurting. 

What a bunch of insufferable fools. 

Still, the show curtains are wide open and the sun is yet to set. You have another audience that is awaiting your next number. 

“Oh, my, my, my! Is it truly the Chosen One in our midst?” You approach the horrid family of Gryffindors—nearly doubling over in laughter at the speed with which their faces fall at the sight of you. How refreshing, you think to yourself. It’s been so long since you’ve seen people who wore their hearts on their sleeves. “Cissa and I didn’t think you’d even respond to our invitation—but this is just brilliant! Lily, darling! How long has it been? That dress looks utterly divine! Is that Charmeuse silk? The purple simply brings out the color in your eyes! And your skin, my love! Just glowing! Tell me—have you been trying those snail facials? I hear they’re all the rage nowadays.”

Sirius grimaces, cheeks turning ashen. “Bloody hell, I’m going to need a drink for this. A strong one, too.” 

“You’re at a garden party, Sirius darling,” you remind in jest, flamboyantly motioning to the grazing table. “The elves are serving Darjeeling, jasmine, chamomile, berry blends, spiced orange, silver needle, and my personal favorite, chocolate mint!” There are strings of lights wrapped around the tree branches; floating lanterns and the hydrangeas creeping on the stone walls. You put a hand over your heart, smiling knavishly. “From the Malfoy family, to yours, we sincerely hope you enjoy your brunch.” 

Lily deeply inhales as she intertwines her fingers with James’s, a polite smile on her face—an odd pang in your heart at the show of solidarity. (She questions how sincere can a Malfoy really be.) “Y-Yes, well, it’s so good to see you, too. We’re grateful for the invitation, especially since it’s for a rather honorable cause.” 

Ah, pure-hearted creatures really do get on your nerves. Lion hearts; words dripping in honey, limitless bravado. You’ve changed your mind, you’re sick of it all. A flash of vindictive glee crosses your face as you abruptly grab her hand, wrenching it away from her husband’s. “We just knew you’d see it that way! You probably see yourself in those Muggle children, eh?”

Lily recoils, as if struck by hot iron, shoulders tensing; slowly, she peels away her hand from yours, long lashes blinking away her shock.  “You and Narcissa must be raising a lot of money, then.” She eyes the marble fountain adorned in white roses, the harmonizing gnomes nearby, self-playing harps, and the scrutinizing stares from afar. “I never knew you cared so much about Muggle children.”

“Well, I suppose it must be done for all the pudgy-cheeked brats in the world,” You callously wave away her words with a sigh. Unbeknownst to most, all the charity proceeds come from your own Gringotts account. That is the one real thing left in your miserable life.  “As staff at Hogwarts, the children must come first, wouldn’t you agree, Lily flower?”

“Quite,” replies Lily, lips firmly pursed.

James enters the fray, hand snaking around Lily’s waist; jaw taut, seeming to regret ever entering the snake den. “Have you met our son, Harry, already?” He turns to the fourteen-year-old at his left side, gently patting Harry’s back with a crooked smile. “Haz, this is an old classmate of ours.” James gestures to you, and you offer the Potter spawn an amused smile as he blinks owlishly at you. The poor thing has gone frigid from the wintry cold, despite the summer sun overhead and blooming coneflowers; and you wonder if he must have run into Draco and Lucius before coming to the garden.

So this is the child the Dark Lord failed to kill, you muse. You only wish that you could have seen that monster fall to the ground lifelessly, defeated by an infant and his courageous parents. How fitting for men like Lucius Malfoy to follow in his footsteps; the blind leading the blind. Your grin stretches from ear to ear as you take his hand in yours. Clearly, he’s never held a girl’s hand before, as he limply shakes your hand, awkwardly spluttering his greetings. “What an honor it is to finally meet the savior of the wizarding world.” 

“Why, you look just like James when he was younger, always strutting around the corridors.” Your eyes drift to the lightning scar on his forehead, a testament to his and Lily’s survival against the killing curse. “And such clear-cut emerald eyes; truly your mother’s son. Tell me, Harry dearest, you must be quite the heartbreaker at Hogwarts.”

His doe-eyes harden, and your brow quirks in curiosity. (So the littlest lion can growl, after all.) “Oh. . . not really.” His hand hangs back at his side, fists coiling. The robins chirp merrily as they fly by, his parents carefully watching the scene unfold; water endlessly splashing in the fountain. Harry’s voice deepens as he continues, “I couldn’t be. My friends and I barely have time for anything else. There always seems to be something going on at the castle, apparently.”  

“How interesting—Elsie!” You bark at the quivering house elf as Harry stumbles on his words. “Get Mister Potter and his company a plate of macarons—serve them our finest tea, as well.” 

Harry winces as the elf apparates at once. “There’s r-really no need for—”

Your gaze, sharp as a knife, slices to him, as the corners of your painted lips bend contemptuously. “Have you heard the news, dearheart?”

Harry looks to his father before shrugging. “I don’t think so.”

“If Mister Lupin here has so graciously informed you,” you begin tantalizingly, eyes cutting to the rugged werewolf at Lily’s side; his back stiffening at the mention of his name, “Otherwise, keep this between you and me, Harry darling. Hogwarts will be hosting a rather important event this year—and I do love a good party—so you must have noticed the rise in appearances from the Ministry.” You gesture to the top Aurors at the DMLE towering over Harry, Sirius and James. “More than that,” you continue with a sly cant to your voice. “There will be a few new additions to Hogwarts’ staff. Among them, of course—is yours truly!”

“And to do what, exactly?” Sirius blurts out incredulously.

“Be a teacher, of course!” you feign ignorance, bashfully furrowing your brows. “Why else?”

“Brilliant!” Sirius chuckles scornfully. “So, the children will be learning about French designers and frilly dresses then, I presume?

“Is that truly all you think of me?” you ask, gasping melodramatically as you circle the rim of your empty teacup. 

“You want to know what I think? Or what everyone thought behind your back at Hogwarts?” Sirius scoffs with a cock of his head. “You’ve always been the belle of the ball, no bloody doubt about that. But I’ve always wondered if there was anything more to your head than just air.” 

He runs a hand through his dark curls, lips twisting into a sneer. “But I reckon nothing has changed since then. You’re just the same insufferable, vapid wench as you’ve always been.”

“Sirius. . .” Remus quietly calls. “That’s enough.” 

Your expression falters—but your mask cannot afford even a moment of rest. A jarring note in the lullaby plays as the ceramic ballerina stops turning. You let the minutes pass by fleetingly; it seems the self-playing chordophones have changed their tune, as well. You watch as the canary diamonds in your bracelet glint against the sunlight. (You are growing tired of the blinding show lights, unrelenting crowd, and never-ending play. Where is the reprieve, you wonder, for the tormented primadonna and her aching soul?)

The strings are now dipped in blood as your tears polish the stage. Your joints have twisted, bent, and danced. You wonder, how long must it be until you are rid of the starring role?

You muster a coy smile, fluttering your lashes at the heir of the most noble and ancient House. “Such crude language, Mister Black,” you say, albeit your voice has gone mellow; nails drumming against the table surface as the guests mingle with one another. The unbearably dull conversations buzz in your ear. You notice Draco and Astoria Greengrass heading for the glasshouse. You consider stealing her lace parasol and whacking Sirius with it, and the thought fills you with immense joy. 

Unfortunately, they are your guests, and you are nothing if not the most polite host. “Perhaps, I am not the only one who hasn’t grown out of their immature habits,” you say, eyeing his shoulder-length hair, spiky ear piercings, and leather jacket. That damned leather jacket of his. It irks you that he and his kind can show insolence freely without bearing any repercussions. (But you’d die before you ever feel envy for a man like Sirius Black.) The sun fades behind the clouds, and your mask slips perfectly into place once more.

“What is it that happened again? Between you and Severus Snape in sixth-year?” You tap your chin pensively, taking cruel satisfaction in the stutter in Sirius’s breath and Remus’s parted lips, ever stupefied. You gaze fiendishly at Remus. “Oh, silly me, I’ve gone off topic. Well, anyhow, I just wanted to say, I believe the students are in rather good hands this year. I just hope Dumbledore doesn’t accidentally let an infected beast roam the halls of Hogwarts.” 

Your eyes flash impishly. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mister Lupin?”

Lily curls her lip viciously. “Just what exactly—?”

“Elsie has returned, master.” The house elf bows her head just as the antique bistro table is circled with macarons, cucumber sandwiches, miniature cocktail buns, and slices of pound cake. Lily retracts her hand, grinding her jaw as she swallows the words in her throat.

“You may go, Elsie, thank you.” With a guileful smirk, you levitate the teapot towards James and Harry, dutifully filling their cups; steam soon arising from the Chinese porcelain. You nod at the group. “It’s jasmine pearl,” you explain haughtily. “Carefully handcrafted tea from harvested leaves and flowers. Such exquisiteness that you won’t be able to find anywhere else.”

“Do enjoy your tea; Cissa and I made sure to spare no expense for our guests.” The teapot carefully lands back on the table. The sinfonietta ends, and so does your time with this particular audience. What misfortune, that you won’t receive your flowers for today’s performance. You pivot on your heels, flinging them a lukewarm goodbye. “Do excuse me, for I must tend to the new arrivals. I believe I see Missus Parkinson over there by the koi pond. Cissa might have my head if I neglect my responsibilities.”

You turn your head, tossing a wink at Lily. “Today, after all, is for the children.”

Alas, it is not Persephone Parkinson you head towards. 

You briefly exchange tepid pleasantries with Lavinia Greengrass before walking past the koi pond to the edges of the garden, far beyond prying eyes and ears. There, like a brooding Dementor drifting through a frozen lake, waits your true target. Sadly, it is only a dour-faced professor, a long time confrère of yours, to be precise. There are only a handful of people to whom you are indebted. Severus Tobias Snape is one of those few. 

With a flick of your wand, you covertly cast the silencing charm upon the elusive spot Severus had chosen. There is no need for these edacious vultures to prey on your conversation. They are better off with their tête-à-têtes and syrupy pikelets. You drown out the chamber orchestra’s symphony, the clinking of champagne glasses, the rustling leaves and ringing wind chimes. “Severus darling,” you say liltingly, feet shuffling to his side as you playfully ghost your palm against his nape. He barely spares you a glance as a breeze courses through the rippling lake water. “You’re missing out on the festivities, you know.”

“Have you finally finished tormenting Narcissa’s visitors?” he drawls, at long last acknowledging your presence and sharply raising a brow at your saccharine-sweet smile.

“Why, I’d never dare to do such a thing,” you reply with a theatrical sway of your head. “I simply conversed with the ladies and had a delightful run-in with your old flame, Lily. Do you remember her, my sweet? Ghastly red hair, pale skin, and, oh, those green eyes. It must be infuriating to look like that,” you rattle away to the only entity willing to listen to you in his company: the wind.

“Spare me,” he drones, lips curved impatiently.

You moue. “Ever the bore, you are, Severus. Shall I fetch you a platter of brandy snaps?”

“Shall I sit around while I wait?” Snape’s lips contort into a sour grimace, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “The Dark Lord himself might even find time to rise from his grave.”

“Severus dear, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to tell me something.” You eye him slyly, mouth tipping into a smirk as a dragonfly hovers by the waterline, avidly stalked by the dwarf frog on a lily pad. “So,” you pry, “did you have something important to tell me? I promised Mister Goyle I’d have a drink with him.”

The frog splashes into the lake, and the dragonfly flutters away without a care. Severus clandestinely slips a piece of paper into your palm as he swivels around, dark cloak billowing. “Ensure that nothing traces back to you,” he snarls. “Clearly I do know better, Severus.” You toy with the paper between your fingers, a sense of exhilaration running up your spine. “Not to worry,” you say with a clipped smile, a serpentine glare in your eyes, “I always do as I am told.”

(Severus, not for the first time in his life, wonders if the Sorting Hat made a mistake when it sorted you into Hufflepuff.) 

act ii. tonight, let’s start the masquerade.

THE NIGHT GROWS weary, and so do the alleys of Knockturn; neglected as your hooded figure navigates through the brick road, only the caged owls and flickering stars to notice your presence. You fainly traipse amongst the shadows, a moment of surrender from the spotlight and malignant eyes; a brief interlude in the performance. Past the hanging doll heads in the windows of Borgin & Burkes, you find a lonely shop. Inside the locket of your ring, lies a slip of paper that had been given to you earlier this afternoon. Well, Severus, you think to yourself, idly twisting the ring on your finger, let’s see where you sent me to this time.

And so, the stage actor calls for a costume change. “Alohomora.”

With one last glance at the dimly-lit passage, you enter the boutique. The brass shop bell accompanies your entrance, but no owner appears to greet you—and if there was, well, you have quite a unique way of saying hello. Your fingers feather across the dusty bookshelves, eyes raking through the broken staircase, the faint scent of ginger, rosemary, and mugwort pervades the room; a shattered crystal ball sits in the center of the shop desk, ripped paintings on the wall. A grimace pulls at your lips as you come across a familiar ivory mask. A Death Eater mask—it’s warm to touch; recently worn, perchance. You bury the strong urge to set it on fire. 

There’s a shift in the air, a creak in the floorboards—in an instant, you whip your wand out from its leather holster. 

“Reveal yourself,” you whisper curtly.

To the naked eye, there is only one intruder in the dingy parlor. To you, however, there is an obscure silhouette of a stranger covered by a glimmering veil. You hold onto your wand resolutely. If it was an enemy, you’d be blown into the walls by now. “This isn’t an ensemble stage, you know,” you chuff impatiently, “I’m not fond of sharing the spotlight with lineless extras.” 

The disillusionment charm slowly unveils, and you wait unblinking, until you see a familiar face standing before you. Mid-length curly hair that falls over gray, dagger-like eyes, the irksome scent of tobacco, and a frightening similarity to his elder brother. 

There are exactly five people you’d risk your life for, and right now, you’re digging the tip of your wand into their neck.

“Mister Regulus Black,” you greet with a playful edge to your voice, eyes narrowing. “Severus didn’t mention we’d be running into each other tonight.” 

“That’s because I didn’t tell Sev I’d be here,” says Regulus, dimples poking out as he swats your wand away from his throat. “I might go mad if I have to stay inside for another bloody week, there’s only so many times I can re-read Good Omens—and by the way, did anyone ever tell you how dramatic you are? Lineless extras, really?” 

You hide a fond smile with a roll of your eyes, whirling around to browse the glass cabinets and leather journals on the table, returning to the task at hand. “And so you thought going outside and risking someone seeing you in the open was a good idea? Reggie darling, I often think about the possibility of Walburga dropping you on the head as an infant.” 

Regulus shoves his hands inside his trouser pockets as he hovers over your shoulders like a lost, overgrown duckling. “Wasn’t it Cissa’s soirée today? Did you jinx the statues like I told you to?” 

“Who do you think I am?” you say haughtily, pausing in your search to half-heartedly glare at him. And after a moment’s pause, you jerk your shoulder and coyly respond with a side-smirk, “Of course I did. The young Mister Flint nearly screamed his head off.” You hum reminiscently, “truthfully, it’s been quite a while since I heard Draco laugh like that these days. For breakfast, I hear about the Granger girl, and then for lunch, I hear about the Weasley children, and for dinner, it’s an hour-long spiel on the famed Harry Potter.” 

Regulus chortles in amusement as he hops onto the shop counter, kicking back his chunky boots. “And, then? Did you see my brother?” 

“Oh, darling, I did more than that,” you mutter offhandedly, leafing through the paraphernalias and foul-smelling potion flasks. 

“How was he? Is he doing well? Merlin, I think it’s been so long since I saw his face.” There’s a lapse of silence between you and Regulus. A lizard scurries across the room, chasing after a line of ants. The younger wizard taints the quietude with a long, frustrated sigh. “Sorry, I just. . .” He slumps his shoulders in resignation. “I wouldn’t have to ask so many questions if. . . if I could just. . .”

“I don’t understand why I have to hide from my own family.” With a jagged whisper, he says, “I feel like I’m losing my mind. Like I can’t believe that I’m really here, I don’t even know if I exist sometimes.” 

You grimace as you turn to look at him, hand flinching as if wanting to reach out to him. Instead, you avert your gaze and continue scouring the room. “It’s for—”

“My own good, I know,” Regulus blows a strand of hair away from his forehead. He jumps off the counter with a hardened stare. You glance at his back as he bends to pick at the marks on the floor. At times like this, you remember how small and young Regulus had been when you found him moribund from lake inferis. What a cruel price to pay in exchange for his survival, you think. 

For Regulus Black has to remain dead to the wizarding world, stuck in an interminable masquerade, waiting until the hour is up for his performance. 

All the world’s a stage, and for the best of the actors and actresses, it seems the production never ends. 

“How long do you think it’s going to stay like this? For you, me, Sev? For Cissa?” As he stands on his toes to inspect the top of a dusty cupboard, Regulus veers his head to peek at your expression, frowning when he finds none. (You’ve no answers for him, after all; the entirety of your life was spent wondering that exact same question. All you know is that the show must go on until the audience tires of the starving artist.) “Never mind, let’s just focus on finding whatever you were trying to find here.” He walks past his reflection in the vintage carved mirror. “What are we looking for, anyway?” 

You wish to offer solace to a cherished friend, but duties are meant to be fulfilled. For now, to do what is right must come first. Your fingers slither up the side of a bookcase, a wooden ladder resting against the shelves. The mahogany is freshly varnished, the stench of glue is prominent, and deep scratches indent the floor. It’s an empty treasure cove, barely anything displayed on the racks. You grit your teeth as you realize it’s been well-maintained compared to the obsolete state of the room. “Here,” you rasp, abruptly snapping your head to look back at him.

He furrows his brow. “What?” 

You beckon him to the corner of the room from where you stand, wooden planks creaking as you push at the bookcase. “Help me with this, Regulus. There could be something behind it.” You clench your jaw as you lean your weight onto the cabinet frame.

“Why don’t we just, I don’t know,” Regulus cocks his head as he waves his wand in the air. “Use magic?” he offers discreetly, as though divulging a century-old secret. “I suggest Bombarda for maximum efficiency.” 

You stare at him vacantly. “Regulus dearheart, I hold a stupendous amount of tolerance for you, but there is absolutely no way we are drawing attention to ourselves via explosion spells in the dead of the night.” 

He grins boyishly before ushering you away. “Alright, alright, I was only taking the mickey out of you.” Soon after, Regulus deftly mutters a levitation charm, his wand steadfast as the bookcase slowly detaches from the floor. You take a couple of steps backward, lips pursed as you observe Regulus concentrate on his work. 

You note to yourself to have a conversation about Regulus’s restlessness with Severus. It could pose a liability and pull the curtains on the entire pasquinade. “Careful,” you keep a tight watch on Regulus’s pinched brows, his hovering wand, and the steadily moving bookshelf. 

“Like taking jelly slugs from a first-year,” he says flippantly, beaming at you as his dark curls sweep over his eyes. 

You give him an exasperated scowl before side-stepping his quip as you descry a faint outline of a door in the plastered wall. You feel a rumble in the ground, muffled noises behind the shrouded entrance.  “Ready your wand, Regulus,” you say grimly, hand reaching for the doorknob, looking back in time to catch his smirk fade into a distant expression, “I believe what awaits won’t be as simple as that.” 

A grave tenor disquiets the room, your free hand already grasping for your wand. Regulus stands at your side, nodding as you take a sharp breath. He offers his back to you, in spite of the looming danger. (A sadistic part of you finds comfort in his presence tonight, but neither of you can truly share the burdens of your harrowing façades. Tomorrow, you play the lone star once more; and he, the dead brother and son. But today, you must simply share the stage.) 

You twist the knob until a click pierces the heavy silence.

You wait with a bated breath, expecting creatures and spells to come hurling in your direction. The room ahead is enshrouded with darkness. You share a terse nod with Regulus as a ball of light appears at the tip of your wands. Regulus moves to take a step forward, but you block him with your arm. “I’ll go first,” you say breathily, curtly glancing at the Death Eater Mask. “It could be cursed the moment we step inside.” Regulus presses his lips into a white line, clearly unhappy with your decision, but relents nonetheless. 

Rough, travertine flooring begins where the woodwork ends; a gust of wind howls into the dark chamber. Wordlessly, you call for your patronus to investigate inside; thin, silvery wisps floating in the air, its light hauntingly beautiful against the unilluminated dungeon. You hear heavy chains dragging across the ground and the harmony of timid footfalls. A drop of water falls onto the cracked stone. Regulus grinds down on his jaw as he readies his wand. 

After an eternity of waiting, you snap your wand to set the torches alight. 

A pronounced chill runs up your spine; a stutter in your breath. You nearly stagger at the sight unveiled before you. If you had been a weaker wizard, you’d have dropped your wand already. “This. . .” you say hoarsely, eyes wide, blood simmering in your veins. 

Children.

Little ones as young as ten-years-old, barely coming up to your stomach, staring up at you with bloodshot eyes. Their skinny arms are covered in grime and wear pathetic rags for clothes. Moss grows in every corner of the room. Emaciated mattresses on metal beds. “Bloody hell,” Regulus growls, chest heaving. “What the fuck?” 

“It’s a prison,” you whisper, horrified. There must be more than twelve children standing before you. Bile rises to your throat. You worry about your wand breaking in half, but the overwhelming sense of dread traps you in position. 

“Are. . . are you with the bad men?” A brave, young girl with owlish eyes protectively steps forward in front of her companions. “No,” you answer gently, bending down on one knee to meet her eyes. You were neither good, or bad, but there is no magic on earth that would make you harm these children. 

Regulus calls your name. “They’re Muggles,” he hisses angrily. “I don’t sense any magic from any of them.” He exhales in frustration. “What the hell are they doing with Muggle children?” 

You grind down on your teeth, nearly dizzy with anger. You forgo a response to Regulus in favor of clasping your cloak around the trembling child. Soon after, you blanket the room in a warming charm. “Tend to their wounds,” you say sharply. “I’ll see what I can do about the chains.” And you will do something about those shackles, if it’s the last thing you do. “We’re going to get you out of here, I promise,” you tell the girl, stolid as you pat her head.

Except, the brass bell rings once more and everyone stiffens in alert. The children begin whimpering amongst themselves. Slow, deliberate footsteps reverberate from the shop into the icy-cold room. The hairs on the back of your neck rise.

“Move out of the way!” you yell, veins straining against your neck, just as you’re blown into the stone walls. 

Regulus screams out your name, but you barely hear anything over the ringing in your ears; through blurring vision, you see the children and Regulus unharmed. Relief floods through you as you sluggishly rise from the floor. There’s a large crater in the wall from the impact; luckily, the tethers to the chains were demolished, as well. “Get them to the safehouse,” you order, blood trickling from your lips. You hardly feel your arms and legs; there’s an ache in the back of your head, your spine feels as though it’s been snapped in half. You’re definitely going to feel this tomorrow. Regulus hesitates to leave, hands laid on the shoulders of the children as he glowers at the newcomer. “Now!” you bellow gutturally. 

A muscle ticks in Regulus’s jaw, but as he finally apparates with as many children as he can, you finally stop holding your breath. “It’s okay,” you reassure the wee boys clinging onto each other for comfort, limping to their side. “I’m rather strong, you know. Stronger than any of the bad men.”

In every duel, you allow yourself to be hit only once—driven by your inhuman desire to feel something other than the  emptiness of your unbroken charade. 

(And for years, you have waited for anyone to say these two specific words: Avada Kedavra.) 

“Go,” you instruct gently, brushing away the tendrils of hair from the little boy’s forehead. “Hide and wait until my companion comes for you.”

“And as for the ill-mannered invader,” you crane your head towards the entrance of the chamber, eyes raking over the tall figure’s bloodthirsty stance and flittering cloak. There’s a lack of silver mask, but you know well the stench of foreboding decay and malignity. At the speed of light, you aim your wand, “Confringo!”

You watch with a spiteful grin as the stranger is blasted across the room. The walls and ceilings threaten to crumble, and you can only hope that Severus won’t be too cross with you in the morning. You point your wand at the uninvited guest’s heart. Nothing will trace back to you, that much you are certain of.

After all, no one would suspect a vapid, insufferable boulevardier to be the greatest spy of the wizarding world.

A firebird caws in the distance.

And, scene.

act iii. where’s your soul? where’s your dream? do you think you’re alive?

“APPEARANCES ARE OF utmost importance.” You stand in the front of the Great Hall, sun rays streaming through the large, stained windows, wooden tables pushed to the walls; accoutered in a black velvet capelet with gold trimmings and vintage dragonhide boots.  The sleeves of your blouse are lined with handwoven, gothic lace; trousers made of the finest yellow satin. It is a testament to your House—the cete of badgers. (You seize everyone’s attention—whether the two Aurors in the corner like it or not.)

After a descanting introduction, you are given center stage before the students of Gryffindor and Slytherin. With a swing in your step and a wrest in your voice, you continue, “That is why the Headmaster, Dumbledore himself, invited me to personally facilitate this year’s Tri-Wizard Tournament. As hosts of the event, excellence is expected of us. Professor McGonagall has graciously allowed me to take charge of your lessons, particularly in the art of dancing.” Your eyes gleam as you offer the young fourth-years a graceful reverence. “And our first lesson begins straight away.”

The crowd of students transfigure into a sea of curious eyes and flabbergasted whispers. You derisively watch the chaos unfold with an amused grin. Yet, you’re not the least bit worried. You’ve charmed even a flock of Dementors before, the creatures having been drawn to your voice, ostentatious stature, and the dark depths of your soul; like a bee to a field of flowers. A class full of awkward teenagers should be more than easy for you. 

“Now, now, children,” you clap your hands as you make your way to the heart of the room, leaving a trail of softening murmurs. “The Yule Ball is a revered tradition, an exhibit of togetherness that has lasted for hundreds years.” You lift your nose up in the air as the girls look at one another, barely able to hide their giddy smiles and discreet glances across the hall. “As such, it is my venerable duty to oversee your etiquette in and out of the ballroom.”

(Sirius rolls his eyes from where he sits besides James.)

“Mister Filch, if you please.” With a flutter of your lashes and a poised smile, you beckon for the school caretaker who flounders to the gramophone. You wink at the young miss Pansy Parkinson who stares up at you in awe. Soon thereafter, you hear the soft melody of Léo Delibes’s Valse. Coppélia, you simper to yourself—a story close to your heart. (You’ve always found a winsome irony in a marionette like you dancing to the enamel-eyed girl’s song.)

“A dance, while enjoyable by one’s lonesome, is best savored with a partner,” you begin vivaciously, eyeing the gentlemen in particular. “Your date for the night must be aware that you’ve chosen them out of your own volition and undue necessity.” Your stare drifts to the coterie of young Gryffindors, tittering mischievously. “Shall we have a demonstration from the House of courage and splendor?”

“No one?” You raise a brow curiously when you’re met with silence and averted gazes. You then utter the scariest phrase a professor could say to their students: “I’ll choose the lucky student myself.” 

You survey the pack of lion cubs, drifting through the tuffs of flashing red hair; gangly boys raucously kicking and pushing at each other to volunteer for your teach-in on ballroom dancing. You flash the students a vexatious grin. “Mister Harry Potter?” you call out to the ashen-faced boy with your hand outstretched. “Why don’t we let the Chosen One set an example to his peers?” 

Hollers and cheers break out across the hall; not withholding the mirthful giggles of the doves on the other side of the room, wonderstruck by his green eyes and lightning scar. You motion for Harry to join you on the pseudo dance floor. The Weasley twins take delight in clapping and wisecracking into his ears until Harry reluctantly rises to his feet, a blooming shade of red on his neck and cheeks. 

“As you approach your partner with the grace of a majestic stag,” you acclaim to the class whilst Harry approaches you with a wry grin and hands shoved inside his robe pockets, “And not a newborn foal.” You place your hand in his, “You may now invite your lady to dance.”

“Or your beau,” you add spiritedly, eyes gleaming as Harry chokes on his saliva.

You pat his back as the music comes to a sweet-sounding crescendo. “Dancing is about connection,” you turn to the students with a stern gaze. “If your posture crumbles, there goes your confidence, as well. At all times, you must maintain eye contact,” you say sharply as you tilt Harry’s chin and correct the arch of his arms. “Remember, it’s not ballroom if there’s no trust. Lean onto one another, and then. . .” You lay your palm onto his shoulder. “The feet should follow the music.”

Unfortunately, Harry runs on two left feet and both persistently evade the music. On the umpteenth time he stumbles on your shoes, he’s appraised by snickers and low whistles from either side of the  hall. The Weasley twins in particular seem thrilled by Harry’s flailing arms and bewildered expression. Along with the two Aurors who’ve skipped their aurorly duties to patrol the castle in favor of heckling their ward. “You’re doing it wrong, James!” shouts Sirius through cupped hands, shoulders shaking in laughter. 

“Why don’t you try it, Padfoot?” Harry retorts back to him; thick hair flopping over his eyes as he grates his teeth. You’re given no warning as Harry extracts himself from your grip and stalks over to where Sirius and James sit comfortably. 

You blink, dumbfounded. “Harry dearest, I don’t believe that is necessary—!”

“Go on then,” says Harry, jerking his head. “Show us all how to do it.” 

To the side, Ron guffaws into his fist, brought nearly to tears. (Earlier he was apprehensive about the class. “We’ve got a whole new professor just for twirling around and all that girlish stuff?” he had asked in disbelief before entering the Great Hall.

“Shut your mouth, Weasley,” growls Draco Malfoy as he shoves past Harry and Hermione to head inside the hall.)

Sirius grins roguishly, having the gall to bat his eyes in confusion. “Who? Me?” He chuckles before forcibly slapping James’s back with the flat of his palm. “No, no. The honor should go to the debonair of his time.” Trenchant eyes flicker with mischief. “Have at it, James. How will the children ever learn without a proper demonstration?” 

“Go on, Sir Prongs!” exclaims one of the red-headed twins. “Show us how it’s done!” 

Alarmingly, the bespectacled man resigns to his fate, a deafening ovation as he shrugs his robes off, generously revealing his broad shoulders in a tight, black turtleneck; a leather wand holster across his chest; long legs framed by pleated trousers. You bite down on your tongue as James draws closer to you, a hint of a smirk on his lips. With an unerring arch of his back, he holds out his hand for you to take, “May I have this dance?” 

Your breath stutters—if only for a moment. One cannot deny that James Potter is deviously more appealing to the eye than the dance partners you’ve had during Narcissa’s galas. Perfectly-carved cheekbones and golden hoops dangling from his ears; bright, hazel eyes girdled by rectangular glasses. “Well,” you say, pursing your lips as you slip your palm into his. “If you must.” 

In contrast to his son, James needs little-to-no guidance from you. You’d have assumed that much, considering that both James and Sirius grew up in pure-blood customs. The warmth of his hand on your back is scalding. He spins you along to the song’s aria; the two of you gliding effortlessly through the soapstone floors. Any more closer to him and you’d be able to hear his heartbeat. “There will be lifts, turns, and dips during a waltz,” you inform the class as you demonstrate a twirl vine. “You will rise and you will fall together with your partner. Understand?” 

James chuckles at the wistful sighs and horrified groans that erupt through the Great Hall. “You’re good with the children, you know,” he remarks cheekily as he gently lowers you to the ground, hand steadfast on your waist. You hear his unsaid words clearly: Sirius thought you’d be downright rubbish at it. 

“Well, Mister Potter,” you say breathlessly, clasping your arms around his neck once more. “To some of the students here, frilly dresses and French designers are their entire world.” Your chin all but perched atop James’s shoulders; the scent of his famed Sleekeazy potion and vetiver—dew on fresh grass on a warm sunny day—fills your senses. You cast a sniffy glare in Sirius’s way, to which he responds with a raised brow. 

“Bit shallow, isn’t it?” he murmurs, chest rumbling and his breath hot on your ear. 

You scoff. “One could argue the same for a young Seeker who’s been given their first ever broom.” 

James Potter has the nerve to smile at you. And as you move to extricate yourself from his hold, James mindlessly lets his hand fall from your waist to your hip—incidentally, where you’ve been nursing a heavy fracture. Sore bruises from chasing vampires the night prior as you were out hunting allies of the Dark Lord from the first wizarding war. Although you had drowned yourself in pain relief elixirs, it seems you’re more sensitive and hurt than you thought. 

Even statues of white gold chip and fade over time—you’re reminded of this fact quite painfully. You roughly push James away from you, hissing in pain as you cradle the left side of your hip. Memories of crimson-stained teeth and rotten, pale skin flash before your eyes. You remember the stench of blood, and the feel of their nails slashing into your thighs. But most of all, you remember their ear-piercing shrieks just before you drive the stake into their chests, one by one, until you have left a graveyard of vampires in the outskirts of an abandoned mansion. 

James furrows his brow immediately as you cave in on yourself. (Even Sirius surges to his feet.) “What’s wrong?”

Occlude! Occlude—you must occlude immediately! 

With a sharp inhale, you close off your emotions for anyone else to see. “It is nothing of your concern, Mister Potter,” you respond blankly, as though your soul is locked far away. “I do believe we’re done here.” You step further away from him. Your attention shifts to the students as you fold your hands behind your back, lips curling into a virulent smile. The weight of your mask is comforting; you’ve forgotten how to breathe without it. “Now, let’s have the students pair up and practice what they’ve learned so far. I’ll have no patience for dilly-dallying and nescience on my watch. You’ll dance until I tell you to stop. You’ll practice until the soles of your feet are sore and raw.”

That, after all, is how you learned.

The class goes by accordingly; you maintain a distance from Sirius and James, turning a blind eye to their burdensome sympathy. (Gryffindors and their bleeding hearts—it always unnerves you how easily the avowed Marauders get deep under your skin.) You nip at the students’ heels, righting their poor footwork; looping the music until you are certain they’d hear it in their nightmares. To your surprise, the round-cheeked Neville Longbottom takes all your instructions in stride. From the moment that you allow Filch to lift the tonearm, the students practically fall to the floor, heaving; some forsaking their long robes and tying their hair in flimsy ponytails. 

As the students retreat from the Great Hall, you slink away into the crowd of Slytherins, desperate to avoid a particular duo of Aurors—no doubt ready to probe you with questions. A numbing panic claws at your chest; black spots swallowing your vision. Emotions—how putrid. The students’ discordant chatter overwhelms your hearing, more than the ringing in your ears. The unyielding, outré stone walls feel like they’re closing in on you. Still, you keep your head above the water, enduring every staggered breath. You must. 

What’s wrong? 

The question echoes in your head. 

Ha! 

You scream inwardly, if they only knew! 

While you had been expecting either James or Sirius to ambush you, you do not expect to see Draco Malfoy shouting your name as you flee down an empty corridor. 

The miniature Lucius Malfoy stands before you, grimacing as he clenches his fists tightly. “Are. . .” Draco’s expression contorts morosely. “Are you alright? Theo and I were worried that the blood traitor upset you.” he spits his concern as if it were acid. Little snakes and their keen eyes. 

“Mind your language, Draco,” you reply cuttingly, eyes flashing as you lift your chin. And for his question, one that you’ve been asked numerous times over the years, you have only ever had one answer. Despite the scars on your back, the tremors in your hands, the aching of your heart, and the endless bruises on your limbs, you tell him: “And do not ask what is not needed to be.” 

“You’re hurt, aren’t you?” he presses further, mouth pinched. “Don’t treat me like a dim-witted child because I’m not!” 

A hand lays on his shoulder, and to your chagrin, Severus makes his appearance, lips downturned and his gaze filled with subdued apathy. Your day is about to get worse. “Perhaps, it is best if you leave this discussion to the adults, Draco.” Snape drones, leaving no room for debate. He tightens his grip on the younger wizard. “I will not be inconvenienced to explain to Minerva as to why you were dawdling in the corridors.” 

In true Malfoy fashion, Draco sneers in disdain. He rips himself out of Snape’s grasp with a scoff. As he storms past you, you sigh and pat his side. 

When Draco disappears into the corner, you release a deep breath as you prepare for the onslaught to come. “Just get it over with, Severus,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, the pounding in your head growing more unbearable by the second. 

You see his nostrils flare as Severus turns to glare at you. “I wonder,” he says through gritted teeth. “If you are actually capable of following direct orders—of using that near-empty brain of yours!” His upper lip curls back into a snarl, as he scours the empty hallway for any prowling ears. “Your stunt made it to the Daily Prophet. You were asked to proceed tactfully, were you not?” 

You lean against the wall, rubbing at the temples of your head. “And I’ve done my part. Every last one of them—dead by my hands. A problem you failed to deal with for the last two months. That I settled last night. Remind me why you’re still chittering into my ear, Severus darling?”

“Do not play coy with me,” he replies brusquely. “I’ve heard the students tattling about it as though it were the most interesting event in their pathetic, insolent lives. The Embris Mansion burnt down to the ground. There are talks of a vigilante, a good-for-nothing do-gooder. You got sloppy!”

“And if I did—so what?” You retaliate, chest heaving as you step into his face. Truthfully, this isn’t the first time you’ve had this conversation with him. Over the years you have left some sort of mark on your work. Not a phoenix, but a firecrest. Wings outstretched in flames. All eyes are on the ungovernable hero, the Firebird—and never on you, the foppy socialite. “Would it be so perverse to want even a slither of recognition, Severus?” 

“Do not forget your duty,” he taunts venomously, the cords in his neck going rigid. “To the greater good you so earnestly fight for. Your duty to your mother.” 

“Do not talk about her!” you all but shout, magic sizzling in the air around you. 

“Then see to it that there are no more mistakes going forward!” Severus juts his chin, baring his teeth in contempt. 

After a few long moments, he continues with a resigned exhale, dragging his palm down his face—as though you are the perplexing one. “This. . . Moody has developed a habit of emptying my cupboards.” 

“And why, pray tell,” you retort gruffly, “should I care for this oh-so special cupboard of yours?” 

“It contains ingredients for Polyjuice potions!” he proclaims angrily. “Get to the bottom of this. I’ll not have a blithering fool like Pettigrew get to the students again. Do what you must, I have no interest in understanding the workings of your mind—as long as you do not draw unnecessary attention to yourself.” 

The sound of footfalls break you apart as Severus nimbly lifts the Notice-Me-Not charm he had cast earlier. Within seconds, you find Remus Lupin rounding the corner. He’s dressed in his usual baggy, gray jumper; jaw clean-shaved, and pinkish scars against his skin. A well-loved quilted coat over his shoulders—handmade by Lily, you presume. You notice the mismatched otter socks peeking from his loafers. Remus saunters down the hallway with tired eyes and a feeble smile as he stops right in front of you and Severus. He has a rather tall frame, slender even, despite his hunched shoulders. 

“Snape,” Remus nods to him, gaze flickering back and forth as he attempts to discern what had transpired—well, you’re certainly in no rush to tattle and cry into his arms. 

“Professor,” he says to you, an ever curious smile on his face. “You’re looking quite peaky. Is something the matter?”

“I am most certainly sound and fine, Mister Lupin,” you respond, irritated, as you wobble on your feet. You are at your wit’s end—how bothersome of it all. “Should you not be on your way to your next class, Professor?” you bite tiredly. 

Remus shrugs, hazel-eyes crinkling in amusement. “Mad-Eye is taking over my next class. I thought it would be good for the students to learn from a veteran Auror. I’m sure he has much more experience to offer than me.” 

You scowl, his humility smothering you painfully. “Well, I’ve no interest in dragging my feet around. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I have a prior engagement with my cat and I’m afraid I’ve left her alone for too long.” 

And as fate would have it, when you make haste for your quarters, you falter in your steps; lurching as your vision goes blurry. Your breath snags in your throat as Remus catches you by the waist. “Perhaps, we should get you to Lily,” offers Remus as he sets you upright, brows pinched worriedly, ignoring Snape’s eye roll in the background. 

“I said I was fine!” You blurt out, cradling the front of your head as you sway backwards; now seeing two Lupins and two Snapes. “Merlin, are all Gryffindors this bloody meddlesome? Must I repeat myself? I am fine—!” 

Turns out, you are not fine. 

The last thing you see before losing consciousness is a pair of brown eyes with flecks of gold, more beautiful than any full moon you’ve ever seen. 

 —

You wake up to a dry, sore throat; the bitter scent of infirmary disinfectant—a Muggle’s touch, no doubt—and concoctions of various healing potions. Your head is still pounding, but somewhat bearable. The room is small, privy to only teachers, you conclude—although, it is the very first time you have ended up in the infirmary. Remus Lupin would feel your wrath, you’d make sure of it. Your back stings as though it were doused in Dittany recently. As you nearly break the flower vase in an attempt to reach for the empty glass, the door creaks open—and in comes Lily Potter with her husbands.

“Am I in hell?” you eye them bitterly. 

“No,” says the youngest matron, dressed in her own version of the nurse’s uniform. Red vest over her white blouse, and a long, plaid skirt with pockets. Soft red hair tied back with a pink ribbon. Albeit, her expression is anything but sweet and delicate. “But you’re in my office, which means you are now under my care—therefore I’d like you to explain why you have vampire toxins in your blood.” 

“And I would like to return to my quarters now, please,” you respond haughtily, referring to the private bedroom professors were offered in the castle. “I’ve nothing to explain to someone who administers the diagnostic charm on my person without explicit permission to do so!” you exclaim, releasing a shuddery breath as your head throbs agonizingly. 

“You will listen to me—seven hours ago you were this close to paralysis!” Lily shouts right back, eyes glaring defiantly—she may have adhered to you in Malfoy’s territory, but no power holds more authority than an acclaimed healer over a patient. “If you had been a Muggle, you’d be dead ten times over.”

“Well, now that we’ve established that I’m alive and well, I suppose we have no more pleasantries to exchange, Lily darling.” You tear the flimsy blanket from your legs, grimacing at the bandages covering your skin. 

“Not before you tell us where those bruises came from,” Sirius demands, voice low and knife-like eyes on you. 

“Must have been the Nargles,” you reply sarcastically. No one would care for a bonny doll ripping apart at the seams and gathering dust on a child’s shelf. “They’re quite frisky this time of the year, didn’t you know? My good friend Xenophilius wrote about those creatures a long time ago. Good read, I’d say.” 

“Are you capable of taking anything seriously?” cuts Sirius with a snarl, tendrils of hair curling around his face; hints of tattoos peeking out from his leather jacket. Vermillion satin shirt clashing against his pale skin. The lingering smell of lit cigars only reminds you of Regulus, and so you tear your gaze away from Sirius. 

“Sirius, let’s not scare her off now, love,” Remus admonishes, softly resting his palm at the back of Sirius’s neck, before he stares at you with honey-dripping eyes. You have a desperate need to run away. They’re an uncharted danger that you aren’t familiar with navigating—and you figure young Harry wouldn’t appreciate you treating his parents like a rabid vampire. “We just want to know what happened, you looked worse for wear when we brought you to Lily and Madam Pomfrey,” Remus placates, treating you like a crow with its wing snapped in half. 

You sneer. “If I am not dead, then these wounds hardly matter to me.” 

Lily gasps, a sound so soft only the wind could have possibly heard it. “How could you say that?” she asks, hand flying to her lips. “Of course it matters, you had lost so much blood while we tried to get the toxins flushed from your system.” She stares at the puncture mark on your arm, before peering over at Sirius. “We nearly couldn’t find a match to your blood type. Sirius. . . Well, he’s a universal donor and he didn’t even hesitate in giving you his—”

“Giving me what?” you echo lowly. “What did Sirius give me, Lily?”

“Blood,” Lily says firmly. “He gave you his blood so you could live.”

“How dare you?” you seethe, chest rapidly rising; digging your nails firmly into your palms as you stare furiously at Lily. “You had no right!” You scream until your throat is sore; your magic overflowing until it shatters the nearby vase of butterfly weeds. 

Rage tunnels your vision; heart hammering against your ribcage as you move to carelessly rip at the bandages over your wounds. “You had no right! You had no fucking right! I would have never done the same for you! Get out! Get out!” 

“Get out!” You hurl the glass at the wall across from you, narrowly avoiding Sirius’s head; anguish tears itself from your voice and you barely notice James flinch from the intensely flickering lights. 

“You think I’d be grateful?” you scoff, a burning heat spreading across your chest. “You think I’d be indebted to any of you after this? Is that what you wanted? What a fucking joke!” You laugh irately as you gasp for air. “I’d rather die!” 

When you run out of items to throw at them—pillows, shards of glass, and crumpled flower stems—you sit on the bed, shoulders violently shaking as you cough yourself sick. 

“I. . .” Lily begins, swallowing the lump wedged in her throat. “I understand. . . But I am the castle’s nurse, as long as you are under Hogwarts’ protection, I am keeping you alive no matter what.” 

“I don’t bloody care,” you snide.

Her eyes flash to James. “We’ll leave you to rest, then.” 

You stay silent, vacantly staring at the reddened welts on your hands. It’s not until you feel James’s arms around you and his chin hovering above your head that you realize you’ve stopped shivering. “I’m sorry,” is all that James whispers into your ear as he lays you to sleep with an inaudible charm. The chill of his magic is the last thing you feel before your eyes flutter to a close. 

—

You wake up in the infirmary once more. This time, you lay stiff on the mattress, absentmindedly gazing at the plain ceiling; your chest falling and rising ever-so slowly. The stink of a Calming Draught is painstakingly familiar. A low humming sound tells you that you aren’t alone—but you barely flinch from their presence, too tired to do anything but close your eyes. “Some boys kiss me, some boys hug me. . . . something. . . they’re okay,” murmurs one Sirius Black, tapping on his thigh as he rests his back on the rustic chair. 

If Sirius wants an encore, he’d have to drag the fight out of you. You’re utterly drained from your emotional palaver earlier. “Didn’t know you were into Muggle songs, Black,” you chortle bemusedly.  

Sirius halts in his singing as a forceful silence falls over the room—you distinctly hear the moment Sirius’s hand drops to his thigh, most likely taken aback by the sound of your hoarse voice. You feel the weight of his eyes on your bandaged arms and legs. A few seconds pass before he responds, his words but a faint breath. “After today, I believe that there is much to be uncovered for the both of us.” 

You don’t bother replying—you’d have Obliviated them instantly if it wasn’t illegal to use on Aurors. 

“We know it was you,” says Sirius out of the blue—your blood turns icy-cold on command, wondering if he’s figured out about the wizard behind the Firebird. “On the first day of term, someone had left a basket of freshly-brewed Wolfsbane potions enough to last him for the entire year,” he explains further, leaning his elbows on his knees as he stares at you unwaveringly. “I almost didn’t believe it, but a Marauder has his ways.” 

(His son with an invisibility cloak and a handy, enchanted parchment.) 

“Thank you,” he says, guttural with emotions. “It means more to Remus than you think.”

“Your gratitude is misplaced, unfortunately,” you rasp, coiling your fists tightly, stubbornly intent on avoiding his eyes—not wanting to get caught in the storm within. You exhale with a ragged sigh. Severus was right, you had been sloppy. And this is what carelessness leads to. “Don’t delude yourself, Mister Black, I couldn’t care less what happens to you or your family.”

Sirius chuckles, like he’d expected such a response from you. “Well, do what you’d like with my gratitude, I don’t care, just know that you have it,” he says, rising from his seat. “It’s past midnight, by the way. Lily’s left you some dinner in case you woke up hungry.” 

Your eyes drift to the nightstand. There’s a steaming bowl of spinach rice with mushrooms, and a plate of honey cinnamon bars. But your gaze lingers on the bouquet of snapdragons and orchids placed in a ceramic vase. 

“She believes home-cooked meals help the patients heal faster,” Sirius tells you, carefully observing your reaction—but there’s none to be found. He purses his lips into a thin, white line.

As he makes his way to leave, Sirius pauses, hand resting on the doorframe. “You know,” he begins quietly. “The thing about magic—it can fool the best of us into thinking we’re indestructible. But, you’re not as inhumane as you’d like us to think.” Sirius veers his head to look back at you. “Take that mask of yours off sometimes, yeah? You’d see the rest of the world clearly if you did.” 

That is all you hear from him before the door clicks shut, and you’re left alone with your thoughts.

How arrogant.

How very Gryffindor of him. 

You push the flower vase closer to the edge of the bedside table, indignantly eyeing the watercolor art. The room reeks of Lily’s kindness. Lions and their constant need to see the goodness in everyone. Take off your mask? You’d give your entire Gringotts account to wear the kind of rose-colored lenses they have—they’re more pestilent than you realized. No matter, it’s high-time you reintroduced yourself to the Marauders, anyway. 

If you take off your mask, they would find nothing but a barren soul.

—

It seems your newfound parasites have forgotten who you truly are—but you have no qualms in reminding them why exactly you’re called the pureblood society’s darling. 

For the week or so, the Daily Prophet features you out in luxurious restaurants, a new partner each night hanging off your arm. International Quidditch players, foreign models, esteemed opera singers, and even Muggle celebrities. Men and women are captured in moving photographs, avidly fawning over you. 

You’ve missed three classes in favor of shopping in France; Flooing back to Hogwarts, stinking of bordeaux and rosa centifolia. Painite gems nestled around your neck, glittery sapphires lining your wrists. On more than one occasion, you’ve seen McGonagall lift her chin in distaste at your behavior. 

“Well, that’s certainly a speedy recovery,” says Lily one afternoon as the owls take the Great Hall by storm. Rita Skeeter’s new article about you is plastered on the front page, apparently you’ve gotten into a catfight with an Italian seamstress. She risks a glimpse of you from the other side of the long table, laughing away with Professor Sinistra. The sound is scraping against her ears, yet Lily can’t help but feel disappointed.

Your desk is littered with mails from admirers, invitations to galas and fundraisers. The students can’t help but notice this fact as they’re brought to the dance floor each morning. (Each day, you rewind Coppélia’s song—her wishes, and her pain—but you plan to ignore the ballad until blood trickles from your ears.)

“Mumma’s just about ready to send her a Howler,” you hear Ginevra Weasley saying in passing after class. The young red-haired girl nearly bumps into Hermione’s shoulder as Ginny dips her head low, prattling excitedly, “Called the Professor a tart, even.”

Hermione stops walking, scrunching her nose. “Really?”

“Yes, yes,” Ginny nods. “But enough about all that—have you seen the news this morning?” 

Hermione looks up, lips wrinkled in thought. “The one about the Professor being seen in Muggle London? I thought that was rather stale for a headline.”

“Not that one,” Ginny says exasperatedly, rolling her eyes. “The article about the Firebird. Remember what happened during the World Cup? When You-Know-Who’s followers came and raided the entire campsite?”

“That would be pretty hard to forget, Gin,” Hermione replies softly. 

“Well, the Firebird’s gone and hunted a few of them,” Ginny tells her, eyes brimming with awe. “Found their hideout and left them half-dead for the Ministry to find. No Malfoy, though, which is a bloody shame.”

At your desk, you sip your jasmine pearl tea with a knowing smirk.

On the first of October, your previous Head of House invites you to the greenhouse for an overdue get-together. Naturally, you greet Pomona Sprout with gift baskets overflowing with glacé treats, packets of tea, scented candles, and dried berries. She huffs in fond exasperation before instructing you to grab a pair of cotton earmuffs and gardening gloves. And, well, you don’t mind playing the part of a slap happy third-year under her gentle care. It’s a role you enjoy more so than others. 

“You’ve been worrying me these days, dear,” Professor Sprout tells you earnestly as she wrestles with the Flitterblooms. Hoo-hoo chicks flutter around in their cage while the uprooted baby Mandragoras screech nearby. You feel the weight of her gaze, much like a knitted blanket draped over your shoulders on a cold, autumn noon. “The other staff have been expressing their. . . concern,  as well.” 

You busy yourself with planting the Wiggentree in its pot, allowing only a moment to raise your walls of Occlumency. You know that she couldn’t possibly be a threat, but you would not allow someone else to expose you bare for others to see. (You loathe the thought of Sirius’s blood flowing through your veins.)

You know that concern is shallow at best, forged from fear of the students being influenced by your frivolous escapades. 

At your silence, Sprout continues on, “We always tell the children that their Houses will be like their second family during their time at Hogwarts.” You hear her draw in a long breath, gingerly placing the flitter tentacles on the ground. “I hope you understand that the same is true for the professors. We take care of each other, substitute teacher or not.” Pomona’s hand is leaden on your shoulder. “After all, you were our student before anything else. The Sorting Hat gave you to me, and what a darling blessing you have been, even until today. When I look at you now, I see the same young first-year student who was afraid of everything and afraid to come out of their shell—but do not forget, I will always be on my children’s side no matter what.”

How poignant that the first person who truly welcomed you to Hogwarts, is one of the only people who can see through you despite your protective barriers.

And so, the puppet show begins—like a lifeless ragdoll, you peel the deer-leather gloves off your hands, blinking away any hints of emotion. You stand tall before Pomona, dusting flecks of soil off your dovetail skirt. “No one has been on my side. Not then, not now,” you say as you snobbishly arrange the brim of your sunhat. “But do not be mistaken, Pomona. I have been fine on my own and a change still remains to be seen.” 

In another life, you would have happily embraced her comfort and affection—but the fate of a lonely starlet is cruel. You’ve made your bed of thorns and wilted roses, and there you shall lay when there is no one left but yourself. 

“Today was lovely, Pomona, thank you.” It is one truth you’ve permitted yourself to offer—a shred of humanity in exchange for her kindness. The dirt beneath your nail beds is real; so is the ache in your back and the sweat dripping from the side of your head to your chin. But you cannot feel any more than that—you forbid yourself. The Mandrakes fall silent, and you bid your goodbyes to the professor.

The sunlight on your skin is real as you step outside, and so is the sound of clamoring students heading for the greenhouse. Sixth-year students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw hurry down the hill. Their unrestrained laughter and carefree smiles are real. And so is the unwashed blood on your hands; the killing curses that have fallen so easily from your lips, and the ghosts that haunt you as the moon arises. Perhaps, you could withstand it all if it means the children would live through a real future without the sins of people like you. 

(But why is it that every time you distance yourself. . . there always seems to be someone calling out to you?) 

Cedric Diggory, your godson, yells for you with a grin that stretches from ear-to-ear. You watch as his yellow scarf swings with each hasty step he takes. Cedric crosses the gap between you in under a minute, strands of wavy, brown hair sweeping over his glimmering eyes. It’s an unsolved mystery as to how you and him were sorted in the same House. 

“Your shirt is wrinkled, Cedric,” you tut, straightening his tie. “Do you go riding Hippogriffs in your spare time?” 

Cedric chuckles wholeheartedly. “Father told me to tell you that you’ve been invited this weekend for a dinner at Hogsmeade,” he says, cocking his head as a cheeky simper erupts across his face. “That is, if you aren’t busy.” 

You raise a brow—sly little badger, he was. Harrumphing uppishly, you swivel to turn your back to him and say, “Tell your father that I’m choosing the venue, lest he chooses some primitive pub in the village.” You draw out the distance between you and Cedric, tossing your parting words into the chilly breeze, “Tell him I’m paying for everything, too.” 

His hearty laughter cuts through the hillside as you make your way back to the castle. Thinking you have the last word, you don’t expect him to yell once more: 

“I’m going to enter the tournament this year!” 

You’re certainly taken by surprise, but you don’t slow your pace. An imperious smirk tugs at your lips—well, at least you know where you’re placing your bets. 

A day before the esteemed guests are set to arrive, you run into Sirius and James—much to your annoyance. It’s just your luck that the evening prior you were hunting down a known member of Greyback’s pack. You played a little cat-and-wolf deep in the depths of a forest, hungrily isolating him from the rest of its family. Though this lycan was unturned, you walk away with claw marks on your back. Still, you hope that Greyback licks his wounds and feels the burden of this particular loss. However, you feel that dealing with James and Sirius will be much more difficult than bringing a werewolf to its knees.

After all, this is the first time you come face-to-face with them, nearly a month after your incident in the infirmary. 

“Auror Black, Auror Potter,” you say liltingly, the rhinestone tassel clinking in your hair as you swirl to face them with a devious leer. “What can I do for you today?” 

Sirius scoffs in disbelief. “So it’s like that, then? Like nothing ever happened?” 

“Partying around, missing your bloody classes, parading all over the castle like you’re better than everyone else. We thought you changed. You know, I actually thought there could be something real to you under all that,” he punctuates his words with a harsh laugh, sneering at your blinding jewelry. “Guess we were the fools, eh?” 

James stares at Sirius, a grim expression flashing across his face, before he shakes his head. “It just doesn’t make sense. What we saw at the infirmary—that’s not something anyone forgets.” He gazes at you with grief in his eyes. “It’s like you’re two different people.” 

“It’s disappointing, really,” Sirius bites, his lips curling into a snarl.

They’ve made it all too easy for you. 

“What are you so frustrated for, darlings?” you say in faux sympathy, stalking towards them as you tap at your chin; a sickly-sweet pout on your lips. “What were you hoping for? For all of us to become friends? We’re not children anymore, my loves!” you exclaim histrionically. “Did you actually fall for my little trick at the infirmary? The care parcel I left your husband? Didn’t you know my mother drafted the anti-werewolf bill?”

Sirius staggers.

“The real me?” you giggle incredulously. “What you see is what you get, dearest—don’t go searching for what doesn’t exist. It’s not my fault you fall so easily for a pretty face.” You tilt your head, fluttering your eyes as you drag your nail up James’s chin. “Not every damsel is in distress, you know.”

Your eyes slice towards Sirius with a coy smile. “Maybe if you had followed your head more often than your naive, little lion hearts—you wouldn’t have driven Regulus to his death.” 

James recoils away from your touch just as Sirius flinches, eyes flashing with anger—Sirius digs his nails into his palms, chest heaving as he stares at you in disgust. You expect another stab in the chest from him, and so you lift your head up high, daring him to say another word. (You hope they stopped trying after this—that they would leave you alone to rot in your stage of lies and dutiful sacrifice.) But you don’t plan for James to step forward, shielding Sirius away from your gaze.

“You are, without a doubt, the ugliest creature I’ve ever seen,” says James, words dripping in sincere revulsion. “Can’t believe I thought anything less than that.” 

You smile widely, despite the tightening sensation in your chest. “Are we done here now, gentlemen?”

They would learn—this is who you are beneath your masks and pretenses. 

The thirtieth of October brings about a cold you’ve never felt before. As you await the arrival of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students, the outside corridors are teeming with students, eyes hungry with anticipation. You lean against the wall, exhausted physically and mentally, hugging your worn-out shawl closer to your shoulders. 

The skies are exceptionally gray today—you’ve had to drag yourself out of bed earlier this morning, limbs heavy as lead. The teacup in your grasp is scalding to the touch—you find that nothing hurts more than the ache in your heart. The children are particularly rowdy at the moment—each time you close your eyes, you see the hatred in James and Sirius’s eyes. 

Has loneliness ever felt so suffocating before? 

When winged horses make their way from the heavens, the clamoring grows louder—yet all you hear are their words. 

‘You are, without a doubt, the ugliest creature I’ve ever seen.’

‘I actually thought there could be something real to you under all that.’

You would not weep—not for yourself, and not certainly for them. 

Sometimes, you wondered if you were hurting too much to even be considered alive. Did your marked flesh even count as skin anymore? Worthy to be cherished with gentle touches and tender lips? How much more did you have to do until the guillotine finally fell? 

When does duty end? And when does life begin? 

Madame Maxine and her drove of Veelas descend from their carriage; awestruck gasps and intrigued murmurs echoing along the corridor. When the Beauxbatons Headmaster comes to stand before you, you instinctively sink into the role of a diplomatic host—that is, after all, why Dumbledore hired you. With a nod of your head and a pleasing smile, you greet the first of your guests to arrive. 

“What a relief that you made it safely to Hogwarts, Madame Maxime,” you tell her in a saccharine-sweet tone. “If you please, Mister Filch here will guide you to the dormitories where you’ll be staying while Hagrid will take care of your horses.” 

You want to go to sleep already. 

Finally, as a large ship emerges from the Great Lake—a sense of relief floods through you. Only one more person to greet and you’ll finally be able to return to your quarters, welcoming feast be damned—you’ve done your part for today. Igor Karkaroff and his students make their presence known; imposing statures and foreboding glares. The castle nearly crumbles from Viktor Krum’s entrance, Hogwarts’ Quidditch players eager to catch a glimpse of the prodigal Seeker—well, you could care less about such a barbaric sport. 

Karkaroff presents you a slimy leer as he presses a kiss to the back of your palm—the dig of his long nails into your skin is a pleasant feeling, to your surprise. “Dumbledore did not inform me we would be greeted by such beauty. We would have arrived earlier, otherwise.” 

You miss your cat. 

(Sirius’s eyes roll all the way to the back of his head when you giggle and melt in Karkaroff’s wretched compliments.) 

You want to die.

—

Chaos erupts the next day. The Goblet of Fire has chosen a fourth champion—Harry Potter himself. No one is more enraged than his mother, Lily. The Aurors on duty, James and Sirius, struggle to contain the students’ horror and verbal lashings. Some have taken to accusing James himself of putting Harry’s name in the goblet in the name of family prestige—predictably, it’s Draco and Pansy who lead that revolt. But you don’t expect for Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan to be swayed by the baseless gossip. So there’s a crack in the pride’s loyalty to one another, you surmise to yourself. 

Like a Niffler drawn to shiny objects, you follow the Headmasters and professors into a room, away from all the ruckus. 

“Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?” the wise Professor Dumbledore asks calmly.

The atmosphere is beyond wintry—you note the biting criticisms in their eyes, particular between Fleur and Madame Maxime. Lily hides Harry from their scrutiny, proud and unyielding despite being shorter than the Beauxbaton champion. Across the room, you find Severus and Remus engaged in a muted, albeit wound up argument. 

Everyone looks to the morose Bartemius Crouch Sr., awaiting his decision with a bated breath. You sympathize with the man—for a fleeting moment—for if looks could kill, Sirius’s tempestuous glare would have dragged him six feet under. 

“We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament.”

Your blood runs cold.

Ludo Bagman appears to be pleased with his colleague’s decision—you see no reason why he shouldn’t be, he’s only ever put his odds in the thrill of the game. “Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front!” 

Dimwitted fool.

You scoff. “In a room full of Headmasters and Ministry leaders, surely one of you can find a way to unbind young Potter’s name from the tournament.”

“Err. . .” Ludo’s gaze flickers from Dumbledore to Crouch Sr. Madame Maxime and Karkaroff nod emphatically in agreement, forcing him into a corner with a ragged chuckle. “There’s nothing to be done, the Goblet of Fire has gone out.”

“Do you or do you not have a wand, Mister Bagman?” you reply, piqued; crossing your arms over your chest. “If the rules were written by a wizard, surely it can be unwritten by a wizard. Teaching an Unforgivable to a first-year would be more difficult than that.” “It is not as simple as that, Professor!” Bagman cries. “But you are welcome to try a hand at it.”

“So we just let a child run to his death, then?” you seethe, nostrils flaring. “I never knew the Ministry was teeming with incompetent men. Shall I steal your job from under your nose, Ludo dear?”

(Harry’s brows pinch in confusion. He does not expect for you to care so much.)

“He’s got to compete. They’ve all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?” says Alastor Moody as he limps across the room, flask in his hand. You fall silent, an unnerving chill slithering down your spine. Something about this man did not sit right with you. You pull the sleeves of your blouse further down your arms. 

“Maybe someone’s hoping Potter is going to die for it,” Moody growls in response to Fleur. “Over my dead body!” James snarls, veins rigid against the column of his throat, eyes simmering in anger. 

“Yes, yes, Potter, we all know you’d die for your son,” Moody remarks offhandedly, taking a large gulp of the liquor in his flask. 

“It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it,” Dumbledore counters in an attempt to placate the tense atmosphere. Lily’s sharp sob engulfs the outraged clamors of the two other Headmasters. “Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore, they will do. . . .”

The glass sculpture of a long-haired mermaid shatters into fragmented pieces as you bump into the table; just about ready to flee before you do anything rash like point your wand at Crouch Sr. himself. Before you exit the room, you catch sight of Cedric’s eyes—worry and uncertainty pooling within his gaze. You slam the door hard enough until the wood splinters. 

Harry Potter is imprisoned by his fate as the Chosen One—and it seems time has imprisoned everyone at Hogwarts, yourself included. 

The first task for the tournament arrives defiantly, without care for Harry and his loved ones. You have only been to the Quidditch field twice—today happens to be the second time. Everyone is bundled in their wooliest sweaters and warmest jackets; although, Hermione did have her portable bluebell flames. You stare at it with envy. 

“Oi! Professor, over here!” One freckled Weasley twin—Fred, you guess—beckons for you to sit by their swarm of red and gold. He pushes Ron away to make room for you beside Minerva. 

“Thank you, Mister Weasley,” you say quietly, sniffles falling from your frost-bitten nose. 

It’s quite odd—you’d have expected to be sitting with Professor Sprout and Amos, amongst your sett of badgers. But it’s not half-bad. You don’t erupt in flames when Minerva holds onto you, shrieking, as Fleur narrowly avoids her dragon, awoken from its trance. You don’t particularly mind either, when the Weasley twins bump their chests and holler into Ginerva’s ear when it’s time for Viktor Krum to face the Chinese Fireball.

“We got a traitor here!” George snickers when you flinch and yelp for Cedric as he fights shy of the Short Snout’s fire, and cheering breathlessly when he eventually captures the golden egg. You glare at George mirthfully, wondering where your fight and heat has gone. 

“Please excuse me for a moment,” you say, rising to your feet as the judges mull over their scores for Cedric. “Minerva,” you nod to her, and she offers you a hint of a wrinkly smile. (McGonagall thinks that if anyone can talk back in the face of a Ministry chairman in defense of her students, then perhaps she’s misjudged a professor or two.) 

Your cheeks grow numb from the cold as you cross the swarm of Beauxbatons students, past the flock of Ravenclaws. Harry’s match is underscored by the deafening cheers; the stands  rumbling from the yells for his name. You’re nearing the territory of yellow banners and black insignias, trumpets blowing into your ears, when the clamor and hurrahs turn into terrified gasps; students rushing back from the edge. You don’t understand the fuss until you look back at the arena. 

Harry’s dragon has broken free from its chains. 

You join Professor Sprout and Severus in herding the students away from danger—spotting James and Sirius across the arena, hastily reinforcing the protective barriers around the stands, uttermost precision in their wandwork. While Harry dances a life-threatening waltz, you hurriedly clear out the space closest to the banisters. Your breath hitches as the Hungarian Horntail wreaks havoc below, inducing quakes and showers of fire. 

But more frightening than any dragon, you hear the bloodcurdling scream of a student.

“Daphne!” 

The Greengrass heiress, Astoria, cries vehemently as Draco holds her back from rushing to the front of the stands. 

You scour the area frantically—there, only a few feet away from you, lies a fear-stricken Daphne Greengrass, staring right into the eyes of the Horntail. Its teeth bare, growls like thunderstorms, and the rising scent of embers and ashes. 

“Daphne, get away from there!” 

You hardly hesitate—you run to her, desperation pushing at your legs, terror holding your heart captive. As the dragon screeches in preparation to breathe fire, the nearest Aurors miles away—each gasp for air is torn from your throat. In a blink of an eye, you grab Daphne into your arms and shield her from the Horntail. The crowd bellows in fright—you close your eyes, preparing for even the most excruciating of pain. 

But there is nothing. 

Just you, Daphne, the Hungarian—and Remus who’s pointed his wand at the onslaught of flames, redirecting it up into the sky as Harry grabs the Horntail’s attention, now zipping freely on his broom. 

Remus looks back at the both of you in relief, drawing his wand back in his pocket. “Are you alright?” he asks you first, a weary tenderness in his eyes. 

You tear your gaze away from him, checking on Daphne instead; cupping her pale cheeks and wiping the tears from her eyes. “Are you alright, Daphne? What do you feel? Come, darling, let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey—can you stand? Here, put your arm around my shoulder.” 

“T–Thank you, Professor,” stammers Daphne as Astoria rushes to her, the pair of sisters blubbering and crying. The blonde-haired girl nods to you and Remus, “Both of you. I–I don’t know how I’ll repay such kindness.” 

“Don’t worry, Daphne,” says Remus, smiling as he offers her a lemon-flavored treat. 

He steps back to make way for Lily to fuss over Daphne, his eyes straying to you, oozing with sincerity as he rubs his handkerchief to your cheek. He grins at you and your heart skips a beat. “My kindness is freely given.”

Has kindness ever felt so real before?

act iv. you wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me. 

“THE CHILDREN ARE terrified, Missus Fawley. Just last week, we had another incident. All the windows in the kitchen—shattered! The little ones couldn’t sleep for days.” 

You hear the orphanage matron’s voice behind the bedroom door. You’re allowed but a moment of playing with your ragged, plush animals, before the matron comes barging inside. (How rude, you think to yourself. Hasn’t she ever heard of knocking before?) Although, unlike all the other times, she has a lady right on her tail. This woman is much taller than Sister Thompson, certainly more beautiful-looking, too. Not that you have anything against Sister Thompson’s wrinkly face and foul smile. 

No, this woman walks with her head held up high, dressed in a burgundy leather coat that clearly costs more than the thin rag you call a shirt. This must be Mrs. Fawley, then. Her black heels click against the rusty, wooden floor; you watch impassively as she bends down to your eye level. She takes you by surprise when she grabs ahold of your chin, slowly turning your head from side to side. 

“So this is the child,” Mrs. Fawley muses, red lips quirked. Haunting blue eyes stare back at you; hair dark as ebony falling to her waist. “You may leave, Sister Thompson. I would like to get to know my future ward.”

The matron widens her eyes. “Missus Fawley, I strongly advise against—!”

“You misunderstand me, Sister Thompson,” says Fawley, a sharp edge to her voice. “That was not a request.”

A strange sense of victory fills you when Sister Thompson bows her head in response, tossing you just one sour glare before exiting the room. The rickety door clicks shut and Mrs. Fawley returns her attention to you with a low hum, eyes raking over your form once more. You wonder what she’s thinking about; wondering if it’s the vast difference between her neatly-pressed clothing and your rumpled dress shirt. Many have visited the orphanage before, but none have spared you a second glance, not with Sister Thompson scaring them all away. (You suppose there is no appeal in adopting a child with temperamental issues who can make other girls’ noses bleed.)

“Show me,” Fawley commands, breaking the quietude; her voice stern, yet hypnotic. Much like the first notes of a pied piper’s song. For a few moments, you don’t understand what she’s asking for, until realization dawns upon you. You drop the plush toy’s limbs—seconds later, the teddy bear waves its hand as though it’s gained a soul. If this had been a wooden doll with a long nose, it would be saying: ‘I’m a real boy!’

Fawley chuckles, leaning back with a pleased look. Your head falls to the side in confusion—when you had shown this little trick to Daisy Anne and Annaliese, they’d begun to throw stones at you, screaming and saying that you were a witch. You don’t try to play with the other children anymore after that. Rather than being afraid, Missus Fawley seems to be happy with you. “My name is Agatha Fawley, special adviser to the Wizengamot, daughter of the Sacred Twenty-Eight,” she tells you, and you don’t have a lick of comprehension. “What do you know about witches and wizards, darling?” “I don’t know, maybe. . .” You scrunch your nose, making the stuffed elephant twirl the bear with just a glance—Fawley tilts your chin upwards, demanding your utmost attention. “That they aren’t real? Or if they are, they should be burnt at the stake?”

Agatha Fawley hisses, a low sound that sends shivers down your spine. You wonder if you’ve angered her. The toys fall back to the floor lifelessly. “Damned Muggles—! Is that what they teach these days?” She shakes her head. “No, never mind. What matters is what happens from now on.” “Are you going to adopt me?” you dare to ask, gaze falling to the floor, heart hammering against its confinements.

“I will,” she affirms and your eyes grow wide, breath stuttering in your throat. “But if we are to become family—there is one thing you must do for me.”

“Anything!” You all but scream in her ear, a plea for her to take you away from the orphanage; far, far away from hurtful words and a room that echoes your loneliness back to you. 

“Never lower your eyes.” She smiles, teeth bared into a snarl, reminiscent of a prowling fox. “You are magic, my darling. And I will be your mother. No one on this earth can make you kneel in surrender.”

You believe her.

You believe her with all your heart.

But, you would learn that even monsters can call themselves ‘mother’ and embrace you with open arms. 

The Fawley Manor is large—larger than the orphanage, and that was a place you couldn’t fully explore due to its largeness. There must be a thousand rooms, as far as the eyes can see. It’s like a princess castle coming to life—akin to the ones you’ve read about in storybooks. Missus Fawley’s home nearly touches the sky. There are tall trees, wide grassfields, and glimmering lakes. You gasp and cover your eyes with your hands as the chauffeur drives past the marble sculpture of naked ladies. (“Think of them as Goddesses bare to the mortal eye, dearest,” says Fawley when you yelp and sink into the leather seats.) Then, the family butler, maids, and chef come to greet you, all smiling at the new addition to the manor. 

You meet Elsie, the house elf—your first real encounter with magic. Well, besides Missus Fawley turning paper into crystalline butterflies in the car. Elsie is a tiny, wrinkly creature who wears five different-colored knitted hats atop her head. She can’t seem to stop shuddering while speaking, too, as if drenched in cold, invisible water. But you look into her big eyes and you decide to be her friend forever. 

“Get settled into your room, and then we’ll have you acquainted with the rest of the staff,” Fawley says after she ushers you into a room—a bedroom just for you, where you won’t have to listen to anyone else’s snoring or fight to the death for a blanket on a cold winter storm. The bed is bouncy and soft, not unlike the cardboard they’d given you at the orphanage. Your shelves are stocked with toys and books. 

Then, you remember that in exchange for all this, you must do your best in school. That is one thing you aren’t looking forward to. 

But, how bad could a school be if it’s filled with magic? 

You happily imagine smelly trolls, dashing unicorns, talking ghosts, and floating crayons. 

For your first week in the manor, you enjoy glazed desserts, fluffy pillows, and silken clothing—and on your second week, you are reminded of your duty to the family you’ve been brought into. Something bigger than studying in a faraway magic castle. Missus Fawley introduces you to her long line of ancestors. You stumble on your footing as the portraits shuffle around and gaze upon you with curiosity, some with a more heated glare than others. They call you a funny term as you walk past. Mudblood. But, Fawley tells you not to worry. You are now her child before anything else. 

The family crest is chiseled with gold; you squint your eyes to make sense of the inscription: Virtus in Arduis.

“Virtue in hardships,” Agatha explains in her dulcet tone. As you featherly trace the emblem with your fingers, Fawley leans down to your height, clearing her throat; her expression impossible for you to read. “I brought you to this family because I saw potential in you. I sensed great magic from your person. But we all have our duties. Magic gives, and magic will take.”

“The wizarding world is in grave danger,” she tells you firmly, gripping the curve of your jaw with an intensity that frightens you. “Will you help me fight for the greater good?”

You blink.

You just got here and now you have to fight for a world that you never even knew that existed?

“Greater good?” you echo in disbelief. “F-Fight? Fight who? I’ve never even fought in my life! Making Daisy Anne’s nose bleed w-was just an accident!” 

“I will be with you every step of the way,” she vows fiercely, the tips of her nails digging into your cheeks. “Tell me, do you understand? You will do what is right without any recognition at all. Think of it as a performance, my love. And I’m preparing you for your role in this world starting now.” 

The ingénue in this act you have to play involves studying endlessly, practicing your wand work until Fawley is satisfied, and familiarizing yourself with every shelf in the library from dawn until dusk. You don’t understand why you must memorize every charm and every incantation—but Missus Fawley reminds you that you are bound to her and your responsibilities. You don’t want to go back to the orphanage, cold and alone—so, you acquaint yourself with parchments and quills, swallowing the discomfort when the nib harshly rubs your skin raw. 

On your tenth birthday, Missus Fawley gifts you with a closet overflowing with chiffon, taffeta, and organza. Lace parasols, pretty shoes, and wide-brimmed sun hats. The chef surprises you with a three-layered cake, the constellation icing charmed to flicker like real stars in the night. It’s the best birthday you’ve ever had. For the first time, you feel like your life is actually celebrated. 

The next day, your adoptive mother says with utmost exigency, “This time next year, you shall be off to Hogwarts, but that means your debut in society is drawing near. The wizarding world will officially acknowledge you as my child.”

“When that happens, vultures will flock to you as though you were a corpse.” Her eyes flash dangerously. “And you will become one, unless you learn how to fend for yourself. The most ruthless of us all can be adorned in pearls and dressed in ball gowns. Appearance is everything in this world—do not let them see that you are afraid.” 

And so, you don’t tell her that she’s petrified you to the bone.

“As the sole heir to my fortune and properties, you must understand how to navigate, not only the wizarding world, but this treacherous domain, as well.” Missus Fawley straightens your back, harshly tapping you once more to spread your legs at a more acceptable distance. “To be envied by all—the perfect host must always be ready to receive their guests with attention and politeness.”

When you wince, or move to massage your sore muscles, she barks at you, “You must always be composed, even in near-death. If you crumble—if you let even a single person know what you’re truly feeling, all this will be for naught.”

The burden of her words is heavier than the textbooks she shoves in your hold. 

“Control them before they can control you,” Fawley explains as the seamstress measures your waist and arms. “Exert your influence in a conversation. Not only in words, but your stature. Present yourself accordingly. Jewelry and clothing can be your armor when you cannot draw your wand.”

You grumble under your breath when the seamstress accidentally pokes you with a needle for the nth time. 

“Smile when flattered, giggle when offered a dance, and curtsy when greeted.” Fawley glares daggers at you when you hiss in pain. “But most of all, do not let any of those cretins know that you are fully aware of the power you wield over them. Anyone can be a puppeteer if they want to be. You’ll just be the greatest of them all.”

(But even a master of puppets has someone pulling their strings from behind the curtains.)

Elsie stays up with you each night, carefully pouring ice-cold water over your head, and playing with the floating bubbles to distract you from the ache in your legs and arms. “Elsie will give Master her hat!” the young elf says one evening, pulling the topmost beanie from her head and laying it on yours. She tells you a bedtime story before tucking you beneath the covers of your queen-sized bed. You fall asleep to the sound of grasshoppers chirping and portraits murmuring to one another. 

Then, you get your first taste of a pureblood skirmish. Missus Fawley had taken you to Diagon Alley, months away from the first of September—a letter in your hand with all the materials a first-year would need for their classes. Safe to say, you’re more than excited. (“Oh, mother, look!” you exclaim, pointing to the various shops—and also remembering the rule of calling Agatha mother out in public. “A sweet shop! Fortescue’s ice cream parlor! Mother, can we go there? Please, please, please!”) Fawley smiles at your wide-eyed wonder, your hand in hers—today is a special one, she decides. You’re allowed a bit of fun. Especially since you’ve shown unfathomable progress in your studies. 

You get your very first wand at Ollivanders—and now this world of grumpy goblins and jumping chocolate frogs becomes even more real. You hardly let go of your wand, a tingle of exhilaration running through you each time you brush your fingers against the finely-carved wood. Even Missus Fawley is pleased with the wand that chooses you. Later, you’ll be given three hours to practice your charms again, but you find that you don’t mind—not when you’ve learned that you can now read books under the covers when Elsie turns the lights off.

As you exit the shop, breathless and flushed with a hunger to explore more of this world you’ve been given access to, you and Fawley run into one of her friends. This must be one of the scary people she’s warned you about. Sharp cheekbones, unfriendly gray eyes, and a stern demeanor. You immediately suck in a breath and school your face just as Agatha has taught you. 

“Walburga!” Fawley greets with a lovely smile, but you notice that it doesn’t reach her eyes, not like when she smiles at you for growing another inch taller. She brings her hand onto your shoulder. “What a pleasant surprise, my dear.” She peers at the two young boys hiding behind her, much like you were doing now. “Oh, my! Is it that time already? I’d forgotten young Sirius was set to go to Hogwarts this year. You must be overjoyed.” 

Walburga is a tall lady, taller than Agatha, even. She hums, lips quirked, chin held up high. “Fawley,” Walburga responds, rather displeased. “Talking my ear off, as usual.” Her trenchant eyes land on you and her smile curves into a sneer. “And who might this little one be?” 

You risk a glance at Missus Fawley before offering the other woman a sweet, half-curtsy. “Madam Black, how do you do?” you smile at her, gaily revealing your name and the gap in your front teeth—the two boys snicker and your eyes instantly narrow into a glare. 

Walburga stares you down harshly. “How adorable.” Her eyes slice to the two boys behind her. “Sirius, Regulus, introduce yourselves.” 

Missus Fawley laughs, a grating sound—much like warning bells—as her eyes flash dangerously at her, hand tightening on your collarbone. “What a relief to know that Sirius will at least have one friend already before they arrive at the castle.” 

“But—oh, dear, look at the time.” Agatha quickly casts the Tempus charm before looking at you aghast, eyes wide as saucers, mouth parted dramatically. “I promised the Daily Prophet a photoshoot today! It is my thirty-first birthday soon, after all. I’d give you tips on how to capture this look, but, Walburga, it seems you’re embodying the housewife fashion perfectly.”

“Ta-ta!” She plants two, airy kisses on Walburga’s cheeks before waving the three goodbye. 

“That,” Fawley whispers into your ear as she snuggles the side of your face. “—is exactly how to do it.”  

You collapse in your bed that night, wondering just what you’ve gotten yourself into and what kind of world you’re about to live in.

How confusing.

All this time, you thought that Missus Fawley had been preparing you for an intense entrance exam. Why else would she make you study twenty-five hours a day and eight days a week? But as it turns out, all you had to do was sit on a chair and have Professor McGonagall put a talking hat on your head.

“Hufflepuff!” the Sorting Hat proclaims, and the table of yellow and black welcomes you with open arms. You sit next to a boy named Amos Diggory. Later in the night, you’ll share a dormitory with a kind girl named Amelia Bones. 

(Hogwarts is the best!) 

The holidays arrive in the blink of an eye and you find yourself standing at the steps of the manor once more. Agatha Fawley waits for you by the door, engulfing you instantly in a hug that shields you from the falling snowflakes and biting winds. Hot cocoa with marshmallows and gingerbread cookies await you in the grand dining room; you even get a crotchety greeting from Isolde Fawley the Third’s portrait. Elsie crumples to the floor and sobs at your arrival. 

“So you were sorted there,” Fawley mutters to herself, a worried expression contorting her face. The fireplace crackles as a winter storm rages outside the manor. You lay on her lap as she absentmindedly pats your head. Stories of your first few months at Hogwarts fall from your lips without pause. “This would go smoother if you had been sorted in Slytherin, however; but no matter—it’s not what I expected, but we can make do. The Diggorys and Bones’ are purebloods, so maybe not all hope is lost. But you need to get more acquainted with the Greengrasses and the Malfoys, Druella Black’s daughters as well.”

You hide your frown against her legs. You really liked Amos and Susan, Bellatrix was just downright mean to everyone, even calling this one girl, Lily, a Mudblood, too. But if mother wanted you to try, you might, but only once. If Bellatrix didn’t want to be your friend, then there’s no helping that unhinged witch. (At least the Prewett twins’ pranks were funny. Bellatrix once snuck inside the Ravenclaw tower to leave a dead pig’s head in the girls’ dormitory just because.)

On the twenty-fifth of December, Agatha Fawley throws a gala just for you—masqued as a fundraiser for Muggle children in need. (None of the families cared about them, you would realize later on.) The ground nearly rumbles from the number of guests she’s invited. From your bedroom window, you spot a few familiar faces. Sirius Black, who stands out from the crowd like a pale bean sprout; his cousin, Bellatrix, who’s already taken to yelling at the staff; Lucius Malfoy, the Flints, and the Parkinsons. Your head goes dizzy. 

As long as you don’t trip during your entrance, everything should be fine, right? Right?

(You one-hundred percent trip in front of everyone as you descend the stairs. The sound of James Potter and Sirius Black’s laughter haunts you.)

But other than that, the Yule event goes by smoothly. You don’t fall flat on your face when greeting Cygnus Black and Druella Black née Rosier, and mother is thoroughly satisfied when you smile in the face of Walburga Black and Abraxas Malfoy. You stay in the corner after welcoming your guests, sitting in your chair like an abstract painting forbidden to touch; whilst the Prewett twins and James teased Elsie until she cried from anxiety. Sirius also goes out of his way to congratulate you for growing all your teeth in. 

You don’t understand why Mother is so scared of these people.

But you’ll understand virtue in hardships soon enough when you receive your first tutoring in ballroom dancing. Instead of sapphire earrings or a trip to France, Missus Fawley has a different gift in mind for your fifteenth birthday. She surprises you with a tutor—you’re bewildered at first, arguing that you’ve consistently been at the top of your class. (“Madam Hawthorne is not here for your academics, my darling,” Fawley explains with her red-lips stretched in a foreboding smile. “Dance is a beneficial skill for any host to have. You’ll practice until your footwork is perfect. You will dance until I say you can stop. And when your feet are aching and bleeding, you will keep dancing.”) 

Each night for your summer holiday, you go to bed, sobbing into your pillows, body trembling from Madam Hawthorne’s cane. 

Everything changes on the eve of your sixteenth birthday.

Like all the years before, Missus Fawley invites the entirety of the pureblood society to the manor. 

You stay with Narcissa and Andromeda, gently placating their concerns when they ask about your unnatural quietness—truthfully, you could no longer breathe in the flounced dress you’ve been forced to wear; the sides of your feet raw from constantly practicing with Madam Hawthorne, head aching from the lights and obnoxious perfumes; stomach gurgling. Bags under your eyes from revising endlessly for your N.E.W.T.S. 

Eyes drooping and neck craning from exhaustion, you don’t at all expect for James Potter to emerge from the crowd; wavy, brown hair sweeping over his glasses, wine-colored suit melting into his dark skin. He holds out his hand to you with a boyish grin. “May I have this dance?” 

You blink, frozen solid for a few moments until Narcissa softly nudges your side. “Y-Yes, if you must,” you splutter, placing your palm in his. 

He leads you to the dance floor as the orchestra plays a song perfect for a waltz along a flower field; your eyes glued to his back. The chandelier hangs overhead as James settles your arms around his neck in one swift motion. You almost step on his feet, spluttering your gratitude when he steadies you by the waist, the heat of his hands permeating your layers of clothing. 

“Isn’t it odd that the birthday celebrant wasn’t dancing all this time?” he says, pulling you in for a twirl. 

“I assume the others were all too afraid to deal with my mother,” you reply timidly. “She’s quite overprotective, you see.” 

“Who? That tall lady over there by Missus Black who’s currently glaring at me?” James chuckles into your ear as you step closer to hear his heartbeat. “She couldn’t possibly terrify me.”

“Lily says thank you, by the way.” 

“Oh? For what?”

“Letting her copy off your Defense Against the Dark Arts essay—she’s downright shite at the subject. Don’t tell her I said that, though.”

You laugh along with him, and you find that you could rest in his arms forever.

But, as your dance with him comes to an end, so does your wistful reverie. 

When most of the guests have left the scene, and when the lights have dimmed, Mother presents to you her real gift—your debut in the wizarding society. She leads you to a room, one where you’ve never ventured before. It’s deep past the cellars, where cobwebs and dust bunnies grow. (Before you enter, Narcissa grips your hand firmly, a look of dread and urgency in her eyes. “Be brave,” is all that she says, encasing you in her arms.) 

In this dark room, you see Abraxas and his wife, Walburga, Cygnus, the Notts, the Goyles, and more people you recognize, all dressed in their finest black cloaks—as though it were a funeral instead of a birthday. In the center of it all, is your mother, Agatha, with a man kneeling in front of her. 

“What is this?” you ask in alarm, frantically searching for answers. The man struggles against his rope, binds, screams and pleas muffled by the cloth shoved in his mouth. The sight of his bruises makes you all but retch. “Mother, what is going on?” 

Walburga is the first to step forward, her lips painted blood-red against her ashen skin, curving into an edacious smile. She cradles the back of your head to her chest. “My lovely dear, it has been the utmost privilege watching you grow. Your mother is certainly proud of you, we all are. Tonight, just as our sons and daughters before you, we offer you our blessing on this very special day.” 

“You know of the Unforgivables, right, my child?” Her voice is a sweet, ruthless cadence in your ear; her touch, like worms crawling on your skin as she places your wand in your hand. You bite down on your tongue, swallowing each breath as the walls threaten to cave in on you. Your fingers forcibly shake in terror and you worry that you might snap your wand in half if you aren’t careful. “The Cruciatus, the Imperius, and—?”

“The killing curse,” you breathe out, ever-so stiff in her hold. You watch as Abraxas kicks the man to the ground; you dig your nails deep into your palm to keep from flinching. 

“That’s right, little one,” says Walburga, tracing your jaw with a morbid sense of satisfaction. She holds your chin in place as Abraxas tears the cloth from the man’s mouth. It’s worse now. You hear his desperate begging and his guttural cries for help. “Muggles,” she spits the word out like venom. “Look at them. They’re filthy. Infecting our blood with theirs.”

“Kill him,” Walburga says, a delicate whisper, as though she had asked for a cup of tea. “Kill him and you’ll have proved your worth to us.” 

“No! No, please!” The man struggles against Abraxas’s arms. “Please! I have a family! A c-child!”

You stagger backwards, nearly losing your grip on your wand. You look to your mother for help. “I—!”

“Kill him, pet!” Bellatrix cackles from across the room, teeth bared viciously, eagerly beckoning for you to come forward. “Make sure you mean it! Otherwise it won’t hurt!”

“You know the words,” says Walburga, lifting your pliable arm—a puppeteer controlling its ragdoll. “Say it.”

The man before you is real. He’s a real person with a real family anxiously waiting for him to come home. His children worried sick for their father. How can they just stand there and expect you to kill him? “Mother, please—I can’t. I w-wont.” Your breathing grows labored, hot tears pricking your eyes; the man screams and yells, and the sound echoes ceaselessly in your ears. “I don’t. . .  I don’t understand.”

Agatha Fawley closes her eyes, and you understand perfectly. 

Each sob wrecks your body and the tears endlessly flow from your ears, you hiccup and shiver; blood pooling from the bite in your tongue. “I can’t do this—please!”

“You will.”

You close your eyes just as a flash of unforgiving green shoots from your wand. “Avada Kedavra!”

The man falls limp to the floor, and so does your wand. Walburga coos and drowns you in a sea of shallow praises, the men offer their congratulations, but all you hear is the sound of a lifeless body dropping to the ground. 

A man who you just killed by your wand, in your home. 

That night, the four walls of your bedroom bear witness to your anguish—you cry until you throw up on the floor, body lurching and quivering on the freezing red oak. 

“Do you get it now?” says Agatha as she enters your room, the faintest of sunlight streaming through the windows. She bends down and cups your face in her palms. “This is your world from now on.” 

You rip her hands away from you, gritting your teeth. “I don’t want to live in your world—not anymore! I don’t care about all this! Magic, wealth, and all these things mean nothing if I have to kill innocent people! You’re a monster!” 

“Good.” Fawley’s voice is cold as she stands up, lifting her chin as her eyes glaze impassively. “That means you’re ready for your next lesson.”

“Didn’t you hear me? I said I was done!” you retort, sore from crying.

“Don’t you see?” says Fawley, pausing underneath the door frame, gaze ruthlessly slicing towards you. “We will destroy them from the inside out. Walburga, Abraxas, Tom Riddle. All of them, one by one. That is our true duty.” 

As she turns to leave, she adds coldly, “Ready yourself. I’ll be teaching you Occlumency during your summer break.” Then she slams the door shut, leaving you all alone in your room. 

When you return to school after the winter holidays, you’re forced to pretend that you hadn’t taken the life of an innocent Muggle. 

‘Do not let them see you are afraid.’ 

“Unfortunately, flaming red hair and hand-me-down robes will not complement my dress—it’s crimson taffeta, you see, handcrafted only by the finest tailors in Italy,” you say dismissively to the ragtag of Gryffindors before you, Vittoria Zabini and Isadora Bulstrode giggling at your side. The Prewett boy visibly wilts and you almost give in—almost. But everyone must play their part in this world. You know that if you show a sliver of weakness, Vittoria and Isadora will be happy enough to report to their mothers—vying for the pedestal you’ve been put on by their parents. 

For the final blow, you scrunch your nose in disgust, slamming your Divination textbook close. “Can you even afford anywhere in Hogsmeade for a date, Prewett?”

(Walburga would Avada you herself if she caught you in such a place with such a wizard. You’re more terrified of what she might ask you to do to Gideon—someone she deems as a blood traitor. You refuse to utter another Unforgivable. You just won’t.) 

“Oh, you cruel wench!” Marlene McKinnon steps forward and before anyone could take another breath, she slaps you in the face. And, finally, you feel something other than the guilt of taking someone’s life.

Your cheek stings from the impact, your ears ringing with the sound of your friends asking if you’re alright and Dorcas Meadowes roaring about how you deserved it—well, you’re not about to disagree. You move your jaw about, cradling the side of your face as you sigh impassively—oh, it’s nothing compared to the etiquette lessons of Agatha Fawley. “My mother will certainly hear about this, McKinnon.”

“You and your mother can kiss my arse!” she shrieks, eyes ablaze.

“Gideon didn’t deserve that, and you know it,” Lily argues fervidly, eyes sickle-shaped as she looks back at the Prewett twin’s dejected expression. “How could you even say that?” 

“How could I not, Lily darling?” you reply off-handedly with a roll of your eyes.

Lily flinches. In her gaze, all you see looking back at you is the Muggle father who had cried out relentlessly for one last glimpse of his children. She stares at the badger emblem on your cloak with disdain, and you with a great deal of pity. “You are, without a doubt, the ugliest creature I’ve ever seen.” 

She has the softest voice you’ve ever heard, but it hurts you all the same. 

You’ve scrubbed your skin raw in the bath, hoping that you’d wash the feel of your sins off your hands—it’s all for naught. Agatha might be a monster in your eyes, but you’re the fool that played right into her act.

You get to your feet, meeting her eye-to-eye. In a low whisper, lips close to her ear, you say, “There are far worse creatures out there, Evans. You’re lucky you’ve been born only a Muggleborn.”

Fortunate that she won’t ever have to play the role that you’ve been forced to. You feel an overwhelming envy towards her—effortless beauty, pure and untainted hands, a kind heart that draws in every one and every person. Compared to her, you must be a dirtied, black swan in a lake that’s only meant for white swans like Lily Evans. 

And she will have more charming princes and truehearted fairies on her side than you could ever hope to gain. 

“Say another word and I will tear your hair from that pretty head of yours,” Marlene snarls, pushing Lily behind her.

Oh, how easy they make it for you. 

You smile in delight. “So you think I’m pretty?”

Marlene lunges.

(You are so tired of it all.)

Every night of your summer holiday, you spend it writhing on the floor, Agatha’s lessons on Occlumency taking its toll. She grows harsher, stricter, and more apathetic than the sun beating down on the manor windows. (“Again!” Fawley demands as you collapse to the ground, drenched in sweat and your head numb from her probing. “Do you think the Dark Lord will be lenient with you? Get up! We’re going again! If you want this to end, you will endure this without error!”) 

While your peers are out swimming in lakes and racing around in Quidditch brooms, you’re stuck within the confinements of your home. But you are not that naive, you’ve seen the headlines of the Daily Prophet. A coalition known as Death Eaters have begun making their mark on the wizarding society. There are rumors of a great, sinister power rising. People go missing everyday, and you worry that this might be the world that your mother has been preparing you for all this time. 

But why you? Why must you carry this burden all alone? Who will pick up the pieces of your battered soul when the weight of your burden crushes you entirely? 

There are times when you wish you never left the orphanage at all. 

A week into your summer break, you find out that your mother is dying. Violent coughing, dizzy spells, jaundiced skin, her eyes bloodshot, and the healer frequenting her bedroom quarters. You’re not allowed inside, of course, but you can hear her feeble voice and the doctor’s stern orders. 

You also learn that she’s absolutely insane—but that is a fact you’ve come to terms with years ago. One night, during dinner, you’d let it slip that you have your suspicions of a classmate being inflicted with a lycan’s curse. Agatha Fawley reacts just about as one would expect her to. 

“A werewolf? In Hogwarts?” Fawley staggers to her office, the tower of neatly-piled documents and research reports from the Ministry now fluttering to the floor. “No, no, no. . .” she utters to herself, panic seeping within her skin. It’s the most frazzled you have ever seen the great Agatha Fawley. You stare at her unraveling from the threshold of the room, unsure of what to do. “Dumbledore has gone mad! That old loon! What was he thinking? Sheltering a beast within the castle!” 

“Don’t worry, my dear,” says Agatha as she reaches for you, a ghastly smile on her face and a near-empty look in her eyes. Your brows pinch together in confusion—you hadn’t been worried about that student at all. “I’ll have that monster out of the castle in no time. The Ministry will have no choice but to listen to me.” 

“That’s it,” she mutters, haphazardly grabbing for her feather quill and blank parchment. “Perhaps a law to forbid werewolves from ever integrating into society. School, house properties—can you imagine if they manage to infiltrate the Ministry? Everything I’ve worked so hard for!” 

“Mother?” you call out hesitantly, crossing the distance, hand outstretched as Fawley slips on her footing, a muttered profanity under her breath. The woman before you is unrecognizable, a sallow casing of a moribund soul. “Mother, please, Remus is no threat to the castle,” you plead, ripping her hand away from the quill. “You can’t do this!” 

“Do not tell me what I can or cannot do!” Agatha seethes through her teeth, chest heaving as she glowers at you. “Everything I have done, I have done for you! Yet, you still continue to fight me? I should have left you in that orphanage to rot while I had the chance!” 

“Well then, why didn’t you?” you scream, pushing her away as the words force themselves out of your throat. “Maybe that Muggle father would have still been alive if you did! Maybe I wouldn’t have to suffer so much! To hell with you and your duty!” 

Fawley laughs to herself, a weak and feeble sound. At first, you think it’s in response to you, but then you watch her drag her palm down her face, unblinking when her fingers appear to be drenched in blood. You take a step forward and there’s crimson trickling down her nose, a pallid contrast against her skin. “Ha,” she chuckles once more, keeling over to the ground as she stares up at the ceiling, blood on her flesh. “Merlin, what have I done? I–I’ve gone too far—even the Gods cannot save me.”

The despair in her voice is confounding. “Come here, my love,” she croaks from the floor, reaching out to you with bloodstained hands. Reluctantly, you sink to her side, gnawing on your lower lip as she cups your face in her palms—how many times have you been in this position before? “I’m sorry,” she sobs, shoulders trembling. “Oh, my darling, I am so sorry. I’m afraid I’ve doomed the both of us.” She traces the frame of your jaw and cheekbones. “My child, my beautiful child. What have I done? Will you forgive me?” 

You realize that this must be the consequence of living in a constant lie. To be an imitation of a human person, with no room for grief, rage, fear, hope or even a semblance of love. You stay silent, drowning in the arms of your adoptive mother. “I am to die soon,” says Agatha with utmost finality, eyes boring into yours. “But you are better than me. Braver. Far stronger than I have ever been. I know this must be the heaviest burden a child can carry, but you must understand that the fate of this world is at stake. I am so sorry, my love, but I must leave this duty to you.” 

She lets her head hang limply. “I-I am tired, as well. I’ve pushed away everyone and anyone for this. To do what is right, to endure what is hard—that is what I’ve lived by all these years.”

“And so must you.” Agatha has been mourning all this time, but not for her life. 

You hate her. 

You hate her with all your heart. 

But even monsters need a heart to breathe. 

A month passes by in a blur, and you are now set to meet the ill-famed Tom Riddle. You know that he was a student of Professor Dumbledore; that Narcissa is extremely terrified of him, and that Lucius Malfoy idolizes him to a fault. (“This is the moment I have been preparing you for all these years,” your mother tells you, shields of Occlumency glimmering in her deep blue eyes. “Do not let him in no matter what.”) Soon thereafter, Missus Fawley apparates the both of you to the Malfoy manor. 

The dining room is bleak, befitting of a Malfoy; curtains drawn, fireplace idly crackling, and hushed murmurs upon your arrival. All eyes are on you, and you’re lucky to have dressed in your Sunday best. At the head of the table, you see Tom Riddle, with Abraxas and Cyprian Nott sitting on each side. You hear something large slithering across the polished floors—your breath hitches at the sight of a monstrous serpent curling around Tom Riddle’s chair. The glass chandelier chimes overhead and you wish it would fall from where he sits on his shrewd throne. 

(You find Regulus Black sitting beside Narcissa, cheeks flushed, body quivering as his skin pales to a deathly color; holding onto his left arm for dear life. And, your heart just physically breaks. You don’t understand why this is the world you must live in.) 

“Come here, my dear,” Tom Riddle hisses, urging you forward with a serpentine leer in his eyes. You feel like a circus lion forced to perform its tricks. 

Tom Riddle is handsome—you notice begrudgingly. A menacing kind of beauty that entices the weak and preys on the vulnerable. (You would not be one of his victims, you vow, raising your own walls against him.) His gaze drills into your own—instantly, you feel his magic snaking around in your head, searching for hidden truths. The sensation is staggering, dizzying, and you’re nearly brought to your knees. You clench your jaw at his Legilimency—obstinate bastard. 

“This one is lasting longer than your son, Abraxas.” Riddle chuckles, his finger tracing the curve of your jaw, as Abraxas forces a smile. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he leaves your mind. You release the breath you’ve been holding for the last thirty seconds. He finds none of your secrets, and you suppress a vindictive grin. Riddle glances at your mother. “How fascinating.” 

You wonder if his intrigue will keep you alive for another day or bring you closer to your death. 

“My Lord,” you greet windedly as you press a kiss to the cold signet of his ring. “What an honor to stand before you today. Although, I could have done with a more polite greeting from you.” 

Bellatrix snarls at you in warning. “Do not speak to the Dark Lord that way, you insolent brat!” 

“Enough, Bella,” Tom rasps, flicking her concern away, barely so much as sparing her a glance. “I’ve no need for a little girl to come to my defense.” She visibly wilts at his dismissive words and you almost feel pity for her—almost. Then, you remember this is the man who treats the Cruciatus curse like a treat to give away freely to children—now, you pity Bellatrix fully. The curly-haired girl twitches at the sight of him toying with his wand, Nagini’s forked tongue flicking in anticipation. 

“Tell me, my dear,” says Riddle, trailing his gaze down to your arm. “Has your mother arranged a marriage for you yet? Much like our dear Cissa here.”

You grow frigid in his hold. “Not at all, my Lord. Mother thought it best if I focused on my studies before anything else.” 

Tom hums in thought, eventually releasing you from his clutches. “I see. . . Then, have you considered other ways of pledging your allegiance to our cause?” 

Instinctively, you hide your left arm from his sight. “My Lord,” you begin, wondering how much longer you can address him as such without throwing up in his lap. “The only reason there isn’t much backlash to your. . . merciful endeavors is because Mother and I have ensured that the Daily Prophet’s eyes are elsewhere. The Ministry is blindsided, and no one expects a mondaine darling to be under your influence,” you say, desperation pouring from each word. 

You don’t want to carry his Mark. Not ever. You can endure it—you can endure it all so long as you aren’t eternally condemned to his name. 

“Take that away, and you’ll face significant repercussions,” you threaten boldly. “I promise you that. They look away because of me.” 

For every village and family terrorized, you had shifted the public’s attention to your facetious behavior. Throwing galas left and right, appearing out in public with various partners—you had done it all to bury the looming war. Rita Skeeter is at your beck and call. For every attack, your face is plastered on the front page. For every cry for help, the Ministry is busy dealing with trivial matters that your mother has proposed—such as anti-werewolf bills. 

And Voldemort would never notice that you’ve been thieving covert information from right under his nose and delivering it anonymously to a rising organization known as the Order of the Phoenix. 

(You’re also not pleased that they share similarities to your non de plume, the Firebird, but you suppose that is the least of your worries.) 

If Molly Weasley comes across a sealed letter on the steps of Grimmauld Place, with complete details and addresses of Death Eater hiding places, it is no one’s business but the Order’s—and yours. 

For every life taken, you remember that Muggle father in your mother’s cellar. It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow—but you’ll dismantle the pureblood society yourself. All of them, one by one. 

Tom Riddle smiles, and you realize that no one threatens him and gets away with it unscathed. 

A day before you’re set to return to Hogwarts for your seventh-year, the Malfoy Manor is pervaded by your gut-wrenching screams. 

There you are, little Firebird with your wings clipped, writhing on the floor of Lucius Malfoy’s guest room—the Cruciatus curse surging through your veins like molten lava threatening to burn you from the inside out. You hear Narcissa and Missus Fawley’s voices blend into a cacophony of panic. They’re shouting for various things: warm towels, bandages, essence of Dittany, and water. Regulus’s hold on you is tight, near-suffocating, even. 

But you don’t feel anything other than the mutilated flesh of your arm. 

You scream, cry, and scream again—you feel his magic over and over again. Branding you. The ink blends into your skin—but it’s not your skin anymore. A part of you now will always belong to him. 

Bile rises to your throat. 

Tears fall from your eyes. 

(How cold is the floor? You don’t even care anymore.)

And, the worst part is that no one can see it. Riddle charmed it perfectly to coalesce against your skin tone. But you see it. You see the skull and the stupid, wriggling snake. You see Tom Riddle’s monstrous glee as he drives his wand into your arm—Abraxas and Lucius holding you down as you thrash and flail. Your only reprieve was your mother was there, cradling your head to her chest, blocking out their malignant laughter. (You can’t believe you never noticed, but your mother had been branded, too.) 

“I’ll. . . kill him,” you say to yourself, blood and saliva trickling from your lips. If it is the last thing you’ll ever do, you will have Voldemort’s head on a silver platter. 

“Don’t be foolish,” Narcissa scolds, tipping your mouth upwards to swallow the drops of Dittany. “None of us have the power to do that. We just have to make do with the life that we’re given.” 

“I promise. . .  you,” you gurgle through the searing pain, gasping for air, clawing at her arms. “I’ll destroy them all.” 

You pass out in her arms. 

When you awake, you’re on a train to Hogwarts, left arm bandaged and hidden under the sleeve of your school robes. 

You don’t bother attending your classes—seeing no more purpose in Transfiguration and Herbology when you’re just a pawn in someone’s, everyone’s plans, apparently. The professors express their concern when you no longer turn in your homework or assigned projects. Once again, you barely see the need to. Your meals during breakfast, lunch, and dinner go untouched. You stay away from Narcissa, Vittoria, Isadora, Lucius, and Regulus. Your only friends, Amos and Amelia, stay away from you, too, having seen news of your promiscuity in the Daily Prophet. You scoff internally—you’ve never even had your first kiss yet. But even that seems like a distant dream. 

You are tired. 

How much longer do you have to play this part? How much more of yourself do you have to give? 

You’re only seventeen—how can you even hope to defeat Voldemort like this? 

The castle walls have dulled, and you drift through the corridors like a wearisome ghost. The once colorful world that you have been brought into now pales in the face of curses, spilt blood, and the Mark on your arm. You wonder what would happen—if you just run away now. 

Why should you be the one to bear the burdens of this duty thrust upon you? Why do people like James Potter and Sirius Black find loyalty and a real family within Hogwarts, and there is no one willing to fight for you? 

Perhaps, you have no one else to blame but yourself. 

Rita Skeeter publishes her article on the growing rift between you and Vittoria Zabini—claiming that you had stolen her beau from her.

You toss the newspaper into the fire. 

Some nights, you don’t bother returning to the Hufflepuff dormitories anymore. You know what they think. You know what they say behind your back. 

For the third time this week, you find yourself at the top of the Astronomy Tower, legs dangling from the edge of the window, eyes blankly staring at the horizon—if you run towards there, you wonder how long it will take before they find you. The cold nips at your cheeks, but you barely feel anything other than a gnawing emptiness.

Your gaze falls to the ground below, thirty, fifty meters from where you sit. 

Maybe. . . 

If you move a few inches forward. . . 

If you just fly. 

You’d be free. 

“Oh, I didn’t know this window was occupied.” You loosely turn your head to find Remus Lupin standing before you with a crooked grin, hands shoved in his pockets as he awkwardly shuffles one foot over the other. He raises his arms up in surrender. “I guess I’ll. . . find somewhere else to brood.” 

I don’t care. 

Go away. 

I want to die.

If I disappear, would you care? Would anyone? 

You rest your head back on the windowsill, hugging your legs to your chest. 

Starlings chirp and fly past you—how liberating it must be, to soar in the skies. But all you can do is watch enviously. Powerless, little songbird with no more lullabies to sing and no more wings to fly with. 

You let your weight shift over the window. 

Maybe if you fall, you could see what it’s like to fly. 

“H-Hey! Don’t—!” Remus quickly snatches your hand and pulls you into his embrace—the both of you tumbling to the floor. You feel his chest heaving, arms trembling around you, and the sound of his rapid heartbeat. His eyes are wide as he looks over your face for any injuries. “Why would you do that? Are you mad?”

You sigh. 

Maybe tomorrow, then. 

“Oi!” Remus pokes your shoulder. “Don’t just ignore me! You scared the piss out of me, you know? Bloody hell.” His shoulders slump in relief, and he takes another peek at you—just to make sure you’re still in front of him. “A-Are you okay?” he asks softly, afraid to spook you further away. “Do you want to talk about it or anything?” 

You shrug. “Nothing to talk about.”

His gaze flickers from you to the window ledge. “I think that’s a big something to talk about, honestly. B-But I get it. Really. No judgment.” 

An unwilling chortle escapes past your lips. Remus Lupin and his marauding bunch of lions would never understand the burden you have to carry each day for the rest of your life.

Remus scratches the back of his head with a wolfish grin. “Hey. . . listen. We don’t know each other all that well—so this is going to sound terribly weird. But would you like a hug?”

He opens his arms wide enough for you to fit—and you stare at him in horror. “C’mon, then. It really seems like you need it. And honestly, I kind of need it, too, especially after a scare like that.” 

You stay silent. 

He shakes his hands, beckoning you forward, golden hair flopping over his eyes. “I don’t bite. Promise. One hug and we’ll go on pretending like we don’t know each other tomorrow. Marauder’s honor.”

“I haven’t done anything to deserve your kindness,” you say with a prominent sneer—certainly not kindness from him. It must be another prank of theirs. You wait for Peter Pettigrew and Sirius to jump out and spray you with garlic juice. 

Remus smiles. “I think you’ll find that my kindness is freely given.” 

You nibble on your bruised lip. 

Could you really? 

Maybe just this once. 

You’re only human, magic as you are. 

You take one step forward. 

Then another. 

Another.

Until you fall right into his arms, and you inhale the scent of honey, milk raspberry chocolate, and cedarwood. The warmth of his arms around you is real. His voice is real. He whispers cruel words into your ear, “You’re alright, love. Let it out. I’m here.” You burrow your head deep in the crook of his neck. The sound of his heartbeat is real. He tightens his hold around you, and the ground underneath feels real. For a few moments, you don’t feel like you’re floating away into oblivion. 

Maybe you’d stay alive—for a few more days. 

To do what is right. 

To endure. 

Perhaps, tomorrow will be easier—if such kindness is real, maybe you’re allowed to seek it for yourself every now and then. 

But your nightmare doesn’t end when you’re awake—it takes you by the throat when you find yourself summoned to the Malfoy Manor on Hallow’s Eve. 

You’re not the only one caught by surprise. One by one, Tom Riddle’s followers apparate into the dining room, stumbling inside with a bewildered expression. Their Dark Lord has called for them in the dead of night—it must be for something important. You stiffen, sinking into Lucius’s shadow. You search for your mother but she doesn’t appear to be anywhere in the room. Someone brushes their hands against yours—Narcissa. She stands by your side, face impassive, her pupils frantically trying to make sense of the situation. 

Then, Tom Riddle finally apparates into the room, startling you for a fraction of a second. Not far behind is Abraxas, Cyprian, the Lestranges, Bellatrix, and finally—

Your mother. 

Fawley looks worse for wear, her skin sinking into her bones, clothes tattered, and her face littered with bruises. Bellatrix drags her across the floor, hair wrapped around her hands. 

You move to stop Bellatrix, anger blinding your vision—Narcissa tightens her grip on your wrist, subtly shaking her head. You rip your hand away from her. 

“We have found a traitor in our midst!” Bellatrix cackles, throwing your mother to the ground—your fists clench, swallowing each lump in your throat with rage blinding your vision. “I caught the bitch helping the McKinnons escape!” 

“No,” you whisper, dread knocking you backwards—it just isn’t possible. The two of you had always been careful. Bellatrix hits her again, and you have to restrain yourself from marching forward and cursing her from where she stands. 

One moment of weakness, that is all Tom Riddle needs. He finds you in the crowd with ease. The crowd of Death Eaters part like the red sea, and you steel yourself with Occlumency before you are sharply pulled forward, the mark on your left arm blistering as though a hundred needles are driving into your skin repeatedly.

“If the mother is a blood traitor, the child is sure to follow!” Bellatrix hisses, spit flying into the floor, her eyes gleaming with maniacal glee.

Voldemort cruelly holds your jaw in his hand, nails digging into your flesh, threatening to break through your bones. “Is this true?” he asks, drawing blood from your skin. “Tell me!” 

“No!” you cry out, kicking and punching to get away from his hold. “It’s not—let me go! That is my mother! You’re hurting her! She’s sick!”

“That,” Riddle’s eyes flash with hostility, breath hot on your skin, “is a betrayer to our cause.” 

“She’s not!” you scream.

“How did she find out, then?” Voldemort flings you to the ground—immediately, you rush to your mother, gathering her in your arms. Tom Riddle cocks his head and you’re blasted into the walls—you feel his Legilimency trying to force its way in, exploiting your pain and shock. But you won’t let him in. He’ll have to pry your memories from your cold, dead body.

The pain is searing—you’re being torn apart from limb to limb. Your mark is burning, head throbbing from a concussion, and still fighting against Riddle’s magic. Through your blurry haze, you see Lucius holding Narcissa back from running to you. “We’re not traitors!” you cry out desperately, crawling pathetically to your mother’s listless body. “I swear!”

Voldemort sneers just before he points his wand at your mother. “Crucio!”

“No! No! Stop it! Please! Please, stop it!” you beg on the ground as your mother helplessly writhes on the floor, the Cruciatus curse reducing the once austere Agatha Fawley to a whimpering mess. “You’re killing her!”

Tom snarls, “Good.”

Bellatrix digs her claws into your neck, her laughter resounding throughout the manor—you swallow the sobs down your throat as she drives her wand into your flesh. “Your mummy over there is done for. But you—our precious jewel, you can still prove your loyalty to our Dark Lord.” 

She puts your wand and closes your fist over the wood—your eyes grow wide as you thrash in her hold, screaming as she forces you to look at Fawley. “Kill her. And you may live.” 

“Just say it,” Bellatrix whispers in your ear. “Two little words. You’ve already done this before, pet—the second time should be easy enough!”

“No!” you knock your head back into her nose, slipping away as her hold loosens and she screams profanities at you—but to your misfortune, Voldemort captures you, like a defenseless bunny running into a starving snake. 

“Mum, wake up, please!” 

You cry out helplessly, sobbing as Voldemort forces you to watch the life gradually fade away from her blue eyes. Her magic envelops you—and you remember warm holidays spent by the fire, Muggle storybooks before bed, surprising you with breakfast in bed for your birthdays. It’s a warm feeling, a stark contrast to Tom Riddle’s invasive magic. Her voice echoes in your head one last time.

“Thank you for showing me what love feels like, if not for a moment. I am sorry I could not show it as a proper mother would.”

“Kill her!” Voldemort rages into your ear. 

You watch as Fawley’s eyes drift to a close, an act of resignation. “It’s okay, my darling,” she whispers tiredly. “I. . . can rest now.”

For the second time in your life, you point your wand at someone’s heart—this time, it’s your mother’s. 

“What are you waiting for?” Bellatrix asks, twitching menacingly. “Kill her! Before I do it myself!” 

There’s a faint smile on her face. 

“I’m. . . sorry.”

Those are Agatha Fawley’s last words before you take away her life.

The incantation falls so delicately from your lips, an act of mercy for the woman you once called your mother and your greatest tormentor. 

But your eyes are on one person and one person only.

Tom Riddle. 

“Avada Kedavra!”

He will know your pain.

Not today, not tomorrow.

But you’ll destroy them all, one by one.

a/n: THERE IS KISSING IN THE NEXT SCENE I PROMISE.... AND TRUST MY LILY LOVERS WE WILL GET OUR REDEMPTION ARC SKDJHFGKJH and sirius lovers too,, but yall are well-fed every day so.. next part has the yule ball, likee,, there's no way THAT becomes angsty.. if you saw a plot-hole, no you didn't just CRY and enjoy sdhgsdf... come tell me what you thought!! (if you have any constructive criticisms, just come to my dms BUT PLS BE VERY GENTLE.... oh and don't hesitate to tell me if i accidentally wrote anything super specific like height, skin color, etc.!!) i promise to better in the final part!!!! (there's only two parts to this fic.) I LOVE YEW I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS STORY AAAAAAAAAAAA

[ham-st4r]

Coffee & Cream - L. HS

Pairing: virgin heeseung + virgin female reader!

Warnings: love making, unprotected intimacy, angst, lots of crying, jealously, cursing, verbal and physical abuse, alcohol, blood, violence, assault, injuries, police, pet abuse, pregnancy, lots of fluff, heeseung is adopted, homelessness, slowest of slow burn, fairytale, they both just little softies for each other.

Summary: one chilly night after a long work shift, you’re unfortunately forced to walk home. Cause you left your bag at work, half way through your journey you stumble across a homeless man who you naturally offer money to, and he though he refuses. You give it to him anyway, and down the road, you’ll find that those two dollars changed not only his life but yours as well.

Number of words: 36k+?

Note: Hello, everyone. Here It is, finally. I’m so happy with how it turned out. This is by far my favorite story of all, so I hope you enjoy it. sorry for the long wait; I just wanted it to be perfect, and I think I achieved that. Please, please, please reblog and leave feedback. I put a lot into this, so I’d love to hear all of your opinions. With that being said, thank you all for being patient with me. I present to you

“Coffee & Cream”

Find your way around!

9:03 pm

You were on your way home from work with nothing but the idea of sleep on your mind after the tiresome shift you had just finished working. You walked a few blocks down the road, arriving at the bus stop minutes later. You reached for your bag to get your payment ready, and that's when you realized you had forgotten it at work, which left you with absolutely no money for the bus and instead of going back to the cafe you worked at to get your bag you opted to power through the walk home, even though your feet were killing you. "Come on, y/n, you got this, just a little longer." You gave yourself a pep talk on the way there. It wasn't that long of a walk from the cafe, so you'd be home soon enough. It was just very inconvenient.

You picked up your pace a bit. After all, it was well past nine, and you didn't know what kind of danger you might run into, especially as a woman walking alone at night.

Walking further down the road, you slowed your steps when you saw a man bent over rummaging through a trash bin, and your heart immediately softened.

You assumed he was probably searching for empty cans to collect money or maybe even something to eat, which made you undeniably sad.

You always had a soft spot for the homeless and less fortunate, and whenever you could, you'd always lend them a helping hand, not only cause you would want someone to do the same for you if you were in their situation but also because you were a person with a big heart and you wanted to give back when and wherever you could.

You reached for your bag again to give the man some money, but obviously, it wasn't there cause you had negligently left it at work. "Darn," you sighed softly. You contemplated going back, but by now, they had probably already closed down for the night, and you didn't want to trouble the employees who were cleaning and getting ready to go home.

You patted down all your pockets in search of spare change, and to your luck and the homeless man's luck, you found two whole dollars, which, now that you thought about it, you could have used for the bus, but oh well, it was going to better use now anyways. "Excuse me, sir," you said softly as you walked towards the unknown man. "I know it's not much, but I wanted to give this to you."

"I don't need your help," he replied in a harsh tone, making you frown instantly, you thought he would have been happy to receive the money, but he almost sounded offended that you even offered.

However, you didn't let it get your mood down. You just left the two bills on the bench next to him and continued your journey home.

Heeseung took a glance at your back while you walked home, then at the money you had set down, and as much as he didn't want to, he took the two dollars you gave him cause he knew he'd be looking for bottles and cans till early morning just to get enough to buy himself some dinner for the night.

He zipped up his hoodie and went to the convenience store across the street, grabbing three items off the shelf and paying for them. With the money you gave him, he bought two cups of ramen and a single meat stick.

He walked to the back of the store and prepared the noodles. Once they were done, he sat down in the corner of the store, slurping up the ramen within just a few minutes. He hadn't eaten in three whole days, and he cherished every last bite of that meal. Finally, he could get some peace and quiet without his stomach rumbling every other minute.

Once he finished eating, he left the store, blowing a deep breath into the chilly night air as he headed back to what he called home, which was an alleyway that was only a few blocks from the convenience store.

He whistled down the narrow path, and he couldn't help but smile as he heard the familiar sound of a mental chain rustling against the pavement. "Hey, boy!" He kneeled down in front of his dog, Mylo, who was giving him thousands of little kisses everywhere. "Did you miss me?" Mylo jumped on his lap and licked all over his cheeks excitedly. "Yes, you did," heeseung giggled. "I got you something!" He pulled the beef stick from his pocket, and Mylo's ears perked up at the sound of the plastic being torn. "Here you go, buddy!" Mylo was absolutely ravenous, and ten seconds didn't even pass before the whole thing was completely devoured.

Heeseung couldn't help but feel bad as Mylo sniffed the empty packaging, searching for more food. "I'm sorry, Buddy, that's all there is". Mylo let out a sad whimper, nudging the empty plastic with his nose, and his ears drooped down when he realized there was nothing left. "I know, I know, come here." heeseung wrapped Mylo up in his arms, stroking his back while he hugged him. "Don't be sad, buddy. Daddy's got an interview in a few days, and we'll be off the street in no time. You'll have more dog treats than you even know what to do with promise," Mylo's eyes lit up at the mention of dog treats, one of the few words he actually understood. "Yeah, you like the idea of that, huh?" Heeseung said with a chuckle, reaching into his dingy bag and grabbing Mylo's makeshift dog bowl, which was made of a gallon jug with the top half cut off. He filled it with some sink water he got from the convenience store and served it to Mylo. "Drink up," he said, lying down on his sleeping bag. He released a deep sigh while Mylo lapped up his water.

Heeseung wasn't always homeless, but that didn't mean his life was any better than it was out here on the streets.

After all, being adopted into an abusive family wasn't his ideal childhood, nor was it an experience that he wished for; nevertheless, he didn't have a choice but to live with them after his biological parents so willingly gave him away.

He doesn't know why his real parents would have a child and then just throw them into the world to grow up with complete strangers.

A part of him wanted to know why, but he wasn't ready for the truth cause he was afraid that the answer would be far from good.

He knew he wouldn't be able to accept it, knowing that his parents had him by mistake, or maybe he would just be a burden to them, or maybe they abandoned him cause they just didn't love him.

No matter the reason, he was too scared to find out, so he convinced himself that maybe they just didn't have money to feed an extra mouth, or maybe his parents were too busy and they gave him to an adoption center so he could find a loving family that would take care of him.

Those all sounded better than all the previous options, so as the years passed by, he never resented his parents for giving him up for adoption. Instead, he created a good image of them in his head and believed strongly that no matter where they were, they were thinking about him and loving him from afar.

And that positivity is what kept him going for so long. It's what made him the man he is today. Well, that and Mylo.

Even growing up with adoptive parents who abused him, he always looked on the bright side, but he could only take so much, and after the verbal abuse turned physical, he walked out without looking back. There was no way he could stay there. The only thing he took with him was his dog Mylo, who was always by his side through thick and thin.

Heeseung remembers the first and only time when his father hit him. He was playing around the house with his basketball ball, and being a careless young kid having fun, he accidentally threw the ball across the living room and shattered his father's 75" TV. As soon as the TV hit the floor, he knew that he was in big trouble, so he ran to the dining room and hid under the kitchen table, attempting to hide from his dad. Needless to say, that wasn't much of a shelter cause his dad easily yanked the chairs from the table and pulled him out by his leg.

He remembers crying in fear and apologizing over and over again. He begged his father not to hit him, but his dad didn't listen, and he pulled his belt from the loops on his pants, whipping him countless times with the leather, leaving large welts all over his small arms and legs. "No wonder your parents gave you up. You're nothing but a useless pain in the ass," his dad yelled at him as he continued hitting him.

That incident is how heeseung found out that he was adopted in the first place, and he cried even harder as he laid there and took every blow, too shocked by the devastating news to even fight back.

Soon, the blows came to a sudden stop, and he heard Mylo growling. Everything had happened so fast, and before he knew it, Mylo was biting his dad on his arm, sinking his large fangs and puncturing his dad's flesh. "Ow, get off me, you stupid dog!" His dad then turned to Mylo and kicked him in the stomach, sending him flying across the room and making him whimper in pain. "I'm not done with you, you hear me." he pointed his finger in the crying boy's face, and little did anyone know that would be the last time heeseung saw his family.

Mylo ran over to heeseung, nudging his cheek with his muzzle.

Heeseung overheard his dad calling his mother, and that's when he used the chance to escape. He ran out the front door with Mylo and his leash, and that was the start of his homelessness.

But he didn't have a choice. It was either to get abused or run away, and running away seemed like the safer option.

Despite being homeless, he wouldn't change his mind about the decision he made all those years ago. Living out here was hard, but living with people who were supposed to love you but treated you like you were less than human was harder than anything he'd ever faced in his entire life. He expected that from strangers, not family.

Once Mylo finished his water, he snuggled up next to heeseung, licking his cheek a few times before resting his head on his chest. "Goodnight, boy." heeseung kissed his head and shielded him from the cold air with his shaggy hoodie. Today was rough, but at least they had food in their stomachs, and at this point, Heeseung couldn't ask for more as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

☕️.

"Can this place get any busier?" You said to yourself as you heard the doorbell ring, indicating that more customers were flooding into the small cafe.

"I'd say so," your co-worker Sunghoon replied as a group of students came bustling through the very busy doors one after the other. "No break for us" he chuckled and made his way over to the cash register.

"Tell me about it," you say as you finish cleaning the dishes and get everything ready to prepare the nonstop orders coming in.

A few minutes later, sunghoon came to the back, dragging his feet with his shoulders slumped. "Can you take orders for me, and I'll make them? I think my head is going to explode if I hear iced Americano one more time." he sighed and rubbed his temples in exhaustion. "Where's Niki when you need him?"

“Off enjoying his vacation remember?” You chuckled softly. "Hang in there." You pat his shoulder. "Only five more hours," you say, adding to his misery.

"Now, why would you remind me? Like seriously, what is wrong with you?" He glared at you, but you knew he was only kidding, partially anyway.

You giggled at his expression on your way out of the back to switch places with him and take orders.

That's just the relationship you had with each other day in and day out. Joking about each other's misery was what got you through the long and dreadful days of working at the cafe; some days were good, some days were bad, and some days, like today, were the definition of hell.

Surprisingly enough, it came to an end much sooner than you had both expected, but the time does fly when you're busy. "We don't get paid enough for this," Sunghoon grumbled while wiping down the last table as it was now closing time.

"But it pays the bills," you chimed as you cleared the register.

"That it does," he hummed. "I'll finish closing for the night. You should head home before it gets any darker," he advises, knowing you normally walk or take the bus home.

"Aww, sunghoon, you're the best," you squeal. "You're always so considerate."

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbles, but you could tell deep down he was happy by the little smile forming on his lips.

"Lunch is on me tomorrow. You can get anything you want," You promise.

"I'm holding you to it!" he shouted so you could hear him in the back as you gathered your belongings, not forgetting your bag like the last time.

"See you tomorrow!" You waved on your way out.

"See you, y/n. Be safe." he waved bye after he let you out and locked the doors behind you.

You shivered as the cold wind blew across your face. It was chilly but somehow refreshing after being cooped up all day. You breathed in the night air and decided to walk home again instead of taking the bus after your busy day. Tonight, you would like to take a break from being surrounded by so many people.

You took the same sidewalk home as before, and just like last night, you saw the same man from yesterday digging in another garbage bin.

You automatically reached inside your purse and took out the first bill you found, which just so happened to be twenty dollars. Despite the questionable pay at the cafe, you did make great money in tips, so twenty dollars was really nothing to fret about for you. "Here you go, sir," you said politely.

Heeseung turned around at the sound of a familiar voice, and he saw you standing there, extending your hand out to him with a twenty-dollar bill. He knew you were the same girl from last night cause of your work attire. He couldn't understand why you were trying to help him. Most people didn't even look his way, let alone give him any change when he begged for it, so why were you? Especially after the way he treated you last night.

He looked at you, a blank expression on his face while you smiled genuinely and beckoned him to take the money.

Before heeseung could tell you off, Mylo's ears perked up at the sound of your voice, and he jumped off the bench to greet you, nearly tackling you in the process. "Woah! Where did you come from?" You giggled as he slobbered all over your face. You didn't mind it at all. You had a German shepherd at home, and she was the same exact way every time you got back home from work. "What's your name, Hmm?" You talked to him in a cutesy voice while you patted his head, searching for a name tag, but you frowned when you didn't see one.

"Mylo!" Heeseung said sternly and tried to tug him back, but he wouldn't listen. Usually, He was a very well-trained and well-behaved dog, but sometimes, even Heeseung couldn't get him to listen. "I'm so sorry," heeseung said to you as he grabbed Mylo by his collar and held him back.

"It's quite alright. Nice meeting you, Mylo." You waved to him while heeseung held him back. "Here, take it." You extended your hand once again, giving him the twenty-dollar bill.

"I'm fine," heeseung declined rudely and turned around, getting ready to walk back home empty-handed.

"You may be fine, but what about that guy? A big dog like him, I'm sure he's hungry all the time," you reasoned cause you could literally feel his spine when you were petting him, and you're sure he probably needed to eat even more than your shepherd and that's saying a lot considering she ate pretty heartily.

Heeseung took a peek at Mylo, and you were right. He was huge, and Heeseung knew he wasn't getting half the nutrition he needed, especially with the fall coming soon, so he reluctantly took the cash. It was humiliating to accept help from others, but he swallowed his pride for Mylo's sake. "Say thank you," heeseung said to Mylo, and he walked towards you, brushing his head against your leg before going back to heeseung's side, panting softly and waging his tail excitedly.

You smiled at how well he was trained. Your dog definitely wasn't as well behaved as him. She was actually clumsy and quite the opposite. "Well, have a good night," you said to heeseung, and he just nodded his head. "And you too, Mylo." You continued your short walk home, and once you arrived, you could hear your fluffy friend barking and scratching from outside the door. "Hi!" You said excitedly as you opened the door and greeted her. 

She sniffed you intensely. At first, you were confused by her odd behavior, but realized that she was probably smelling Mylo's strong scent on you. She looked at you and tilted her head to the side with what you assumed to be curiosity. "Yeah, I met a dog just like you," you said in a baby voice. "He was big and brown and cute." She sat down in front of you, wagging her tail excitedly. "And his name is Mylo…" you trailed off as you thought about the similarities in their names. "Mylo and Myla, what a coincidence," you said as you walked over to your kitchen and refilled her food and water bowls. "Maybe you two could meet sometime," you said out loud, but she paid no attention to you as she dug into her food straight away. "Oh, I see, you're too good for boys, huh?" You laughed and patted her head before going to your living room and plopping down on the couch. "What is there to watch?" you scrolled through endless shows, and before something piqued your interest, you had dozed off on the couch with the TV still on.

☕️.

Later that same night, heeseung went to the convenience shop and bought some proper food for Mylo. "Wait here," he said to Mylo and tied his leash to the bike rack outside before going into the store. 

Once he grabbed the bag of dog food, he went straight to the register to pay, not without getting a judging look from the cashier first, but that was nothing new to him. If the number of glares he received were in the form of a dime, he'd be rich.

Kind of ironic.

"Your total is 8,59$" the cashier mumbled, and heeseung handed him the twenty dollar bill that you had given to him.

He looked out the store window while he was getting rung up and saw a group of boys surrounding the bike rack where he'd left Mylo. He stretched his neck to see if anything was happening, and he heard loud barking just a few seconds later. "Mylo!" He gasped in panic and ran out of the store immediately. All of the kids quickly scattered and ran near some bushes at the back of the store where they couldn't be spotted. "Hey!" Heeseung called out to them, but he didn't see the direction where they had all run off to. He just hoped they were long gone from the area. "Are you okay, buddy?" He bent down worriedly, checking Mylo for any injuries, and breathed a sigh of relief when he found none, but unfortunately, they had cut big patches out of his fur, destroying his lovely coat. "Oh, thank god," he whispers, hugging Mylo tightly while on his knees. "You're too nice, boy. You should have bit the crap out of 'em" he laughed quietly and stroked his back. "I'll be right back, okay?"

He quickly ran back into the store to grab the food and his change, making sure to check the window every second in case the kids came back. "Time to go home and have dinner." heeseung left the store and unhooked Mylo's leash, walking him across the street to the alleyway they stayed at. Little did he know the same kids from the earlier saw exactly where he and Mylo went.

"Look what I got!" He said excitedly while pouring Mylo a bowl of kibble. "Eat up." heeseung patted his head, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he watched Mylo digging in. "It's good, huh?" He chuckled. "Yeah, it is."

After Mylo ate, heeseung spent the rest of the night cuddling with him and singing him many different songs until they both drifted off to sleep together.

☕️.

You awoke to your face being licked and slobber wetting your cheeks, and, of course, you knew who the culprit was. "Good morning to you, too, myla." You sat up and stretched, looking at the time and seeing that you overslept for the millionth time this week. "Are you kidding me?" You rubbed your eyes tiredly. "Myla, why did you let me oversleep?" You played with her floppy ears, and she just wagged her tail, not understanding a lick of what you were saying.

You did your morning routine faster than the speed of light, and you spilled not only water but her kibble as well in your hurry so as not to be late for work. "Sorry, myla, see you later!" After you left, she curled up by the front door and huffed out a breath, missing you already.

You made it to work right on time, and the store was packed just like yesterday. Your brain was scattered from it still being early in the morning, but as soon as you punched in, you somehow managed to put on your apron, compose yourself, and take orders efficiently.

You knew the day would be a long, tiring one.

☕.

"Wait for me here, Buddy, and don't be noisy. Daddy will be back soon, okay?" Mylo sat down obediently while heeseung shielded him from the wind and made his way out of the alley.

He went to the nearest bus stop and waited impatiently for the bus to arrive. About five minutes later, he bought a ticket and was boarding to head to his job interview.

He took his seat and looked outside the window, enjoying the ride and scenery. Riding the bus definitely beats walking, but he didn’t have the luxury to ride it every day; he would only take the bus on special occasions like today.

Fifteen minutes later, the bus stopped and dropped him off at his designated location.

He walked into the tall building, taking one long breath, preparing himself for the interview before going to the restrooms to freshen himself up.

He quickly brushed his teeth as best as he could without a toothbrush and washed his face with hand soap from the dispenser. He sighed at his dingy appearance. Dark eye bags, unruly hair, and a scruffy face stared back at him in the reflection. "You can do this," he mumbled to himself and turned off the water, slicking his hair back with his fingers and changing into a cleaner shirt he kept in his backpack.

He exited the bathroom and went to the front desk to inform the receptionist of his upcoming interview. "Hi, my name is heeseung. I have an interview at four thirty with Mrs. Kim," he spoke softly to the receptionist as she typed in some information and made a phone call. "Take a seat anywhere you like, and she'll be right with you, sir."

"Thank you." heeseung smiled politely and took a seat.

A few moments later, a woman looking to be in her mid-forties approached him. "Hi! You must be heeseung?" She asked, extending her hand for him to shake.

"Y-yes, hello," heeseung replied nervously.

"Right this way." She led him to the back where her office was and shut the door behind him. "Have a seat." She sat down after him, leafing through some files. "Mmm," she frowned when she didn't see a resume under his name.

Heeseung gulped, nervously bouncing his leg up and down.

"I'm not seeing your resume." She looked through more documents and still came up with nothing.

"I uhh don't have any prior experience, ms." he looked down at his lap; whatever confidence he had completely disappeared at that moment.

"Well, you must have some prior experience in the work field. Tell me about your previous jobs." She closes the folder and places it on her desk, looking at him with a smile.

"This is the first time I've ever been interviewed," he said quietly. "I've never worked before."

Heeseung shifted uncomfortably when she looked over his appearance. "First time for everything, I suppose. What about school? Did you get a GED or graduate?"

"No, ms" he shook his head, and he had a bad feeling about what was going to come next.

Ms Kim let out a long sigh and rested back in her chair. "Well, heeseung, I'm sure you're a fine young man, but without any credentials, I simply cannot hire you for this job because we require a high level of education along with years of experience with very few exceptions in between,"

"But ms, please, I need this job. I can learn if you just give me a chance, I promise," he pleads.

"I'm sorry, but our company policies state otherwise. If it were up to me, I'd give you a shot, but-"

"You don't understand I need this job. I'll do anything, please, I beg of you," he says, desperation seeping into his tone.

"I'm sorry heeseung-"

"Sorry isn't going to fix my situation!" He raised his voice. "I can't live out there anymore. Do you hear me? I need to get off the street. It's not safe for me or my dog."

"Sir-"

"Please, ms! I have nothing! Can't you see?" He begged desperately, tears gathering in his eyes cause this was the one opportunity he needed to get on his feet, and he could feel it slipping out of his grasp.

Ms Kim had already hit the security button under her desk, and heeseung was being held back by his arms within seconds. "Get off me. I'm not doing anything wrong, ms Kim. Please give me a chance. I'll do anything." Tears rolled down his face as he got escorted out of the building by security. Once they had kicked him out, he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Fuck!" He yelled and punched the side of the building, gaining the attention of the other citizens passing by, but he didn't care.

"Just fucking great," he said once he cooled down a bit and took a look at his wounded hand. He trudged down the sidewalk, completely demotivated, as he returned to the bus stop. "No job, no money, and an injured hand," he mumbled to himself on the way there, and he hung his head low while boarding the bus. "At least Mylo's waiting for me at home," he says, trying to look on the bright side of his very, very shitty day.

He stepped off the bus when it came to a complete stop. He was about to walk home, but his stomach growled. He tried to ignore it, but after he took another step, it happened again and again and again.

He supposed he should probably get something to eat cause it has been a full day without food, and he knew his stomach wouldn't stop until he got some type of nutrition in his body. Thankfully, he still had eleven dollars and some change from the money you'd given him the other night, so he could make good use of that.

He took in his surroundings; there was a small cafe a few blocks away, and he could definitely use a coffee to boost his rotten mood.

☕️.

You finally got a break between customers, but soon enough, the bell rang again, and you saw a man walk in. You did a double take, and if your eyes weren't mistaken, it was the homeless man you had been giving money to the past few nights. He looked a little better today, which made you smile brightly before walking to the register to take his order. "Hello sir, what can I get started on for you?" You asked politely and awaited his order.

He finally made eye contact with you and recognized that you were the girl who had been giving him money the past few nights. "I'll have a small black coffee and a breakfast sandwich, please." he places his order.

You nodded with a smile and gave him his total. "That will be 6.03$." 

He reached into his pocket, searching for the money, and his brows creased in confusion when he only saw a five and some change. It didn't take long for him to realize what had happened at the store last night. He didn't look at his cash back before leaving and must've been shorted on his change. "That fucker” he mumbled under his breath, and that was the last straw for him today.

"It's on me, so don't worry about it," you said kindly when you saw he didn't have enough money to pay, but it was fine. You'd be more than happy to pay for his meal and make his day just a little bit easier on him.

"I already told you I don't need your fucking help!" He yelled, drawing attention to himself at the register. "Just mind your own fucking business and leave me alone. I'm pathetic enough; I don't need your pity." You flinched at his harsh tone, and he turned away from the register, storming out of the cafe, leaving you shocked and rendered speechless.

"What a fucking psycho," Sunghoon said, appearing from the back after hearing all the ruckus upfront. "Sorry, I couldn't come sooner. Are you okay?" He asked and patted your back comfortingly.

"Y-yeah, just a little startled, that's all." You blinked a few times to try and collect yourself from the homeless man's sudden outburst.

"Do you know him? What did he mean by not wanting your help?" Sunghoon asked curiously.

"I… don't want to talk about it right now." Sunghoon immediately backed off when he saw the uncomfortable look on your face.

"Hey, why don't you take a break? It's slowed down a bit, so I can handle the register," He offers.

"Thanks, hoon," you said with a small smile, still a bit miffed by what just happened.

☕.

"Hey, Mylo," heeseung mumbled. Once he returned home, Mylo perked up, greeting him with kisses immediately. "No kisses for me today, Buddy. Daddy's been a very bad man," he sighed and laid on his sleeping bag, trying to close his eyes and sleep. However, it was far too noisy at this time of day, and his stomach still wouldn't stop growling, but after the shit day he had, he didn't feel like going out to eat or search for cans.

Time seemed to pass by slower than ever, especially with the mood he was in, but at least Mylo seemed happy eating his kibble.

He thought about everything that happened earlier today, and no matter what, he couldn't get the look of your startled face out of his head or the way he unintentionally harassed ms Kim. He's lucky he just got kicked out and nothing more. "I'm such an asshole" heeseung covered his face with his palms sighing out loud.

Mylo nudged his elbow, but Heeseung still wouldn't budge. He kept his face down as tears gathered in his eyes.

Today was probably the worst day he'd ever had, and everything just kept piling up on him day by day.

He couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel. Hell, there wasn't even a tunnel at this point, and if Mylo wasn’t with him, he probably would have given up a long time ago.

His adoptive dad was right.

He was useless.

After his breakdown, the sun had set, and he was finally able to get some sleep once the lively city died down, but not for long.

Heeseung woke up later that night from the feeling of something touching him and disturbing his sleep. "Mylo?" He said groggily, and his eyes couldn't even adjust before he felt a hard kick on his stomach, making him groan in pain. 

"Wakey wakey asshole," Heeseung popped up but was instantly thrown back down and kicked in the chest multiple times. He tried to lift his fist, but someone had him pinned down arm by arm, and he was absolutely defenseless.

The last thing he heard was Mylo's barking before he passed out from a brutal blow to the face.

He woke up at god knows what time to Mylo sitting on top of him and nuzzling his face into his neck. "Thank goodness you're okay." heeseung hugged Mylo tightly, breathing a sigh of relief, as Mylo whimpered at his owner's tattered face and poor condition. "Don't be sad. Daddy's fine. I can take a hit, you know that." 

Heeseung tried his best to stand up but he underestimated his injuries. "Ow! fuck!” he grimaced in pain as he fell back down, coughing uncontrollably from all the hits he took right in the center of his frail chest.

There was no way he could go back to sleep like this and possibly get into even more danger, and he couldn't waste a whole night without looking for any form of money, and Mylo's food was already running dangerously low.

He willed himself to stand up after a minute, and he untied Mylo, hobbling down the alleyway and getting ready to go on his nightly hunt for money.

Halfway down the street, he had to sit down and take a breather on one of the benches because the pain had started to really set in. "Daddy needs a minute." he tugged Mylo's collar, and he came back, sitting next to heeseung on the bench. "We're going to get lucky tonight, boy, I just know it." even though he knew his words held no real stock, he said them out loud to reassure and convince himself to believe those words were true just so he could keep going.

He heard the sound of footsteps growing nearer, and he quickly got off the bench just in case the stranger would start any conflict. He was in no shape, or form to defend himself or Mylo after getting beat up so badly.

"Hey," you said, causing him to stop in his tracks when he heard your familiar voice.

He turned around and saw you standing there with a hardened expression, a bag in your left hand, and a coffee cup in your other. "Y-yes?" He answered softly, almost like he was scared of being scolded by you and ashamed to face you after what he did today.

"Despite you being rude earlier, I still got this for you." You showed him the two items in your hand. It was the exact order that he had placed earlier in the afternoon. "I thought about not even getting it for you, honestly, but before I misjudged you, I thought maybe you were just having a bad day," you said kindly, even though you were still kinda angry with him. "So, in case you are having a bad day, I bought this for you, hoping it'd turn your bad day into a good one." 

He was hesitant about accepting help from you, but he decided to accept it this time since he rudely declined earlier.

He tried to grab the items from you, but he winced in pain. You frowned at the sight of clear discomfort on his face, and when he stepped a bit closer to you, the light from the street lamp hit his face just right. You could see bruises and cuts everywhere on his swollen face.

You gasped quietly as he took the items from your hands, and you didn't have time to react before he turned around and walked away. "Wait!" You stopped him and reached into your purse. "Here," you said, handing him a bag of dog treats you had bought earlier for the express purpose of giving them to Mylo.

"Thank you," he muttered. Mylo barked excitedly, knowing exactly what it was, and wagged his tail while sniffing the bag. "Let's go home, boy," he tugged on Mylo's leash, but he didn't budge. Heeseung looked behind his shoulder and saw Mylo rolling around at your feet, and you had ducked down to give him a belly rub. "Mylo!" Heeseung called to him sternly, and he retreated back to heeseung's side with a displeased yelp. "Let's go." with that, heeseung limped along the sidewalk, and you sighed sadly. He looked fine earlier, but now he looked bloody and bruised, and you didn't miss the bald patches on Mylo's back. You assumed someone had assaulted them, and your heart ached at the thought. You couldn't imagine how hard that must have been for them, and you couldn't even begin to imagine how scared they both were.

You knew he told you to mind your business, but how could you do it when he looked like he could barely even walk?

You sighed as you walked back home. You unlocked your door and were instantly greeted by Myla. "Hi, girly!" You said happily, and she nearly tackled you in excitement and started licking all over your face.

You smiled happily, but a few seconds later, it turned to a frown as you remembered poor little Mylo. He looked so excited to see new faces, and you couldn't help but think about how he and Myla would get along. They were both German shepherds and had the same playful personality, plus she would love the company.

Your thoughts wandered to what the homeless man's personality was. He seemed cold and harsh and mean, even a little scary, but with a sweetheart of a dog like that, you figured there had to be more layers to the mystery man.

Your thoughts went far beyond that, and you started thinking about if he was always homeless, what his story was, and how he got to be who he is today.

Strangely enough, your thoughts went to an even more personal place, and you found yourself thinking of how he looked when he entered the cafe. He was fairly tall. He had a slender build and quite a handsome face.

You shook your head, erasing that thought from your mind cause who the heck thinks like that about someone they don't even know? "Sleep, that's what I need, sleep." You slapped your cheeks lightly, convincing yourself that you were just tired, and that's why you were having such irrational thoughts so late at night.

But even as you laid your head on your pillow to go to sleep for the night, your mind was still stuck on the guy with the Shepard named Mylo.

☕.

Heeseung was more than floored when he ate the food you had bought for him. It was delicious, the best thing he's had in years. He doesn't know if it was cause you gave it to him or maybe it's just cause he was so hungry, who knows. "She's a nice girl, isn't she Mylo?" Heeseung said as he fed him the dog treats you had bought. "I can tell you like her." he chuckled and took a sip of the hot black coffee. "I like her too." Mylo tilted his head at the sudden change in heeseung's tone. It was a fond one, something neither of them was used to hearing. "What is it?" Mylo cut his eyes at heeseung and turned back to eating his treats. "Why are you looking at me like that? It's not like I like her like that or anything." heeseung put his hands up in defense as if Mylo actually understood what was being said. "What am I even saying?" he smiled, embarrassed as he caught himself thinking about you for no apparent reason. "She's just a nice girl," he convinces himself that that's all he thought of you.

Even if he did like you more than that, who is he kidding? He couldn't be a good boyfriend, let alone a man. He had no way to provide for you, no car, no job, no money, just his bummy self, and what girl would want someone useless like that?

He sighed at the thought as a feeling of loneliness crept up on him slowly but surely; nevertheless, he shook it off. He had Mylo, his best friend, and that was enough. Besides, he had enough things to worry about, and a relationship wasn't one. "No more treats, you're gonna get sick," he said as he took the bag of treats away from Mylo. He put them inside the brown bag you had given him earlier, and his eyes nearly bulged from his head when he saw a bunch of bills in the bottom of the bag that he somehow hadn't noticed until now, but he supposed he was so excited about eating that he barely even looked.

He excitedly dumped the cash on the ground and counted it as a hundred dollars in small bills. "We're rich, Mylo!" He jumped up from his sleeping bag, and Mylo, just as excited, stood up on his hind legs, putting his paws on his owner's shoulders. "We're rich, we're rich," he sang happily while dancing with Mylo. "We're rich, we're rich, we're rich." nothing but excited barks and laughter came from the alleyway as heeseung's and Mylo's night came to a very sweet end.

☕️.

For the next few weeks, you gave the homeless man and Mylo dinner. You got a free meal from the cafe every day, so it was nothing for you anyway. Plus, you were more than happy to do it for him even if you did have to pay for it. The genuine smile on his face was worth more than any dollar bill in the world. "Goodnight, Mylo," you said in the same baby voice that you used for Myla, and heeseung did his best to hold back a laugh, but nevertheless, he thought it was adorable.

"Say bye-bye, Mylo," heeseung said after a couple minutes of letting him play with you.

For the first time since you saw them, he actually seemed to be in a good mood, and it put you in a good mood, too. "Goodnight, mystery man," you said playfully.

He merely nodded and smiled before he walked back home.

☕️.

"He is kinda cute, and his smile is so sweet," you talked to yourself while you lay in bed after getting home later that night, still feeling giddy after the small yet sweet moment with the homeless man down the street.

Myla was sitting at the edge of the bed, just staring at you while you lay there with a smile on your face, reliving earlier events. "Hey, don't judge me," you pointed your finger in her face. "I'm sure you'd like Mylo too," you argued, and she still just stared at you. "Hey, I'm not the one sleeping on a jacket with his scent on it," you smiled proudly while Myla nuzzled her face into the jacket more. "You're so cute," you giggled and shut your lamp off, drifting to sleep, and it was no surprise who was on your mind before you closed your eyes.

☕️.

Heeseung's life at the moment is better than it has ever been, all thanks to you. He didn't have to be out late at night searching for money or food cause you had been providing him with it every day, and he was so thankful for that, more than words could even express, but the least he could do was go see you and apologize properly for the way he treated you in the beginning.

Finally, he could afford the basics that he needed. 

Recently, he bought a new outfit, a simple white shirt, blue jeans, and a toothbrush and toothpaste to brush his teeth.

A few days later, he went to a rest stop and took a shower after what felt like years. It was quite far from him, but it was definitely worth the bus ride. 

Once he was finished cleaning up, he couldn't help but smile at his appearance. When he saw his reflection in the mirror, he felt like a new man completely. He took the bus back home to get Mylo's approval first before going to the cafe to see you. "Okay, today is the day, Buddy. How do I look?" Heeseung asked Mylo as he did a little spin.

"Woof woof!" Mylo rubbed himself on heeseung's leg, giving what heeseung could only take as his approval.

"I'll be back soon, alright? You know the drill, okay? No noise." he rubbed Mylo's cheeks one last time before starting his journey to see you.

He decided to walk instead of wasting money on the bus because the walk was about ten minutes, give or take, and he was no stranger to walking.

The cafe bell rang, making you pop your head up, looking at the customer who entered, and you smiled in surprise when you saw handsome, or at least that's what you referred to him as in your head cause you still hadn't gotten his name yet. 

"I'll take it," Sunghoon immediately interjected when he recognized the same man who came in a few weeks ago and yelled at you.

"It's okay, hoon, I got it," you assured him.

"Sure?" He asked one more time.

"Positive, we worked it out," you whispered, and sunghoon gave Heeseung one last look before walking away. "Hello!" You greeted him happily.

"H-hi," heeseung scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. You didn't even notice his stutter cause you were too focused on taking in his beauty in the daylight. "I-I just came here to apologize for the other day and all the trouble I caused. I was having a terrible day, and everything just kinda came tumbling down on me at once, and I know that's not an excuse to act the way I did. That's not like me at all, but yeah, I'm really sorry," he said sincerely.

He couldn't help but blush when you smiled at him so brightly. "Apology accepted…?" You trailed off, not knowing what to address him by.

"Oh! Heeseung, I'm heeseung," he chuckled after his initial awkward pause.

"Nice to finally meet you, mystery man." he chuckled at the nickname you'd given him.

"You too.." he squinted his eyes at your name tag. "Y/n," he said softly. There was another awkward pause before he cleared his throat. "I uhh also wanted to thank you for all you've done, and I'm f-forever grateful, but you don't have to." 

"It's no problem," you told him truthfully, still admiring his looks. He looked so much healthier and happier than when you first met him, and that made you feel so warm inside, knowing you were assisting him in getting back on his feet.

"But-" he tried to protest, but you shut it down right away.

"Would you like to order anything" you cut him off before he could argue.

He dropped his shoulders in defeat. By now, he knew you wouldn't take no for an answer. "I guess I'll have a black coffee," his stomach grumbled on cue, letting you know he wanted more than just a coffee.

"Black coffee and a breakfast sandwich. Anything else?"

"No, mam," he laughed and reached for the money in his back pocket, but you had already cashed him out and went behind the counter to prepare his order.

Heeseung sighed softly. He had a tough time accepting your generosity, but he couldn't lie. It was so much nicer to finally have someone to rely on instead of doing literally everything on his own. Because of you, he could get more sleep. His dog was well-fed, and so was he.

He supposed if he thought about it long enough, he had taken all the burden on himself to provide cause no one on the street would even give him a dime, and when that happened, he turned his back on people just like his parents turned their backs on him. He took on all one hundred percent of the responsibility and made a living for Mylo and himself.

So when you showed him sympathy or kindness, he didn't know how to react cause it was a foreign concept to him. He just got upset and thought you were feeling pity for him, which made him feel weak and incapable of doing it alone. But, after getting to know you for a while, he was able to open up to the idea of getting help cause, to him, it seemed like you genuinely wanted to lend him a helping hand, not just cause you felt sorry for him, but cause you actually cared and that's all he's ever wanted was to be seen, heard, and cared for, and well, here you are, doing all that for him and so much more.

You were smiling absentmindedly as you put a free pastry in his bag along with his sandwich. "You're in rare form today," Sunghoon chimed.

"Hmm," you hummed in agreement, neatly packing heeseung's food. 

"Wouldn't have anything to do with a certain handsome customer, would it?" He teased.

"Nope, nothing at all," you lied, and Sunghoon could see right through it.

"Sureeeeeee," you both came out from the back, and you slapped sunghoons shoulder playfully as he teased you.

"I don't blame you." he put his hands up In defense with a chuckle.

"What a lucky guy," heeseung muttered to himself, watching the interaction between you and your co-worker as he went to the register after you called his order number.

"Enjoy!" You smiled and handed him a smaller cup with whipped cream in it, and you wrote Mylo's name on the cup with little hearts surrounding it.

Heeseung smiled at the adorable treat you prepared for his furry friend. "Thank you," he said while chuckling. "You're definitely gonna be his new favorite after this." 

"With an owner like you, I'm sure that's impossible," you replied and only realized how flirty that sounded after it came out, but you didn't regret it when you saw him smile shyly.

"O-oh," he laughed awkwardly, and a blush crept up his neck. "T-thanks," he stutters.

"Of course! Have a good day, heeseung, and be safe, okay?" you smile.

"Yes, mam," he saluted and bid you goodbye. As soon as he got a block down the street, he had to lean against the wall and take a breather cause he was literally shaking with nerves. "Gosh, she's so beautiful," he breathed out with a hand resting on his racing heart.

"With an owner like you, I'm sure that's impossible." Sunghoon mimicked your tone after listening to your guy's whole conversation while he "cleaned" the tables.

"Shut it, hoon," you said, smiling uncontrollably.

"Yes, mam," he said while laughing and putting emphasis on mam. "Well, aren't you guys just so cute? "

"Stop it, or I'm leaving you here if you don't knock it off," you threatened playfully.

"You might as well. It's dead as hell, and we only have a few hours till closing," he suggested with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Are you sure?" He nodded without a second thought. "I'll stay another hour and help you clean, and then I'll go deal?"

"Deal and oh, tell me all about this enemies-to-lovers trope. One day, you're fighting, and the next, you're flirting," he laughs.

"We're not flirting!" You buried your head in your hands, totally embarrassed, but you can't lie. You did want to talk about the little crush you had on heeseung.

☕️.

“Hey, buddy! Did you miss me?” Heeseung giggled, kneeling down and nearly getting pounced on as soon as he offered Mylo his treat. “Yeah, she’s definitely your favorite,” he says, plopping down on his sleeping bag and grabbing his own food from the brown paper bag. “Delicious as always,” he says after the first bite. “Mylo, I think your daddy’s in love,” he smiles to himself, feeling full cause of your kindness alone, and he would definitely cherish this peaceful moment for years to come.

Thanks to your amazing friend and co-worker, Sunghoon, you could go home early once again while he stayed behind and closed up for the night. One of these days, you were definitely gonna have to return the favor.

You took the bus home this time cause you were extra tired that evening. The sun had begun to set, and it was a bit chilly outside, so you were enjoying the warm ride home. You smiled as you passed the bench where you first met heeseung. 

You were lost in thought about your guy's first encounter until you saw something in the corner of your eye. You turned and looked down the alleyway where heeseung stayed. You may or may not have watched him occasionally just to ensure he got home safely.

You smiled and looked a little more closely, hoping to catch a peek at him even though you had already seen him today, but what you saw made your smile drop altogether, and your heart raced with nothing but fear. “Stop the bus!” You screamed to the driver and they immediately halted after hearing your panicked shrill.

You ran out of the bus and down the alleyway without thinking twice about the dangers you might face. “Hey!” You yelled on instinct, gaining the attention of the group of teenagers that you saw from the bus. A few of them stood up and started walking toward you while the others continued to beat heeseung and Mylo. With nothing but fear in your eyes. You quickly pulled out your phone and called the cops. As soon as they saw you with a phone in your hand, they all scattered away. Despite the fear running through your veins, you ran down the alley and saw exactly what you feared. “Are you okay?” You asked him softly and crouched to his level to inspect what they had done to him. Heeseung was balled up on the ground, hugging Mylo so he would take the brunt of the blows.

He flinched when he heard your soft voice, and he slowly peaked up at you, his body still shaking in fear, and his face was barely even recognizable. “I-I’m fine. What are you doing here? You could have gotten hurt,” he scolded you while checking Mylo for any chance of injury. Thankfully, he was able to shield him from most of the brutal assault.

Once he responded coherently to you, you were able to calm yourself, and your heart settled with relief. 

After your initial panic, you noticed you still had your phone in hand. You put the device to your ear and told the operator your exact location, letting them know that someone had been injured.

Heeseung quickly snatched the phone away from you, hanging up immediately. “Are you crazy! Why would you call the police?!”

Your brows raise in shock from the sudden shift of tone in his voice. “I- I thought-“

“Obviously, you didn’t fucking think 'cause now I have to find somewhere else to stay,” he said frantically while trying to pack up his belongings so he could leave before the police came, but he heard all the sirens in the distance, and it was already too late. “I’m fucked” he said weakly and fell down to his knees.

“I’m sorry, I was just trying to help,” you said, and you were confused, not knowing what the harm was with calling the police. You couldn’t let those group of assholes off the hook after what they did to him and Mylo.

“You can help by getting the fuck away from me!” He yelled. Not only was he embarrassed you saw him like this, but he was also injured, sad, and scared for his life.

You were left speechless from his sudden outburst. You didn’t know what you did wrong and you didn’t know what to do, so you slowly got up and walked out of the alleyway, leaving him alone to hopefully cool off and explain what was happening.

The cops surrounded the area, blue and red lights flashed everywhere as you talked to the officers about what happened. Now you know why heeseung mentioned he had to find another place to stay cause once the police found out he was homeless, they practically turned a blind eye to the whole situation and denied your request when you asked them not to give him a fine and not only that, they didn’t even want to treat his wounds which was totally unfair. He was homeless, but he was still a human, and they were treating him like less than.

Unbelievable, you thought. You knew the world was cruel. Sometimes, but this was just too much.

Heeseung held his head low the entire time, and it took every last ounce of strength for him to hold it together when they fined him a hundred dollars for sleeping on owned property, his world felt like it was falling down around him, and everything in the background sounded like high pitched noise as the cops drove away from the scene.

Twenty minutes ago, he was the happiest he’d been in years, and just within a blink of an eye, all that was taken from him.

You went back to heeseung after everything had been concluded, hoping he had calmed down a bit after the incident. “I can pay the fine, heeseung. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault,” you say dejectedly. “I should have minded my own business. I just wanted to help you.”

He didn’t say a single word to you while packing his bags, even though the sad tone of your voice made his heart ache. It wasn’t your fault he was a homeless loser. If anyone should be apologizing, it should be him, and right now, he’s just upset with himself. He knows he should have never gotten anyone else involved in the shit show he called his life.

Once everything was gathered and stored in his backpack, he stood up, getting ready to make his leave.

Except Mylo had other plans and stayed planted to the pavement. “Mylo, it’s time to go.” heeseung tugged him along like usual, but Mylo resisted.

“Heeseung, I’m sorry,” you apologized again, and you were nearly on the verge of tears cause everything that happened was all your fault. You just wanted to help him, that’s all.

“Mylo!” Heeseung shouted.

“Heeseung, please,” you said softly, hoping he’d at least accept the apology before he left and you never saw him again.

“Just leave me alon- ow fuck!” He whimpered, feeling a sharp pain in his side. Before he could catch his balance, he lost his footing, nearly falling over if it wasn’t for you immediately rushing to his aid and balancing him. He practically collapsed in your arms, and you held him upright, using the brick building next to you for leverage to help him stand. “I’m fine. I don’t need your help,” he cried softly, still trying to walk under his own power, but he stumbled, and once again, your hands were there to catch him, saving him from the fall. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice giving out finally as his entire body succumbed to the pain.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you reassured him and hugged him close to your body. A second didn’t even pass before he had you wrapped tightly in his arms.

“I’m scared,” he cries softly, holding on to you like his life depended on it, and mylo finally sat up, sitting down next you with heeseung as he nudged him gently with his muzzle, sensing his owner’s sadness. “I’m so scared, y/n,” he whispered, leaning into your touch.

A few of your own tears had fallen down your cheek, and you could hear the pain and sorrow in his voice, and it broke your heart to bits to see him like this. “Don’t be. You can stay with me until you find a new place. I don’t mind.” You stroked his hair softly.

“No, no, no, I couldn’t ask that of you.” he shook his head, clutching tighter onto your shirt, terrified to let you go. You holding on to him was the only thing keeping him sane right now.

If he was being this open and vulnerable with you, practically a stranger, then you knew he really must be feeling at his lowest right now, and that’s the last thing you wanted for him cause deep down, you knew there was so much more to him than just a homeless guy that has a hard time accepting kindness.

“You’re not asking; I’m telling.” You dismissed him right away. There was no way you’d let him stay out here another night cause what happened tonight was bad enough, and you weren’t willing to take any chances either cause if something worse happened to him, you don’t know how’d you be able to handle that just the thought made you feel sick. “Are you okay to stand?” You ask him gently once his tears have subsided.

“I think so,” he sniffles while you help him up. “I’m sorry,” he suddenly apologizes.

“Don’t apologize, heeseung. You’ve done nothing wrong. Are you okay to keep going?” You adjusted a little, carrying most of his weight on your shoulder. He nodded weakly, trying his best to assist you despite his bruised ribs and busted face. “My apartment is only a few minutes away. Will you be okay til then? We can take breaks if you need to.”

“I’m okay. I think I can make it,” he surrendered to your offer, too worn down and tired to say no to you. You wrapped his arm around your shoulder, walking him and Mylo to their new home.

You stopped at the door once you arrived. “Don’t be scared, but I have a dog as well, and she can get very excited when she meets new people,” you warn him before entering.

Heeseung smiled a tad bit, wincing when the cut on his lip stretched. “Mylo’s good with the company,” he responds, his voice low and horse, a big contrast to how he sounded earlier in the evening.

“Okay, great!” You welcomed them inside. “Myla, we have visitors!” You cheered, and she was already waiting at the door for you.

“Woah!” She jumped on heeseung immediately. “Ow ow ow,”  he grimaced when she nudged his face. He had no idea when you said you had a dog that you meant a full-grown shepherd almost identical to his own. 

“Myla, sit,” you scolded her, and she sat down on the carpet, showing you the whites of her eyes. “Sorry,” you mumbled.

“It’s fine; she’s just like huge,” he chuckled and coughed immediately after due to the pain in his chest. 

“Take a seat on the couch,” you quickly Instructed. 

“But I’m all bloody and dirty,” he reasoned, unintentionally looking at you with puppy eyes. You just grabbed his hand and led him to the couch.

Meanwhile, Mylo was still frozen by the door. As soon as he saw Myla, he stopped in his tracks, tilting his head to the side, looking confused.

“Go say hi,” you gestured to Myla, and she walked over to Mylo, sniffing him. She recognized his scent immediately and started licking his head, but he just backed away further into the corner, hiding himself.

Heeseung watched Mylo’s odd behavior. He was always great with new dogs, but all of a sudden, he was being standoff-ish. “Mylo,” heeseung said in a stern tone, and Mylo quickly ran over to the couch, hiding behind heeseung. “What has gotten into you, hmm?” Heeseung chuckled, and Mylo peaked around his back to stare at Myla.

You and heeseung both just giggled at his cuteness. “Wait here. I’ll just go and get you some medicine and bandages for your wounds.”

“Thank you.” After a moment, you had gathered everything, and heeseung half smiled once you came back to the living room with all the supplies in hand.

“Come on, boy, you have to sit down so I can heal your daddy’s wounds,” you said sweetly. Mylo obediently laid down on the floor and curled up around your guy's feet. “Gosh,” you said once you turned on the tableside lamp and saw just how badly he was injured.

“That bad, huh?” He laughed dryly. “Imagine I let a bunch of teenagers beat me up,” he said pitifully.

“I don’t know any one man that can fight off four people,” you said, trying to lift his spirits, and it must have worked cause he smiled softly, feeling appreciative of your comforting words as he laid back on the couch so you could do your work. “This is gonna sting, but only for a little while, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers, already anticipating the sting, and it made him nervous for the pain that was inevitably about to come.

You poured the peroxide on a cotton ball and dabbed at the blood that had started to harden on his cheek and lip.

“Hmm.” He clenched his jaw from the sting, and you noticed his discomfort right away. “Sorry,” you whispered while applying some ointment to his face, hoping it would help take away the sting as you placed a single bandage on the wound. “Does it hurt anywhere else?” You ask once you finished nearly his entire face.

“N-no, I’m fine, thanks,” he lied. It hurt just about everywhere, but he didn’t want to burden you, and he was sure it’d heal on its own anyway, as it always does. He’s taken enough beatings to know.

“Okay, are you hungry or?” He declined once more with a tiny shake of his head. “Well, are you sleepy?” You asked, and he nodded his head. You’re not sure if he was aware of this, but he was pouting, and he looked so cute, just like a little baby. “Wait here.” You patted his knee and got the spare room ready for him.

Heeseung laughed as he watched Mylo digging his nails into the carpet and dragging himself towards Myla.

By the time you came back from blowing up the air mattress and getting a few things set up for heeseung, you came back and saw Myla and Mylo coupled together on the carpet, and it was too freaking adorable how they were already getting along. “I think that’s a good sign” you grinned at the sight.

“I think so, too,” heeseung agreed. It was nice to see Mylo interacting with more of his kind, even if he was behaving a bit strangely. “Myla and Mylo,” heeseung let out an airy laugh as he watched them snuggling up to one another like they’ve known each other for years.

You smiled warmly at him. “So it’s not much, but there’s a bed, and I also have some spare toiletries in the bathroom. Sorry in advance if they all smell like flowers.”

“I like flowers,” he gave you a genuine smile.

“Oh well, good then, I guess that’s it. If you need anything, my room is across from yours. Don’t hesitate at all. Just call me even if I’m asleep, alright?” 

“Okay,” he said quietly and got up from the couch. “Mylo,” he whistled. “Bedtime.” Mylo jumped up and scampered over to Heeseung, following him down the hallway. “Goodnight, y/n. Thanks for all of this. I really mean it.” he wanted to say more, so much more, but the last thing he wanted to do was get emotional again. The first time he cried in front of you was embarrassing enough.

“Of course, goodnight, heeseung.” he gave you a small smile before going into his new room. “This is home, Buddy.” Heeseung kicked off his pants and laid down on the mattress to sleep. “Wow,” he sighed in relief from the feeling of the soft air mattress hitting his back. “I told you we were going to get lucky, boy,” heeseung whispers while hugging Mylo and getting ready to sleep.

You smiled when your face hit your pillow, and you couldn’t have been happier knowing that heeseung and Mylo were together, safe and off the streets, and they could finally rest peacefully.

☕️.

Heeseung had woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of scratching noises. He quickly shot up, alert from the sudden disturbance. He took in his surroundings, breathing a deep sigh of relief once he realized he was safe at your apartment and didn’t have to worry about being assaulted again.

He heard the scratching noise again and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Mylo was digging on the door and probably scraping the paint with his claws. “Cut that out!” Heeseung whispered shouted and got out of bed, putting his pants on and quietly opening his door, assuming Mylo needed a bathroom break. “Come on, it’s this way,” Heeseung tiredly mutters while Mylo is busy sniffing the bottom of your bedroom door.

You stirred from your sleep when you felt Myla jumping off the bed. She looked back at you, wagging her tail and waiting at the door for you. “Gotta go potty?” You grabbed your robe and tossed it on, yawning before opening the door. “Woah,” You jumped slightly when you saw heeseung and Mylo standing right outside your door.

“Sorry,” Heeseung whispered.

“Hey, it's not your fault Myla has to use the bathroom,” you assured him.

“Same with him,” heeseung chuckled, pointing at Mylo.

You both shut your bedroom doors and walked to the front door, but neither of the two moved from their spot.

You and heeseung made eye contact, a knowing look taking over both your features. “Sorry,” heeseung mumbled, feeling like it was his fault for the disturbance.

“Stop apologizing,” you chuckled. “It’s alright.”

“Sorry- I- okay.” he dropped his shoulders and sighed.

“So I guess we can both agree that we’ve lost our sleeping partners.” You say, watching the two of them nuzzling each other.

“Guess so,” Heeseung laughs softly. Mylo and Myla lay next to each other on the ground, and clearly, they weren’t going to leave each other's side tonight. “Goodnight, y/n,” heeseung mutters as he goes back to his room.

“Night, heeseung,” you smiled and shut your door behind you, hoping to get a good night's rest after everything that happened today.

☕️.

Finally, you were both able to rest through the night after the disturbance. You had a day off today, which was perfect cause heeseung wouldn’t be alone on his first day with you. You didn’t have much on your to-do list, so maybe you could do something later, like shopping or getting some food for dinner with him if he was feeling up to it.

You did your usual routine, fed both the dogs, and then made a small breakfast for yourself. You didn’t want to cook anything for heeseung cause you were not sure what time he would wake up, and you didn’t want it to be cold, so you waited til later for him.

Except later came, and it was about four in the afternoon, and still, no sign of heeseung. You assumed he was just really worn out, so you took the dogs for a walk, but not before leaving a note in case heeseung woke up before you got back. The last thing you wanted was for him to worry about Mylo's whereabouts.

After half an hour, you came back from the dog park, and heeseung was still nowhere in sight. You spent the rest of the day playing with the dogs and watching TV. Before you knew it, the day was already over. It was midnight, and heeseung never showed. You cracked the door and checked on him before you went to sleep just to make sure he was okay, and you smiled to yourself. He was more than okay; he was still sleeping very very soundly.

You pouted slightly cause you were excited to see him today, but if he was that tired, you wanted to give him time to rest. After all, he needed it. You just hoped his bandages would hold until the next morning.

☕️.

The next week went by like this, except you knew that he came out of his room when you saw your strawberry shampoo spilled on the tub floor and his old clothes folded neatly near the laundry basket, not to mention the missing ramen in your cupboard.

Heeseung was horrified to step out of his room and face you. The first night was okay, but after things settled in, he couldn’t help but be embarrassed by how he treated you when you tried to help him and how he broke down like a newborn baby crying in your arms. “What the hell were you thinking?” He said to himself out loud in his room. “Ow,” he whimpered in pain when he turned on his side in bed; he lifted up his shirt, and if he wasn’t mistaken, his wounds had gotten infected badly. There was pus oozing from them, and they felt worse than the day he got them. He was applying the ointment you gave him every day, but it wasn’t working. Little did he know he needed a lot more than ointment for his level of injuries.

He got up out of bed and hobbled onto the bathroom to get more ointment. To his luck, or maybe not to his luck, you had just gotten home from work and caught him in the doorway. He thought about scattering on back to his room, but it’d look very obvious that he was trying to avoid you if he did that, so he just greeted you politely before going into the washroom. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Hey!” You said happily cause he was finally up and awake. “Feeling any better?” You asked, hoping to hear a positive response to your question.

“Umm… yeah,” he said, a bit unsure, and he was unaware that he was holding his side, a clear sign to you that he was still in pain.

“Does it still hurt there?” You looked down to where he was holding, a small pout making its way to your lips.

“Yeah, but I think it’s getting better.” Once again, he lied so you wouldn’t be caused any inconvenience because of him.

“Here, let me take a look. Umm, do you mind if I just lift this up a bit?” He shook his head as a no, you proceeded to peel back the shirt, and he bit his lip to conceal the pained sound that was dying to escape when the material of his shirt brushed against his wound.

“Am I all good?” He asked once he saw you blankly staring at the area where he was still badly hurt.

“Go wait in your room for me, okay?” You couldn’t help the sound of disappointment in your voice. Your tone let him know the seriousness of the situation, and he nodded his head, doing as he was told like a little kid being scolded.

You came in a few minutes later with your hands full of all types of first aid supplies. You sat down next to him, breaking the silence as you shyly instructed him to lift up his shirt.

He nodded again and lifted up his shirt, revealing the angry, infected welts on his skin. There was more than you had originally seen, even more on his lower abdomen and upper back. “Umm, I can’t really, you know, reach all the spots if you don’t..” your words faded out towards the end in hopes he would understand what you meant and not make the situation awkward, but he just stared at you blankly, obviously not understanding what you meant. “The shirt you need to uhh,” you motioned for him to take his shirt off, and his eyes automatically went wide; nevertheless, he complied and took off the article of clothing. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” You asked with a sigh, looking at all the swollen cuts on his body.

“I didn’t want to burden you with my problems,” he mumbled.

“Well, for as long as you stay with me, your problems are my problems.” The room fell silent once again. What else could he say to that? He sat still while you cleaned his wounds. Luckily for him, it wasn’t bad enough to go to the emergency room, but if he waited a few days longer, you don’t know what would have happened.

He hissed in pain when the peroxide bubbled around one of the many wounds covering his frail body. “Sorry,” you blew on the area to make it feel better. “You’re doing so good,” you told him when it got to some of the really bad areas. “Just a little more,” you whisper while cleaning up the rest of the cuts. “Now, is there anything else you want to tell me?” You look at him with a skeptical raise of your brow.

He gulped and turned to look at you. “N-no,” he stuttered just like last time, which was a good indicator that he was not telling you the truth this time either.

“Heeseung,” you said his name in a warning tone. “If you’re hurt somewhere else and it goes untreated, it could get very bad, and you’re not a burden to me at all, okay? I offered, so let me take care of you, yeah?” 

☕️.

This was probably the most unintentionally awkward thing you have ever done, and despite focusing on the task at hand, it was hard to focus when he was in nothing but his underwear while you treated the wounds on his thighs. “Ow,” he flinched from the burning sensation of the disinfectant, and you rubbed his thigh softly, trying to distract him from the pain; he tensed up at the contact but quickly relaxed under your careful touch. 

“Sorry, I’m almost done.” He leaned back on his palms, head tilting back while he grimaced in pain.

“A-ah, o-okay,” his breath shudders the moment you apply more ointment to his thigh.

“There, all done,” you finally finished and wrapped his legs up successfully, as well as his upper body.

“Thank you so much.” he threw his head back, exhaling deeply. That was probably the hardest thing he’d done in a while. The pain he felt was literally excruciating.

He reached for his shirt, unknowingly leaning into you a bit. Your breath hitched in your throat at the proximity, and now you were only a mere few inches away from each other.

He held his breath while staring at you, his eyes flickering between your eyes and lips before he caught himself and looked away, clearing his throat softly. “Uhm” 

The air was already awkward, but now there was a certain tension circulating. It felt stuffy, and you could barely even breathe it in. “I-I’ll let you get dressed.” You turned away from him, too flustered to look at him any longer.

You’re shocked you even had the composure for those words to come out coherently.

You felt bad for even thinking like this while he was injured, but you couldn’t help but notice that he was even more handsome up close.

“Yeah,” he breathed out as you walked to the door, fumbling with all the supplies you had in hand. 

“Just come down for breakfast soon, okay?” you say while grabbing the door knob and excusing yourself.

“I will,” his voice comes out soft as you shut the door, leaning against it and clutching your beating heart.

You felt like squealing. How were you going to be able to handle living with him?

☕️.

“Breakfast,” heeseung said as he paced back and forth. “Breakfast?” The last time he had breakfast was heck if he knew. He hadn’t even sat at a dining table since he was a young teenager. “Breakfast.” While he was pacing, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His hair was a mess, and his face was scruffy. “Eww,” he mumbled while running his fingers through the strands of his hair, looking back at his disgusting appearance.

At some point, he was able to gather the courage to leave his room or technically your room and go to the kitchen, where he could smell the bacon you were cooking. 

Your back was turned to him, and he opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it before anything could come out. He stood there awkwardly for a few moments and shoved his hands inside his pockets. “H-hi,” he greeted and teetered himself back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“Oh, hi!” You whipped your head around at the sound of his voice and smiled at him. “You’re just in time. Have a seat.”

He took out a chair and sat down while you finished making him the tasteless black coffee that he always seemed to enjoy, or maybe it was just cause it was the cheapest thing on the menu.

“Here you are,” you said softly as you served him his food. 

“Last time I’ve had this much food was more than eight years ago,” he said while looking at the piled-up plate before him. 

You frowned upon hearing that cause that probably meant he had been homeless or at least struggling for a good amount of years, and knowing that made you sad.

He took note of your sad expression and quickly changed the topic so he wouldn’t sour the mood any more than he already had. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Thank you” 

“It’s okay, and you’re welcome,” you smiled. “Mylo’s just out in the front playing with Myla,” you told him as you took a seat at the table with him.

“You’re not eating?” He asked as he took a bite of bacon, a satisfied hum coming from the taste. Home-cooked breakfast has always been his favorite.

“No, it’s like 7:00pm,” you said while giggling.

He lowered his head in pure embarrassment, a shy smile playing on his lips. “Right,” he chuckled, only now realizing just how late he had slept in.

You watched him eat in silence with a smile, and it warmed your heart to see him eating and enjoying the food you made just for him.

He took a break from eating before speaking again. “After my infection goes down, I’ll find a new place to stay and get Mylo and me out of your hair. He’s a pain in the butt, and I’m not much better off,” he informs and takes a sip of coffee.

“Would you like some cream for your coffee?” You ignored his comment entirely cause you weren’t letting him go back out on the street, and that was final.

“Y/n-“

“Yes? Okay then,” You smiled and got up from the table, grabbing some coffee creamer.

He sighed softly while you added some personality to his hot beverage. “Thanks, but I really don’t need all this. I appreciate it, I really do, but I don’t want to bother you.”

“Do I look bothered? I’ve cleaned your wounds without complaint. It’s my pleasure to cook for you. Myla loves the extra company, and so do I, so what seems to be the issue with you staying here” You fold your arms on the table and wait for a response. You weren’t trying to sound so rude, but you were adamant about him staying because it wasn’t safe for him out there, and anytime the thought of him leaving crept up in your mind, you couldn’t help but feel agitated.

When you put it like that, it didn’t sound bad at all, but he just felt like a burden. Maybe it was because of his terrible upbringing, where he was told that everything was his fault and the world would be a better place without him in it. He doesn’t know, but still, he just didn’t feel right accepting your hospitality. “I’m sorry, but I can’t,” he politely refused.

You sighed. You didn’t want to be rude, so you excused yourself. “I’ll go check on the dogs,” you said quietly and left the table.

Heeseung lowered his head and sighed deeply. He didn’t want you to be upset with him or displeased or whatever you were, but he wasn’t your problem to solve. He needed to do better by himself for himself, not freeload off your kindness.

☕️.

Heeseung has been staying with you for a few weeks now. His wounds almost cleared up completely after he let you treat them daily. Although it was like pulling teeth, you managed to get it done, and by some type of magic, you were able to convince him to let you take him shopping. “So what all do you need?” You asked once you pulled out a shopping cart.

“Umm, toiletries?” He scratched his nape, staying close to your side like a child would his mother.

You smiled and nodded, leading him to the health and beauty section.

You stopped at the end of the aisle, and he stood next to you, not moving a single inch. Even though you were waiting for him to lead the way, you cut your eyes at him, and he was still frozen there, just like a statue, so you cleared your throat. “Umm, you can get anything you need.”

“Oh!” He made a face of realization as he went to pick out items before you could notice the embarrassed blush on his face.

You stayed at the end of the aisle, and he came back like two seconds later with a trial-size toothbrush and toothpaste that cost $1,09

“Really? That’s all you need.” You look at the single item in his hand, trying your best not to judge his choice in necessities, but you can’t help it.

“Yup,” he replied, dropping his item in the cart.

You sighed. This was going to be a long day.

You went down the aisle with him this time, helping him pick out some things he needed that weren’t travel-size. “Let’s see…” you hummed. “You need this, this, and this.” You grabbed a full-sized tube of toothpaste, a toothbrush, and a bottle of mouthwash. “And these also,” you say, adding some toothflossers. “What next?”

“Some body wash, maybe I don’t know,” he mumbles out, playing with his fingers out of uneasiness when he sees the prices of everything you had just dropped in the cart.

“Okay, let’s go” Once you get down the body wash aisle, you nearly groan in annoyance when he bought a three-in-one after smelling more than ten different body washes.

You knew he liked the $10,00 dollar bottle cause the way his eyes lit up when he smelled it, but of course, he chose the two-dollar bottle cause it was cheap. Not to say there was a problem with being frugal. It’s just he didn’t need to be on a budget when he was with you.

You took the three in one out of the cart and put it back on the shelf, grabbing the one he really wanted. “I-“

“Heeseung,” you stood in front of him, hands gripping his shoulders as you gave him a serious talk. “Money isn’t an issue. Just pick whatever you want without a thought.” he nodded at you, eyes blinking rapidly as he hung on to every single last word that you had said to him. “So from now on, just get anything you want, okay?” You didn’t want to force anything upon him cause you knew spending this type of money wasn’t an everyday occurrence for him, but you hoped he’d get used to the idea of it because he deserved to shop like everyone else even if it was new to him.

“Okay,” he said softly.

Finally, you thought to yourself now that he had taken the initiative to lead you around the store to do some shopping of his own, and it was refreshing to see him adding all different types of stuff to the cart without checking the price tag. “I could also use a razor,” he said while rubbing the little scruff on his chin.

“Razors are this way.” You chuckled lightly and guided him to the shaving section. He followed you and picked out a razor and shave cream. “Does this one smell okay?” He showed you the aftershave he was thinking about getting.

“Hmm,” you hummed in agreement. “It suits you. You’re going to get all the ladies,” you joked, and he chuckled.

“All the homeless ladies on the block.” Your mood instantly shifted the moment he mentioned that. You didn’t want to think about him leaving in a week. You didn’t want to think about him being homeless again. He had only been staying with you for a few weeks, and now he was already leaving soon.

You were definitely going to miss him.

Living alone wasn’t easy for you. That’s why you had gotten Myla in the first place, and as much as she cheered you up, there was nothing like having the company of another human. You’d invite Sunghoon occasionally, but he was always too busy with school, plus his relationship, so it had just been you and Myla for years.

But now that heeseung was staying with you, that loneliness was gone, unfortunately for you, though it would only be temporary.

“Anything else?” You muttered sadly, which went completely unnoticed by him.

“Some new clothes would be nice,” he says enthusiastically.

“Okay,” You took him to the men’s section for clothing, your feet suddenly feeling heavier as a feeling of dread set in your stomach.

You unintentionally spaced out while he was shopping for his clothes. The thought of him not being around anymore was really getting to you, and you didn’t even know why it was bothering you this much.

“Y/n?” He called you, but you didn’t answer. “Y/n?” He repeated, this time turning around to catch your attention.

“Hmm?” You snap back to reality, noticing a questioning look on his face.

“Are you feeling sleepy?” He inquired with a hint of concern. “If you are, we can go.”

“No, I was just thinking about something,” you told him truthfully. You did have a day off today, so you felt good. You weren’t feeling sleepy at all. You assumed he took your saddened state for you being tired, but you were feeling okay.

“Okay,” he smiled, but you could tell that he was trying to hurry by the way he was sifting through the clothes rack. After a few moments, he had finished getting everything, which consisted of a few shirts and a couple pairs of joggers. “Okay, I’m done. That’s everything.” he clasps his hands together.

“Are you sure?” you reply, just to be completely sure he doesn’t need anything else.

“Oh, umm,” he was more than a little embarrassed about saying it to you, but it just dawned on him that he needed some new underwear. “I uhh need. I mean, never mind,” he concluded, not being able to bring himself to say it in front of you. For some reason, he just felt extremely shy suddenly, which was weird because you had seen him in his underwear already, but this felt different.

“Come on, what is it?” you urged him to tell you you’re sure he was just worried about the bill, but it was okay.

“It’s really nothing,” he gulped and avoided eye contact with you, hoping you wouldn’t ask again.

“Don’t worry about the cost. I have it, alright?” You patted his shoulder, assuring him it was okay to add more to the cart.

“It’s fine, let’s go.” he started walking away from the men’s clothing and heading to the checkout.

“Heeseung, come back and just tell me what it is,” you insisted.

“The dogs are probably getting hot in the car. We should probably leave.” he gave a reason as to why you guys should leave.

“Well, you should probably tell me otherwise they’ll be in the car all day.” You knew that was a threat, but you didn’t care. If he needed something else, he was going to get it.

He walked back over to you, finally giving in to your hardheadedness. “Ineedsomenewunderwear,” he quickly rushed out, blush already creeping up his neck.

“What?” You asked, your brows creasing in confusion. You couldn’t make out a single word he had just said to you.

He cupped his hand around his mouth, leaning in your ear and whispering it to you like it was top secret. “I said I need some new underwear.” he leaned back, a wide-eyed expression on his face as you realized what he said loud and clear word for word.

“Oh….ohhhhhhhh,” you laughed awkwardly. “I’ll just be over here,” you said and gave him some space to search for some underwear. “Sorry”

“Thank you,” he mutters shyly.

“Gosh,” you dropped your head in embarrassment once you got far enough away from him. You didn’t mean to pressure him into telling you like that. You weren’t trying to make him uncomfortable; you just wanted to make sure he got everything he needed.

Around five minutes later, Heeseung finished, and you went to the checkout area with him trailing behind you like you were his protector or something, but you thought it was cute.

Once again, you caught him looking at something, and you followed his line of sight. He was looking at the candy on the check lanes, which you thought was adorable, but that’s all he did. He just looked and looked away. 

It’s been ages since he had any candy, but it wasn’t a necessity, so he didn’t buy it. That’s what his stepmom always told him: if he didn’t need it, he shouldn’t buy it.

Well, little did he know you didn’t think like his stepmom, and if he wanted candy, then he was going to get it. “Pick all you want.” 

He now knew better than to fight with you, so he just put what he wanted into the cart, and you smiled that he was finally understanding that it was okay to buy things for himself.

After checking out, you two got back into the car, making a split decision to stop at the pet shop since you had a second mouth to feed. Mylo had already eaten nearly all of Myla's food.

As soon as you and heeseung entered the store, you were getting multiple compliments on how adorable the dogs were, and other people were politely smiling at the two of you while you roamed the shelves.

You bought a lot of stuff, probably too much stuff, but if Myla liked one thing, it was toys, and she just had a habit of destroying one after the other, so you’d be down to a few toys in no time.

Heeseung picked out some of Mylo’s favorites and let him pick out a few new toys as well. more like him picking them up and slobbering all over them, leaving heeseung no choice but to pick those. It’s been years since Mylo had a real toy. Heeseung had made him a makeshift toy out of a sock and shoestring, but that was nowhere near as fancy as the ones that the store had, especially the ones that squeaked. After shopping, you both continued to the register, where the cashier gave you two endless compliments. “Since you’re such a sweet couple, I tossed in a few dog bones as well,” the worker winked playfully as you and heeseung thanked her shyly, neither of you bothering to correct her before leaving the store after spending a couple hundred dollars, nearly making heeseung’s eyes pop out of their sockets.

Heeseung literally blushed the whole car ride home after that compliment the cashier gave you two, and thankfully, you didn’t notice his fidgeting in the passenger seat. It’s just that he’s never had a girlfriend or a girl that was even interested in him, so when he heard what the cashier said, he couldn’t help but entertain the thought of being your boyfriend a little.

 Or maybe a lot.

You weren’t much better off. You didn’t notice him fidgeting cause you were fidgeting for the same exact reason. You even went as far as to make up scenarios of you and him together in your head until you pulled into your driveway.

You hoped that wasn’t weird.

You, heeseung, and the dogs arrived home safely, and you entered the apartment together, hands full of groceries. Heeseung speaks up after sitting down the grocery bags that he insisted on carrying most of despite being a bit sore still. “I’m gonna wash up before dinner,” he said to you while you put some of the food items in the fridge.

You hummed in acknowledgment, leaving out the items you were going to make dinner with.

While heeseung was in the shower, he shaved off all of his facial hair. It’s been ages since his face had felt so smooth; the warm water cascading down his back felt like heaven on earth, and he didn’t take one bit of this for granted. He relished every last second using everything you bought him to freshen up with. When his shower came to an end, he stepped out, and he could have cried at the appearance that stared back at him in the mirror. Now, that’s a face that looked recognizable. He definitely grew up, but behind it all, he was still just that little boy who ran away from home all those years ago. He smiled at his reflection, but there was just one little thing that was missing.

As soon as the thought popped into his mind, he spotted a pair of scissors on your bathroom counter, and without a second thought, he trimmed his hair way down.

He definitely wasn’t the best at it, but he was good enough to make himself look presentable. Being homeless forces you to learn a lot of things most people take for granted, and haircuts just happened to be one of the many things he learned while being out on the road for so long.

He combed his fingers through his hair, completely satisfied with his new look. He felt lighter and overall better than he had in years. He changed into the new joggers he/you had bought and a plain black shirt before coming back out to the living room.

“Are you always this on tim-“ your words got stuck in your throat when you turned around and saw him looking like a completely new man. You knew he was handsome under the scruff and overgrown hair, but you didn’t realize that he was that handsome, and to be honest, you had lost your train of thought entirely.

He noticed your stare, but he was far too self-conscious about his appearance to understand that you were actually checking him out and not judging him. “I-I think I got a size too big,” he laughs nervously. He was never that beefy of a guy, but there was a point where he was way more nourished than he is now.

His voice brought you back to reality. “No, no, it’s good. It fits just fine,” you assured him and turned your back to the stove so he wouldn’t see your flustered face.

Your answer makes him smile, and he went from feeling self-conscious to confident just like that.

Dinner was a lot less awkward than your first breakfast together, and you could slowly see yourself getting used to something like this. Of course not with heeseung cause he was leaving, but maybe someday soon you’d find a boyfriend, and he’d eventually move in with you, or you'd move in with him, but that was all just wishful thinking you hadn’t had a man ask you out or for your number since high school, and unfortunately you had to reject it cause you were just too busy with studies at that time.

Little did you know while you were lost in thought, Heeseung had been full-on shamelessly checking you out every chance he got, but he didn’t think much of it. He assumed it was because he hadn’t had any interaction with a women in so long, but even when he was around girls at school, he’s never paid attention to them the way he did you, but you were a different story. You were literally an angel from the first time he met you till now, and how could he not be attracted to such a sweet girl who was beautiful not just on the outside but on the inside as well. A huge plus was you having a shepherd, too. He thought that it was so adorable.

Perfect for him.

He’d, of course, never act on it, though, cause as he saw it, he just stumbled across an angel to help him get through a hard time for now, and then he’d be back on his way to fending for himself and living the only life that he knew how.

After dinner, you both said shy goodnights to each other before you headed to bed. Mylo and Myla had snuggled up to each other about an hour ago. From the looks of it, they wouldn’t be moving anytime soon, and since you and heeseung were two bleeding hearts, neither of you could separate them, so they peacefully slept in the living room together all night.

☕️.

The last week of his stay flew by. You and heeseung hung out a bunch after he had gotten more comfortable around you, so comfortable that when you came home from work, you saw him spread out all over the couch with Mylo on his chest and the TV on.

He must have been sleepy, you thought, but you didn’t mind him sleeping on your couch cause he needed the rest. You put a blanket on him and muttered a small goodnight before leaving the two alone for the first time since they got here. You finally got to sleep with Myla again. She had grown quite fond of Mylo, and now they were nearly inseparable, which warmed your heart, but it just hurt knowing that this would all come to an end so soon.

☕️.

And end it did.

Heeseung was leaving today, and despite spending the whole day with him, going out for ice cream playing at the dog park, and even having dinner together, you were still gonna miss him and Mylo with your whole heart.

“So I guess that’s everything,” heeseung said once he finished packing his new backpack courtesy of you.

“I guess so,” you fake smiled at him as he walked over to your door, readjusting his backpack on his shoulders. 

“Umm, c-can I ask you for one last huge favor?” He questioned once he and Mylo stopped at your front door.

“Yeah,” you breathe out while fighting back your tears. 

“Can I please have a hug?” He asked with a forced smile of his own. It hurt him like crazy to leave, but he didn’t want to ride on your coattail any longer than he had to. He was all healed up and had more than enough supplies to go it alone, plus you had even given him a hundred dollars even though he refused it five times before finally giving in.

“Of course.” You swallowed the lump in your throat and wrapped your arms around him, inhaling the scent of his aftershave one last time.

“Thank you for everything, y/n. You’re really a great person, and I’m so glad I met you. These past few weeks were so much fun.” his voice nearly cracked, but he fought it off along with the tears that threatened to spill out as he tightened his grip on you before letting go. He released one last breath as his hands rested on your shoulders before dropping down to his sides.

“My pleasure!” You replied with only a few words cause if you didn’t, you knew you would start balling your eyes out like a newborn baby.

“Come on, Mylo, say bye-bye,” heeseung tugged on his leash like he always did, and Mylo rubbed himself against your leg. “Bye, y/n,” heeseung said before turning to the door so you wouldn’t see his tears starting to roll down his cheeks.

“Bye, heeseung,” you said in the softest tone. He could tell you were getting emotional, too, and he had to get out at that exact moment cause if he didn’t, he was sure he’d never gain the strength to leave.

He left despite Mylo resisting when he was being separated from his new best friend. Heeseung shut the door without looking back and walked down the steps while Mylo kept trying to fight his way back inside your apartment, clawing at the door until he was panting due to exhaustion. “Come on, Mylo, it’s this way,” heeseung mumbled and finally broke down, letting his tears fall cause he just couldn’t hold them in anymore.

Myla was digging at the door after it shut, and you weakly sat next to her on the ground, balling your eyes out just like you knew you would when heeseung left. 

Myla continued to whimper at the door, waiting for Mylo’s return, but it never came, and she curled up next to you where you had sat down on the floor after heeseung left. You cried and cried until you had no more tears left. It hurt far more than you had ever imagined it would.

You couldn’t believe it was actually over. It felt like just yesterday you were cleaning his wounds, and now he’s walking out your door, walking out of your life for good.

☕️.

After heeseung’s departure, he walked and walked and walked some more until he found a new spot he thought was suitable. He had gotten everything all laid out, setting up the new area and trying to replicate what he had when he was with you, but it just wasn’t the same.

“Well, it’s just you and me again, Buddy,” heeseung said to Mylo as they sat down in yet another alleyway. It definitely wasn’t as closed off from the street as his old spot, but he didn’t have a choice. It’d have to do. “Our new home,” he patted Mylo on the head, but of course, he wasn’t his usual cheery self. “You already miss myla, huh?” Mylo’s ear perked up at just the sound of her name. “Me too,” heeseung chuckled sadly. “And I miss her mommy.”

He flopped down on his sleeping bag, attempting to sleep the sadness away, but he just couldn’t get comfortable—no matter the position or how many times he tossed and turned. After sleeping on the bed, you had given him. It was hard to go back to sleeping on the cold hard ground.

But eventually, he grew so tired that his eyes had no choice but to flutter shut, and his shivering body succumbed to sleep. 

When the morning came, he tried to get up and do his normal routine, but the drive just wasn’t there like it used to be. He sat in bed feeling unmotivated and miserable all day. It had only been a few hours since he left, and he already couldn’t stand it.

He was cold, his body ached, the smell of your bacon wasn’t filling his nostrils, and the idea of being found by that same group of teenagers wasn’t helping his current situation at all.

He’s been doing this his whole life, so why now was it so hard? How come after meeting you and Myla, his life changed so drastically? How come after being alone for so long that, he suddenly craved your care and hospitality more than anything in the world.

Suddenly, his train of thought was broken when he felt warm tears rolling down his cheeks. He didn’t even know when he had started crying; nevertheless, he tucked himself into a ball and buried his head in his sleeping bag. No matter how positive he tried to be, he couldn’t help but think about the fact that he was probably going to live the rest of his life out on the street without ever seeing you again.

He started to reminisce about the first day you two met and how he treated you so harshly but soon opened up to you after seeing how kind you were. He thought about all the food you bought him, all the money you gave him, how nice you were to his precious Mylo when you didn’t even know him.

He remembers going shopping with you, and the laugh he let out was bittersweet as he remembered the little underwear incident.

Good times.

Heeseung thought of himself as the black coffee he always used to drink before you came into his life. You swooped in and managed to brighten up his bland beverage with cream, turning the dull, uninteresting liquid into something colorful and delicious, and that’s exactly what you did to him. You took his old, meaningless life and made it worth living.

It’s quite a funny analogy, but you were like the cream to his coffee.

☕️.

You took vacation the day after heeseung left cause you were in no shape or form to function at your job. You didn’t even want to get out of bed, and Myla seemed so lonely when Mylo left that you couldn’t find it in your heart to leave her alone.

For the whole day, you ate comfort food and curled up on the couch cause you were in no mood to cook, nor did you have the energy to.

Myla didn’t even eat. She spent her time moping around the house, looking for Mylo. You assumed when she had no luck, she laid down in the twin dog bed she and Mylo always used to share. You supposed his scent still lingered there by the way she was sniffing it. 

Even though he had just left, it felt like time seemed to go by as slowly as humanly possible, and with each minute that passed, the absence of heeseung brightening up your living space was crushing you inside more and more.

The reality of him being gone hit even harder in the morning when he wasn’t there to join you for breakfast.

When he wasn’t there to take the dogs for a walk.

When the smell of his aftershave wasn’t lingering in the air.

When he wasn’t cuddled up on the couch with the two dogs while you were cooking.

You know you shouldn’t have done it, but you stood from the couch, your feet leading you straight to the spare room he used to stay in. You twisted the knob taking a peek inside, just to see it completely empty, and your heart sank cause for some reason. You thought maybe, just maybe, this was all a nightmare, and he might still be there sleeping peacefully on your air mattress.

☕️.

The weekend had rolled around, and only a few days had passed since heeseung decided to go it alone. It was three in the morning, yet he found himself standing outside on your doorstep. 

About an hour ago, he had already packed up all his stuff and made the journey back to your apartment. He’d been cussed out, people threw trash at him, and to top it all off, it had started to rain, and he just couldn’t take anymore.

He now knows why he couldn’t go back to the life he used to live after he left your place. It's because after having some normalcy for once, he saw just how messed up his life had truly been being homeless and on the streets. Before you, he had absolutely nothing to compare it to, but after spending time with you, his eyes were opened. He realized that the things he’d been searching so desperately for his whole life were waiting for him behind the walls of your apartment, and he didn’t hesitate to walk an entire hour back to your home.

Heeseung took a deep breath at your door before knocking. He knew the hour was nothing but ungodly, but if he had spent another night alone, he would have lost himself out there.

You had passed out on the couch some hours ago after eating carelessly and drinking beer all night, a new daily routine of yours ever since heeseung left.

You popped up out of your sleep when you heard a knock on the door. After your eyes somewhat adjusted, you looked at the time and couldn’t help but feel startled because who the heck would be at your door this late at night? It’s not like you knew anybody in this area and you hadn’t ordered anything.

You got up quietly, tiptoeing to look through the peephole, and you thought your eyes were deceiving you, so you rubbed the sleep from them, blinking a few times before taking another look, and there stood heeseung covered in the rain at your doorstep.

Your eyes weren’t deceiving you.

You backed away from the door in pure shock, a hand covering your mouth as your eyes watered. You couldn’t believe he was actually back.

When heeseung got no answer, he couldn’t help but lose hope, his shoulders slumping in defeat, but he has never been the give-up type, and he wouldn’t start now, so he decided to knock one last time before calling it quits cause if you were asleep, he didn’t want to disturb you at this hour.

You opened the latch and the door to be greeted by heeseung smiling at you with a drenched and panting Mylo sitting next to him. “Hi, y/n,” he said softly, and just at the sight of your face, his smile dropped, and he broke down in tears just like the day you let him stay with you. “I don’t think I can take being alone anymore.” he buried his head in the crook of your neck and clung to you like you were his lifeline.

You instantly hugged him back, not caring about your clothes being soaked by his wet ones. He was shaking, and his cheek that was pressed up against yours was cold as ice. “It’s okay. You’re here with me now. You’ll never be alone again,” you told him and patted his back softly as you warmed him up in your embrace, tears pricking your eyes at his current state.

Mylo quickly ran over to Myla, his leash dragging against the carpet. As the two reconnected, she licked the raindrops off his face while he licked hers.

You pushed the door closed behind him and guided him to the couch. His hold on you tightened just in case you tried to let him go. “I’m sorry, I-it’s just I have nowhere to go. I have no one to turn to and no one who loves me,” he sobbed quietly and opened up to you in his state of desperation. “No one to take care of me, no one to hold me. It’s just been me all by myself for years, and I just can’t do it anymore. Since I met you. I don’t want to live the way I used to.” he paused. Trying to collect his breath but failing due to the sheer amount of emotions flowing through him. “My step-parents abused me when I was little, and I ran away, and since then, it’s just been me and Mylo, and I just can’t.” he was all over the place, but you were able to piece together everything, and he completely broke down in your arms letting out the most painful sobs you’d ever heard. “I’m tired, I’m just so tired,” he sighed into your chest, entirely exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally.

“Shh,” you stroked his head softly to calm him down. “You don’t have to do it alone anymore. Just let me help you. Let me take care of you, and when you get tired, you can rest cause no matter what, I’ll always be here when you need me,” you assured him, trying to keep it together yourself cause this was all very nerve-racking for you as well to profess such care and promise all these things to him, but no matter how nerve-racking it was you knew that your words were coming from your heart and deep down you knew you could fulfill every last one.

“D-do you really mean that? You won’t ever leave me like my parents did, will you?” He asked, and he almost sounded desperate for any type of affirmation at this point, desperate to be cared for by someone.

“Look at me.” You cupped his face in your hands, his cheeks still cold to the touch, his soft brown eyes staring into your own. “I’ll never leave you, and that’s a promise.” Your body acted on its own, and you kissed his cheek softly; his eyes twinkled shut, his breathing almost evening out the moment your soft lips touched his cheek, melting all the cold away with your warmth.

You both held each other in silence for at least twenty minutes before breaking apart after he had warmed all up. “You okay now?” You asked tenderly while stroking his back.

“Yeah, I think so,” he whispered. “I’m sorry for this.” he glanced at the wet couch. “I’m sorry for coming so late.”

“Don’t worry, let’s get you cleaned up yeah?” he reluctantly released you from his grip, and you led him to the bathroom.

You stood outside the door while he undressed himself. He handed you his wet clothes, and he stepped into the shower, washing away all his trials from the past few days.

You put the discarded laundry in the washer machine while you waited for him to finish.

When he came from the bathroom, he looked much better despite his tired, swollen eyes, and you assumed all he wanted was to sleep after everything that’s happened. You informed him that you would also be taking a shower, and he nodded in response, still looking a bit shaken from the whole experience.

After your shower, you entered the living room, and heeseung was still sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the wall. “Heeseung,” you whispered his name, and he jumped in response, making you frown. You wondered just how much he had endured out there, but that was a conversation for a different time. “Time for bed.” You grabbed his hand gently and led him to your room instead of letting him sleep alone tonight. It just wasn’t sitting right with you, especially cause he looked so broken and out of it.

“A-are you sure?” He asked when you patted a spot on the bed for him.

“Positive” This time, he really didn’t fight you cause even if it was just for tonight, he didn’t want to go to sleep alone again.

He got under the covers with you and maintained a good distance until you tugged his body towards yourself and wrapped your arms around him. After feeling your warmth, he immediately hugged you back and tangled his limbs with yours, holding you like you were his personal giant stuffed teddy bear, and you smiled softly at the innocent, childlike gesture.

You slowly stroked his back, and not even a minute later, he was passed out in your arms. Your heart swelled at the sight of him sleeping so soundly. You put your head on his chest to get comfortable, inhaling his refreshing aftershave while you fell asleep to the steady rhythm of his calming heartbeat and his comforting warmth.

☕️.

Heeseung woke up next to you, snuggling closer to you, a habit he had with Mylo every morning. “Good morning, Mylo,” he whispered. Usually, he’d be getting his morning love from Mylo by now, but when he didn’t feel licks and slobber on his face, the embarrassing reality of what he was actually doing washed over him. 

He slowly opened his eyes and saw you sleeping next to him, and he squeezed his eyes back shut.

How could I have forgotten I went to bed with her last night? He thought to himself.

Well, at least you were still sleeping and didn’t hear him embarrassing himself.

He opened his eyes again and took in your features up close. You had a little mole that he hadn’t noticed before cause it was so tiny. Your eyelashes occasionally fluttered, and you gripped his waist, nuzzling your head into his chest in your sleep.

Needless to say, his heart was racing in his chest when you did that. He couldn’t lie that it felt absolutely amazing how you were holding onto him right now, but he knew if you were awake, you wouldn’t be doing that, so to save you any embarrassment when you woke up, he slowly peeled your arms away from his body.

About a minute passed before you found your way back to his side of the bed after it got chilly. You hummed in contentment when you found his warmth once more.

He just gave in and let you hug him. He tried so hard to resist the urge to hug you back, but he couldn’t. He wrapped his arms around you, letting you rest your head on his chest while he stroked your arm lightly. He figured it would be fine since you’d be up soon anyway. 

Little did he know you were hungover from last night and you wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon. Only a few minutes tick by, and soon his eyes slowly fell shut. He didn’t want to go back to sleep because the dogs probably needed checking up on, but your warm embrace was slowly but surely aiding him to fall back asleep in your arms peacefully.

Eventually, sometime in the evening, you stirred awake and noticed something very tall and very big sleeping next to you. All the memories from last night came flooding in, and you gasped when you remembered that you had kissed him, well on the cheek, but it was still a kiss. You probably made him feel so uncomfortable and weirded out by your stupidity.

You really felt like kicking yourself for doing that, but you blame it on the drunkenness cause if you were sober, you would have never done that.

At least you convinced yourself of that.

The headache wasn’t too bad, and the room didn’t feel like it was spinning, so that was a good sign that you didn’t drink too much.

Or so you thought.

Your eyes nearly bulged from their sockets when you saw what time it was, but you quickly remembered you were on vacation and you didn’t have work, so you allowed yourself to relax, deciding to stop worrying so much and just enjoy the afternoon with heeseung.

Speaking of, he looked so peaceful sleeping next to you, and as much as you hated to disturb him, he needed to have a proper meal.

But staying in bed for five more minutes wouldn’t hurt. You looked up at him, and you heard little snores coming from his pouted lips. You unknowingly lifted your hand and smoothed your thumb over his cheek and then his chin until you were eventually brushing his bangs out of his eyes to get a better look at his face. He nuzzled his face into your warm palm while still asleep, and your heart melted. He was so precious, and everything he said to you last night came into your mind as you admired him.

What type of people could hurt such a delicate soul?

Sure, he was a little crusty around the edges at first, but when he opened up and started to get more comfortable with you, he was a real sweetheart. Occasionally, he’d make your coffee before work, or he’d do the laundry just so he was doing something instead of using you for a free place to stay, and he even included Myla, taking her on walks with him and Mylo, treating her as if she was his own.

Maybe you were getting too ahead of yourself, but in the last month, you had really grown quite fond of him.

Your thoughts were cut off when he started to stir out of sleep. One of the two dogs had started scratching on the door, and you quickly withdrew yourself from him before he noticed you watching him sleep like a weirdo.

You hopped out of bed and looked down at the door. Of course, it was no other than Mylo and Myla staring you in the face, probably asking to go out or for food.

Heeseung sat up and rubbed his eyes, combing his fingers through his hair while he looked at the two waiting at your guy's door.

You walked out quietly and fed them both, giving heeseung time to fully wake up before going back and checking on him, and admittedly, he looked so cute under the covers relaxing. “Morning,” you said softly.

“Good morning, y/n.” he smiled tiredly, his eyes barely even open as he greeted you.

“Uhh, about last night,” you started out slowly, trying to find the best and quickest way to go about this. “I was drunk last night, so I might have done something weird, just so you know.” You chewed at your lip nervously. “Like everything I said was true, but I tend to get really affectionate when I’m drunk, so the kiss was…” you trailed off a little, trying to save yourself the embarrassment of having this conversation.

“Because you were drunk?” He finished your words for you after putting two and two together.

“Yeah,” you breathed out and stood there awkwardly.

“Oh,” he said, disappointed, and you missed the frown on his face cause you were too busy staring blankly out the window. “Okay,” that’s all he could say. There wasn’t anything else that came to mind, and he felt like the air had just been sucked out of the room as a weird tight feeling in his chest made its presence known.

“Yeah, sorry for that.” You clasped your hands together and concluded, hoping he’d forgive your stupidity. “I’m gonna go make something to eat. Do you want anything?” You tried to switch the topic smoothly, but it didn’t seem to work.

“No, thank you,” he declined with a clenched jaw, getting out of bed and going to the restroom without another word.

You buried your face in your hands, and you couldn’t help but be upset with yourself because of what you did. What made it worse was the fact he actually seemed upset about the kiss. Gosh, the last thing you wanted to do was make him uncomfortable in a space that was supposed to be safe and comfortable for him, but you did just that.

The only time you saw heeseung was when he took the dogs on a walk and came back inside, but for the rest of the day, he shut himself inside his room with Mylo.

“She was just drunk,” he laughed pathetically at himself. “Should’ve known.” he doesn’t know why he foolishly thought you might have actually been interested in him in some way. “Gosh, I’m so stupid,” he scolded himself for his ridiculous assumption about you kissing him on the cheek. “But you,” he scratched Mylo’s chin. “Mylas smitten with you huh?” He laughed. “Well, at least one of us got the girl.”

He rolled over on his bed, thinking of where to go from here, but first things first, he needed to see you. He sighed and got up out of bed, approaching you while you were sitting on the sofa watching TV with Myla. “Hey, y/n, can I talk to you for a sec?” He asked softly as he entered the living room.

You were surprised that he even showed himself to you after your nonsense earlier, and you immediately felt your heart drop. He was probably going to tell you off for kissing him and asking him to sleep with you in the same bed. He was probably going to make boundaries and not talk to you anymore unless necessary. Before more bad thoughts crept up in your head. You answer with a small yet nervous nod as he takes a seat beside you on the couch.

“So, umm, I don’t know how to even start this,” he sighed as Mylo sat down at his feet.

Yep, this was it. He was getting ready to tell you he didn’t want to stay here anymore. Yep, y/n, you really blew it this time. “It’s okay. Just start when you’re ready,” you said calmly despite all the anxiety filling your body.

He smiled at you, appreciative of your welcoming nature. “So I’ll just get straight to the point: I have no education or previous experience of anything, and no one wants to hire me, so unfortunately, until I can get that settled, I have no way of getting a job,” he explained the fact to you hesitantly, feeling ashamed and embarrassed that as a young adult, he had absolutely nothing going for him.

You breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wasn’t telling you off for kissing him last night. You imagined he was going to tell you something so much worse. “Come work with me at the cafe. I can get you in. I guarantee it.” You knew you’d have to do some sweet talking, but your manager was a good guy. He hired you when you were at your lowest, so you’re sure he’d help a guy in need like heeseung.

“But I don’t have any experience,” he worries.

“Okay, hear me out on this.” You quickly dialed your manager's number and put the phone on speaker. “Hi, boss,” you chirped when he answered.

“Y/n! Hi, you just can’t seem to get enough of this place even when you’re on vacation,” he chuckled.

“Well, boss, it’s something really important. A good friend of mine needs a job,” you unknowingly start biting on your nails out of nervousness.

“Oh! Great! Niki just went back home for the holidays, so your timing is impeccable.” You smiled slightly at that. So far, so good. You gave heeseung a thumbs up.

“There’s just one thing… he was homeless, and he doesn’t have any prior experience or anything, so I was hoping maybe you could hire him in and just give him a chance.”

You heard a long sigh over the line. “That’s asking for a lot. Do you know I need someone reliable for this position? It’s nearing fall, and that’s when we’re the busiest.”

You looked at Heeseung, and he nodded his head enthusiastically, showing you that he’d be more than reliable and you trusted him. “He is,” you said, feeling more hopeful by the second.

“You know what? I’ll give him a shot, but I won’t be nice just because he’s your friend.”

“You won’t have to. I know he’s perfect for the job,” you said with confidence.

“I trust you,” he replied. He was stern, but you knew he was a good guy, and he wouldn’t regret giving heeseung a chance.

“Thank you, boss.”

“No problem, y/n. Bring him in for an interview next Wednesday.” 

“Will do!” You hung up and smiled at heeseung, who was already staring at you with the biggest, brightest smile on his face. You literally were his guardian Angel.

“You’re amazing!” He smiled even wider, tackling you in a hug. Out of pure joy, he swears if he got the job, he’d do everything to repay you.

☕️.

“Y/n, I’m so nervous,” heeseung whined, adjusting his dress shirt for the thousandth time.

“Don’t be.” You stood in front of him, taking his hands off his shirt and fixing his tie for him so he wouldn’t have to fidget with it anymore. “You’re gonna do great, I know it.” You had already rehearsed at home, and he did excellently; he had absolutely nothing to worry about. If he hadn’t told you he didn’t have prior experience before, then you wouldn’t have known with how professionally he answered all your questions.

He nodded at your words and took a deep breath, preparing himself for the interview. “Thanks, y/n, I really mean it.” 

“Anytime.” You smiled at him and checked your watch. “It’s time.”

You cheered him on quietly as your boss made an appearance from the back of the cafe. “You must be heeseung?” 

“Yes sir, nice to meet you.” heeseung stood up and took confident steps towards your boss, extending his hand for a handshake. He looked back at you and smiled one last time before going in for his interview.

You felt nervous for him, but you don’t even know why cause you knew he’d do great.

Not even twenty minutes later, he came out with a beaming smile on his face, and you could already tell he had good news. Your body reacted out of excitement, and you immediately ran to him, engulfing him in a big hug. “I got the job!”

“I’m so proud of you!”

“Thank you. I promise I’m going to repay you in full.” he rocked you back and forth in his arms, and this had to be the best day of his entire life.

☕️.

After you and heeseung went back home, you were both just relaxing on the couch, talking about any random topics that came up while the TV played in the background. Heeseung was extra chatty today. The excitement of getting a job still hadn’t left his body yet.

He smiled and scooted a little closer to you as the two babies stuffed themselves on the couch next to you guys. “I know I haven’t even started the job yet, but as soon as I do, I’ll repay you, I promise.”

“Heeseung, thank you, but there’s no need, really,” you tell him earnestly.

“Y/n, you’re too nice to me. You’ve given me everything, and I’ve done nothing in return for you. I want to pay you back. Please let me.” he looked at you, eyes full of nothing but sincerity. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Okay, but you’ve done more than you know,” you tell him, resting your hand on his knee.

“What do you mean by that?” He tilted his head curiously.

“Where do I start?” You sat up straight, hand still softly stroking his knee. “First of all, you’ve given this place life. You gave Myla a friend, and you really brightened up my days. Everything is just better when you’re around, you know?” You retracted your hand nervously, playing with a stray thread on the couch.

“How?” Everything you told him just now was a completely foreign concept. He felt like a burden. He never felt appreciated or cared for. He always just felt like he was an obstacle in someone’s way, rather that be down a random alleyway on the street or back at his adoptive parent's house, so your words were confusing to him, to say the least.

“Cause you’re just fun to be around.” You grew flustered as soon as the words left your mouth. “I like your company, and you make me feel comfortable and safe.” 

“Me? You mean that? Like actually?” he mumbled while looking down at his lap.

“I do.” his head quickly shot up at your words, and you could see the tears gathering in his eyes. No one had ever told him anything like that in his whole entire life, and he couldn’t fathom how anyone could feel that way about him, especially cause all his young adult life, he was told that he was useless, and now here you are telling him the exact opposite.

He quickly hid his face in his palms, hiding his tears from you. “I-I think I need to be alone right now.” he stood up abruptly and walked to the spare bedroom while you sat there half worried, half confused.

“Did I say something wrong?” You whispered to yourself.

Heeseung was just far too overwhelmed with emotions to even respond to you. He wasn’t trying to walk out on you like that, but he needed to gather himself first. He didn’t know what to do; everything he’d felt with you in these past few weeks was so weird, not in a bad way, but in a way that he’d never felt anything like it. He didn’t know what he did to deserve you or anything you’ve done for him so far, but he wouldn’t change it for the world. He was so so thankful for you.

You played with the dogs on the couch for the meantime despite being worried about heeseung. You gave him some time to himself before you went to check in on him. You knocked softly on his door prior to entering. “Heeseung?”

“Yeah, come in.” he quickly wiped his tears as you entered, but anyone with eyes could see he had just been crying.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly and took a seat beside him, your hand automatically stroking his back soothingly.

“I’m more than okay. I’m perfect,” he smiled, pulling you into his arms and hugging you impossibly close. Naturally, you hugged him back cause you absolutely loved his hugs. They were so warm, and they could take any stress away. You felt content just being in his arms.

“Are you sure?” you mumbled into the crook of his neck, and he hummed in response, hugging you a little tighter.

“I’m just overjoyed, that’s all,” he sighs in contentment.

“Oh, I’m glad.” You patted his back gently, relieved that you hadn’t said anything offensive to him. “I was thinking if you wanted to, we could celebrate your employment with dinner.”

“Ooh, okay, what are we gonna make?” He asked, releasing you from his arms, an excited expression on his face.

“Oh umm, I was thinking of going out to eat,” you tell him your idea.

“Wow, okay, that sounds fun. I’ve never eaten out before. What should I wear? How should I act?” He hopped off his bed, searching through his very, very small wardrobe, which reminds you you need to take him shopping again. All he had was loungewear and a suit for his interview.

His excitement was absolutely adorable to you, but when you found out he’d never been to dinner before, that broke your heart. Something that most people do naturally was something foreign to him, and you realized in that moment you took a lot of things for granted. “Just wear something comfy,” you smiled.

☕️.

“Be good while I’m gone. Don’t mess up any more of y/n’s furniture, got it? She’s kind enough to let us stay here, so we must respect her.” Mylo just sat there, tail wagging while he looked at his master. “You don’t got it, do you?” Heeseung frowned. Mylo had already practically destroyed your table in the kitchen, and something deep down told him Mylo wasn’t going to stop until the living room furniture was polished in his scratch marks.

“Heeseung, it’s fine. Besides, I needed a new table anyways.”

“But-“

“Come on, we’ll be late for our reservation.” You grabbed his head, leading him to the door.

“Wait, how do I look?” He was in a plain white dress shirt, black slacks, and hair slicked back to perfection, and he smelled delicious.

“Handsome,” you complimented him as casually as you could despite your heart pumping wildly in your chest.

“You look beautiful,” you thanked him shyly as you both just kinda stood there awkwardly until one of you came back to your senses after staring at each other for far too long.

“The reservation,” he mumbled slowly, still taking in your beauty.

“Yeah,” you whispered and shook your head to break out of your trance, finally leaving your apartment, praying that the babies would behave while you were both gone.

☕️.

Going out and spending time with heeseung really made time fly by. He was just so down to earth you never really got the chance to settle down and talk to him one-on-one, but after tonight, you learned a lot of things about him. Despite his past, he was very bright and hopeful. He was an extremely humble and admirable person, and you could tell once he got on his feet, he was going to have a very bright future ahead of him and you’re just happy you could help him get there..

The dinner went smoothly. Two hours passed by way too soon, and it was already time to go back home, but you were hoping you could both do this again sometime really soon.

The both of you gasped in pure shock the moment you entered your apartment. “Mylo! Get off of her!” heeseung shirked, but it was a bit too late for that. “Oh goodness, I’m so sorry,” heeseung quickly apologized as you closed your apartment door and stood outside with a shocked expression, trying to take in the fact that the two of your babies were mating while you both were out.

“Well, I think the furniture is the least of our concerns,” you joked.

“Yeah,” heeseung laughed along with you, still a bit shocked as well. From what he could tell, Mylo wasn’t showing any signs, but he supposed it was mating season after all. Time had really flown since he started staying with you.

“Do you maybe want to go for a walk?” Heeseung looked up at you, his honey-like eyes staring into your own, and just like at dinner, you couldn’t peel your eyes away from them. “You know, while they have their alone time,” you chuckled.

“Sure, a walk sounds nice,” he smiles, taking your hand in his as he helps you down the stairs. He immediately lets go the moment you reach the bottom of the steps, and you’re kinda disappointed at the loss of contact, but you and him didn’t have a relationship quite like that, so holding your hand would be a bit inappropriate at the moment. “So I guess we’re gonna have a bunch of baby Mylas and Mylo’s running around the apartment.” 

“I guess so.” You still couldn’t believe that they actually mated. That was the last thing on your mind when you guys left for dinner.

“Ohh, I already have some names,” he says, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Myah for a girl and Myles for a boy.”

“That’s really cute, heeseung, but surely we can’t keep all those puppies,” you say. Of course, you wanted them, but where would they all go?

“We can’t keep them?” Heeseung pouts.

“Where would we put them all? She’s gonna have at least four, and that’s at least,” you exclaimed. You heard they could have up to 15, and if that happened, you were going to be in for a real surprise.

“Yeah….you’re right,” he replies, already sulking cause he couldn’t keep all the baby puppies.

“We can keep the puppies.” You tell him to lighten his mood and his eyes light up right away as he looks at you.

“Really?!” He says excitedly.

“But,” you say sharply. “When they grow, we have to take them to a shelter or something.” his shoulders immediately slump down again.

You really aren’t sure what’s going on in that little noggin of his, but did he really think you could have an apartment full of adult shepherds?

“Okay,” he literally sounded just like a child who couldn’t get their way, and you shook your head softly, deciding to deal with that problem a bit further down the road.

“So…” you continued your little walk, enjoying what was left of the warm weather. “Did you enjoy your time?”

“I loved it. I haven’t had so much fun in ages. Do you think we could go out again sometime soon?” You smile softly, nodding your head. One thing you liked about Heeseung was that he was never shy about showing his gratitude and thankfulness. “I know I already said it, but I’m gonna keep saying it. Thank you for everything.” he came to a stop and turned to you. “You really saved my life, y/n, and I mean it. Without you, I would have lost hope by now.”

“Nonsense,” you laughed it off. You weren’t going to take all the credit for his hard work over the years.

“No, really, I was giving up until you came along and gave me something to look forward to. Gave me some type of hope that if I just held on a little longer, something special would come my way or someone special.” he took a step closer, his eyes locked on your lips until they darted to your eyes before he engulfed you in a hug and again you were a bit disappointed cause you really, really thought he might have kissed you with they way he looked at your lips, but you’re sure you just imagine that cause who were you kidding? He probably didn’t even like you like that, plus your relationship was purely platonic, so it’d be weird if he kissed you, even though you really wished he did.

“You’re gonna make me cry, heeseung.” You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him close.

“Please do. I don’t want to be the only one crying here,” he chuckles as warm tears roll down his cheeks.

“Okay,” you laugh slightly, your own tears now wetting his dress shirt.

Eventually, it got late, and after his heartfelt confession, you both went home. If you didn’t catch Mylo and Myla in the act, you’d think they slept the whole time while you and heeseung were gone, but no.

You and heeseung tiptoed together down the hall so you wouldn’t wake the babies and finally go your separate ways after spending the whole day and night together. “Thanks again for today. Goodnight y/n,”

“Goodnight, hee,” you whisper, and he only registered what you called him once you closed the door, and he went to sleep with a silly little smile on his face from the nickname you’d given to him.

☕️.

“So Hoon, this is my good friend heeseung, and you’ll be training him today.” your vacation was over, and this was heeseung’s first day on the job, so the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. You were so excited you got to work with him on his first day.

“Woah Woah Woah, I never signed up for any of this. When did you become the boss?” Sunghoon raised his brow with a teasing look.

“I’m not the boss, but I’m the boss of you, so you do what I say.” You put your hands on your hips, speaking matter-of-factly.

“Yes, boss,” he saluted, making you giggle. “Hi, my name is Sunghoon.” he quickly turned to heeseung, shaking his hand politely.

“Hi, I’m heeseung.” sunghoon nodded and focused his attention back to you. 

Heeseung just stood there awkwardly, watching you and Sunghoon laugh and converse amongst yourselves. He didn’t know what exactly he was feeling when he saw you and Sunghoon talking, but whatever it was didn’t feel good, and he didn’t like it one bit. 

Heeseung just moped around for the time being, looking at all the different coffee machines until you two had finally stopped talking. “Alright, time to get you familiar around here. My name is Sunghoon, and wait, I already said that. Never mind, just follow me.” he put his arm on heeseung’s back and led him to the back while you gave him an excited little wave.

Hours passed by, and the training was going smoothly. Sunghoon had no doubts about your friend. He’d do just perfect here. “I knew you’d be good at this. With your skills and that face; you’ll be getting all my tips in no time,” Sunghoon laughed.

“What do you mean? Your tips? Is that like a good thing?” Heeseung asked curiously.

“Well, good for you, bad for me,” he chuckled. “If you think you’re ready, I can show you how to take orders as early as today.”

“Oh yes, I’m ready,” Heeseung said, determined he wanted to know everything so he could perform his absolute best. Ever since he stepped into the building, he wanted to prove himself and be the best worker he could be.

When the customers started coming in, heeseung was a bit nervous in the beginning, but he got over it after the first few customers and took the orders smoothly. Just after one day, he was already proficient in everything, which was kinda scary to Sunghoon but also very good.

“What did you do to him?” You asked Sunghoon as you both watched him working away from the back. He was handling each customer so professionally it took you at least a week to get that comfortable, and here he is doing it all in one day.

“Don’t blame this on me. You’re the one who brought that freak of nature in here.” sunghoon put his hands up in defense, going to make some of the orders heeseung was taking.

“You’re doing great.” you walked up to heeseung when things started to slow down a bit. “And it’s only your first day,” you congratulated him, patting him on his shoulder.

“Yeah, thanks.” he was still feeling weird from what happened earlier, and he didn’t feel like talking much right now unless he had to. Whatever this stupid feeling was in his chest, he hoped it’d go away soon so he could focus on work fully.

“Boss will want you at full-time right away,” you smiled.

“Cool,” he forced a laugh as some more customers came through the door.

Odd, you thought, but shook it off. He seemed to be acting different all day, but he was probably a little stressed from taking on so much work in one day. “Here, $1,76 is your change, and your order will be right out.” he smiled politely at the customer as you watched from a distance while cleaning tables.

The customer in said topic was absolutely beautiful; she had long blonde hair, blue eyes, a pretty smile, and perfect skin. To top it all off, she was so polite.

You knew heeseung was just doing his job, but to see him smiling at her so brightly while he barely acknowledged you at all today made your stomach turn.

But you shook that off, too, cause you and heeseung weren’t dating, and you were just being a little irrational at this point.

Heeseung was the same with you throughout the rest of the shift, and even when you guys went home, he wasn’t talkative. He didn’t eat dinner, and he barely managed to mumble out a goodnight before he went to his room and never came back out for the rest of the night, which was especially odd because he always used to want to watch TV with you before bed.

You just sighed, wondering what could be on his mind and making him act so differently towards you, but again, you chalked it up to stress and hoped he’d be feeling better by tomorrow after a good night's rest.

Needless to say, you went to bed in a sour mood, hoping the next morning would be better.

☕️.

Except it wasn’t.

The girl that you had been envious of previously came back the very next day.

Your blood was already boiling the moment she came in, and you had grown tired of her overly affectionate attitude towards him very quickly.

At first, you weren’t too bothered. You thought she was just being polite to him, which was fine, but when she came back and started making small talk with your ma- heeseung, you could barely even hold it together, and what made it all worse was that he still wasn’t acting like himself. He rarely talked to you at all this morning and if he did it was only if he needed help with something.

Yet he was perfectly fine with chatting away with her. Did you do something wrong? Was he mad at you? You couldn’t help but wonder.

“If looks could kill, that girl would be six feet under,” Sunghoon chimes as if you needed his two cents right now.

“Whatever.” You tossed the towel over your shoulder, going to the back to wash down some dishes so you wouldn’t have to hear her, but you still did, unfortunately, and what you heard next made you take an early break.

“Here’s my number. I was thinking we could go out on a date sometime,” she handed him a piece of paper with her number on it.

“O-oh,” heeseung blushed a little. This was the first time he’d ever been asked out before, well, except for you, but that was different, and he didn’t really know what to say or do. “Okay, yeah, sure, we can go out sometime.” he smiles a little awkwardly.

“Great! Bye, cutie,” she waved to him, and he stood there with the biggest smile on his face.

“Bye,” he said softly, and he tucked the number safely into his back pocket.

You took your apron off and slammed it on the back counter before taking a break.

You knew you were overreacting, but you just needed a minute for this to all settle in, but before you could even let your frustrations out. Heeseung was sitting right next to you, and you had to play off your anger and disguise it as being tired. “Hey, y/n, how come you’re taking a break so early?” Heeseung was finally starting to feel a little bit more like himself now that you and Sunghoon weren’t literally joined at the hip. He felt like he could get your attention back on him, at least while on break, that is.

“Just tired,” you reply, completely uninterested in having a conversation right now.

“Ah, I see.” he clears his throat. “I’ll ask you later then.”

“It’s fine, hee,” you tell him, and he goes ahead and continues on.

His heart started to beat quicker hearing the nickname you gave him, but he did his best to compose himself.“So, like, this girl just asked me out.” Oh no, you really wish you hadn’t told him to tell you because this is the last thing you want to hear about right now. “And I’m really nervous about it because I’ve never been asked out on a date before,” he picked at his nails.

So he didn’t think of the other night he spent with you as a date?

Ouch.

But again, you guys weren’t dating, so it really wasn’t a date, even if you really wanted it to be. “That’s great! Heeseung, it’s okay to be nervous on your first date.” You patted his shoulder comfortingly despite feeling a growing ache in your chest.

“I just don’t want to mess it up or make a fool out of myself, you know?” He poured out his worries to you. “Cause, as you know, I have a habit of saying too much sometimes,” he laughs softly.

“You won’t, hee, I promise.” you smile and stand up, not having the physical or mental strength to talk to him about this any longer cause the thought of him with another girl that isn’t you was tearing you apart inside which you know is stupid because you’ve never even made any advances towards him. Still, you just wanted to take things slow, apparently, though that wasn’t the best approach cause someone had gotten to him before you could work up the courage to. “Just be yourself.”

“Just be myself,” he whispered while you were walking away. He took the piece of paper with the number on it out of his pocket and looked at it. “She’s right.” he stayed outside on the back steps, enjoying the last little bit of his break.

☕️.

“Y/n! I’m heading out now. Could you tell me how I look?” You heard heeseung shouting from the living room while you were lying in bed with a headache cause all week, all he did was talk about his stupid date, and all week, you had to pretend that you were happy for him.

“You look good,” you said once you went to the living room and saw him standing there in a very, very attractive outfit.

“O-oh,” he looked down at his outfit, rethinking his choice cause whenever you called him handsome, he felt confident, but since you said he just looked good, he started feeling a little self-conscious about himself. “Just good? Not handsome?” He pouted.

You sighed and walked closer to him. “No, hee, you look handsome as always. Go and enjoy your date, okay?” You corrected his tie, took a little piece of lint off his top, and patted his chest.

“Yes, ma'am,” he smiles as he exits the door, feeling warm inside after getting your approval.

☕️.

You were literally seething on your bed, and you couldn’t take it, knowing that the man you liked was out on a date with some girl who probably didn’t even deserve him.

You almost knew for a certainty she only asked him out that day cause of his looks. It’s not like she gave him food and money when he was on the street. Where was she when he was alone and scared? Exactly, absolutely nowhere.

But you were and still are and always will be.

But you knew that was a stupid way of thinking. He doesn’t have to be obligated to like you just cause you willingly took care of him, but still, you wished he felt the same way about you that you felt for him.

As sad as it was, though, you were still happy for him. He’s come so far, and he deserves to be happy after all he’s been through. You just wanted him to be happy even if things didn’t turn out the way you wanted them to, even if you weren’t the one that made him happy.

When ten o’clock came, heeseung was thanking his stars because he had the absolute worst time ever. He thought he was gonna have fun like the dinner you took him out on, and it was everything but that. 

He knocked softly on the door, hoping you were still awake at this hour. “Hi, y/n,”

“Hey, hee, did you have fun?” You asked after calming yourself down from all the negative thoughts that you had previously.

“Oh gosh, no, she kept asking me to drink, and I don’t drink. I tried it, though, and it was really bad, and then out of nowhere, she tried to kiss me, and I obviously declined because I wasn’t interested, plus her breath smelled like alcohol, and then she got upset, and we didn’t even get dessert” he pouted. “And she kept asking if I wanted to Netflix and chill. I don’t even know what Netflix is, and to my knowledge, we were already chilling,” he whined, going on and on about the horrors of his date.

Something told you he didn’t have much experience in the dating scene either, and you had to stifle your laugh because he looked so adorable and clueless. After hearing about his date you knew your suspicions about her liking him just for his looks were true, but you still couldn’t believe she was that forward with him, especially drinking on the first date.

“I’m sorry. We have ice cream in the freezer. Are you still up for some dessert?” You suggested hoping to save his terrible night with a sweet treat.

“Yes, please,” he sighed. All he wanted was to change his clothes and spend some time with you after his horrible date. “Y/n, what’s Netflix and chill?” He asked innocently while you both sat at the table and ate ice cream together. This was already ten times better than his date.

Oh, boy, were you in for a ride. Not only did you have to explain to him what Netflix and chill was, but you also had to tell him about why people typically asked other people out on dates and the expressions he made once he realized that were precious but also hilarious.

“Eww, no, No Netflix and chill, just dessert,” he whined. He knows better than to go on a date again, if you could even call it that.

“Okay, just dessert,” you laughed and ruffled his hair, serving him and yourself some more ice cream. You both went to the living room and cozied up on your sofa, watching some TV and enjoying each other’s presence for the rest of the night.

☕️.

You felt bad for liking the fact that heeseung’s date went bad, but you quickly erased those silly thoughts from your head. He was single, and he could be with whoever he liked, and you accepted that, which you’re so glad you did cause, apparently, he was the most wanted man; everyone at the cafe was fawning over him, not just you and Sunghoon but guys and girls too. It was busier than ever after he got hired there. The tips they left for him were insane, not to mention all the numbers he got from women. he just ignored them, though, after that horrible date he went on, he wasn’t up for going on another one anytime soon, besides hanging out with a girl that wasn’t you just didn’t feel right to him anyway. No one made him feel safe and comfortable to be himself like you did.

He was already having a rough day after his failed date last night. On top of all the compliments, small talk, and outward flirting he was getting, it was just a little exhausting, and when he saw you and “Hoon” talking, it just soured his mood even more, that same weird feeling bubbling up in his chest, again. “Y/n, can you help me with the register, please?” He knew darn well he didn’t need any help, but if it stopped you from talking to that guy you called Hoon, then he was more than happy to pretend he needed help. “Thanks, y/n. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” he smiles and awkwardly places his hand on your shoulder, attempting to show you some type of affection even though he doesn’t really know how.

You do your best to hide your flustered state and reply. “You’re welcome. I’m always here for you.” You placed your hand over his, which was still lingering on you, sending jolts of electricity through his body, awakening all the little butterflies in his tummy.

Not even five minutes later, after your guy’s little moment, you were in the back with Sunghoon talking again about god knows what while heeseung used every last tactic to split you guys up, but somehow, you always found your way back together again.

“You need some help?” Sunghoon asked heeseung, who was angrily scrubbing away at the dishes after closing.

“No,” he said without even looking at Sunghoon.

Sunghoon smiled a knowing smile. Heeseung was so obvious it was adorable. “I know you like y/n, and I know you think we have something going on, but I’m taken, and y/n and I are just really close friends.” he could see the jealousy just oozing off of heeseung for the whole day the same jealousy that was oozing off you just a week prior.

“What are you on about? I don’t like y/n like that, and if you guys are dating, I don’t care either,” he replied harshly.

“Pretty sure she likes you too, and maybe when you’re not looking like you want to bite my head off, you could ask her out,” Sunghoon jokes.

“She does?” heeseung says excitedly, his eyes lighting up, causing Sunghoon to let out a hearty laugh. “Wait,” heeseung sighs. “I-I'm sorry, I just don’t know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what the heck is happening to me,” he pouts, unknowingly dropping the sponge he was using in the sink, his shoulders soon deflating in defeat.

“You’re jealous you’re in love, and you’re confused about it, and you don’t know it, that’s it.” sunghoon pats heeseung’s shoulders. “But no worries, once you ask her out, it’ll all be fine. Trust me, I was just like you before I got with my girl.”

Heeseung gives him a small smile. “You think she likes me back? It doesn’t seem like it,” heeseung said innocently. His mind couldn’t help but wander back to the time you said kissing him on the cheek was a mistake. Since that day, he just gave up hope that you would like him back altogether.

“She likes you back,” Sunghoon assured him. “She definitely likes you back,” he says, remembering all the jealous glares you were giving to the customers today.

“O-oh, okay,” he blushed. “When should I do it?”

Oh brother, where did you find him? Oh yeah, on the street. “When it feels right,” he gave heeseung a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “Now go home with y/n. I’ll finish up here.” he took heeseung’s spot in front of the sink.

“But-“

“It’s alright, just go home,” heeseung thanked him profusely and already thought of a million ways to repay him the next time he saw him.

☕️.

When it feels right.

It always feels right. He thinks he feels right whenever he’s with you. Right now, being on the couch while you sit and watch TV together feels right. “Y/n? Can I ask you a question?” You shift your attention to heeseung, who is already turned towards you, looking at you with a serious expression on his face. 

“Of course.” You turned down the volume on the TV so you could answer his question while giving him your full attention.

“I like you. Do you want to go out on a date with me?” He says softly, eyes showing heavy emotion as he waits for your answer. He’s a little tense and really nervous, but he’s still smiling, that pretty little smile of his.

Your ears must be wrong or something cause there’s no way the Lee Heeseung wanted you to go on a date with him.

Not when he has people lined up quite literally asking him for his number on a daily basis.

But when he stares at you, not saying anything else and waiting patiently for your answer, you realize that he is indeed asking you to go out with him, and he’s one hundred percent serious. “Yes, heeseung, I would love that!” You all but jump on his lap excitedly. “Of course, I want to go on a date with you!”

“Yeah?” He chuckles, hands automatically wrapping around your torso. “Okay,” he breathed the deep breath he was holding for the last minute. “I can’t wait,” he mutters. 

“Me neither,” you whisper, getting lost in his sweet brown eyes.

“Do you want to go now?” He doesn’t want to rush it, but he really wants to spend another day with you, like the one you both celebrated during his employment.

“Sure, hee, we can go now.” You smile at him, unable to contain your excitement.

“Okay!” He returns your smile and goes to his room to get dressed cause, of course, he has to look handsome for you.

Meanwhile, you’re squealing onto the couch, ruffling your hair cause you were about to go insane lee heeseung actually liked you back and wanted to take you out for a date.

When you looked up, Mylo and Myla were staring at you with their eyes wide and ears pulled back from your loud shrieks. “Don’t judge me,” you pointed at them and ran to your room to get dressed and ready for your date with heeseung.

☕️.

After you both stood in the living room for at least five minutes complimenting each other's outfits like broken records, you finally left the house.

It was all fun asking you out, but when it came to the part about actually going out, Heeseung didn’t know what to do.

He didn’t know how to drive, so he was already feeling a bit self-conscious when you had to drive. He hadn’t received his first check yet, so he couldn’t even treat you, and now his mood was down. 

You were both having a good conversation, but he got lost in thought, wondering what you’d think about him not being the one taking the initiative. After all, he was taking you on a date, not the other way around. “Hee, are you okay?” You ask when you saw him completely zoned out.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he sighed, fake smiling at you, and he couldn’t help but think after tonight, you’d probably never want to go back out with him ever again. Little did he know you were having the best night of your life. You weren’t thinking about how he didn’t drive you. You weren’t thinking about how he didn’t pay. All you were thinking about was how much fun you were having with him and how lucky you were to be out on a date with the person you liked for what felt like forever.

“No, you’re not. You haven’t even touched your ice cream, and you love ice cream.” You furrow your brows, wondering what changed so suddenly, everything was going fine, and then suddenly it wasn’t.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” he apologized out of nowhere, making the situation even more confusing for you. Before you could even ask why, he went on to explain. “I know you’re disappointed with our date, but I just want you to know that when I get my check, I’ll take you out somewhere. I promise I’ll pay for everything, and with all the tips I’ve been getting, I’ve been saving up for a car, and I know I haven’t even paid you back yet, but I swear I will and-“

“Heeseung, what are you even saying?” You ask him in disbelief.

How could he possibly think you were disappointed? You were literally having the best night of your life all thanks to him.

“I’m saying that I’m still just a useless bum, and I’m sorry I can’t give you more.” Your heart breaks when you see his eyes begin to water. The now beautiful date outside on the balcony all of a sudden turned gloomy.

“Hee…” You place your hand over his, and he retracts it, resting his hand on his lap as he looks down. “No,” you whisper and scoot your chair next to his, leaning into his side. “I don’t want more; I just want you.” he looks up, his teary gaze meets yours, and your eyes look so beautiful and sincere that he can’t help but get lost in them. “I don’t care how much you have or how much you don’t have. I just want you.” You cup his cheek, stroking it softly with your thumb. “But if you insist on giving me more than kiss me,” he sucks in a sharp breath and quickly tries to compose himself, which you find adorable like everything else he does. At least a minute passes before he even moves, but you don’t mind cause you’d wait forever for him.

“But-“

“Kiss me, hee, please,” and he does just that. His eyes slowly flutter shut. The last image he remembers is of your beautiful eyes and your soft, puckered lips. As he leans in, placing his lips on yours, his body heats up immediately, and the chills he had gotten from the ice cream prior completely wither away. He lifts his hand, cupping your cheek as well while his warm lips rest against yours, and the kiss is so soft, so sweet, so delicate that he almost feels like he’s going to cry cause he’s never felt anything like it ever and seconds later he does cry a stray tear rolling down his cheek as he reluctantly separates himself from you.

He never said it to anyone, not even his adoptive parents, but for some reason that he can’t pinpoint, the words just come out of his mouth like it was just any ordinary thing to say to someone. “I love you.” When he hears himself, his eyes widen, almost like he was scared of what your reaction would be, and you laugh softly cause he was always such a sweetheart.

Your own eyes get teary while you swipe the tear off his cheek. “I love you too.” his whole body melts, relaxing into your touch as his smile spreads so wide that it reaches you, and you can’t help but smile back as he sniffles softly. 

At that moment, you didn’t have a doubt in the world when you said those words to him. If anything, it felt natural, like a weight had been lifted, and you had finally poured out all your feelings that you kept bottled up for so long, and it felt amazing.

While you were staring at him, he pecked your lips again before pulling away.

No words needed to be spoken. The love reflected in each of your eyes, and as the night continued, it was filled with laughter, longing smiles, and endless shy glances as you took turns feeding each other the now melted ice cream, but somehow, even though it was melted, it tasted sweeter this way.

☕️.

Hand in hand, you both walked to the same little dog park that you and he went to the day he left. You were so glad those days were behind you. You both sat on the bench together, reminiscing about the first day you both met.

“And you remember when you yelled at me at the cafe?” You asked, laughing softly.

“Oh god,” he hides in the crook of your neck, whining about the embarrassing memories. “I’m still so sorry for that.”

“You were like, I don’t need your help. Just leave me alone,” you teased him further. At the time, it wasn’t exactly a laughing matter, but looking back at it now, it was funny, especially to see how far you both come now. 

“I remember,” he sighed. “It was the night before that group of assholes attacked us. You had given me some cash, I went to the convenience store and bought Mylo some food, but before I could pay, I saw that they were messing with Mylo, so I ran outside, and next thing you know, they’re running off, I went back in the store, grabbed my change and left without a second thought and then the next day I had an interview which went horribly by the way, so I take the bus back home, but before that, I went to the cafe and placed my order and when I went to pull out the money I’m short cause that cashier took my change” you listen intently to his story, that was a lot happening in the short time span of a day.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through all that. It must have been so hard.” You kissed his cheek, your hand moving to the back of his head to play with his hair as he nuzzled into your neck.

“It was baby,” he sighed. “So hard.” The pet name slips out without him even knowing, and it makes your heart beat like ten times faster cause he called you baby. You were literally screaming inside.

“So you tried to get work in the past?” You ask, toying with the little hairs on his nape as his eyes fall shut, enjoying the sensation of your warm fingers on his skin. He could stay like this forever.

“Hmm, many times, and I failed many times. I prefer not to go into detail if you don’t mind,”

“It’s okay, I understand.” You kissed the crown of his head.

“A lot happened in the past nine years, but it was mainly just me finding different alleyways to sleep, going days without food. People judging me for being homeless, which wasn’t fair because they didn’t even know my situation,” he leaned back, sitting up straight, your hand still resting on the back of his head. “I didn’t choose to be homeless. I was forced. What would anyone else do if they were being abused at home? Just sit there and take it, no? So I left, and I never looked back, and even after all the stuff I’ve been through and how bad I’ve been treated just for having less than someone else, it was still better because, in some twisted way, it was better to get hit and yelled at by strangers than your own family you know?” He sniffles, unable to hide his emotions when talking about his past. “Since my real parents turned their backs on me, I turned my back on people, and that’s why when you tried to help me, I assumed you were just like the rest, just giving me money cause you pitied me, and that’s the last thing I wanted cause it made me feel pathetic, made me feel like I was incapable, made me feel weak and useless” he wipes away some of his tears as you rub his back. “But you just wouldn’t take no for an answer,” he laughs, and you smile softly despite the tears you had shed somewhere when he was telling you his story. “That day down that alley, that’s when I knew you were different cause no one had ever gone through that much trouble just for me, and I still think about that day every day. You literally saved me from my old life. You gave me something to look forward to, and you gave me a reason to keep going. It’s funny telling you this now, but the time I left after you took me in, I thought about all our moments together, but one stood out to me the most,” he smiles.

“What’s that?” You say, swiping his cheek where the tears had dried up. 

“I thought to myself about that day when you offered me cream with my coffee.” You furrow your brows, wondering where he was going with this. “Before you, I used to just drink plain black coffee, and after you, I started to drink it with cream.” he held your hand in his thumb, circling the back of it. “And from that moment on, I always said to myself, you were the cream to my coffee. You brightened the dark, bland beverage with light and sweetness, and since that day, I’ve never had black coffee.”

The smile that grew on your face was probably the most genuine, sincere, pure thing heeseung had ever laid his eyes on.

You couldn’t help but hug him so tight, his words hitting every nerve in your body, lighting it up with nothing but pure joy and happiness. You had no idea he thought that highly of you. Sure, you went out of your way to help him, but the fact he said you literally saved him warmed your heart to no end, and if you had the chance, you’d gladly do it all over again. “I love you, coffee,” you confessed, your hands still tightly wrapped around his waist.

“And I love you, cream,” he grins as the sun sets behind you two, bringing this lovely date to its end.

☕️.

“So, did you ask her?” Sunghoon whispers to heeseung while you’re obliviously taking orders.

Heeseung enthusiastically nods his head. “She said yes, and we went out together,” he nearly squeals.

“Ha! I told you!” Sunghoon pinched heeseung on the cheek, making the elder male turn an even brighter shade of red.

“Told what?” You went to the back, where heeseung and Sunghoon looked to be talking and slacking off.

“What? Told who? What happened? I didn’t hear anything. Did you hear anything?” Sunghoon rambles.

“Nope, nothing!” Heeseung practically shouts his reply as you stare at the two in confusion.

“Is that dust? Wow, you know what? I think that’s dust, haha. Let me just squeeze by here.” Sunghoon leaves to go clean the imaginary dust, leaving heeseung all by himself.

“Am I missing something here?” You ask.

“No, nope, nothing at all,” his response is quick as he goes back to washing dishes, and you finished making the orders like nothing ever happened.

“Strange,” you mumbled but shrugged it off, besides heeseung and Sunghoon seemed fine the rest of the day, so you didn’t question it again.

“Hey, y/n, I was thinking if you want, we could go on another date today. You know, if you want, you don’t have to. I’m sure you’re probably tired from work, and I thought it might be nice just to maybe go out and relax, but yeah, you know, actually, never mind because you-“

You quickly cut him off with a soft kiss on his lips. Luckily, most of the customers had cleared out by now, giving you the green light to show affection to your adorable co-worker. “I’d love to.” You walk away from him with a smile while he stands there like a deer in the headlights, softly touching his lips.

“Uhh yeah, okay,” he completely drops what he’s doing and goes from behind the register to clean the tables, even though you were already doing that. 

“Heeseung?” You call to him cause he is literally right next to you, helping you clean the same exact table.

“Hmm?” He hums.

“The register isn’t going to count itself,” you tell him playfully, noticing how ever since you kissed him, he seemed like he was slightly out of it.

“O-oh, okay.” he acknowledged what you said but hadn’t fully processed it yet. “Ohhhhhhhh right, yeah right.” his ears turned bright red, and he scurried on back to the register diligently counting the drawer, and you shook your head softly.

He was impossible.

☕️.

The date was going great. Of course, heeseung loved every last bit of it. He could literally go on a date with you every single day. That’s just how much he loved being with you, except there was a one tiny little problem, nothing major, but he was just so lost in thought. What were you talking about? Well, he doesn’t exactly know. He can’t listen because he’s been thinking about asking you this for weeks now, and when you take a small break from talking, he slips it in. It’s so out of place for anyone else, but it’s perfect for him. “Y/n, will you be my girlfriend?” He struggles to make eye contact with you. His eyes are shaking, and his heart is racing, yet he just can’t seem to look away from you, no matter how shy or flustered he gets.

You were talking about work one moment, and the next, your very handsome date is asking you to be his girlfriend. You’re stunned, you’re shocked, flabbergasted, and every other term used for astonishment when he asks you that, and all you can do is smile, which automatically makes him smile and he’s hoping that’s a good sign. 

His eyes gleam with hope, and your eyes gleam with nothing but joy as a few tears well in them. “Yes, heeseung, I would love nothing more than to be your girlfriend.” You nod softly, an even bigger smile gracing his lips now that you’ve said yes.

“Great!” He says, followed by a laugh, getting a bit teary-eyed himself. “Why do we always end up crying when we’re together?” He jokes, his smile turning into a slight frown as he breaks out in tears of happiness. 

You giggle through tears and reach your hand out, intertwining your fingers together with his. 

“My girlfriend,” he whispers, bringing your hand to his mouth and placing a soft kiss on it. 

“My boyfriend,” he grins, and he doesn’t think that his life could be any better than being here with you right now. He’d do it all over again just to be sitting here staring into your beautiful eyes, calling you his.

☕️.

The whole way back home, heeseung just couldn’t seem to part from you, and neither could you. He’d hold your hand, or you’d rest your hand on his knee while driving home; even when he got out of the car to get the door for you, he glued his hand to yours again, helping you upstairs to your little apartment.

Normally, after a date, you’d both say your goodnights and get ready for bed, but tonight was different. Once you set the keys down on your little coffee table, he just stood in the living room staring at you, almost like he wanted to say something or do something. The feeling was very much mutual as you walked closer and closer to him, placing your hands on his waist; when he leaned in, that was the only sign you needed to close the distance between the both of you as you captured his lips in a soft kiss. 

He hummed softly, his hands mimicking yours, encircling your waist. After a few seconds, you’d both separate, but this time, the kiss lasted a bit longer than all the previous pecks you had given each other. 

The more you took his breath away, the needier the kiss became. He dragged you closer, pressing your body flush against his. His tongue, messily searching for an opening to push between your lips that were closed but soon opened up for him.

Your teeth clash in the beginning, and the kiss is a bit messy and uncoordinated until you both get the hang of it.

Needless to say, you’re both just as inexperienced as each other. You were too busy with school for boys, and heeseung, as sad as it is, didn’t even have a prospect of any intimacy, but he’s okay with that cause it was worth saving himself all for you. 

“Y/n,” he whispers on your lips, nails digging into your hips as he backs you up to the couch, and you sit down. He climbs on top of you, hands going to cup your cheeks. As he deepens the kiss, your head feels light, your body is warm to the touch, and you don’t know where this is going, but you don’t want it to stop.

He straddles your waist, practically sitting on your lip, his lower body grinding softly. He doesn’t notice this, but you do and place your hands on his hips, guiding his movements as you both kiss like your lives depend on it.

You slip your hands under his shirt, fingers tracing the warm flesh of his waist as he whimpers into your mouth. 

He pulls away for a nanosecond to take a breath before locking his lips together with yours again. “Y/n,” he moans when his bulge brushes against you.

You gasped into his mouth, the new and foreign feeling making your body alight with excitement. You trace your hand down to the front of his jeans. It’s almost automatic how you do it despite not having prior experience, but it just feels right. 

“O-oh,” he moans, pulling away from the kiss and breathing heavily, trying to understand what’s happening to his body.

“Sorry, was that too much?” he shakes his head no immediately.

“No, it just feels so,” he gulped, his eyes falling shut. “Overwhelming,” he laughs slightly, trying to pinpoint exactly what he’s feeling.

“Feels that way for me, too.” You bat your eyelashes, lips glossy and swollen from all the kissing.

“Yeah?” He smiles, nudging his forehead against yours before going in for another quick kiss, and this time, you slip your hand into the band of his pants, touching him over his underwear.

“F-uck” he trembles, body shuddering while you massage his length, and he can’t even kiss you properly anymore. “T-too much.” You take your head out of his pants, muttering another apology. “No, please don’t apologize. It felt so good,” he breathes out. “Too good,” he chuckles softly while stroking your cheek. “I just think that maybe we should wait,” he suggests, and that option sounds good to you cause you’re not sure if you could go all the way with him right now without feeling like your heart was going to explode.

“Yeah, let’s wait.” You cup his face and peck his lips.

“Okay.” there’s no denying that both of you are wet and throbbing with need, but the timing was everything, and you wanted your first time to be something that you both remember as the best time of your lives, not to say it wasn’t but in the needy state you both were in taking it slow might be for the best.

He pecks your lips one last time before climbing off of you. “But if it’s not too much to ask, could we maybe sleep together tonight?” he plays with your fingers, eyeing you while he awaits your answer..

“It’s not too much to ask,” you smile, taking his hand and guiding him to your bathroom so you can both get changed and clean up before bed. Besides, Mylo and Myla had overrun his room, so he didn’t have much choice. It was your bed or the couch, and you were definitely not letting him sleep alone on the couch.

☕️.

“You’re not the only one with a girlfriend.” heeseung was up early in the morning, far earlier than you. He had already taken both dogs out for a walk and made breakfast for you both. “Looks like we both got the girl after all,” he chuckled and poked Mylo on his stomach playfully as he rolled over and wagged his tail. “We made it, boy,” he whispers softly, lying down next to him on the floor. “No more sleeping bags, no more alleys, no more winters all gone,” he cheers, playing with Mylo's floppy ears. “And all the treats you could want.” he opens the bag of treats, feeding him a little more than he probably should, but he deserves it. “Our girls are beautiful, aren’t they?” He giggles. “Most perfect girls in the world.” The whole while he’s going on and on about you and Myla, you secretly watch him from the hallway, your heart feeling full of nothing but love as he plays with Mylo. 

“Morning, hee,” you greet him, and his head snaps in your direction. He jumps up from his spot, hugging you immediately.

“Morning, my love! Mwah,” he kisses your cheek, leading you straight to the kitchen where breakfast is all laid out. “I was waiting for you.” he pulls out a chair, beckoning for you to sit down in front of the many fruits and varieties of food he cooked all by himself.

He sits beside you, practically joined at the hip, but you don’t mind, you loved being close to him. “Thank you, baby.” You kiss his cheek and he blushed. Gosh, he was so adorable.

“Try it!” He says anxiously with a smile, hoping that you liked what he prepared since he didn’t do a lot of cooking, but he tried really hard for you.

You excitedly try the first bite, and your eyes light up immediately. “Hmm, it’s delicious, hee!” You say, going back for another bite. He breathes a sigh of relief and picks up his fork to eat with you.

“Glad you like it, baby,” he kissed your cheek.

You were both eating in silence, enjoying the morning together, until you heard soft whimpering coming from under the table. You looked down to see Myla curling up around your feet. “Oh, my poor baby.” You reach under the table, patting her head softly.

“What’s wrong, girly?” Heeseung leaned down, taking in her state. She looked fine earlier. “Do you think?” You nod softly, already knowing what he’s getting at. “Hmm, should we take her to the vet?” 

“I guess” You leaned up, resting your head on heeseung’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, it’s mylos fault.” heeseung glared over at him, who was peacefully lying down in the living room still.

“Heeseung, it’s fine,” you giggle. “She’ll be fine” 

“Yeah, she will,” he agrees as you both continue with breakfast.

An hour later, heeseung cleaned up the kitchen while you took a shower before work. Mylo was now sleeping next to Myla in their twin bed.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you pouted. Heeseung had the day off, but unfortunately, you didn’t, meaning you’d have to be away from him for eight whole hours for the first time.

“Me too, but at least I’ll be able to check on Myla.” he stood up from the couch, back hugging you. “Be safe, okay? And call me on break if you get the chance.” he kissed your neck softly, and you melted into his arms. “Gonna miss you so much, baby,” he whispers, rubbing his hands along your curves. “Think about me, yeah? I’ll for sure be thinking of you.” You’re not sure if he was aware of the way he was making your body feel so early in the morning, but you assume not when you turn around and you’re met with the most innocent smile ever.

“I will, I promise.” his face lights up, and he leans in for a kiss before sitting back down on the couch.

“Bye!” He waved cutely, and you ran back over to the couch, kissing him again before leaving. 

“Bye,” he giggles, chasing your lips again, and if you don’t leave now, you’ll be late.

☕️.

“It’s just you and me, babies.” heeseung had been laid out on the couch for the first two hours while you were gone. He’d check the time every minute and sigh when the time wasn’t going by any faster. He definitely needed a distraction; otherwise, he’d be lying down all day until you got home.

He thought of things he could do, but nothing seemed of any interest if it didn’t involve you, but then it clicked: there was one thing he could do.

He left the couch, going to take a quick shower and then prepping Myla for a trip to the vet. He figured since he was home, he might as well; the sooner she gets checked up on, the better. 

There was a vet not far from your house he remembers cause he used to pass by there every single night without fail. Luckily, it was in decent walking distance. 

Once he arrived, it took at least half an hour for him to get seen, but it was well worth the wait; besides, he was free all day anyway.

“Myla?” One of the workers called, and heeseung quickly jumped to his feet as they guided him to the back. First, they checked her weight and then put her on the table where they’d be doing her check-up. Heeseung listened to everything intently, making sure to take notes of everything she should be eating, and he nearly cried when she got her blood drawn, but other than that, everything went well. She was a healthy and very pregnant dog. He also bought her a different kind of food, one that had everything she needed, and with that, he was on his way back home.

Except where you worked, which was only a few minutes away. “You wanna go say hi to mommy?” He rubbed her chin softly. 

He made the short walk to the cafe, smiling brightly when he saw you behind the counter taking orders.

You were running around like a chicken with your head cut off, and the moment you heard the bell ring, your head snapped up in the direction, and you smiled, the tension in your shoulders deflating the moment you saw heeseung standing at the door.

“Y/n?” Sunghoon calls, and he nearly rolls his eyes when he sees who’s in the direction you’re looking in. “Alright, if you’re gonna stand there and be useless, you might as well take a break,” he jokes, and you turn to him, pushing him by his shoulder. 

“Can I really take a break?” Your eyes gleamed at Sunghoon, and of course, he couldn’t say no to you, not only you but also your boyfriend, who was giving him puppy eyes from across the cafe.

“Yes, but you’re paying for my lunch.” he pushes you out of the way and takes on the register.

“I’ll pay for your lunches for the rest of your life. Thank you, hoon, I owe you so much.” you slip off your apron and go outside with heeseung, sitting on the outdoor chairs. 

“Hi, baby,” he smiles shyly. “I was in the area, so I just thought I’d drop by.” 

“That’s so sweet, and I see you have company.” You cupped Myla's face in your hands.

“Yeah, I had so much free time. I took her in today. Every single second without you feels like hours,” he sighs.

“I’m sorry, hee, only five more hours. What did they say? Is she okay?” You said, slightly worried.

“No worries, she’s fine. We just have to keep a close eye on her and make sure she gets everything she needs,” he quickly assures you.

“Can’t believe it’s almost time for her to have her babies.” You looked down at her, and her belly was really round.

“I know.” he smiles fondly at you both. “I also can’t believe your break is almost up,” he pouts.

“Hee…” you held his hand across the table, your break wasn’t almost over but you supposed thirteen minutes to him probably felt like thirteen seconds, which admittedly it felt like that for you too.

“I know, I know, it’s just I've never really been away from you this long since we kissed, and it’s harder than I thought,” he speaks his mind.

“Yeah, it is pretty hard. I keep accidentally calling Sunghoon by your name, and he’s so over it,” you giggled, causing heeseung to let out a chuckle of his own.

Once his laughter fades out, he stares at you, appreciating every last moment he spends with you. “I love you.” he holds the back of your hands to his lips, eyes falling shut as he presses soft kisses to them.

“I love you too.” Just as his lips parted from your skin, the timer you had set went off. “I’ll see you soon, baby.” You stood up, petting Myla on the head before you went back to work. “See you soon babies.”

Heeseung stood up with you, sending you off with one last hug and kiss.

After you enter the building, he sighs, a bittersweet smile on his face as you turn around and wave to him one last time.

On his way home, he thinks that being without you would definitely take him some time to get used to.

☕️.

You were on your way home, the smile never leaving your face. The closer and closer you got, you took the bus this time so you could get there even quicker.

Heeseung and both the dogs perked up as the sound of keys jingling outside the door caught all their attention. “Mommy’s home!” heeseung rushed to the door. You could barely even see inside your apartment before he engulfed you in a hug. “Thank god you’re home,” he sighs into your hair, missing your scent.

You melt in his arms immediately, all the stress from today leaving your body the instant you feel his welcoming embrace. “Missed you,” you mumbled into his chest.

“So did we,” he parts from you, letting the dogs greet you as you enter and get undressed. “I made dinner for you.” he guided you to the kitchen where the table was set. There were a few candles lit and a vase of flowers right in the middle.

“Hee, you didn’t have to.” you looked up at the set up. It was so amazing. It looked like you were at a restaurant. You never experienced anything like this before, and it was going to make you cry.

“Why? You don’t like? I can change the-" You turn to him, hands wrapping around his shoulders before he can finish whatever his sentence was.

“I don’t just like it. I love it hee; I love you so much.” You kissed him deeply, pressing your lips on his as you stroked his cheek.

“I love you too, y/n,” he whispers as you both separate from each other.

He took out a chair for you to sit on and pulled out his own to be right next to you, just like he did in the morning.

He cut into the steak he cooked, feeding you the first piece. “How’s that taste?” He hopes it tastes good, considering what it took for him to make it.

“It’s amazing, just like you.” You pecked his lips, and with that, you both ate, and he asked you to tell him all about your day. He could listen to you talk for hours.

And he did.

He talked to you throughout dinner and dessert, even while he was prepared a bath for you.

He was currently in the living room waiting for you to come out. The kitchen was already cleaned, and all that was left to do was to patiently wait for you so you both could go to sleep together.

Which wasn’t any longer than fifteen more minutes. “Hi,” you smiled and plopped down next to him on the couch, cuddling up to his side.

“Hi,” he slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Ready for bed?” He asked, stroking your back.

“Hmm, aren’t you showering too?” You asked curiously.

“I took one a little while before you came home,” he pressed in the face in your neck, placing a few gentle kisses there.

“No wonder you smell so good,” you chuckled, his kisses tickling your neck.

“You smell better,” he whispers in your ear, kissing just beneath the lobe, sending a shiver up your spine.

He grabbed your thigh, hoisting you into his lap, his lips never leaving your skin. “Hee,” you moan the moment you feel his tongue running along your skin.

He doesn’t even know what came over him, but he missed you so much today that he needed to feel you everywhere, every square inch he needed to memorize, so next time he was without you, he could imagine you in full detail.

You smelled so good, your skin so warm on his body, and the way you made sounds that he only ever heard come from your lips was all it took to set him off.

His hands were timidly resting on your waist as you moved your head so you could kiss his lips instead. 

The same scenario from a few nights ago, was now unfolding again on the couch. This time, the position was a little different, but the same want and need was there.

You unknowingly started to grind your hips, your core in direct contact with the bulge in his sweats. “Y/n,” he whimpers, his head falling back against the couch as you litter his pretty neck and Adam’s apple in countless kisses.

The grip on your waist was firm, his fingertips needily digging into your skin as he began guiding your movements, pressing you down flush on his growing crotch.

“Hee,” his name mindlessly slips from your tingling lips as you lose yourself and succumb to an undiscovered yet enticing pleasure.

“You feel so good, Angel,” he groans softly. His hips evidently had a mind of theirs as he bucked them up into you, softly grinding against your heat.

“Ahh,” you mewl and hide your face in his chest. You’ve never once made a sound like that before, and you were slightly self-conscious until you heard him let out one quite similar to yours. 

His hands slid up your shirt, cautiously roaming your skin and being drawn to your soft breasts almost on instinct. 

The tank top he was wearing gave you access to kiss and bite at his shoulder as you rubbed yourself on him desperately.

“Seungie.” Hearing you whimpering yet another nickname that you made for him sent his mind into overdrive, the length in his pants growing harder every second.

He rolled your nipples between his fingers, giving you a different kind of pleasure. “I’m here, baby,” he cried out, the heat growing hotter and your breaths getting heavier the longer you rut against each other.

You ran your fingers through his hair desperate to feel his lips on yours once more. You lifted your head off his shoulder to find his soft pink lips. 

The pace of your movements grew more rapid, and almost instantly, you both knew you wouldn’t be able to stop now, too lost in the feeling of each other's bodies. “Yes,” he hissed against your lips, meeting each of your thrusts in perfect sync.

You both pulled away, staring into each other's eyes, panting. Your hair was messy, and you were both out of breath, but your lower bodies never ceased movement until, in the corner of heeseung's eye, he noticed Mylo and Myla sleeping in their dog bed.

You leaned in for another kiss, but he quickly pointed to them. “Oops,” you giggled silently, and heeseung hoisted your legs securely around his waist, his hands on your bottom as he carried you to your bedroom, making sure to shut the door.

The air was still very much tense despite the minor pause. The bulge in his sweats was evident, as well as the wet patch on the crotch of them.

He followed your line of vision, blushing at how wet his pants were due to both your combined arousal. “Sorry,” you whisper awkwardly.

“Don’t be.” he closes the distance, kissing away the awkwardness. Your hand gripped the hem of his black tank top, tugging it upward. “Take it off, baby.” You do just that, and slip it over his head.

It wasn’t the first time you saw him like this, but given the setting you initially saw him shirtless in, thoughts of attraction were the last thing on your mind, but now.

Now, it was so different. Your hands were glued to his body, roaming his soft, freshly washed skin. Everything about him was absolutely perfect.

He blushed as he felt your small, dainty fingers touching him everywhere. “Your turn?” He tilts his head, waiting for your answer, and you nod your head, struggling to pull your hands away from him long enough for him to take your sleep shirt off.

“Yes,” you mutter quietly and his breath hitches in his throat. Just the idea of seeing you topless admittedly made him twitch in his sweats.

Button by button, one by one, he opened your shirt, revealing the most perfect beauty he’d ever laid his eyes on.

You, in your full beauty, no clothing in the way to block the magnificent sight before him.

He gulps, sliding the material off your shoulders, his eyes blown wide as they scan every inch of you. 

Cupping both his hands over your chest, he groans at the softness of your breasts, and you whimper quietly in his mouth as he bends down to kiss you.

One of your hands was back in its rightful place, his left pec, while the other massaged over the tent in his sweatpants.

He moans continuously in your mouth, bucking his hips into your hand over and over again until he feels that he needs your touch skin on skin.

He grabbed your wrist, stopping you. “Something wrong?” You breathe against his lips.

“Mm-mm, just,” he mumbles back, guiding your hand inside his underwear so he can feel you touching his flesh. “Perfect.” he whispers and cups your cheek, his other hand still pleasuring your right breast as he deepens the kiss.

Your hand shyly runs along his length. He’s so warm, pulsing to the touch, and the glide of your hand feels so slick as you work him from tip to base.

Your nails rake down his chest, gripping the band of his sweats to pull them down.

He quickly helps you slip them down, kicking them off the rest of the way, leaving him in nothing but the boxers you had bought him, but he isn’t half as shy for you to see them as he was in the supermarket. If anything, he wanted you to see and not just the boxers but everything that hid underneath them.

“My turn?” You ask with a giggle, and just like you, he nods, smiling.

“Your turn” he hooks his thumbs inside your shorts, slipping them down your beautiful legs.

He gasped when he was met with your bare body. He wasn’t expecting you to be nude under those shorts, and for a split second, he was just staring at your core glistening in the moonlit bedroom, and you just kept getting more and more beautiful by the second.

“You like what you see?” You say playfully, knocking him out of his daze as he frantically nods his head. 

“So much, you’re so perfect,” the words came out of his mouth in one long drawn-out moan, flustering you to a point you thought was impossible after he had seen undressed. “I need you.” he drew your body as close to his as possible and kissed you while his hands mapped out your body.

“Then have me. I’m all yours.” he guided your hands to the waistband of his boxers, motioning that it was okay for you to take them off. 

Your hands were slightly shaking with nerves and excitement as you peeled down the waistband, revealing all of him and he was

Beautiful.

“Like what you see?” He raises his brow, teasing you the same way you did to him, and somehow, the moment was both equally playful as it was sensual.

You’re so glad you both waited cause right now, everything was perfect, and before it even ended, you knew it was going to be something you’d remember for a lifetime. “You're beautiful, hee.” You kissed his chest, taking in everything. Nothing about him was flawed. Everything was perfect, even the little mole on his ear.

He hid his face in your shoulder and hugged you, strumming the length of your back with his soft fingers as you did the same. “Love you,” he pecks the top of your head.

“I love you too.” Without another word spoken, he took you to the bed, laying you flat and getting under the covers with you resting between your legs in the space you made for him.

He stroked your cheek, his eyes scanning every breathtaking feature on your face.

Your hands wrapped around his torso, pulling him into you as you shared another kiss.

He grunted softly at the contact of your lower bodies rubbing together. The feeling was so intense that it made his heart race in his chest.

You gasped, feeling him firmly pressing himself between your legs, thrusting his hips continuously as his length slipped through your glossy folds.

Only seconds after he climbed on top of you, you couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to become one with the man you so deeply loved. “Hee, will you be my first?” 

He leans back, his eyes blinking open slowly as his movements come to a stop. “Yes, I will,” he whispers, eyes full of nothing but pure genuine love. “With great honor,” he rubs the tip of his nose against yours. 

“And y/n, will you be mine as well?” His eyes search yours, waiting for what he knows will be a yes answer.

“Yes!” You answer so enthusiastically that it makes him giggle, and he loves you so much that it almost makes him cry.

With one last kiss of approval, you hook your legs around his waist as he rests his arms beside you and angles himself to be perfectly aligned with you.

He pushes his hips forward, slowly sinking into your welcoming warmth, and he sighs in contentment as he feels you opening up just for him. “Y/n,” A gentle moan sneaks past his lips as he slips inside of you with ease with the help of your body's natural lubricants.

“Oh, hee.” You circle his shoulders, your mouth parting open and letting out the prettiest sounds he’s ever heard.

He feels so good. The warmth of your body, the way you hugged him in all the right places, and the nonstop calls of his name let him know you were feeling just as good as he did.

And you absolutely were. You felt so full in your heart, your mind, and your body. He held you so close as he made you one with him.

With every thrust, you professed your love for each other, whether that be with words, loving touches, or sounds of pleasure; you were both so in tune with one another that even at the height of pleasure, you were side by side on the edge of experiencing the greatest euphoria of all.

“You feel so amazing, Seung.” he locked his lips with yours, sealing your words off with a kiss.

“You do too, my angel, my sweet angel.” he twitched within your walls with each of his thrust. The motion was smooth, making it all the more pleasurable as your fluids mixed together and made the sweetest sounds between your conjoined bodies.

Your silky walls fluttered around his throbbing girth, tightening even more with each second that passed.

Both your moans increased in pitch, your breaths becoming erratic, as well as his movements and the constant rubbing of his abdomen against your sensitive nub brought you and him to the brink of bliss. The squeezing of your core sucking him in made him feel lightheaded as he went in and out. The sensation sending both of you the end as you covered one another in the essence of love. “I love you, y/n,” he confessed to you through a messy kiss.

“I love you, heeseung.” The number of times you both shared I love you’s was endless as the pleasure raced through every fiber of your bodies. He thrusts slowly, bringing you both down from cloud 9.

Your bodies were covered in sweat; you could barely breathe. There was a string of saliva connecting you both together, and the amount of sheer love you both felt in the moment was unlike anything either of you have ever experienced. It brought tears to both of your eyes.

He stayed still, hugging your tired body in his strong arms, never ever wanting to let you go.

You both stayed like that for a while, just sharing each other's breath and feeling your heartbeats sync and become one with the other.

He rested on his elbows, looking into your eyes and gripping your hands, clasping them with his cause. No matter what, he still just couldn’t get close enough to you, but when you kissed him, he felt complete. Every part of him was touching you, and every part of you was touching him. “Thank you for being my first, hee,” you speak up first, whispering softly to him in the vulnerable state you were both in. “It was everything I could have ever dreamed of.”

“You’re welcome. I’m so happy I can be that for you. Thank you for letting me be your first, and thank you for being my first,” he rested his forehead on yours, nudging you softly.

“You’re welcome.” The sincerity of your voice makes him melt, and he thinks after this, somehow, he loves you even more. “I love you, coffee,” you smile, stroking the back of his hand with your intertwined fingers.

“I love you, cream.”

F I N

Tap coffee for a surprise ☕️

Permanent taglist:🏷️ @hee-pster @hoyeonheeseung @furious-eagle @heesitation @moon7jay

Coffee & cream taglist:🏷️ @petalsofink @parksunghoonsgf @shiningsunseonyu @cheruluv @iamliacamila @boutyouwonu @fluerz @ethelia @jungwonx @t1nywoniee @eskopiganja @feicraycrayy @ashiitex @valiantcyclevoid @mayah1 @dunnoshim @hanjisunginc @skzenhalove @msauthor @mayah1 @parksunghoonsgf @wonuqrtz @browniestraykidshiteu @lovely-red2 @kaykay11sworld @seuomo @meiskra @bellonahulwah @heeseat @Ihspeachie @xrr-s4sha @Iprww @kgneptun @donghyckl bold can’t be tagged

[slytherinslut0]

Theodore Nott. | be my first.

PAIRING: Theodore Nott x Reader

PROMPT: “PLEASE please do a Theodore nott x fem!reader virgin!!”

WORD COUNT: 5.5k.

TAGS: 18+, Mentions of Slight Violence, Depictions of Blood, SMUT, Fingering, Bestfriends to Lovers Trope (my personal fav), Virgin!Reader, Loss of Virginity, Slow Sex, Soft!Theo, Multiple Orgasm, Dirty Talk.

"I don't know, Pans, wouldn't that be weird?"

Pansy's laughter echoed in a melodious giggle, the rhythm of her steps creating a soft shuffle across the expanse of your shared dorm. With effortless grace, she descended onto your bed, settling in with a languid poise. Laying on her side, her head found a comfortable perch on her bent arm.

"Why would it be weird?" Her grin, radiant and infectious, painted a mischievous allure across her features. "He's your lifelong best friend. I'm pretty sure he's in love with you-"

"Absolutely not," you interjected, employing a dramatic flourish with your hands for emphasis. "He is not."

Pansy cast a sidelong glance your way. "He so is."

"He's not!" Your grin persisted as you fired back, "if he was, he wouldn't be regaling me with tales of the girls he's shagging every bloody weekend."

Pansy, after a moment of silent contemplation, arched an eyebrow. "Perhaps he's just doing that to make you jealous. Ever think of that?"

You released a sigh, your body surrendering to the bed's embrace as you slumped backwards. The gentle thud of your head meeting the pillows echoed the weight of your contemplations, and memories from the past few weeks intruded your mind--acknowledging the nuanced shifts in Theodore's behaviour, particularly since that one unforgettable common room party.

As the realization took root, you abruptly sat up, the intensity of the revelation reflected in your eyes as they locked onto Pansy's gaze. "Pans...he's been acting distinctly different lately."

Pansy blinked, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "You're just noticing?"

"No, I mean," your thoughts scattered like confetti, your heart pulsating with the weight of the revelation. You realized you hadn't told her. "Ever since that party, the one last Friday in the common room...where we, um...we kissed."

Pansy's eyes widened in sheer disbelief, her jaw dropping in a dramatic display of shock. With a swift, purposeful motion, she sat up, aligning her gaze with yours, the unfiltered surprise etched vividly across her face.

"What the hell!" Her exclamation rang with feigned outrage. "I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

Your expression contorted into a frown as you extended a gentle hand, resting it on Pansy's shoulder. "I'm sorry...we both agreed it was a stupid mistake, and we promised not to tell anyone. We knew you guys would relentlessly hound us about it...I just...I just couldn't risk it..."

Pansy took a measured moment to process your words, her eyes narrowing slightly. She ran a hand through her raven-black hair, the gears turning behind her eyes, thoughts churning with an amused yet contemplative air as she processed your confession.

With an entertained huff, she locked eyes with you. "I can't believe that little weasel kept his mouth shut for all that time. Guess he really can keep a secret."

An assertive snort escaped you, relief from her reaction igniting your features. "Probably just doesn't want me to hate him, considering we're bound to cross paths at every family gathering. Our families are so tightly knit..."

Pansy reclined with a subtle smirk gracing her lips, mischief dancing in her dark eyes. Her fingers traced an intricate, invisible pattern on your emerald green bedspread, their movements betraying a simmering excitement.

Meeting your gaze with unwavering confidence, she responded, "yet another advantage for you, and another compelling reason to go for it."

You shifted, your posture a nuanced blend of contemplation and uncertainty. Your fingers delicately toyed with the hem of your shirt, a nervous energy manifesting in the subtle dance of fabric against your skin.

In the pregnant pause that followed, you countered, "I just...I just can't envision a scenario where asking my best friend to take my virginity works out in my favour."

"I can't see a world where it doesn't," Pansy replied with a softness that hinted at the weight of her conviction. Sitting up again, she met your eyeline, the motion accompanied by a deliberate brush of loose strands of hair behind her ear.

Her gaze held a depth of understanding as she continued, "You guys clearly love each other, given you've known each other forever. He's always Mr. Funny Guy with you, perpetually super flirty and protective...I genuinely believe he'd be happy to oblige."

Absorbing Pansy's counsel with a thoughtful nod, you murmured a grateful, "I'll think about it."

Rising in unison, the two of you traversed to your respective wardrobes, swapping the gravity of the previous discourse for the ease of more casual attire. Satisfied with your choices, you exited the dorm, descending toward the common room. The soft glow of dimmed sconces on stone walls cast an intimate ambiance, while a low hum of hushed conversations and sporadic laughter created a comforting background symphony.

As you stepped into the common room, an immediate sense of unease gripped you. Your attention honed in on the far corner, where a palpable commotion unfolded. Brows furrowing with concern, your gaze fixated on a group of clustered bodies--Mattheo Riddle, Lorenzo Berkshire, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott all converged around someone.

Instinctively, you made your way over, Pansy following closely behind. As you approached the charged scene, you reached out, placing a steadying hand on Mattheo's arm in an attempt to capture his attention. The air buzzed with tension as you sought to understand the cause of the brewing conflict.

"Matt, what's happening?" you inquired, peering past him to catch sight of a bloodied Malfoy standing at the center of the circle. "Did you do this?"

"No, it was Nott," he retorted, his dark eyes meeting yours as he ran a hand through his dishelved curly hair. "They had a little disagreement--nothing too crazy."

Your gaze swept around the circle, capturing the aftermath of the disagreement. Malfoy wiped the blood from his chin on the back of his hand, keeping his gaze glued to the floor. Meeting everyone's eyes, your search finally settled on Theo, his nose bleeding and a minor cut marring his chin.

A heavy sigh escaped you, the weariness evident in your tone. "Do your petty disagreements always have to escalate into a damn bloodbath?"

Mattheo nonchalantly shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. "When they involve Nott...pretty much, yeah."

With an exasperated scoff, you distanced yourself from him, striding purposefully toward Theo. The cerulean depth of his eyes locked onto yours as you approached, a battered hand running through his tousled hair as he shook his head in a frustrated scowl.

"What happened?" you inquired, genuine concern lacing your voice. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Theo's jaw clenched, his stormy gaze shifting from your face to fixate on something over your shoulder. "Sorry prat had it coming."

His eyes locked onto Draco, who was now being tended to by Pansy, the lingering fury evident in the tight set of his jaw and the fire in his gaze. Theo was not merely angry; he was simmering with a profound frustration that permeated the air around him. Sensing his reluctance to share details, you delicately grasped his arm, lowering your voice into a soothing whisper.

"Come on, Theo," you murmured, your tone gentle and calming. "Let's get you cleaned up, alright?"

With a reluctant nod, he cast one last glance over your shoulder before allowing you to guide him out of the common room and back down the dormitory hall. Upon reaching his dorm, he unlocked the door with a brief motion, and you stepped in first.

Navigating the familiar space, you headed straight to his bathroom, grabbing a wet cloth and some ointment. As he took a seat on his bed, the routine unfolded seamlessly--a ritual born out of many similar occasions. Cleaning up your best friend was a well-practiced chore, a testament to his quick temper and penchant for confrontation. It was second nature to you, an unspoken agreement that you'd always be there for him in these moments.

Emerging from the bathroom, you noticed Theo had already cast a silencing and muffling spell over the room. A waft of smoke hung in the air as he lit up a cigarette, his darkened gaze keenly tracking your every movement as you approached.

You came to a halt in front of him, and he widened his stance, creating a space for you to nestle between his legs. Seated on his bed while you stood, the two of you aligned perfectly at eye level. A surge pulsed through you as you observed his plush lips sealing around the cigarette, his long fingers delicately holding it to his mouth. After a quick ashing on his nightstand, he granted you the space to tend to him.

Raising the cloth to his chin, you softly dabbed over the cut, your gaze fixed on the subtle flutter of his long lashes--like delicate wings of a butterfly. A scowl etched his features, and your hands trembled inexplicably, watching his brows furrow, his teeth chewing on his bottom lip. His own hands rested on his knees on either side of your hips, fingers twitching from the sting of your movements.

In a bid to alleviate some of his discomfort, your voice echoed as a delicate murmur. "Do you remember the first time I did this?"

"How could I forget?" He met your gaze, his stormy eyes flickering as his lips teased a subtle smirk. "My personal saviour, always cleaning up my messes."

Pleased with the condition of the cut, you glided the cloth along the sharp ridge of his jawline, meticulous in collecting every trace of dried blood. Progressing to his nose, you repeated the careful process--his eyes remained fixed on your face, observing each subtle movement as you concentrated on restoring his appearance, gently swiping over his lips last.

Grinning at his words, you locked eyes with him. "You're right...I've been quite the skilled nurse, haven't I?"

He chuckled, a deep sound resonating through his chest, the corner of his mouth lifting into a half-smile. "The best damn nurse I've ever had."

You laughed, a warmth dancing across your skin as you pulled the cloth from his face.

"Now that's a compliment, considering you've been in the hospital wing a lot of damn times," you quipped, playfully raising an eyebrow. "I should be getting compensation for my efforts."

"Compensation?" He grinned, the playful glint in his blue eyes unmistakable. "How about I owe you a pack of cigarettes and a promise to keep the brawls to a minimum?"

Smirking, you couldn't hide the amusement dancing in your eyes. "Please, you and I both know your promises mean very little, Nott." As you stepped back, you added, "but I'll take the cigarettes."

Before you could get very far, Theo's large hand wrapped firmly around your wrist, halting your movements as well as the breath in your lungs. Your gaze riveted to the hand, the touch sending a shiver through your skin, before slowly moving back up to meet Theo's eyes. Within their depths churned something profound, a silent intensity that stopped your heart in your chest.

"You want to know why I fought him?" he said, his voice so deep it was almost imperceptible. "Malfoy."

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you waited for him to elaborate. "Sure."

Theo's grip tightened on your wrist, his jaw tensing as his eyes drilled into yours. "He said that if he wasn't with Pansy, he'd have gotten with you a long time ago," he confessed, the words carrying a mix of frustration and vulnerability. "He claimed your hard-to-get facade is all an act...that you're really a little slut..."

Your eyes widened at Theo's revelation, a mixture of surprise and disbelief sweeping across your features. Your pulse quickened, feeling the intensity of his gaze and the gravity of the situation.

"He said that?" you muttered, the weight of Malfoy's words sinking in. Theo's grip on your wrist loosened, and a subtle vulnerability flickered in his eyes as his hand slid lower, fingers finding yours.

"I don't care what he thinks, but hearing him talk about you like that...I couldn't let it slide," he admitted, his voice softer now, revealing the protective undertone that fueled his actions. "He doesn't know..."

"...that I'm a virgin," you said, finishing his sentence with a hushed admission.

Theo's expression softened as he nodded, and his thumb gently traced circles on the back of your hand.

"I don't want anyone disrespecting you like that, especially not him," he said, a mixture of concern and sincerity in his gaze. "You're a fucking angel, he doesn't deserve to even think about you."

Your heart pounded in your chest, warmth spreading through you at his words. Your gaze locked in with his, his eyes momentarily dropping to your lips, yours doing the same. The air between you thickened, charged with unspoken emotions as Theo’s declaration lingered. His protective stance and words resonated deeply, and you couldn’t help but feel the gravity of his sentiments.

Silent acknowledgment settled within you, a quiet admission that the dynamics between you and Theo had shifted. The boy who had once been your childhood best friend was now a source of desire and an unexpected depth of affection. Over the years, his presence had woven into the fabric of your heart, evolving into a sentiment that transcended mere friendship.

"Thank you, Theo..." you murmured, involuntarily leaning closer. "Thank you for-"

Before you could finish the sentence, Theo's hands shifted with intent, cradling the sides of your face as he drew your lips to his. The hunger in his mouth was palpable, a dance of devotion and purpose, his tongue delving past your teeth without a moment's hesitation.

Your lids fluttered shut, your brain caught off guard, taking a seemingly eternal five seconds to gather itself from the molten state it found itself in, the realization dawning that you weren't merely passively enjoying this kiss--you were actively engaging, meeting his fervour with equal intensity.

Your hands instinctively sought his messy hazelnut strands, fingers threading through them as you pressed against him, the world beyond the kiss momentarily forgotten in the heated exchange. As the kiss progressed, your mind struggled to fathom the reality of locking lips with your best friend--a completely sober, unrestrained exchange with no intentions of stopping.

And then, before you could process it, large hands enveloped your lower thighs, drawing you closer as Theo reclined onto his plush green duvet, the soft fabric embracing his back with a gentle touch. Your hands landed involuntarily with a deliberate force on his chest, seeking stability as you shifted to straddle his waist.

The kiss intensified, one of his hands securing the back of your head, while the other boldly explored the curve of your hip, his pelvis pressing against yours, his erection evident even between your layers of clothing.

A low, involuntary moan escaped your lips as his undeniable hardness pressed against you, a sensation that sent shivers down your spine. It kindled a fervent desire within you, a flame only he could stoke. Your hands transitioned from his chest and back into the tousled richness of his hair, fingers entwining in the silky strands. Breaking the kiss momentarily, you caught your breath, panting softly as you gazed down at him through eyes clouded with lust.

Theo's lips curled into a knowing smirk, evident satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he surveyed the effect he had on you. His hands traversed the landscape of your back, drawing you back down to him. Your bodies melded together, the heat rising between you palpable. You instinctively moved your hips against his crotch, craving more of the intoxicating friction that left your senses spinning, and a low groan escaped him, his hands guiding your hips back and forth.

"What are we doing..." Theo whispered, his voice a breathy murmur, his head falling back, and his eyes squeezing shut in a moment of quiet contemplation. "I told myself I wouldn't do this with you again."

Your heart hammered in your throat, your fingers trembling as his hands grazed the curve of your ass. In a mere pant, you breathed, "do what?"

His fingers traced a slow path to the back of your head, gently guiding your lips back to his.

The heat between you intensified as he whispered, "this," against your mouth, his soft breath sparking heat in your veins.

A low, desperate sound escaped your throat, a mixture of a mewl and a moan, as the fire in your core reached an almost unbearable intensity. Theo groaned in response, his grip on your hips tightening, and with a swift motion, he flipped the two of you around, placing you on your back beneath him. His hips pressed into yours with a force that felt like an attempt to fuse you with his mattress, his hands finding purchase on either side of your head, trapping you beneath him.

"Theo," you murmured against his lips, your hands tugging on his hair in a desperate attempt to part his mouth from yours, yearning for a breath of air. "Theo...”

Refusing to break the kiss, Theo groaned into your mouth, his hand cradling the side of your head, his thumb brushing over your cheek with a feather-light touch. He rocked his hips against you, both teetering on the brink of losing yourselves entirely. The restrained passion and tension accumulated from years of friendship were on the verge of breaking free.

Finally, in a gasp of air, Theo pulled back, both of your chests heaving, your lungs reaching for oxygen in desperation. His blue eyes dipped over your face, lingering for a moment before trailing lower. With a regretful realization, he shifted back onto his knees, putting a disappointing amount of space between your bodies, as if just coming to terms with the consequences of his actions.

"Fuck," he murmured, running an unsteady hand through his hair. "I...I'm sorry-"

"Theo...I want you," you cut him off, the desperation evident in your voice as you expressed your desire for him. "Please..."

Theo's eyes flickered, and he blinked, momentarily taken aback. "You..."

"Yes," you whispered, a subtle flush colouring your cheeks as you pushed aside any embarrassment. "I want you to be my first, Theo."

Theo leaned back down, his hand gently cupping your chin as he directed your eyes to meet his intense gaze, his fingers digging into your skin only slightly.

"Are you fucking serious?" he questioned, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "Don't play with me, principessa..."

"Why on earth would I joke about something like that?" you replied, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. "Of course, I'm serious."

Theo's countenance softened with a tender gaze as he scrutinized your face, searching for any traces of hesitation or uncertainty. Discovering none, he leaned in, planting a delicate kiss against your lips. His hand gracefully transitioned from your chin, weaving into your hair with a gentle, reassuring touch.

"You don't know how fucking long I've wanted you," he whispered against your mouth, his eyes reflecting the intensity of his desire. "But I don't want to fucking hurt you...I don't know if I'll be able to control myself..."

Your fingers gently traced the contours of his face as you held his gaze. "Theo, we've known each other for so long, there's no one I trust more than you...I know you'll be gentle with me..."

Theo's gaze softened further at your words, and he leaned in for another kiss. His hand embarked on a slow journey from the strands of your hair, delicately tracing the curves of your body until it found the waistband of your sweats, teasingly playing with it.

"Gonna' need to ease you into it, principessa," he whispered against your lips, his warm breath mingling with yours. "Let me know if it's too much, alright?"

As you nodded, your hands migrated from his shoulders to entwine in his hair. His hand daringly slipped beneath the cotton fabric, and a gasp involuntarily escaped your lips as he skillfully explored the warmth between your thighs with his fingers. Simultaneously, his lips traced a tantalizing path down past your jawline, each touch sending shivers down your spine.

"Mm, you're already so fucking wet for me..." he nipped your neck and you squealed, fingers gripping fistfuls of his hair. "Gonna' fill you up so good...stretch you out just for me..."

Pleasure rippled through your thighs, your heartbeat thumping in your core. "Theo..."

"Mhmm," he breathed as he trailed lower, mouth grazing over your collarbone, long fingers teasing over your clit, coating himself in your slick. "Fuck, I've wanted to hear you moan my name like that for years...you've completely fucking tortured me, bella..."

You gasped as he teased your clit again, fervent fingers digging into his scalp. "You-you never made a move-"

Theo groaned against your skin, his free hand sliding up to pull your shirt along your stomach, and then skillfully tugging on your bra, exposing your bare chest to his hungry gaze. His lips parted, and a deep lust filled his eyes as he immediately cupped one breast in his palm, skillfully flicking a stiffening nipple between his fingers.

"Fuck me,"  he muttered before pulling one of your nipples into his mouth, skillfully twirling his tongue around the bud. "I didn't want to complicate our friendship, bella mia...I didn't want to risk losing you..."

Theo's mouth moved to your other nipple, and he deftly took it between his lips, suckling on it before tracing circles around it with his tongue. You moaned, feeling your body respond to his touch, your hips jerking involuntarily as he pushed a finger inside of you, causing you to cry out in pleasure. His thumb resumed its motions on your clit, coaxing sounds of desire from deep within you.

Heat scorched your blood. "F-fuck, Theo..."

"Is this okay?" he muttered, pulling back slightly to examine your face. "You're so fucking tight."

You nodded, incapable of forming a coherent thought as your body's reaction was immediate, every fiber of your being inundated by intense, mind-numbing pleasure. Theo groaned as he brought his lips back to your nipple, skillfully pulling it into his mouth. Your entire body quivered beneath him, unable to comprehend how rapidly your impending orgasm was overwhelming you.

"Oh, Gods, Theo..." you gasped, your fingers tightening their hold in his hair like you were trying to pry it from his scalp. "Oh, fuck-"

Theo heightened his rhythm, skillfully adding another finger inside you as he fervently zeroed in on your sensitive nub with vigorous strokes. Your vocabulary dissolved into a symphony of flailing wails and moans, your eyes rolling back in sheer ecstasy as he sensually flicked his tongue over one nipple before seamlessly transitioning to the other.

"That's right, darling..." he cooed against your chest, his voice torn and barely restrained, a low rasp that sent a thrill up your spine. "Let go for me...I've got you..."

His words alone ignited a blaze of warmth across your skin, and as much as you desired to resist, to not succumb so swiftly, it was inevitable and overwhelming, your orgasm slamming into you like a powerful shot to the gut.

"Shit-Theo!" Your jaw fell slack, eyes rolling back. "I'm-i'm-"

Your vision whitened as you broke, every nerve in your body pulsating with ecstasy. It was a wave crashing over you, leaving you breathless and trembling in its wake. Theo's movements never faltered, his touch relentless, drawing out every ounce of pleasure from your shuddering form.

"That's it--fuck--so perfect..." he breathed, rubbing you through the remnants of your aftershocks. "Such a good fucking girl...did that feel good?"

You nodded, still gasping for breath as you tried to compose yourself. "Yes," you said, feeling a flush of embarrassment on your cheeks. "It felt amazing."

"Yeah?" Theo whispered, his hand withdrawing as he shifted to press his lips softly against yours. "You like cumming for your best friend, huh? Enjoy making a mess all over my fingers?"

You released a throaty groan against his demanding mouth as his skilled hands effortlessly peeled down your sweatpants and panties, revealing the goosebumped flush of your skin. His shirt swiftly joined the discarded clothes, exposing the sculpted lines of his torso. Unrelenting, his eyes remained fixed on yours as he leaned back to undo his belt with a controlled urgency.

Once successful, he leaned back over you and a large hand cupped your jaw, his voice a low, commanding murmur.

"I didn't hear an answer," he stated, the timbre of his words sending shivers down your spine. "Perhaps I need to make you cum again?"

You huffed, a subtle squirm beneath him accentuating the anticipation, his free hand teasing the tender skin of your inner thigh. "Theodore..."

"Would you like that?" he muttered, his lips drawing nearer, the grip on your jaw tightening. "You want me to make you cum all over my bedsheets again, hm?"

His fingers caressed over your heat, teasing your folds, and you arched against his touch, drawing a groan from deep in his chest. You could sense he was attempting to buy himself time, to talk himself down from his excitement. His restraint hung by a thread, self-control wavered under the sight of you withering beneath him.

Swallowing hard, your throat felt drier than the desert as you met his gaze with pleading eyes. "Please, Theo," you whimpered, "stop teasing."

"Fuck--so eager for me, yeah?" he purred, releasing your jaw to slide his boxers down his thighs, pulling free his thick, long cock. "Let's see if we can sate this pretty little pussy."

Your breath fled from your lungs, your jaw practically dropping to the floor. He was massive, even in his own big hand, even as he pumped himself, sliding his fist back and forth over his length as his eyes burned wounds into the flesh of your tits. You whined, your core clenching and screaming with need, drool threatening to pour down the sides of your lips as your desperate eyes shifted between his eyes and his dick.

"Fucking hell, Theo..." your brain struggled to form coherent thoughts, and those words were the only ones that managed to slip past your lips. "You never mentioned...so massive..."

He huffed, and you knew he was watching you--his irises igniting in flames, a tiny smirk teasing his lips as you watched him stroke himself faster, harder.

"I didn't want to intimidate you before you got to experience how good it can be," he murmured, his voice low and laced with satisfaction. "Besides, I'm well aware of your disdain for men with oversized egos."

Your breath caught in your throat as your brain struggled to process the revelation. Losing your virginity to your lifelong best friend, who knew you better than you knew yourself, and who had purposely kept the extent of his endowment a secret, fearing it might scare you off. The boundary between reality and dream blurred, leaving you in a surreal haze of disbelief.

"Just shut up and show me," you finally managed to whisper, your desire overcoming any reservations. "Show me how good it can be."

"Easy, principessa, don't get greedy now," he murmured, his hands firmly grasping your thighs to pull you closer. "You're not ready for everything I have to offer just yet."

Theo leaned back over you, trailing hot open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck and over your collarbone--forearm framing your face, other hand gripping his cock, angling the glistening tip toward your throbbing entrance, teasing you briefly with a few false thrusts, slicking his length in your wetness.

"Are you ready?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe. "To feel me inside of you, filling you up?"

Your voice barely more than a breath, you nodded in response, averting your gaze to the ceiling. "Please."

Theo huffed, pulling his face from your neck, long fingers directing your gaze to meet his eyes.

"Look at me, bella..." he looped an arm under your neck, long fingers holding you in place. "I want you to look into my eyes as you feel yourself stretching out for me..."

Your lips parted in awe, speechless and utterly intoxicated. Doing as he said, you held his gaze, feeling yourself slowly getting lost in the ocean waves of his eyes. Theo groaned, his own breath shallow as he pressed the head of his dick into you, pushing you apart, and you whimpered, clenching before he even entered you. You were quaking--and he hissed through his teeth before he'd fully sank into you, letting loose a low, deep groan as your wet cunt swallowed his cock.

"Shh," he purred, glimpsing your lips. "Just a little bit more..."

Pleasure and pain erupted through your bloodstream as he stretched you wide, a sharp cry leaving your throat as he pushed deeper and deeper, stroking into your heat with the pace of a snail, inch by agonizing inch--pausing once he'd sunk in to the base. You could feel his cock pulsing inside of you, and you were breathless, unable to fathom how big he was, how full he made you feel.

"Fucking hell, are you okay?" he muttered almost under his breath, his voice cracking with concern as he looked into your eyes, his blue gaze searching for any sign of distress. When you merely nodded, the desperation in his expressions intensified. "Please, talk to me...keep me grounded..."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you mumbled, still trying to catch your breath. "And what do you mean, 'keep you grounded'?"

Theo sighed heavily, emitting a low groan, his breath catching in his lungs as he withdrew slightly before smoothly gliding back into you. You whimpered, still holding his gaze, lips parted in unbelievable bliss. His hand cradled your head, staring at you with gleaming eyes as he found his rhythm, keeping every stroke deep and careful and full.

"I-I, fuck," he grunted through gritted teeth as he stared down at you. "You're so tight, so fucking wet...I can barely control myself..."

He lowered himself, ensnaring your lips in a profound, fervent kiss while maintaining a deliberate pace within you. Each rhythmic thrust unleashed renewed waves of ecstasy, prompting unrestrained moans from your chest and sending you writhing beneath him.

"You feel so good," he whispered as one of his hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch as he slowly began to increase the tempo of his thrusts. "I can't believe how fucking tight you are. You're going to make me cum so fucking hard, my pretty little virgin."

Your nails clawed at his back, your walls squeezing his thick length with every thrust. "Theo-harder, please..."

"Yeah? You want more, pretty girl?" he whispered, warm breath enveloping your ear. "Such a needy little pussy..."

You gasped, nodding as his lips attacked your neck. "Please, please-"

"Anything for you," he responded, his voice torn, each syllable saturated with longing. "Filthy little--fuck,"

He surged into heightened motion, the force of his hips colliding with yours intensifying upon your command. A sharp cry escaped you when he skillfully found that responsive spot within you, immediately unleashing a cascade of pleasure that surged through your body like electric currents. The intensity reached a near-overwhelming point, a delicate dance between ecstasy and a hint of exquisite pain, causing unbridled moans to spill from your lips uncontrollably.

"Mm," he grunted, a near growl in your ear. "Pretty pussy taking me so well,"

His paced increased again, slamming into your cervix with every thrust. His fingers resumed their work on your clit, yanking you toward your climax, your body being whiplashed with pleasure. You bit down on his shoulder, desperate to muffle your screams as your pussy squeezed him harder, yanked to the edge by the stretch of his cock slamming into you, his fingers battering your nub.

"Theo--w-wait," your words stumbled amidst waves of pleasure, your body convulsing beneath his unyielding onslaught. "Theo, please-I can't, I-it's too much...”

"Come on baby, I know you're close," his voice, raspy and unbridled, revealed the shattering of his self-control. He relentlessly pounded into you, beads of sweat adhering his hair to a glistening forehead.  "I felt you squeezing me--fuck--you can take it..."

You gasped for breath, a desperate symphony echoing your lungs' protest as your teeth found refuge in his skin. Fingers, possessed by an almost primal force, clawed into his back, leaving an indelible mark. Theo's movements, unyielding and masterful, propelled you inexorably towards the precipice of climax, each sensation more vivid than the last.

"Theo-" you practically screamed, your body buzzing in anticipation. "I'm gonna' cum, Theo-fuck-"

"Let me hear you," he said, voice shredded raw. "I want to hear you scream for me...I want to hear you moaning my name as this tight little cunt breaks for me..."

"Oh, fuck.." you moaned, eyes squeezing shut. "Fuck, Theo...oh Gods, fuck..."

You shattered, euphoria tearing through you as your walls pulsed and milked his cock. Your eyes rolled back, vision going blank as squeals and screeches left your lips in nothing more than mumbling nonsense.

Theo groaned, bliss numbing your skin, limbs shaking and trembling as he pulled you through wave after wave of pleasure, gripping you tighter until he too exploded, breath sputtering as he poured himself into you, hips bucking until the only sensation left was sweaty, heaving, post-orgasmic rapture.

In the aftermath, an extended silence enveloped the room--long after the cadence of your breaths normalized, long after the faculties of your minds fully reassembled. Theo finally stirred, rolling off you to settle on the mattress, where he promptly drew you into the sanctuary of his embrace.

"Can we acknowledge our feelings already?" Theo teased, fingers delicately brushing loose strands of hair behind your ear. “You know I’ll fight you if we go back to just being friends after all of that.”

You huffed, on the precipice of unrestrained laughter. "Only if you go first."

As you shifted to lock eyes with him, a smirk adorned his face, that mischievous grin unfurling across his impeccably plush lips. "Fine…I'm fucking in love with you."

Your own smirk surfaced, a surge of warmth coursing through you as you leaned in, brushing your lips against his. "I'm in love with you too, you dork."

[lady-djarin]

on my radar

joel miller x f!reader (one shot)

warnings/tags: edited very little so sorry! dual pov, jackson era dark!joel, SMUT (oral fem receiving, p in v), stalker behavior from mr miller, age gap (50s/20s), joel is kind of a creep but reader is kinda into it, murder off screen, cannon typical violence, men harassing women (a guy is gross with reader/unwanted touching etc) NO R*PE, possessive talk and nicknames (mine, love, my girl, good girl etc), reader can be lifted by mr big man joel but otherwise no really specific details about readers body other than the usual fem. 18+ minors be gone!,

word count: 5.8k

* ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

YOU

You almost dropped it twice, your gloved fingers slipped around the smooth metal of the gun as you fumbled to pull the trigger. The clicker was quickly stumbling toward you even on its one and a half limbs. You and your patrol partner got separated when a small swarm of the dead caught you both off guard in a densely wooded area . As you were trapped in a corner of a hunting shed by the crawling thing, you felt your heart rate begin to rise and the feeling of dread set in that this might be your last moment.

You saw the blood hit your gloves before you even heard the blade hack into its head. Then the body hit the floor.

You looked up to find your patrol partner standing there with a machete clutched in his hand. He was looming over you with a look very close to anger creasing his brows and his chest heaving in exhaustion. He grabbed the gun out of your hand and grabbed your arm to pull you away from the writhing body. He hacked the large blade into the neck to fully decapitate the head then stabbed into the ear to finally kill it.

“Do you even know how to use this thing?” His voice had an edge to it, like he was mad, or scared as he held up the gun in your face.

You looked at him with tears brimming your lash line, the cold was seeming to freeze them before they tried to fall down your cheek. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Have you ever been on patrol?” His eyes narrowed as they scanned your face, then your body.

“No.” Your mouth was so dry.

“Who sent you on patrol!? What the hell…,” he grumbled as he turned away. “I asked you a question.” He shot another nasty glare your way when you didn’t answer.

His statement kind of shocked you, not a lot of people are blunt like that.

“Uhm, I asked Tommy, I wanted to help.”

“Fucking Tommy, sticking me with a kid.”

“Hey I might be new to this but I'm not a kid,” you chased after him and that didn't help your defense.

“Jesus…,” he was grumbling again and marching away, toward where you hid the horses. The two of you set out on patrol a couple hours before, your first time outside the gates in Jackson. You had heard rumors about Joel, people said he was ‘rough around the edges but good people’. You had seen him around the community and wondered if he was someone you could get along with. He seemed like he was an outsider, kind of like you. When you learned you were partnered with him you figured it was going to be difficult, but this was a little much.

You were on your way through the state trying to get to where your dad lived in Sundance when you ran into some trouble near their camp and they took you in until you recovered. They stitched you up after they found a nasty gash on your ribs when you were discovered fighting off a pack of stalkers. After arriving at the Jackson community, you learned that Sundance was completely overrun. The sparse community there hunkered down in their homes after the outbreak but with the large swarms that came through the area, pretty much everyone fled and went their own ways. You could barely stand the thought that your dad was caught in the middle but he was strong, he could find his way out.

He had to.

So you remained in Jackson, becoming a part of the community, and everyone in the community had to help out somehow. You felt indebted to Tommy and the community for helping you and making you feel at home here after your recovery. That's why you wanted to go on patrol, you felt like you could help. Joel clearly didn't agree.

That last fucking thing he wanted to do was teach some rookie how to handle themselves on patrol. He was pissed and you could see it in the tense bunching of his shoulders as he rode on in front of you. You felt kind of bad for having Joel take care of you back there but he didn't have to be such an ass about it.

“Hey,” you rode up next to him. “Look I know I'm not who you wanted to be on patrol with but just give me a chance ok? I'm just trying to do a job here.”

He barely looked your way, he just kind of grunted before urging his horse over the final path into Jackson.

Alright then.

You didn't see those broad hunching shoulders for a couple days after, though he clearly had been talking about you. Tommy took you off patrol so Joel obviously made his concerns clear to his brother. When you did see him it was from across a room or passing in the street, but even in brief passes it felt like a tension was always present. His brows would bunch in the middle as he scanned you. It always felt like a judgment maybe, or some kind of disgust the way he would observe you. You quite honestly thought he hated you.

JOEL

You looked cute when you were mad, actually to Joel you always looked cute. Your cheeks were pink with the morning cold, your breath steamed in the air as you huffed through your nose. You were mad because he was ignoring you, and he was ignoring you because he was scared shitless when he came into that hunting hide and found you cornered by one of the dead. It scared the living shit out of him to think about how you were almost torn apart.

He doesn't remember the exact day that he started to care a little too much about you, it was a slow thing. It took over his life, watching you as you became integrated into the fabric of the town. The people of Jackson welcomed you and you welcomed them right back. People loved you and you got along with pretty much everyone. He started to notice you when he saw you and Ellie chatting about something girl related in the mess hall. He noticed how you seemed to genuinely invested in your conversation with Ellie, hanging on to her every word. Next thing he knows he's thinking about you every waking hour, and you haunt most of his dreams. It feels like you are a presence in his chest that he can't carve out and he has tried.

Joel had tried to occupy himself by relieving the tension himself, trying to dissolve the desire he had for you. It didn't work, of course, but he couldn't help himself.

He refused to actually make any kind of relationship with you, he felt like it would look inappropriate. He was a grumpy gray haired man and you were young and bright, he felt like he would be too rough for you anyway. He was a broken man, his hands were dirty with death and guilt and blood. He could see the innocence in your eyes, the way you smiled with your whole heart when talking to people, especially someone he cares for.

Maybe those were the moments he truly started to have real feelings for you, seeing the way you cared for Ellie. Everytime he would see you it made his heart skip a beat, it almost confused him at first, like his heart was waking up from a decades long nap. His chest hurt with how intensely he was starting to ache without you near, it only ever stopped when he saw you or felt you close or smelled your shampoo as you walked by. It was the same as everyone else as there was a lady in Jackson who made everyone soap but still when it lingered after you it smelled like heaven to Joel.

All that to say, Joel still felt like it was wrong to pursue you. You were and always will be the one that got away.

He needed to stay away.

YOU

It had been a couple weeks or so, maybe longer since you saw those grumpy brown eyes. You had started to miss him, as painful as it was to admit. Even though he was barely a colleague, definitely not a friend, you were missing the way… he was mean to you? No, that can’t be right. Why would you miss a man that is anything but nice around you?

Tommy had found you another job working at the local watering hole/dining hall, as the patrol thing clearly wasn’t going to work. He was walking you around the hall, introducing you to the people you would be working with when you heard a familiar voice.

“Hey Tommy, you here?”

“Yea Joel, in here.”

Shit.

“Oh hey Joel…” You wanted to keel over and die.

”H-hey.” He seemed… odd.

They chatted about something security related and you were introduced to the hall supervisor. As you talked on one end of the room, Joel and Tommy were on the other and it felt like neither of you could look away from the other. Your eyes kept finding each other, each time it felt longer and longer, like the world was falling away. It felt much different than the last time you spoke, like he might not actually hate you. It was an odd feeling, having his eyes on you, he was almost predatory.

Even as he looked over what felt like every couple seconds, he still had this pinched, angry look on his face.

But it was hard to look away. Joel was mesmerizing but you knew deep down he could never be interested the way you would want him to be. He was a grumpy older man that wanted nothing to do with the new young girl in town.

You didn’t see him for a while after that.

JOEL

Joel Miller was by no means a good man. A good man wouldn’t be watching you like this, following an unsuspecting woman around town. A good man wouldn’t watch you as you walked around the Jackson streets, minding your business, talking to your new found friends.

Ever since seeing you again at the dining hall he couldn’t rid his mind of you, as hard as he tried. He knew he would ruin you if you let him, if he even got one taste he would be addicted. Not like he wasn’t now, leering at you talking to patrons at your job. He felt dirty in a way, like he wasn’t allowed to look, not allowed to have the urge to bash in the head of any man who looks at you wrong. Like the guy you were helping now, Mike, every time you turned away to get him what he asked for, he could see his slimy gaze caressing your curves.

He felt like he was going crazy, not being able to be near you like he truly wants. He wasn’t sleeping well, barely eating enough to keep him upright and almost missed patrol on more than one occasion. His mind was playing tricks on him, he would find you in dreams, wake up to find you cooking breakfast in his kitchen or walking hand in hand down the streets of Jackson. The cruel reality that he would never have that always hit him hard in the morning when the sunlight came streaming over his bedspread.

He often found himself turning over, searching for you.

Sometimes they were nightmares, visions of you being attacked by the dead or one of Jackson’s very own.

That’s why he was here, making sure you were safe from the dangers of this world. It was his job.

He was there until you got off work, gathering your belongings and heading out the door when Mike popped around the corner. Joel was immediately on high alert, watching the man’s every move as he advanced on an unsuspecting you. He stalked after the two of you, staying just out of sight. His blood boiled when he saw Mike call after you.

She’s mine, he thought.

He stayed across the street, just in case things went sideways. In case he put his hands on what didn’t belong to him.

“Hey! Saw ya leaving work, how was your night?” Ok, nice enough but Joel knew he was clearly waiting for you to leave work.

“It was ok, just tired and ready to go home.” You were being polite but clearly trying to convey that you were going home, alone. That’s my girl.

“I’d like to talk to ya though, ya know i’ve seen ya ‘round and think you’re real cute. Come on, please? One chance?” He’s persistent, that's for sure. Walking the line there, Mike.

“That’s sweet but I’m not really looking for anyone right now, I just got here a few months ago…” You kept walking and you kept your eye contact away from him, smart girl.

“If you give me a chance I’ll show ya I’m worth it. I promise baby.” You were not his baby.

“I’m not your baby, Mike. Please, I just want to go home.” You turned towards him now with determination in your tired eyes.

Mike clearly wasn’t hearing you, or just not caring because as you tried to turn away he grabbed your arm and pinned your back against a wall.

He’s dead.

YOU

I’m dead. This stupid asshole is going to kill me. Your mind was racing as you looked for ways out. Mike’s front was almost completely pushed against yours now as he trapped you against the brick wall. You could now smell the alcohol on his breath now that he was on top of you. You tried to break free, maybe he was drunk enough where you could shake him off. You could tell that wasn’t the case when he groaned in delight.

“Mhmm, keep doing that baby. I like feeling ya move that pretty body.” You wanted to puke, his greasy beard and sour breath was assaulting your space. You froze your body in an attempt to get him off you but he leaned in, trying to capture your lips. You whipped your head to the side and squeezed your eyes shut trying to block out whatever he might do next. Only, when you expected his lips or something on you, there was nothing. His entire weight was gone and you almost slumped to the floor in relief. When you opened your eyes, there was nothing, no one in sight, not even a sound. Mike was nowhere to be seen, nor was anyone else. If you weren’t so relieved that the creep was gone, you’d be freaked out. It felt like one of those eerie horror movies you watched before the word turned into one itself.

You weren’t really sure what else to do other than go home. You walked the quiet streets towards your small house and barricaded your door that night, just to be safe.

…..

“Have you heard?! I can’t believe it!” Angela’s voice shook you out of your tired daze. No matter how you tried to occupy your mind or sleep last night you couldn’t shake what Mike did to you. “It was Mike! That’s who it was that was found behind the dinner hall.”

Mike? Did you hear her right?

“Wait, Mike, like creepy Mike?”

“Yes!” Angela never learned how to not raise her voice.

Mike was dead. He was dead behind where you worked after he assaulted you. That seemed… convenient. Did that make you a bad person?

“They are calling everyone to the town hall for an announcement.” This was the only time they have done this in the short time you’ve been here.

Everyone walked over and filled the hall wall to wall. Tommy, Maria and a few other members in charge of running Jackson stood on the stage of the building that looked to once be a school auditorium, including Joel. Your eyes caught him up there as soon as you walked in, recognizing his brown curls anywhere. Tommy walked up to the top of the stage and everyone immediately quieted down, they clearly respected him.

“Hey ya’ll… Uh, unfortunately it's not good news that calls us together today.” He was clearly nervous. “One of our own is gone, Mike Walton. Now I know in this world losing someone happens more often than we would expect but this one is different. It happened in our walls and we think, committed by one of our own.”

Murder. He was killed. Fuck.

The crowd was starting to murmur and quietly panic. You felt responsible somehow, like you being the last one to see him, you think, meant… something. You had to tell them what happened last night, if only to make sure they know now instead of finding out some other way. So they know you're not hiding anything.

You stayed after the crowd cleared, listened to Tommy assure everyone that they are safe and he is putting security measures in place. You went up to the stage and caught Maria’s attention, you felt comfortable with her and maybe she would be more understanding. She really helped you assimilate when you recovered and felt kind of like a sister in a way.

“Hey sweetie, how ya doing?”

“I need… I need to tell you something.”

She took you to a more private area and you told her what happened the night before. She listened dutifully as you recounted your story and it really made it strangely better to talk about it. It was by no means easy to forget but knowing someone was listening helped. After you finished and she gave you a reassuring hug, she brought you back to Tommy… and Joel.

“Ok hon, I will need to tell Tommy about this, I’ll only include the necessary things.” You nodded knowing you could trust both of them with the news. “Joel, would you be able to walk her home? I don’t want to take any chances here.” Maria did say to you privately that she was going to treat this as if you were in danger in some way, in case this turned out to be about you.

He only nodded in your direction, extending his arm, signaling you to lead the way. You walked the streets, the silent tall man trailing behind you. You stopped so abruptly that Joel backed up in surprise.

“I don’t need you walking behind me like a bodyguard.”

“Where should I walk?” His voice dripped with something dark.

“W-well…I don’t know, next to me like a normal person?”

All he does is silently walk up to you and nod forward urging you on. You kept walking, feeling Joel’s arm brush up against yours and the tension was building before either of you said anything. You arrived at your building in silence and he walked you up the steps, more than you were expecting from the distant man. You paused as you opened the door and realized something, if Maria is right and someone is after you, they could be in your house.

“Y’ok?” His voice was low and rough.

“Uh… actually, no. Joel, would you be able to come in… and uh, check it out? Just to make sure, I don’t know…someone’s not— not in there?”

You swore his eyes softened at your nervous request, maybe he felt bad. He followed you inside and had you wait by the door as he surveyed the rest of the house. He came back within only a few minutes and you were relieved it was quiet in the house.

“You’re all good here darlin’,” he stood by the kitchen counter almost like he was avoiding leaving.

But you didn’t want him to leave.

JOEL

He knew no one would be in your house, there was no one after you. Except him. He saw Mike put his hands and other parts on you and something flipped in his brain. He went feral and had been looking for an opportunity to take this guy out. He was a menace to the community but Tommy said there was no legitimate reason. Usually he wanted a blatant offense to take action or even exile someone. Mike was sneaky, that was the problem, he was good at hiding his deplorable behavior towards women behind being friendly with most of the male Jackson population.

Joel was so sick of it, and he likes to pretend that’s why he was there that night, not that he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. For weeks now he had been everywhere you were, coincidence of course. He needed to make sure that you were safe, that someone would be there for you. Even if he couldn’t have you, he needed to watch over you. You had completely consumed his life, every waking and sleeping hour he had his mind on you.

The worst of it he thinks was a few weeks into his obsession, he found himself across the street from your house, crouched in the bushes like a maniac. He watched your silhouette as you turned about the room, picking things up, gathering our belongings and just generally going about your home life. It was so magical to him to see you living your life unencumbered by the burden of how cruel people can be. He had to make sure no one took that from you.

He was pulled from his thoughts by your sweet voice. “Joel? You ok?”

“Y-ya sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if you wanted a drink.”

“Oh, uh- sure sweetheart.”

He watched you go over to a cabinet and pull out a dwindling bottle of something dark that made his mouth water. You had good taste.

That's my girl.

You slid over the glass with a small amount of whiskey and you each sipped it slowly.

“Thanks for walking me home, I really appreciate it.”

“No problem darlin’, but I'm sure you’re safe. No one’s gonna hurt ya.”

“Sure doesn’t feel that way.”

YOU

“I promise you, no one will ever…ever hurt you again.” The way Joel said it, it was like he had murder in his eyes. He was so intense that you believed him, like he would protect you. You felt a thrill pass down your spine from his gruff voice. He was always a rugged man with his height, his broad shoulders and intimidating dark eyes but now, he looked downright deadly.

For a minute you worried that Joel could be responsible— no he would never. Even if he did, could you really be upset at him making this community safer? Did that make you a bad person?

He was looking at you like prey he wanted to devour. It made your pulse race, it made your core throb. The tension had been growing since the walk back and it was evident to both of you. Joel circled the kitchen counter to come right in front of you. Both your glasses forgotten, he caged you in with his hands on the counter bracketing your hips. Without a word he brought a hand up to cup your cheek, his calloused skin caressed your skin much lighter than you were expecting. The only sound in the house was your heavy breathing as he stared down at you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something off about Joel. Not necessarily bad but just something sharp and scary, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as he slowly leaned down to hover his lips over yours, asking for more.

Even if Joel was a bad man, fuck it.

You leaned up slightly to meet his lips and all self control went out the window. His hands were all over you in a second, hips pressed into yours as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. Your head spun as he licked into you and nipped at your bottom lip causing a whimper to escape your lungs. It all became very frantic as he lifted you up onto the counter and bit and kissed his way down your neck. You knew there would be evidence of it the next morning and it kind of excited you to know you’d have Joel’s marks on you. His greedy hands were groping and squeezing every inch of you and you couldn’t get enough. With your own shaky hands you tried to unbutton his shirt but Joel stopped you.

“R’ya sure baby girl?” You swore you felt slick dripping down your inner thighs. “Jus’ gotta tell me and I’ll stop, ’k?”

All you could do was nod.

“I need words.”

“Y-yes,” you practically moaned.

“Good girl.” Fuck, his voice. Your hips rolled forward on the counter, trying to gain any friction. Your clit was pulsing with need and both of you were getting impatient. “Thank god, otherwise I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.” He mumbled it almost to himself.

You gasped as he pulled off the counter and led you up the stairs in silence. Any other person would think he was angry but you knew, he was anything but. He led you to your bedroom and it briefly dawned on you that he was leading you there, he knew where your bedroom was. There was always something intense about Joel, you knew that from the start, it's one of the reasons you were drawn to him. But due to recent events you were starting to question just how depraved he might be. You hated to assume anything but you somehow knew deep down that he was the one who… saved you from Mike. That’s what it was, he saved you from being killed, or worse.

Once in your bedroom Joel turned and pushed you against the wall, attaching his lips to your neck.

He hummed deep in his throat, almost a moan. “Mhmm, darlin’ you are so sweet. Y’smell so good.” He was mumbling into your throat, half kissing, half biting. You were each pulling clothes off the other, desperate to feel skin. When Joel had you completely bare for him, you tried to cover yourself, mostly out of habit.

“You… you are perfect baby.” His eyes dark with desire as he pulled your hands up his mouth and kissed your knuckles. “Don’t cover up, I wanna see ya.” He pulled your hands away as he backed you up to the bed and gently pushed you back onto the soft quilt. You stared up at him, taking in his form, he was still in his jeans but bare from the waist up. You admired his graying hair that led below his belt, mouth watering at the bulge underneath. Before you could reach for his belt, he looped his strong arms under your knees and pulled your butt toward the end of the bed. With cracking knees he knelt in front of the bed and his face became level with your dripping core. His eyes were locked on you, his lips almost matching the way you drooled between your legs.

“Joel—,” you were unable to form words, the breath perpetually caught in your throat.

“Shhh, I know hon, I gotcha,” his voice was lower than you ever heard it, something dangerous simmering below the surface.

“Joel, wait—,” he moved up your body at your request. “I just… I’m confused,” you were shaking and out of breath but you needed to ask him. “I thought you didn’t like me… it’s just every time we would see each other you seemed to avoid me at all costs and now…”

“The only reason I was acting like that was because I liked you… too much.” His eyes hovered directly over yours, deep pools of obsidian overtaken with the desire. “I thought I was protecting you, from myself. But I… I,” he almost seemed nervous in a way, but there was still the underlying grumble of anger in his chest.

“What?”

“I see now that I have to protect you from everyone else.” He said it with such a darkness settled over his face, and it took you a minute to register what he was admitting.

He killed Mike. Holy shit.

Your whole body froze and you felt your eyes widen and breath pick up. But you also had this deep feeling in your gut, was that arousal? Were you attracted to this? That dropping feeling in your stomach told you that you were. Jesus, did that make you a bad person? Fuck it.

You grasped your fingers through his hair, pulling him down to you as you attached your lips to his.

JOEL

You were a vision, puffy lips wet from kissing, eyes blown wide as your chest heaved. “You protected me?”

Oh, fuck me.

“Of course baby girl,” he needed you to know this was all for you. He was yours and you were his. “No one will take you from me.”

He worked his way down your body, kissing and nipping his way to your center again. He spread your legs and stared into your dripping folds as he got onto his knees again. You whimpered and moaned his name and he relished the sounds, he loved hearing and seeing you react to his touch. He wanted nothing more than to hear you scream his name.

“I wanna feel ya’ cum on my tongue darlin’,” he loved the way your pussy drooled for him. Joel felt like a man starved, like he was finally seeing water after a year in the desert. He licked a broad stripe up your folds then sealing his lips around your clit and sucking. You screamed and he felt your thighs wrap around his head only spurring him on further. He pulled your legs in front of him and pushed to the mattress, opening you up further for his enjoyment. When he worked two fingers into you, he knew you were close based on your shaking and whimpering.

“I-I’m so close baby,” you sounded so cute, so desperate. “I need— please Joel.”

He wanted you to fall apart, speeding up his movements he knew it wouldn’t be long now. He curled his fingers while lapping at your clit, he felt your walls flutter and tighten around his fingers.

“Cum for me angel.”

You broke. Joel’s fingers were covered in your juices and you screamed his name as you came. He kept up his movements to prolong your pleasure, he reveled in the way your legs shook with overstimulation.

“Oh… my god,” you sighed as Joel crawled his way back up to your face, slotting himself between your legs.

YOU

He entered you slowly. You could feel every vein and edge of him and you were thankful he readied you with his fingers because Joel was not a small man. He started slow, presumably for your benefit, but soon his pace picked up and the crown of his dick was hitting a spot inside of you that made you see stars.

“Fuck— You feel so good,” he puncuate each word with with his hips, each time driving you up the bed. You grabbed onto his shoulders, trying to gain leverage but you were unable to do anything except take his brutal pace. He was past holding himself back now, you swore you felt him in places you never thought possible. You recognized somewhere in the back of your mind that letting the man who… murdered someone for you fuck you into your mattress might be a bad move. Too bad he was too good at it for you to care. You felt the coil of your orgasm tightening in your lower stomach as Joel leaned back, looming over you like a dark angel.

“I want you to touch yourself,” he pulled one of your hands towards your clit. “Cum for me baby.”

You pressed and circled your fingertips into the bundle of nerves, your pleasure just seconds from cresting. Joel must have felt it because he gripped your hips and pulled you into his lap, picking up his pace and punching into your g-spot.

“Oh fuck!— I’m gonna cum baby…plea—,” you couldn’t even get the rest of the word out as your orgasm crashed into you. You think you might have blacked out as your vision went blank for a moment and you think you heard yourself screaming. Joel kept up his pace and rode you through it all.

“Mmm that’s it, that’s my good girl…,” his voice was low and gravely in your ear when he leaned over, pushing almost all his weight on top of you while he chased his high.

“P-please Joel, cum inside m-me,” his harsh movements made it hard to talk, hard to breathe. You didn’t care though, you were desperate to feel him finish inside you.

“Inside you baby? Ngh, tha—that’s my good gi—,” he didn’t finish his sentence either as he almost collapsed on top of you. You wrapped your legs around his hips and held him there as he filled you up. He grunted and groaned in your ear as he came down, he pulled out slowly making sure you were comfortable and kissed his way down your neck and chest. “Stay here baby.” You laid there unable to move and watched his naked form as he found your bathroom with ease and came back with a warm washcloth. As he cleaned you, you recalled his words, ‘my good girl’. His.

“Joel?” He didn’t respond with words, only hummed at you to continue while he cleaned your inner thighs. “Did you mean it? I’m…,” you were hesitant to speak it, what if you were wrong? What if it was something he said in the heat of the moment. You felt the bed dip and he settled beside you, towel discarded.

“Use your words honey, what’s on your mind?” He moved a bit of hair out of your face and waited patiently for you to continue.

“I’m yours? Not just tonight.” You met his gaze with timid eyes.

“Yes, of course. Y’have been since I first saw you.” He kissed you deep, lips prying yours apart. “I protected you, remember? I wasn’t gonna let anyone hurt you, especially not him.”

He looked at you with nothing but truth in his eyes. He really did kill Mike, holy shit. He did it for you. In this world maybe you could rest easier knowing you had someone to protect you like that. Joel may be a scary man, but you had nothing to fear for yourself with him around. You slept that night more soundly than you had in ten years. wrapped in the strong arms of a man who chased your nightmares away.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

CALL MY NAME AND I'LL COME RUNNING ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; satoru can be irritating, at times. but even if you push him away, he’ll always, always be there for you when you need him.

word count; 8.7k (this was supposed to b a short drabble but i was possessed by the devil halfway through)

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, reader n toru have a fight, mild swearing (a couple fucks here n there), hurt/comfort, satoru has communication issues but he’s trying his best, depictions of stalking (reader gets followed by a random creep but satoru comes to the rescue dw), uhh implied thoughts of violence? (satoru wants to Maul said dude but doesn’t), literally just me being in love with satoru gojo for 8.7k words straight

a/n; no thoughts head empty only gojo running through the streets like a wild beast looking for u <33 im normal about him yeah.

“you’re so annoying sometimes, you know that?”

satoru smiles. the sentence isn’t one he’s unaccustomed to hearing.

usually, the words are soaked in an undeniable fondness, as they spill from your lips. rich with exasperated love. one that never fails to have the corners of satoru’s lips curling up, a mellow kind of joy blossoming in his chest.

but now, that fondness is nowhere to be found. 

you sound thoroughly exasperated, and a little bit fatigued. more than anything else, there’s a vague irritation behind the tilt of your voice, something almost cold. it makes all the difference in the world. 

and yet, despite that, a certain someone chooses to pay no heed to the bad omen.

“aw, c’mon. you know you love me, baby.”

satoru is grinning. lighthearted, awfully sweet. there’s a certain smugness to it, though, one he couldn’t wash away even if he was aware of it; you wouldn’t do so even if you could. that smugness is a part of him, one that you’d usually find endearing. 

but right now, it only seeks to further your frustration.

it was a stupid fight, truthfully. completely meaningless. satoru had forgotten to pick up after himself for, like, the fourth consecutive time, and so you grew annoyed. not by a lot, but enough that you felt the need to be firm when you reminded him not to make the same mistake over and over again.

but satoru had only grinned, in that self-satisfied fashion of his, and apologized in a way you couldn’t possibly call sincere. then he did what he usually does — promises to work on it. to not do it again. he never follows through, though.

but even that thought wasn’t anywhere near enough to make you truly angry. what really began to irk you was the fact that satoru wasn’t taking you seriously, even in the slightest.

that’s how he always is, when it comes to this kind of thing. and you try to be patient, you do. you try to be understanding. sometimes you even appreciate that he keeps the atmosphere light, but other times, you just can’t help but feel irritated by it.

and the current situation happens to fall into the latter category.

you don’t care if satoru leaves a candy wrapper or two out, every once in a while. of course you don’t. it’s a silly thing to argue about. but would it hurt for him to just listen to you? to try to put himself in your shoes, for once? it’s not about the wrappers, or the undone dishes. it’s about the way he treats you when you complain about it — like it’s no big deal, like it doesn’t matter. even if it obviously does, to you.

so, gradually, the topic of your little argument began to shift, into a conversation about satoru. about the fact that he so adamantly refuses to talk about the things that bother you in a serious fashion. about the fact that he so adamantly refuses to take you seriously.

and he just keeps proving your point, with every word that falls from his lips.

at this point, you’re genuinely beginning to feel a little angry. but satoru doesn’t see that as the warning sign it is — he just thinks it’s cute. he’s just been cooing at you, this whole time, despite your numerous attempts to actually explain how much his behavior affects you sometimes. it feels a bit like talking to a wall. satoru keeps on teasing you, even as you try to be firm about your point, and only brushes you off with empty promises to do better and more unneeded comments about how much he wants to hug you when you pout like that.

and you falter, a little. of course you do. you’re weak to satoru. weak to his words, that sweet voice of his, that pretty grin. but that only makes everything worse, because if you let yourself look even a little bit flustered at his comments, he sees that as his cue to continue.

you don’t even know if he’s doing it on purpose, at this point. is he doing it because he knows it’ll annoy you, or does he genuinely not understand that you’re upset? you’d like to think that there’s no malicious intent behind it, but can’t he see how troubled you are? you don’t get it. you don’t get him, and that frustrates you most of all. satoru can be so goddamn convoluted, sometimes.

so you simply can’t help but feel annoyed. angry, even. how long have you been arguing for, at this point? you’re not sure. but you feel the frustration inside of you grow, as the minutes tick by, into something you know will eventually explode.

a sigh falls from your lips, deep and exasperated. a little bit exhausted. “i’m serious, satoru. you’re not even listening.”

“i am!” he protests, stubbornly. childishly. “you just look so cute when you’re all mad. not my fault you’re so distracting.”

satoru smiles, voice sugar sweet, but all you can do is frown. does he really think it’s cute that you’re upset? the thought makes you somewhat sad. but you can’t show that, can’t let that part of you win — you don’t even want to think about the possibility of you crying, because of this. yeah, no way in hell. 

so instead, you channel it into anger. as the blood inside your veins comes to a boiling point, you dig your nails into the skin of your palms, gnawing at your bottom lip and shifting from one foot to another.

”satoru, i’m —” another sigh, sharp and vexed like the blade of a knife. ”i’m trying to have a serious conversation, here. can’t you see that i’m upset?”

satoru takes a moment to look at you, from behind the black glass of his shades.

he can. of course he can see that. you’re frowning, and there’s a crease between your brows, and you keep huffing and sighing every three seconds — you’re obviously, undoubtedly upset. and satoru wants to take you seriously, he does. it’s just that the part of his brain that only ever wants to coddle and tease you keeps persuading him not to.

he’s not lying, either; you do look cute. almost too cute to take seriously, when you’re pouting so sweetly, a little red in the face from all the frustration bubbling inside your chest. you look so small, glaring up at him like an angry puppy. 

satoru can’t help but smile. it’d be impossible not to.

and he will listen to you, will take you seriously. he knows you’re angry, knows you’re upset, and he intends to deal with that properly. but he doesn’t need to do it right now.

just a little more teasing, before he has to stop beating around the bush. satoru dreads it, a little bit, dreads having to genuinely be serious, be open and apologetic. it always feels so strange, so discomforting. 

all that stuff can wait until later. for now, he just wants to see you blush a little more, huff and puff at his limitless affection, that he knows you love deep down. where’s the harm?

(and therein lies the problem. satoru is observant, and typically good at seeing the line that he shouldn’t cross when it comes to you. but there are times when he slips up, times when he doesn’t realize that his words have begun to sting. times when the line becomes blurry, because he knows some part of you enjoys the way he babies you, and sometimes it blinds him to the part of you that doesn’t.)

satoru is smiling. it’s the same as always — big, bright, glazed over with honey-sweet adoration. smug and teasing. it’s such a satoru-like smile that it makes your breath hitch, sometimes, makes your heart race with wonder. but now all it does is annoy you. everything you love about satoru is annoying you, right now. 

in your eyes, that pretty smile of his seems almost taunting. like he’s trying to pick a fight with you, trying to make you even more upset. you don’t want to blow up over something like this, you really really don’t — but for some reason, you feel dangerously close to. it’s not like you at all.

you bore into his eyes with a cold glare, even though you can’t exactly see them with his shades in the way. posture straight and rigid as you try to make yourself look bigger. you must look at least a little bit menacing, like this. right?

“i’m seriously angry with you,” you say, hoping your voice sounds as austere to his ears as it does to yours. “don’t you get that?”

satoru coos, unable to hold the sound back. he doesn’t notice the flicker of hurt in your eyes, only focusing on how the sunset rays frame your figure, kissing your skin with sun-soaked fervor. you look so pretty. and that angry look on your face is too tantalizing not to tease.

“aww,” he croons, inching closer to you. there’s a teasing glint in his eyes that you can’t see, unmistakably fond. “is my little baby that upset?”

you blink. his voice sounds even more sugar-sweet now, obviously exaggerated. there’s amusement there, too — like this is just one big joke to him. you think he must be doing it to belittle you, to embarrass you. speaking to you like you’re some kind of grumpy toddler, and not a grown adult trying to have a serious conversation with their partner. your blood boils, boils, boils.

— and so the cup overflows.

“oh, go fuck yourself.”

it’s almost in a hiss that the words fall from your lips, cold and harsh; they leave the confines of your throat before you have a chance to reconsider them, sudden and sickeningly heavy. crude, too. you’d never be so crass with him under normal circumstances.

but you’re overwhelmed, thoroughly and completely, and satoru is being particularly infuriating. you genuinely feel hurt by the way he’s disregarding your feelings, and that realization stings more than anything. 

so you can’t help but say the words, louder than you meant to, before turning on your heel swiftly and walking out of the room. 

you don’t even have time to register what you’re doing, legs moving on their own before your mind can catch up. brisk and heavy steps carry you to the door, all while you furiously attempt to blink away the tears of frustration that begin to form in your eyes.

it only takes a second for you to grab your jacket — then you’re out.

satoru hears the front door close, echoing off the walls of your apartment. you don’t quite slam it shut, but you close it with more force than usual, and he can’t help but inwardly wince.

a moment passes. 

then, he flops down on the couch, lanky arms and legs dangling uncomfortably off the edges. the groan that slips from his lips is muffled by the soft cushion as he burrows his face into it, while replaying your interaction inside his mind.

satoru can’t help but feel uncomfortable, with this conclusion. a little bit irked. a vague something rests inside his chest, something he doesn’t quite want to admit to feeling. it makes him feel a little bit sick.

(”oh, go fuck yourself.”)

he can’t recall you ever raising your voice at him like that. when it comes to him, you’re usually so patient; soft, understanding, gentle. for you to have snapped in such a way — to have stormed out of the apartment in your anger — he must have pushed you pretty far.

satoru sighs.

he really pissed you off, huh?

(he can never quite seem to get this right, can he?)

it was never his intention to make you genuinely mad. he just lost sight of the line, for a second. that’s all.

and maybe he was also trying to avoid the issue, trying to avoid actually arguing with you. because he hates it. he hates it more than anything. satoru would much rather see you smile and blush than act all serious and sad. 

he just wanted to make you laugh.

was it insensitive? yeah, probably. he just can’t help but fuck this up, it seems. now he’s gone and made you angry — and as much as the sight would usually thrill him, as cute as you look when you’re irritated, a pit of anxiety settles in his gut. everything just feels wrong.

more than anything, satoru feels restless. because, right now, there’s nothing he can do. he can’t chase after you, even if just to apologize — that’d make you even angrier.

he knows he needs to give you space. you were obviously overwhelmed; some fresh air will do you good.

it irks him, though. satoru wants to fix it. he always wants to fix everything, before it even breaks. and even now, all his mind can do is spin in circles, wondering how he could possibly cheer you up.

he’ll just have to apologize, when you get back. and hope you forgive him. maybe he can get you something sweet to munch on, or a bouquet of flowers. would that make everything okay again?

satoru doesn’t know. so he just scratches his head, and tries his damndest not to think of how defeated you looked before leaving.

your steps are heavy, dragging you forward, leading you somewhere you have no knowledge of. it’s chilly out, and the sun is already setting.

everything in the world feels so wrong. like it’s tilted slightly to the left, like the earth stopped spinning around its axis. like everything suddenly lost its saturation. 

you just needed to get away from him, for a while. away from that smug smile, that patronizing tilt of his voice. you couldn’t even stand to be in the same apartment as him. it’s not often you feel that way, not often at all. 

and it only increases your growing frustration. 

you are beginning to calm down, though — you know you are. the crisp evening air and the pleasant mingle of people soothes your muddled senses, smoothing down the crease of your brow and the ache in your chest.

a heavy discomfort, and a growing guilt. that’s all you can feel, as the anger slowly seeps out of you, turning into vapour with every exhale of your breath.

you hate arguing with satoru. you hate it more than anything. the guilt clawing at your chest barely leaves any room for anger — you almost yelled at him. just the thought of doing that to satoru makes you want to cry.

because you love him, at the end of the day, even when he’s being absolutely insufferable. he’s a sweetheart, your sweet boy, always trying to lighten the mood and make you smile. maybe you should have been a bit more understanding; you know satoru’s bad at this stuff, bad with emotions and vulnerability. and deep down, you know he’d never hurt you, not on purpose.

he probably just didn’t realize that you were genuinely upset. it’s a mistake that anyone could make.

but it just makes you feel so frustrated. like he’s not even looking at you. always hiding behind those shades, never opening up. never letting you see him wear anything but a smile. you want him to take it slow, open up to you at his own pace, but that doesn’t make the wait sting any less.

it’s not like you were asking for a lot. first, you simply asked him to pick up after himself. the way you do, the way anyone does. then, you simply asked him to treat you with respect.

a sudden pang of bitterness runs through your chest. sure, you could’ve handled it all better — but he could have, too.

every step you take hits the pavement with an irritated kind of decision. whatever. whatever. for now, you don’t want to think about it — all you want is to walk around and take in the sights, enjoy the peace and quiet.

so that’s exactly what you do.

before you know it, the sun has set, and the moon has risen — shining down and painting the streets in a mesmerizing blue, ephemeral and tranquil. it’s enough to give you some peace of mind, as you lurk around familiar streets, soaking in all the open space. so different from that suffocating apartment, and the man inside it, with that shit-eating grin and those breathtaking eyes.

(he’s called you, a couple times. you haven’t been gone for long — an hour or so, you think, maybe two. some part of you wanted to answer, just to hear his voice through the phone, but the part of you that’s still awfully irritated shut that down immediately. so, stubbornly, you just let it ring.)

the streets are empty, and the sky is dark. the light of all the lampposts illuminate your way, along with the soft flicker of the moon and stars. an endless galaxy stretches out before your eyes, little pale dots of stardust shining like jewels.

an ever-lasting, never-changing sky, that continues on for infinity. limitless. all the space you could possibly want, and then some.

for a moment, you can only look at the glittering stars in wonder, soaking in the feeling of absolute solitude. 

— it doesn’t last, though.

“you alone?”

a sudden voice calls out from behind you. close, discerningly so, enough to make you flinch. you curse yourself for not noticing anything sooner, caught up in looking at the starry sky, in angling your phone to take a picture of it.

hesitantly, you turn your gaze towards the sound — wincing under your breath when you see the man a couple steps away from you. he looks a little crazed, you think, shifting from foot to foot and hunching over. 

oh fuck no.

great, just what you needed. that’s just your luck, isn’t it? your brain can only spin in circles, trying to get your body to react, to run. to do literally anything except just stand there like a deer caught in headlights.

in your nervosity, all you manage is a painfully awkward laugh, as you stutter out a halfhearted response.

“oh — no, i’m just waiting for my boyfriend!” you smile, unconvincingly. your face must be soaked in unease. whatever he wants with you, it can’t be anything good.

at least you said that one word clearly — boyfriend. you can only hope it’s enough to scare him away.

but the man only shifts a little more, emitting a gruff kind of hum, not saying anything else. your spine tingles with apprehension. every cell in your body wants you to leave. he seems a little intoxicated, you think, and the thought only stirs the anxious feeling in your chest further.

god. why does this have to happen to you? why now?

thankfully, you’ve got your phone in hand. as your mind scrambles for solutions, your fingers tap at the screen, urgently scrolling through your contacts. in such a frightened state, your acting must be positively awful, but you make a vague attempt. not like you’re getting any oscars for this, either way.

“sorry — he’s calling me now!” you stammer out, taking a step away from the man. he doesn’t make a move to follow you, so you take your chances and press your phone to your ear, feet carrying you forward with haste.

in your fear, you don’t think twice about calling satoru — but you can’t help but internally wince at the decision, as the anxious patter of your own heart resounds in your ears.

how are you supposed to talk to him, exactly? what are you supposed to say? hey, i know i just told you to go fuck yourself, but will you hear me out? i need your help. 

and you do. you do need his help. all you want is for him to swoop in, to take you in his arms, your knight in shining armor.

satoru’s said it to you, before — that if you need anything, anything at all, you can come to him. that you can always, always lean on him, without exception. 

you know that he likes helping you. likes it when you open up to him, when you put your trust in him. when you aren’t afraid to ask for his help.

so despite everything, you hold your phone to your ear, walking away with brisk steps and praying that he’s not petty enough to ignore your call like you did to his.

back home, satoru is still resting on the couch, tapping his feet and trying to distract himself. 

he’s a little anxious. it’s dark out, and you’re not answering any of his calls. when you’re out of sight, like this, he can’t help but feel a little helpless — worried about everything that could happen to you. but it’s not like he can force you to pick up. 

you’re probably at a friend’s house, or something. telling them all about what an asshole your boyfriend is. as much as the thought stings, satoru hopes it’s true; it’s all he can comfort himself with. anything is fine as long as you aren’t out walking alone, in the cold, in the dark.

entirely caught up in his spiralling thoughts, satoru almost flinches when the phone rings. laying on the table in front of him, just within arm’s reach. it only takes a second for him to react as his gaze flits to the bright screen, and he sees the contact name, the many heart emojis littering it.

with a start, satoru jumps up. his back straightens out, and his hand flies to grab the phone — he’d feel embarrassed at his own eagerness, but right now he just can’t help it. even under ordinary circumstances, he wouldn’t let the phone ring more than twice, always giddy to hear your voice whenever possible. 

this time, however, he does falter slightly.

he takes a split second to simply stare at the phone in his hand, at the affectionate contact name. what is he supposed to say to you, exactly? how is he supposed to act?

satoru doesn’t know, but as if afraid that you’ll change your mind and stop the call, yourself, he opts to simply answer. he’ll just have to figure out what to say on the fly.

(unfortunately, satoru’s instinctual response to anything is either smugness or playfulness.)

“well, well. look who finally decided to pick up.”

you’re the one who called him, not the other way around — but satoru can’t be bothered with small details like that right now. he only hopes you don’t notice the faint nervosity in his voice, the stiffness as he tries to sound unbothered.

you don’t notice anything at all, mind far too muddled, too clouded by fear. all you can do is take a deep breath, desperately trying to grasp control over your wavering voice.

“— satoru?” you call out, voice meek and frail. the man in question notices it immediately, sitting up a little straighter, but before he can say anything you continue. “i’m sorry, i just — are — are you still at home?”

there’s an anxious tilt to your voice, one that’d be impossible for satoru to miss. your words are a little breathy, spoken in a fast tempo, and he feels a sudden dread crawl up his spine.

something is wrong, his senses alert him.

“yeah,” he hums, trying to hide the turmoil in his own voice. “why? is everything okay?”

the line is quiet, for a second. “it’s just —“ an exhale, as you once again attempt to steer your voice in a less nervous direction. “just… some creepy guy tried to talk to me. i told him i was waiting for my boyfriend and now i’m walking away from him but he’s still following me.” another exhale, as you worriedly sneak a glance over your shoulder. ”i just — i don’t know what to —”

“where are you?”

satoru cuts you off, voice eerily serious. his gaze turned cold the moment he heard creepy guy, legs moving him towards the coat rack by the front door as if on autopilot. 

he’s already left the apartment by the time you answer, looking around you meekly.

“i… don’t know,” you sigh. “i’m not far. i walked past that one crêpe stand by the park but then i, like… continued up that street? and now i don’t really know where i’m going.”

you continue, a little exasperated as your gaze flits around the dark street. attempting to recall your steps, a difficult task with how on edge you feel. “i’ll try to look for a sign, or something,” you gulp. “… i’m sorry. i just wanted to get away from him.”

satoru’s voice is comforting, when he speaks, eager to console you. grounding and soft. “hey, it’s okay. i’m heading there now, alright?” he smiles, hoping you’ll hear it in his voice. “i’ll be there before you know it.”

you do hear it, and his words ease a little of the anxiety in your chest, despite your fear. “okay.” 

the line grows quiet, again, and your brows furrow in worry. “can — can i keep talking to you?” you ask, uncertain. a little pitiful. ”please?”

“of course,” satoru answers, instantaneous. he’s already making his way towards the crêpe stand with decision in his steps, mentally scanning the area ahead. despite his own anxiety at the situation, he attempts to sound as secure as he can possibly manage, desperate to soothe the worry in your voice.

“try to relax for me, okay? nobody’s gonna hurt you. not while i’m here.”

his words are absolute, as he consoles you. he sounds so sure of himself, so much that you can’t help but believe in his words. so you nod, emitting a weak hum when you remember he can’t see you.

“can you tell me what you see, baby?”

“uhh…” you look around, blindly, trying to find some sort of meaningful hint around you. “there’s like… some toy shop?” 

satoru only hums. “can you check your location on your phone?” 

you blink. 

of course. why on earth didn’t that cross your mind before? 

“oh — yeah — fuck. i’m sorry. i don’t know why i didn’t —“ you sigh, heavy. “hold on.”

following satoru’s instructions swiftly, your gaze scans over the screen. he waits, patiently, already heading past the park and up ahead. as soon as you succeed in finding the name of the street, you echo it to him.

satoru sighs, a little relieved. “okay,” he hums. “i’m not that far away. i’ll be there soon.” he only hopes his words can soothe your fear, even a little. “is he still following you?”

you glance behind you, and meet the gaze of the stranger. just like you were afraid of, he’s still following you — if anything, he seems to have gotten a little closer. with a jolt, your heartbeat picks up.

“yeah,” you gulp. 

satoru’s chest tightens. he emits a low hum. “just hold on. i’ll hurry.”

focusing only on the tilt of satoru’s voice, you try to calm your breathing. you just want to see him. the thought of doing so is the only thing keeping your trembling ribcage intact, at this point. 

you swallow a shaky breath.

“thanks, toru.”

a sudden pang of ache sprouts in satoru’s chest, like thorny vines curling around his ribcage. his heart hurts. you sound so scared, so very small. 

this is all his fault, he thinks. all of it. he got too careless; none of this would’ve happened if he had only been more considerate. if he had just stopped you from leaving and apologized, or hadn’t upset you in the first place. then he wouldn’t have to hear that scared little voice, wouldn’t have to imagine your body shaking like a leaf in the cold night. so far away from him. 

but satoru can’t beat himself up over it, not yet. there’ll be more than enough time for that later. for now, he needs to get to you — that’s the only thing on his mind.

so he lets his feet carry him forward, running towards your location with bated breath. he’s sure you can hear it, through the phone, even though he tries to contain it.

the sound consoles you, if anything. it reminds you that satoru is there, that he’s on his way. that there’s no need to be scared. 

but you can’t help but freak out, a little, when you hear the man call out from behind you.

“hey!” he slurs, stumbling towards you with unsteady steps. his voice is loud, angry, and it sends your mind reeling into panic mode.

a flinch overtakes your body, before you stumble forward, walking even faster than before. you’re almost running now, breath hitching as you gulp. satoru hears it all — your panic, the echo of the man. his own tempo picks up.

“baby, calm down, okay?” he consoles you, voice concerned and honey-sweet. “just keep walking. i’m almost there.”

“sorry —“ you squeak out, between flurry breaths. breathing uneven, laboured and anxious. but you try your best to calm down. “‘s just scary.”

it almost feels physical, the way it irks him. satoru wants to pull you close, more than anything, but he can’t. and that just makes the calamity inside his chest grow, clawing at his ribcage as if trying to escape, to go to your side. 

(he never, ever wants to hear that kind of fear in your voice again.)

“i know,” he soothes. “you’re doing good, honey. listen — he’s not gonna touch you. i won’t let him. you have nothing to be scared of.”

you nod, even as you exhale a shaky breath. ”i know.” 

and you do. you know there’s a truth, to satoru’s words, one that’s never failed you before.

because satoru is your safe space, at the end of the day — he can be annoying, outright insufferable, and sometimes he’s bad with emotions. but he tries, you know he does. and, more than anything else, you know that he’ll always, always be there when you need him. he’ll always be there to protect you. 

and a part of you is sure that everything will be okay, as long as he’s around.

(it’s easy to forget how trustworthy satoru really is, how much he cares. how dependable he is. and how serious he can get, when he truly needs to be, despite his childishness. it’s moments like these that remind you of that.)

but it’s still scary, at the end of the day. you can’t help but feel uncomfortable, a little lost in the world. because you and satoru just fought, you just told him to go fuck himself, and yet here he is. running to your side, in the middle of the night, because you’re scared and alone and you need him.

the man continues to shout, behind you, muttering curses you can’t quite make out. you look over your shoulder nervously, steps hurried.

and satoru runs like a man possessed, through the moonlit streets, gaze scanning the area like a wild beast. his most visceral instinct is screaming at him, tugging at his flesh and bones, desperate to protect you. to comfort you. to wash all your worries away. 

as he makes a sharp turn, he momentarily stops the movement, halting to look around. he thinks he must look a little crazed, with the moonlight illuminating his eyes, but he couldn’t care less.

especially not when his gaze lands on a certain person, further down the street — small and alone.

your eyes meet his.

with the darkness of the street, it’s hard to make anything out, but the light of the lamppost helps. though even without it, satoru’s sure he’d know it was you, just from the sensation that unfurls in his chest as his gaze lands on your figure. 

an audible sigh of immense relief falls from his lips, and his tense shoulders relax, eyes softening just a tad. he hears a similar noise coming from the phone in his grasp, and he assumes that means you recognize him too. not bothering to end the call, he puts it in his pocket, walking over to you with brisk steps. 

you stumble towards him, yourself, the worried crease between your brows now smoothed away. the closer he gets, the faster you move, until you can see the blue of his eyes. two pocket-sized moons.

satoru swoops you in for a hug before either of you can say anything.

he cradles you close, awfully close, so close you can hear his heavy breathing against your ear. it tickles your neck, along with his soft hair, and you shiver. his fragrance envelops your senses, a blend between fresh laundry, strawberries and some expensive cologne. your favorite scent in the world. 

and suddenly, the world is devoid of danger. nothing can get to you while satoru’s there. all that exists is you, and him, and the soft flicker of the moon.

satoru squeezes you tightly, ensuring himself over and over again that you’re safe. he might be squeezing you a little too tight, but he can’t bring himself to think about that just yet.

finally, that growing calamity inside his chest is satiated. winding down at the feeling of you pressed up against him, the indisputable proof that you’re okay. with you in his arms, satoru feels like everything is alright, again.

the fear inside his chest, so foreign it leaves him shaken to the very core, finally begins to dissipate too. he doesn’t think there’s anything that makes him feel quite as hopeless as the thought of not being there for you when you need him. he never wants to feel that fear again. it’s suffocating. it crushes his lungs.

all he can do is hold you close, his big palm smoothing down your hair, the back of your head, your spine. warm and comforting. keeping you steady against him. he can feel your heartbeat, rapid and anxious, so fast that his heart aches. satoru is eager to soothe you, eager to make it go away.

”i’m here, baby,” he breathes, rubbing his cheek against the side of your head. ”you’re safe now.”

the words are spoken softly, right by your ear, and you exhale a shaky breath. you’re bundling up his clothing with your fists, anchoring yourself to him. after a little while, you let go, opting to wrap your arms around his midriff instead. nuzzling into his broad chest, you try to blink away your tears and contain your sniffles.

you nod against him, and satoru kisses the crown of your head.

and, finally, his gaze strays. it falls farther down the street, until it lands on a certain man — shifting from one foot to another. watching you both in silence.

the calamity inside his chest rouses from its slumber, once more.

satoru makes sure to keep his hands on you, still rubbing your back with one steady palm cradling the back of your head. keeping your face hidden in his chest, safe and secure.

then he raises his head, back straight, full height on display as his eyes meet the stranger’s. he can tell they do, even with the distance, the darkness of the street.

and satoru knows he looks menacing. he knows the light of the lamppost illuminates his figure perfectly, framing his tall stature and broad shoulders. and he knows the moonlight caressing his skin illuminates his face, his cold eyes — blue and uncanny, glowing even brighter than the moon. staring daggers into the man’s soul. if looks could kill, there wouldn’t even be any remains left to find.

the man stiffens, visibly, and satoru delights in it. he doesn’t leave, though, and for a second satoru wonders if he’s really intoxicated enough to come closer — 

but, sure enough, all he does is stagger a little. then he walks away, grumbling under his breath, hands in his pockets.

and satoru isn’t satisfied, with this conclusion. not in the slightest. he wants to run up to the man, wants to hold him up by the throat, wants to tell him off. because he has the nerve to terrorize someone like that, stalk them with intentions he knows can’t be anything but revolting. the nerve to do that to you, of all the people in the world —

satoru doesn’t know if he’s hated anyone quite as much. 

and a part of him wants to make him cower. make him fear for his life, just to make sure he never does anything like this again. leave him with a fear so great it’ll linger for as long as he’s alive.

(and a more animalistic side of satoru, one he doesn’t want to acknowledge, wants to do things that are much, much worse.)

— but you come first. without question, and without exception. he refuses to leave you alone, and refuses to make you look at the man for even a second more. 

so he’ll focus on you, entirely.

he can tell you’re still shaken up, heartbeat pulsating against him, little flutters of life prickling his skin. there’s a desperation in the way you hug his waist, like he could disappear at any moment. like he’ll slip away if you don’t keep him close. the sight tugs at satoru’s heartstrings. 

his first priority is to soothe you, always and forever. so that’s exactly what he does.

satoru smiles. it’s small, in the wake of the situation, but awfully sincere. fingers reaching down to trace over your jaw, he gently urges you to look at him; when you do so, hesitant, he cups your cheek with his palm.

your teary eyes feel like daggers to his heart, an unmistakable proof of his failure. his failure to protect you, to keep you safe and happy. but at the same time, he’s glad, from the bottom of his heart — that you’d let him see you like this. even after everything.

you look very meek, blinking the tears away as you look into his eyes. they’re bright, and comforting. you wonder if he left the shades at home, if he rushed over here so hurriedly that he didn’t think to bring them with him. you’re happy, in any case — the effect they have on you is undeniable. 

you can’t bring yourself to look away, consoled by the flickers of white inside his irises, like fluffy clouds in the blue sky. ever-lasting, never-changing.

satoru tilts his head, smile sweet and understanding. ”that was scary, hm?” 

his voice is tender, somehow so mature. like he’s some older, wiser being, comforting a scared child. it’s so soothing, so very grounding.

squeezing your eyes shut, you can only bring yourself to nod, as you nuzzle back into his chest.

”you’re okay now, honey,” satoru coos, smoothing down your back as you sniffle. an immense softness seeps through his whisper. ”i’ll always be here to protect you.”

there’s a truth to the statement, heavy and pious. like an oath, a pledge, something for you to believe in unquestioningly. you allow yourself to soak in the words, knowing them to be true.

you’re safe, now. there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore. satoru’s here, and he’s hugging you, pressing kisses against your shoulder.

but you just can’t stop crying.

when you speak up, your voice is weak, barely above a whisper. close to breaking apart at the seams. too tired after everything to resist the guilt inside your veins, you sniffle, and part your lips.

”i’m sorry i yelled at you.”

satoru stills.

then, his gaze softens, considerably. he hears himself coo, softly, palm smoothing down the back of your head. 

his sweet angel. apologizing to him, when he’s the one who started this whole mess. when you’re still so shaken up. because he let you leave the house angry, because he made you angry in the first place. because he didn’t see how important the discussion was to you.

(“you’re not even listening.”)

yeah. he wasn’t. he didn’t really want to.

an acute sense of shame. an intense guilt. that’s what he’s been trying to push down, all this time. that’s the unnamed something. 

it’s hard for him. to be as sincere as you, as open with his feelings and emotions. as mature. because even in a situation like this, you can swallow your pride and frustration, and apologize. even when you aren’t in the wrong. you’re always the bigger person, always the one to give in first, because he’s too stubborn to do so himself.

next time, satoru pledges, he won’t let you. next time he’ll be the one to swallow his pride.

because, yes, being vulnerable and admitting that he was in the wrong makes him feel a little like he’s being skewered alive — but you’re important to him. he loves you. and he wants you to know how much he trusts you, how special you truly are. 

if he can show you that, by being a little sincere, a little serious, then any discomfort he feels in the process is a small price to pay.

satoru’s lips meet the crown of your head, as he encircles your smaller frame, arms reaching around your neck to pull you close. he rests his jaw lightly on the top of your head, breathing in your scent. ”you have nothing to apologize for, baby.”

a pause lingers between the words he’s already said and the ones he yearns to say, but can’t seem to pull out from within his throat. it takes effort, to squeeze them out; but every time he replays your own apology in his mind, it gets a little easier. he squeezes you lightly before opening his mouth, as if to give him strenght.

“i’m sorry.”

you blink. 

for once, satoru sounds sincere when he apologizes — almost painfully so. bordering on something you think may be nervosity. you try to look up, to catch a glimpse of his expression, but he keeps you hidden in the crook of his neck.

”i was being immature,” he continues, sighing. you don’t know if you’ve ever heard satoru sound so uncomfortable. ”you know how bad i am with this stuff. but i never want to — you know.” 

he makes a gesture with one of his hands, as if that will say the words for him.

“— i didn’t mean to upset you. honestly.” satoru inhales the cold air, in hopes it’ll make him more honest. “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

you listen. intently, not missing a word, not a single tilt of his voice. it all sounds so genuine, almost foreign on his tongue. satoru seems to be trying to find the right words, grumbling a little under his breath. 

he’s cute, like this. kind of awkward, but that only makes him cuter. you nuzzle closer to him, comforted by his very existence.

”… i’ll work on it,” he whispers, at last. “i’ll listen to you. i promise. i really, really will.” 

you think satoru’s voice wavers, just a little, when he says his final piece. 

“so please don’t cry.”

this time, satoru doesn’t stop you when you attempt to lift your gaze, loosening his arms around you and raising his head from where it rests on top of yours. 

your eyes meet. satoru is smiling, weakly. he tilts his head, looking at you with something you could only ever describe as love.

”okay?”

such a lovely smile. so painfully genuine. his eyes are on full display, shining in the dark of the night, like splotches of moonlight. like someone stole the moon down to earth, and carved out little pieces to put in his irises. an ethereal hue.

he’s so gorgeous. hair just a tad messy, tousled from all the running he did to get here. cheeks a little red from the cold. when he smiles, his eyes crinkle. but he looks almost pained. 

(he was so, so worried.)

blinking away the tears clinging to your lashes, you simply stare, entirely mesmerized by the sight. satoru’s thumb goes to wipe at your glassy eyes, smoothing away the drops that threaten to fall. you want to engrave his expression into your memory, so you can never forget it. but it’s just a little too much.

so you hide in his chest, once more. the word that falls from your lips is tiny. “okay.”

satoru smiles, kissing the top of your head with a relieved exhale. bathing in your presence, still reeling from his show of vulnerability. he feels a little like he just cut himself open, let you peek inside his ribcage. the night air stings his skin. 

but you’re so warm, hugging him tightly, breathing and heartbeat finally relaxed. 

(he doesn’t mind it, not if it’s you — having you look inside his chest. if you asked, he’d let you build a shelter there. right between his fourth and fifth ribs.)

now that the words are out of his throat, they don’t burn at all. satoru feels a little silly, for being so scared to say them out loud. he knows you’d never use them against him.

all you do is snuggle closer, as if silently conveying your forgiveness.

you stand there for just a little while longer, wallowing in the tender atmosphere. finally, satoru makes a move to leave, and you begin to walk back home.

“sure you’re okay now, baby?”

you nod, exhaling a flurry breath. it turns into vapour in the cold of the air, drifting up and dissipating in the expanding starry sky. “yeah. thanks for coming so quickly.”

“of course,” satoru only says, choking back a yawn. 

your hands are intertwined, and he’s halfheartedly swinging them back and forth. it soothes your anxiety, and satoru’s protective instincts. you know neither of you will slip away, like this.

you shiver a little, subconsciously inching closer to satoru to protect you from the harsh bite of the midnight breeze. he notices, giving you a glance and a tilt of his head. “you cold?” 

“just a little,” you mutter, smiling weakly as you look up at him. ”i’m fine.”

satoru huffs. did you really think he’d be dissuaded by such a weak retort? there’s no way he’s letting you walk around all cold and shivering. 

so you come to a standstill, as satoru begins to shrug off his coat. he refuses to let go of your hand for even a second, making the process slower than usual — your heart flutters a little, as his fingers curl around yours, delicately. 

when he finally gets it off him, he wastes no time in draping it over your shoulders. it’s big on you, warm and soft, shielding you from the chilly air. satoru can’t help but giggle sheepishly, as he always does at the sight — you look so cute. 

“c’mon. let’s go home,” he grins, ruffling your hair teasingly.

satoru doesn’t feel cold, not in the slightest, as he holds your hand tightly. just your presence is enough to warm his bones to the marrow.

the silence between you is comforting and soothing, as you continue to walk. hand in hand, admiring the starry sky. you’re both too tired to speak — but satoru does so, anyway.

“i meant it, y’know.” satoru sounds sleepy, but earnest. ”i really will work on it.”

he doesn’t look at you when he says it, yawning softly and stretching his free arm. gaze fixed on the morning star. 

“oh.” you pause, squirming a little. sheepish. “thank you. i’m sorry that i — i mean.” a sigh. “i probably overreacted a little.”

satoru shakes his head, waving off your guilt. “nah. you’re right. i never want you to feel like i’m not taking you seriously.”

his gaze meets yours, tentatively. his eyes shine like wedding rings. “you mean a lot to me.”

the sincere words manifest themselves as a heavy pressure to your chest, closing in on your heart as if crushing it. it’s a pleasant sensation, though, overwhelming as it is. you’re a little scared that your knees will buckle if he keeps this up, but even if they do, you wouldn’t want him to stop — satoru’s love is terrifically overwhelming when there’s nothing to hide it, when it’s just love and nothing else.

but you’d never reject it. you’d let it crush you to death with a smile on your face.

all you can do is avert your gaze, afraid that you’ll fall into the blue sea of his eyes if you don’t. heavy thumps of blood resound in your ears as your heart beats, warmth spreading throughout your entire body.

“… you mean a lot to me, too.” you echo, holding his hand just a little tighter. warmth rises to your cheeks. “i just felt really frustrated, i guess. like you were looking down on me. i know you weren’t actually, though.”

satoru chews at the inside of his cheek, almost anxiously. “i know i can be a little much sometimes,” he says, tasting the words on his tongue. “and i appreciate you for putting up with that. i’m sorry i let it go too far. i’ll be more considerate.”

your heart stutters in your chest. you’re not sure what to say — the way he forms his words makes them feel so absolute. and you believe him.

“i’ll be more considerate, too,” you echo, looking down at the pavement. “i shouldn’t have blown up like that.” a pause. you mumble, quietly, a little embarrassed. “i shouldn’t have told you to go fuck yourself.”

satoru breathes out an amused huff, chuckling lightheartedly. his eyes carry a teasing glint when they meet yours. “i probably deserved that. no worries.”

“still,” you pout. satoru giggles. 

“we’ll both work on it, then,” he hums, tilting his head to find your gaze. “right?”

you blink. a small smile breaks out across your face. “right.”

satoru swings your hands back and forth, looking awfully happy with himself. you’re proud of him. really.

“oh —“ he says, breaking the sleepy silence once again. “and i’ll stop leaving wrappers around, too.”

this time, you’re the one who huffs out an amused breath. “thank you,” you grin, looking up at him. he thinks the sight is terribly precious.

a yawn leaves your lips, drowsiness sneaking its way into your bloodstream. you’re not sure if it’s due to the dark, or if you’re just a tad exhausted after all the arguing and panicking.

satoru notices, and gets an idea.

“you tired, baby?” he coos, eyes teasing but soft around the edges. “d’you want a piggyback ride?” 

when you give him a look, sleepy and kind of exasperated, satoru grins. you huff out an amused breath, just a tad embarrassed, but it only spurs him on.

so he crouches down, one knee meeting the pavement, letting your hand slip from his. you blink, tiredly, at the loss of contact. you can’t see his face, but you know he’s wearing that lovesick, smug little grin of his. 

”c’mon. your big, strong boyfriend’ll carry you.”

satoru’s feeling playful, you can tell. that’s usually a bad sign — but you can’t deny that you’re tired. and the prospect of getting carried all the way home is eerily tempting. 

your gaze falls on his back, and his broad shoulders. silently, you walk towards him, and wrap your arms around his neck. satoru holds you up by your thighs, and then stands up, jostling you a little; he does so without a hitch, and you’re reminded of how strong he really is. his grip is secure, and you trust him not to drop you, no matter what. 

you let out a content sigh, basking in the chill of the midnight air as you nuzzle your cheek against his soft hair. satoru chuckles.

”my sleepy lil’ sweetheart,” he coos, voice a tad raspy. ”lucky thing you’ve got me, huh?”

there’s a softness to his voice, despite the teasing tilt obscuring it. you can only huff out a breath, somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff, and cling to him tighter.

satoru will get you home safe. he can be annoying, outright insufferable, and he can be bad with emotions — but you can always, always trust him on that. 

so, with his coat shielding you from the chilly air, and his back warming you up as he carries you back to your apartment, you allow your eyes to flutter shut; enjoying the cozy feeling his presence brings you.

he’ll always be there when you need him.

[sunshine-on-marz]

Lost and found

Spencer Reid x Reader

In which Spencer almost loses the love of his life, literally and figuratively

TW: angst with a happy ending, criminal minds level depiction of violence, mentions of death, it takes a little to get to the actual plot but trust me it’s worth it, (tell me if i missed any)

Word count: 3.3K

To know Spencer Reid was to be absolutely enthralled by him. You were both 16 when you met, granted you were 16 in your junior year of highschool and he was 16 working on his 2nd PHD, but you were both 16 nonetheless.

It had taken some convincing to get a place in his life, not because he didn’t like you or your company, more because he was waiting for your ulterior motive to show itself, or for your patience to wear thin. It never did.

You knew vaguely about his mother, mostly through a news article you found from a few years back, talking about the prodigy like he was more of circus attraction then a 12 year old. It had mentioned that he also took care of his sick mother, and with his hyperfixation on finding a cure to schizophrenia, you’d connected the dots.

But you still didn’t want to assume.

“Hey Spence, why’re you so set on finding a cure?” You ask, gesturing to the 8th book on schizophrenia you’d seen him read in the 3 months you’ve known him.

“My mother” he says, closing the book and placing it infront of him. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m curious about what goes on in the mind of Spencer Reid” you smile “though, I’m sure you could tell me exactly what’s happening up there, down to the chemicals”, he laughs at that

“I could give you an idea” he says, you hover your hands over the book, he nods, you open it to the last page.

“508 pages, how long would that take you to read?” You ask

“A little under 10 minutes, if I had to guess, I don’t know how many words are on each page” he says

“Well I’m not counting so I guess we’re gonna have to stick with an estimate” you joke, he smiles again.

You sit in silence for a minute, just looking at each other, and the book. There’s a light tension, unasked questions float between you.

“Can I be invasive?” You ask, Spencer nods

“You usually don’t ask first” he smiles

“You suck” you reach to hit his arm, you don’t. “I won’t hit you before asking about your sick mother, actually”

“I appreciate that” he laughs “but what do you want to know?”

“What’s her name?” You ask, he seems a little shocked.

“Diana.”

“And you take care of her?” You already know the answer, but he’d never said it explicitly.

“Yea” he nods, he looks at you like he knows what you’ll ask next

“Well, tell me if there’s ever anything I can do to help. Her or you, I can’t imagine that’s an easy thing to do alone, props to you spence” you smile, and if someone saw his face right now, they’d assume you asked him- well not many questions would dumbfound Spencer Reid but that’s not the point.

“You’re not gonna ask if I hate it? Or if I want to put her in a home?” He asks, sounding more confused than you’d ever seen him

“Do you want me to ask that?” You counter.

“No.. not really” he looks at his hands, which are rubbing together. A nervous habit of his you’d picked up on rather quickly.

“Well then I won’t ask it” you smile, so does he.

It’s a week later when he tells you why he’d been so shocked that day.

You were on his front porch, about to meet his mother for the first time. He said she’d been having a good day, and though you weren’t exactly sure what that entailed, he said it with enough excitement that you decided to just ask later.

“When you first asked about my mom, you asked what her name was” he says, you nod.

“Thats usually my starting point, yea” you laugh softly “why, was that the wrong thing to ask?”

“No- no no no. It was the perfect thing to ask! I just- you were the first person to ask what her name was before you asked about what’s wrong with her” he says, and he looks sad, so you offer a hand. You know he’ll say no, but you don’t miss how he smiles everytime you offer.

“Wanna tell me about her? I never know what I’m walking into meeting my friends parents, I would’ve brought her flowers but I didn’t know what kind she liked” you say, and his smile goes from soft to wide and bright.

He is ineffably beautiful.

“She likes lilies” he smiles “and she’s really nice, when she’s, yknow” you just nod. And then he holds out his hand, you take it. And that’s the first time you ever touched Spencer Reid.

You met his mother that night, it was uneventful, but it was nice.

That’s a lot of your friendship with Spencer. Uneventful, but nice. More than nice, it’s wonderful. He’s wonderful. You’re there when he gets his first PHD at 17, your there when he has to put his mother into assisted living, you’re there when he gets the letter saying he’s been invited to the FBI academy, you even drive him to go meet Agent Gideon.

You see him off at the airport when he goes to Quanico.

And that’s the last time you see your best friend.

After a while weekly phone calls became monthly, and monthly became and occasional text on birthdays and holidays and informing the other of big achievements, but by his 3rd year as an agent, friendships were hard to maintain.

You’d accepted never seeing your friend again.

Spencer hoped he’d never see you again, because he knew he didn’t have the guts to reach out, and he knew that the only time his teammates seemed to see old friends was when they were a part of a case.

But he also knew you.

And he recognized your necklace the second he saw the pictures Penelope had on the screen.

“The second and third victims haven’t been found, but they’re believed dead” JJ says, Spencer barely hears it.

“I need air” is all he manages to say as he rushes out of the room. Derek went after him and caught him as he collapsed.

“Hey man, what’s goin on?” Derek asked him, holding onto Spencer’s shaking shoulders as he tries to stay upright.

“I can’t- she can’t- she can’t be dead” his words were barely audible and even less coherent.

“Do you know one of the victims?” Derek asked, and Spencer nodded.

He more than knew you, he’d held you while you cried, he’d slept in your bed the night his mom went into care, you were the only person there for him at his graduations, he’d helped you decorate your first apartment. You were so much more than someone he knew. And you were so much more than victim number 3.

“Spencer? Hello?” Derek’s hand waved infront of Spencer’s face as he zoned back into reality.

“Sorry” I he muttered as he started to stand up. He and Derek walked back into the briefing room, he doesn’t apologize for his outburst, he just sits and waits for Penelope and JJ to continue. They do.

“Well, 3 girls went missing in New York City within a span of a week. The reason we’re on this case is because they all worked for the same law firm”

Spencer takes a shuttering breath.

“The first victim, whose body was found dumped in a dumpster by a homeless man, was 56 year old Mrs. Shelly Kailee, a lawyer at Shelly and Dylan law firm, she was a co-owner along with her Husband Dylan. The two other victims, who are still currently missing, are Darleen Calvin, and Y/N L/N. Darleen is 28 and a practicing attorney at the same law firm, she’s only been practicing there for a few months after graduation from University of New York in January. Y/N is 25 and is working as a receptionist at the law firm while working on her law degree at Cornell. Both girls are reportedly very sociable and very kind, but from what we’ve been told, Y/N seemed to be more acquainted with everyone while Darleen seemed to just have a large group of friends. That’s the only information we have on them” JJ says. It seems everyone’s eyes drifted to Spencer, but his were dead set on your face on the projector. Smiling. You had the same smile. You were still wearing the same necklace you wore every day since he gave it to you at 18 when you graduated. You were still as beautiful as he remembered.

“She wouldn’t let anyone take her to a second location, not without a fight. We’re probably looking at a fairly athletic man, unless we find out that she sent someone her location. Then it’s probably someone charismatic, charming, played himself as a friend” he says, and everyone nods.

“You think she’d fall for that?” Morgan asks, he gets a few glares. But Spencer nods. “I think I saw her have a conversation with a homeless man once because she thought he might be lonely.” He says “so yes”. Hotch clears his throat “Spencer is there any possibility she’s.. changed since you knew her?”. Spencer shakes his head “we only really fell completely out of touch a few months back, she seemed pretty much the same the last time I called her, which was probably 6 months ago”

You could’ve cut the tension with a knife.

“Spencer I’m sorry-“ Emily says, he cuts her off.

“You can be sorry if we find a body” he says. And they get the message.

“Wheels up in 10” Hotch says.

Spencer works that case like a dog. There’s not a moment where he isn’t doing something to find you. Something to make sure you’re okay.

A few times, Derek had to pull him out of the police precinct, just so he’d get a couple hours of sleep.

He was beside himself.

Then the tapes showed up.

On the front steps of the police station, there was a box, with 4 tapes, each labeled with a date of the days you’d been missing, the most recent being from the day before.

The first started with a voice they later confirmed to be Shelly’s. A final message to her husband and kids. Tearful messages to each one about how much she loved them. And then a gunshot.

The second tape was worse. It was of you and Darleen. Spencer recognized your voice immediately, he could tell you were holding back tears. Darleen on the other hand was sobbing. You were both pleading for you life. You were a bit more composed, and he quickly recognized some of what you were saying as examples he’d said to you when talking about what usually does and doesn’t work on killers.

He never intended you to have to put those lessons to use.

And the selfish part of him wonders if you thought of him when you spoke.

The 3rd tape is the shortest. It’s just a gunshot and a scream. Your scream. He, for the first time in his life, sincerely hopes that you watched someone get killed.

The final tape is just you.

And it breaks him.

There’s a few seconds of silence before your voice starts.

“This is a message for Spencer Reid, and the rest of the FBI. My name is Y/N, and if you’re listening to this. I am dead.”

And his face falls.

“Spence, meeting you in highschool was the greatest thing I’ve ever done. And I love you, I love you so much Spencer. And I hope-“ the tape ends.

Spencer listens to that tape another dozen times.

The cops find Darleen’s body before lunch.

He doesn’t have it in him to care.

He listens to the tape again. And then it hits him.

You had never once said you met Spencer in highschool. You always, always made it a point to say that you were in highschool, but he wasn’t.

And it was currently summer, and the highschool was empty.

“Guys I know where she is-“

Hotch cut him off with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Spencer she’s dead” he said, his voice wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t gentle either. Spencer could’ve punched him.

“They’re at the highschool. Trust me” his voice was shaking, not with doubt, but with fear. Fear that both he and Hotch were right, and that in a couple hours he’d see you again under the worst possible circumstances.

But they went anyway.

He was zoned out most of the car ride, ignoring Derek’s questions of if he’s sure he can handle this.

For Spencer, it doesn’t matter if he thinks he can, because he has too.

He’s a few feet past the doorway when it really sinks in that he might leave the building again with your lifeless body in his arms. He pushes the thought aside. It felt like betrayal not to try and have hope, because for Spencer, you were hope incarnate. It would feel disrespectful to take that from you without asking first.

He heard it before anyone else did.

He all but ripped the door open, the local PD turning on their heels at his aggressive movements.

But there you were, in a chair, sobbing into your binds. He was infront of you in seconds, shouting for someone to cut the ropes holding your wrists and ankles as he removed the cloth from your mouth.

“You’re okay, you’re alright now, I’ve got you” his hands gently holding your cheeks as you leaned forward into his chest, your arms wrapping around his torso once they were cut free.

“I knew you’d come- I knew it. I told him but he said you wouldnt find me so- so in the tape- oh my god did he send you the tapes?” He cut off your manic rambling with soft shushing

“I know you knew, you always know, and yes we got the tapes. You did good, you did everything perfect. I understood.” He assured you, running his hands through your hair.

Emily came up to you and Spencer, putting her hand on his shoulder.

“Does she know where he is?” She asks.

He starts to speak, but you do it first. “Maybe the janitors closet? Or the bathroom? He- he made us scrub the floors, he was like- he was psychotic about it” you say, she nods and leaves the room, Spencer just tucks your head back under his chin.

“You’re doing so well” he whispers

“Spencer I want to leave” you cry

“Alright, alright. Let’s get you out of here” he says, slipping his arm under your knees and lifting you. You probably could’ve walked, but no one was shocked that he chose to carry you out.

He asked the EMTs more questions than your frazzled mind could even think of.

“Dr.Reid, she’s going to be fine. It’s cuts and bruises and maybe a few pulled muscles, she will be fine once she gets some fluids and a good meal in her system. “

He still didn’t believe it.

He didn’t believe it when the nurses told him the same thing, he didn’t believe it on the car ride back to the precinct after you were discharged, and he didn’t believe it when you sat next to him during your cognitive interview.

He’d fought Hotch about giving you one, but Hotch said that having a solid story will help make sure the man who did this is kept in prison for as long as possible, and you’d volunteered.

“You really dont have to” he says, you shake your head

“Spence i can handle it” you say

“Im not leaving your side.” He insists, you laugh a bit, which all but calms him down.

“I didnt think you would.” You offer your hand, and for the first time he accepts the invitation.

The interview makes you cry, which could’ve been predicted, but it still breaks Spencer’s heart.

After that he sets a semi-permanent ban on anyone asking you about what happened.

JJ brings you a change of clothes and you thank her profusely as she walks you to the bathroom and helps you wash your face and body as best as you can with wet paper towels.

Spencer anxiously waits outside.

“She’s with JJ, man. You can go outside and take a breather if you need” Derek offers.

“I’ll go outside and take a breather with Y/N when they’re done. Im sure this isnt where she wants to be right now.” Spencer says, Derek sighs.

“Spence, that girl might be one of the most well adjusted victims we’ve ever seen, she’ll be okay if you step away for 5 minutes-“ Spencer cuts him off

“I wont” he says “do you not get that? She’s well adjusted, Im not. I am not well adjusted to almost losing her and im not well adjusted to having her back so Derek would you please stop suggesting that I need space from her because space from her is the last thing I need right now” they stand in silence for a minute until you leave the bathroom.

“Spence? Everything okay?” JJ asks as she walks out of the bathroom after you, you quickly finding your place leaning against Spencer’s side.

“Yea we’re good” Derek answers for him, placing a firm hand on Spencer’s shoulder, and leaving with a small nod of understanding.

Spencer guides you outside.

He sits next to you on the bench outside the precinct, your head on his shoulder and his arm around you.

“Im really glad you picked up on that” you say

“Picked up on what?” He asks, his hand moving from next to you on the bench to your lap, resting on top of your own.

“The highschool thing, i honestly didnt know if he’d even send the tapes, kinnda figured he was making them for himself” you say, interlacing your fingers with his “but I figured it was worth a shot”

“It was smart” he says, squeezing your hand “took me awhile to realize”

“Did it?” You ask “and here i was thinking you were a genius. Spencer when have i ever skipped a chance to brag about you?” You smile at him, he shrugs.

“I was under a little stress” he says, pulling you closer.

“I know, im sorry I scared you”

“Dont apologize, this is not your fault. You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.” You just nod.

There’s silence for a while, it could’ve been hours, neither of you would’ve noticed, or minded.

“Do you want to move in with me?” He says it before he even realized he thought it, immediately looking just as shocked as you. “I am so sorry- i just- well i figured-“

“Spencer” you grab his hand. “We’ll talk about it” you say, and that seems to be the right answer as he wraps you into a hug.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay” he whispers, you nod.

“It doesn’t require moving in for us to stay in contact” you say

“But you’re so far” you just nod in response. “I dont want to lose you again” he whispers

“Spence you didnt lose me, im alright-” he stops you

“Thats not what i meant. Not entirely” he clarifies, you sigh and pull him into another long hug.

“My lease ends next month” you hum

“See you in Virginia next month?” He asks, you smile

“We’ll talk about it”

There’s never a conversation about if you’ll move in. Spencer just Venmo’s you (he got Garcia to teach him how) 300 bucks along with “plane ticket or take out dinner for a week” which makes you laugh, and it also makes you call him to ask approximately how much of your stuff would fit in his apartment, he says he’ll make as much space as you need.

A month later you show up to one of Rossi’s dinner parties hand in hand with Spencer, JJ hands Derek 20 bucks, and slowly, everything falls back into place.

(PS: Spencer makes sure you have everything you need to finish school online because he’ll be damned if you gave up your dreams for a man, even if he himself is that man.)

Remember to reblog with feedback!! Reblogs make the world go round and feedback helps artists keep creating!

This might be the longest fic ive ever written. This took 2 days and a few tears but finally it’s done. Im tagging the pookies bc Ykw i worked too hard not too @the-phantom-author @thesockbehindthewashingmachine @mariasont @st4rgzer @canonically-a-genloser

[raekensluver]

hearts aligned

description: you and your roommate spencer reid have always been there for each other. one night he comes back from work and you two discover a different side to your dynamic.

pairing: roomate!spencer reid x fem!reader

contains: fluff!! mutual pining, typical criminal minds violence, reader is described as having shoulder length hair

song rec: fallen star by the nbhd- "you're in my dna, i can't keep away no matter how hard i try"

w.c: 2.7k

an: *sob* i love him.

it was a mundane tuesday evening, the kind that bled into the fabric of the week seamlessly. the apartment was quiet, the only sound the hum of the refrigerator echoing through the hallway. the soft glow of the living room lamp cast a warm, buttery light, a stark contrast to the deepening shadows outside the window. you sat cross-legged on the couch, your nose buried in a well-worn paperback, the plot weaving in and out of your consciousness like a gentle stream.

the sound of the lock turning brought your head up with a jolt, the bookmark slipping from your fingers to land silently on the carpet. spencer reid, your roommate, stepped inside, his eyes weary but a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. his gaze swept the room before settling on you, the surprise in his eyes unmistakable. "you're still up," he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to shake the very air.

you closed the book with a soft thud and gave him a warm smile. "yeah, i had some trouble sleeping," you admitted, your voice a little hoarse from the quiet of the night. "do you want some tea?" you offered, already pushing to your feet. his nod was all the encouragement you needed as you padded into the kitchen, the cold tiles a stark contrast to the warmth of the living room. while the water heated, you listened to the soft thud of his shoes against the floor as he moved towards his room, the jingle of his keys a familiar lullaby.

but when you turned with the steaming mug in hand, you found him hovering in the doorway, watching you. "you know, i can do that," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "i don't mind, really." his voice was gentle, a hint of concern lacing his words.

you paused, the ceramic warm against your palms, and studied him for a moment. his tie was askew, his shirt wrinkled from a long day's work, and his hair, normally a neat cap of chocolate waves, was disheveled. "you've had a long day," you said, your voice firm but kind. "just sit." you gestured to the stool at the kitchen island, the one that faced the stove where you were already setting out ingredients for a simple meal. "i'll make us something light."

he hesitated, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "alright," he conceded, his shoulders slumping slightly as he took a seat. the fabric of his pants whispered against the leather of the stool as he settled in, his eyes never leaving you as you moved with an easy grace around the kitchen. you could feel the weight of his gaze, a warm presence that made your cheeks flush, and your heart stutter in your chest.

you filled a pan with oil, the faint sizzle as it heated up a comforting sound. "so, how was work today?" you asked, trying to keep your voice casual despite the sudden thrum of anticipation that had taken root in your veins.

spencer took a sip of his tea, his eyes thoughtful. "it was… interesting," he said, his gaze drifting over the steaming liquid. "but i'd rather not talk about that right now," he added, his voice a low murmur. "do you mind if we talk about something else?"

you nodded, setting aside the knife you were using to chop vegetables. "of course," you said, wiping your hands on a dishtowel. "what do you want to talk about?"

spencer leaned against the counter, his expression pensive. "tell me about your day," he said, his eyes searching yours. "i feel like i never get to hear about it."

you felt a flutter in your stomach. "it was…normal," you said, the words feeling almost rehearsed. "work, errands, the usual."

spencer's gaze remained steady, a hint of curiosity lighting his eyes. "anything exciting happen?"

you couldn't help but chuckle at his persistence. "well, if you consider accidentally matching my socks with my shirt 'exciting,' then yes, it was quite the thriller," you said with a wry smile.

his eyes lit up with amusement, the corners of his mouth twitching. "i see," he said, his voice teasing. "that does sound like a tale for the ages."

you rolled your eyes playfully, the tension in the room easing a notch. "it was definitely a fashion statement," you quipped, tossing a chopped carrot into the pan. the sizzle filled the air, the scent of garlic and onions mingling with the warmth of the kitchen.

spencer set his tea aside, leaning closer. "i'm sure it was," he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "but really, anything interesting happen?"

you met his gaze, a sudden realization dawning. "you know what, spencer?" you said, your voice earnest. "right now, this moment, is the most interesting thing that's happened to me all day." his eyes widened slightly, and you could see the wheels turning in his head. "just being here, with you, talking about nothing in particular… it's nice."

his cheeks colored slightly, and he ducked his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "it is," he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. "i don't get to do this very often."

you cocked your head to the side, studying him. "what do you mean?"

he shrugged, his eyes darting to the floor. "i spend so much time working, or reading, or… just in my own head," he admitted. "i don't get to just sit and talk with people. not like this."

you felt a warmth spread through you, a sense of connection that was more profound than any conversation you'd had with him before. "i'm always here, you know," you said softly, the words slipping out before you could second guess them. "if you ever need someone to talk to, or just to sit with."

his eyes snapped back up to yours, the surprise in them clear. "i know," he said, his voice a little gruff. "i just… i don't want to burden you."

you set the spatula down, moving closer to him. "you're not a burden, spencer," you said, your voice firm. "you're my roommate. and if you ever need anything, i'm here."

his eyes searched yours, the depth of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. "i know," he repeated, his voice softer this time. "it's just… i don't want to take advantage."

you reached out, placing a hand on his forearm. "you could never take advantage," you assured him, your thumb stroking a gentle circle against his skin. "we're friends, we're supposed to be here for each other."

spencer's eyes dropped to where your hand rested, the warmth of your touch seeping into his bones. "i know that," he murmured. "but i also know that you have your own life, your own things to deal with."

you gave his arm a gentle squeeze before retreating to the stove, the comforting dance of cooking resuming as if the moment had never happened. "and you're part of my life," you said, your back to him. "so, what's one more thing?"

spencer watched you for a moment, his eyes tracing the curve of your back, the way your hair fell in soft waves down to your shoulders. he took a deep breath, the scent of the simmering food filling his nostrils. "what's your favorite memory?" he asked, his voice a little rough.

you glanced over your shoulder, a smile playing on your lips. "just one?" you teased, turning back to the stove. "that's a tough one." you stirred the contents of the pan, the spices releasing a symphony of aromas into the air. "but if i had to pick, it would be the first time we moved in together."

spencer's eyes lit up, the memory obviously a good one. "that was… chaotic," he said with a laugh, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "but also… nice."

you nodded, your smile growing. "i remember being so nervous," you said, the words bringing a warm rush of nostalgia. "i didn't know what to expect, moving in with someone i'd only met only once before."

spencer's gaze grew distant, his mind traveling back to that fateful day. "i was the same," he admitted. "i had this whole speech prepared about how we should respect each other's space and keep things clean, but when i saw you, it all just… disappeared."

you turned to face him, your eyes wide with surprise. "really?"

he nodded, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. "i know it sounds ridiculous, but you just… you made me feel comfortable. like i could be myself around you."

you felt your heart swell at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. "i felt the same way," you admitted, your voice a little shaky. "i remember walking in and seeing all these boxes, and thinking 'what have i gotten myself into?'" you laughed, the sound a little too loud in the quiet kitchen. "but then you looked up from your book, and you just… you were so genuine, so welcoming."

spencer's smile grew, his eyes a soft brown in the muted light. "i've never regretted that decision," he said, his voice earnest. "you make this place feel like home."

you blinked, the sudden weight of his words settling in your stomach. "i'm… i'm happy to hear that," you said, your voice a little breathless.

spencer pushed himself off the stool, the sound of it scraping against the tile floor breaking the silence. he took a step closer to you, the warmth of his body radiating like a small sun. "i mean it," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "you're the best roommate i could ever ask for."

you swallowed hard, the heat of the stove behind you seemingly nothing compared to the warmth in front of you. "thank you," you whispered, your hand still clutching the spatula. "you're pretty great too."

his smile grew, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "yeah?" he asked, his voice hopeful.

you nodded, feeling your heart race. "yes," you said, turning back to the stove to give yourself a moment to compose. "you're always there when i need you, and you put up with my terrible cooking."

spencer chuckled, moving closer to peer into the pan. "i wouldn't say it's terrible," he said, his eyes twinkling. "just… adventurous."

you shot him a playful glare, but couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "adventurous, huh?" you said, shaking your head. "i'll take that as a compliment."

spencer stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently take the spatula from your grip. "i'll help," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. the air between you felt charged, the tension thick and palpable. your heart was racing, each beat echoing in your ears like the tick of a clock counting down to something you hadn't quite anticipated.

you let him take over, watching as his long, slender fingers deftly stirred the sizzling mixture. "i've been meaning to tell you something," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "i know we've been roommates for a while now, but… i've started to realize that i might like you a little more than just a friend."

you froze, the heat from the stove forgotten. your eyes searched his, looking for any sign of uncertainty or jest, but all you found was sincerity. "spencer," you began, but he held up a hand to stop you.

"i know it's weird," he said, his voice rushing out like a river that had been dammed for too long. "and i know we're friends, and roommates, but… i can't ignore it anymore."

you stared at him, your thoughts racing faster than the cars on the street outside. "spencer," you breathed, his name a question, a declaration, a plea all rolled into one. your hand hovered in the space between you, unsure of where to land.

his eyes searched yours, the warmth of his hand as he took the spatula a silent promise. "i know," he continued, his voice a little shaky. "but i can't help it. every time i come home and you're here, waiting for me, it's like… it's like coming home to a piece of sunshine."

you felt your heart stutter in your chest, the words resonating deep within you. "spencer," you whispered, the name a prayer on your lips. "i… i feel the same way." the words hung in the air, a soft confession that seemed to illuminate the kitchen with a gentle glow.

his eyes searched yours, a hopeful spark lighting them up. "you do?" he asked, his voice tentative, as if he was afraid to believe.

you nodded, your own heart racing. "yes," you said, your voice clear and firm. "i've liked you for a while now. i just didn't know how to tell you." the admission felt like a weight lifting off your chest, leaving you feeling lighter than air.

spencer's smile grew, a genuine, boyish grin that made your heart flutter. "really?" he asked, his voice filled with wonder.

you nodded, your cheeks flushing a soft pink. "yes," you whispered, your eyes never leaving his. "i just didn't want to mess things up."

spencer set the spatula down, the clatter against the pan a jolting sound in the quiet kitchen. "you could never mess things up," he said, his voice a soft promise. "not with me."

you took a step closer, the warmth of his body drawing you in like a magnet. "are you sure?" you asked, your voice a little shaky.

he nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "i've never been more sure of anything in my life," he said, his voice a low murmur. "you make me feel… alive, in a way i haven't felt in a long time."

you felt your breath catch in your throat, the confession so raw and honest that it was like a punch to the gut. "spencer," you whispered, reaching out to touch his cheek. your fingertips traced the line of his jaw, feeling the rough stubble beneath your fingertips.

his eyes searched yours, the question in them unspoken but clear. "what are we going to do?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

you took a deep breath, the scent of the food on the stove forgotten. "i don't know," you admitted, your voice a little shaky. "i just know that i don't want to ignore this anymore."

spencer reached up, his hand covering yours on his cheek. "neither do i," he murmured, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. "i don't want to pretend it's not there."

you stepped closer, your hand sliding down to cup his face fully. "then let's not," you said, your voice a little tremulous. "let's see where this goes."

his eyes searched yours for a moment before he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours tentatively. it was a gentle touch, a question that hung in the air between you, waiting for an answer. you responded with a sigh, your arms wrapping around his neck as you deepened the kiss. his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, the warmth of his body a comforting embrace that seemed to fit you perfectly.

the world outside the kitchen faded away, the only sounds the faint crackle of the stove and the thud of your hearts beating in sync. the kiss grew more urgent, more passionate, as if you were both trying to make up for lost time. your hands tangled in his hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingers like silk.

you two broke apart, breathless, your eyes searching each other's for any sign of doubt or regret. but all you saw was a reflection of your own feelings - a wild, unbridled hope that seemed to set the room alight. spencer's chest rose and fell in time with yours, his eyes dark with want.

"i've wanted to do that for so long," he murmured, his voice a hoarse whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

you nodded, your eyes searching his. "i know," you said, your voice just as soft. "me too."

his thumb traced the curve of your lower lip, his gaze never leaving yours. "are we… are we okay?" he asked, his voice a little unsteady.

you nodded, your heart racing. "yes," you breathed, the word a soft promise. "we're more than okay."

[bbyseok]

at first sight? — GOJO SATORU

pairing: gojo satoru x gn!reader

word count: 10k (idek i was possessed)

banner by @/bbyseok , dividers by @/bunnysrph !!

a/n: um hi. its finally here ! thanks to all who liked the teaser, this is my first jjk/gojo fic ever but i really think everyone needs some comfort after jjk chap 261.. and fuck u gege !!

content: soulmate au, gender neutral reader, minimal use of they/them pronouns for reader but gender is not specified, sorcerer reader, nicknames ‘sweetheart’, ‘pretty’, ‘baby’, fluff, mild angst with a happy ending, slowburn??, several pov switches, suggestive/implied nsfw at the end but nothing explicit, brief swearing/explicit language, brief violence/injuries, alcohol consumption, reader gets mildly drunk but nothing else, implied satosugu as past soulmates: can be interpreted as either romantic or platonic, fic takes place after jjk 0 but before the show starts

analysis: this is a world filled not only with curses, but soulmates—in which you know someone is your soulmate when you first make eye contact with them. but for your case, things can get a bit complicated when someone is wearing a blindfold.

here, in this universe, you can tell that someone is your soulmate by simply looking at them. so with that, the saying of “love at first sight” is actually pretty accurate here. you see them for the very first time and barely know the person and yet, somehow, they’re the one you’re destined to be with.

with that, you’d think it’d be pretty common for two random people to run into each other while crossing the street or something and bam! suddenly you’ve found the supposed love of your life!

and you? well, for you, that hasn’t happened yet.

to be fair, it’s not like you’re actively trying to look for your soulmate. handling curses as a jujutsu sorcerer is difficult enough. (maybe you’ll run into them one day after saving them from a curse or something. how romantic!)

it’s better to leave it up to fate. it’s fate who decided your pairing anyway, right?

your transfer to jujutsu tech had been fairly smooth. after being stationed in kyoto for a while, tokyo was a nice change of pace.

coincidentally, you had been out of the country during the incident known as the night parade of a hundred demons. a scary event that proved the threat of curse users to be formidable.

because of that, your decision to transfer to tokyo seemed like the right thing to do. and so far, it’s been decent.

it’s a nice change of scenery. the students are aspiring; while maki and megumi aren’t the friendliest, they’re warming up to you. toge and panda are gradually improving.

nanami’s pessimistic outlook on jujutsu society and shoko’s overall unenthusiastic demeanor are certainly interesting for the most part, but your coworkers are pleasant to be around.

well. except for one.

gojo satoru knows that you are his soulmate. he has indeed known this fact right from the very start, ever since your first meeting.

even with his blindfold on, he could see your own eyes before him. his six eyes can see everything. the thing is.. he didn’t know he could have another soulmate.

his situation with geto suguru is something he doesn’t talk about with anyone. maybe shoko at times, but even then, it’s rare. it’s not that he doesn’t want to, but it’s pretty hard to talk about.

after suguru defected, gojo could still obviously feel their bond. even though they were no longer together as the strongest duo, did it really matter when their souls were still connected to one another? it was a factor that played in avoiding (and perhaps meeting up with) each other as the years went by.

satoru felt their bond die that day after the events with okkotsu and rika. and it had frightened him. that lingering presence of the bond was no longer there.

so imagine his surprise when he sees you.

a new sorcerer in kyoto, now transferred to tokyo. normally, gojo doesn’t seek out the new recruits, but yaga had dragged him over regardless. besides, he might as well get to know his possible assistant teacher that would be helping him out with the new first years.

“i guess i can check out some new faces,” he relented with a sigh, adjusting his blindfold and looking to the side as yaga’s steps slowed as they approached you.

gojo rolled his eyes–not that you’d see it anyway–as yaga introduced you with your name and your sorcerer grade. he stopped to stand next to the principal.

you extended your hand to offer a handshake, and gojo finally turned his head.

that feeling as his gaze fell upon yours beneath the blindfold was familiar—frighteningly so—and unfamiliar at the same time. as if he could breathe for the first time in ages. your eyes are unaware, but they’re so revealing to him.

satoru stuttered in his movements, reluctantly taking your hand. the skin that touched yours felt like it was on fire. he briefly held on to see if you felt it too.

but you simply smiled up at him.

“it’s nice to meet you, gojo,” you said, blissfully unaware of the revelation currently dawning on the man before you and the turmoil it brought as he abruptly retracted his arm back.

gojo stiffened. he merely offered a curt nod before turning on heel and walking away briskly. he could faintly hear yaga protest about his sudden departure before apologizing to you hastily. satoru shook his head.

how was this be possible? how could the universe give him two soulmates? he didn’t even know that was a thing that could happen. he wondered if there had been a similar occurrence before.

gojo couldn’t help but feel nauseous. was this the world playing some sort of sick, cruel joke on him? or was it perhaps giving him a second chance?

and truthfully, it wasn’t like gojo even wanted another soulmate. not after what he had been through with suguru. he hadn’t given it much thought.

was it really worth it?

what if he couldn’t protect you too?

so satoru had decided on one thing that day: the blindfold stays on. concealing his eyes from the world not only for him, but for your sake too. he was certain in his choice; he would never tell you the truth.

as far as you were concerned, you haven’t met your soulmate yet.

and never will.

your first meeting with gojo wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but it wasn’t something you could describe as good either. you’ve been left with the impression that he’s cocky and indifferent.

and that he doesn’t like you.

it’s been around.. two? three weeks? it’s been a while since your encounter with the white-haired sorcerer, and you’ve only seen a few glimpses of him here and there on campus.

okay, he doesn’t display any outright mean or ill intention towards you. on the very rare times the two of you do interact, he is obviously curt and clipped. seems like he’s deemed you worthy of the only either nods or one word responses.

you’ve yet to actually participate in a lesson or mission with gojo, but you prefer it that way. providing individual training and advice for the upcoming second years has been going great. at this point, you’re sure it’d only be awkward.

besides, the strongest sorcerer alive doesn’t necessarily need assistance in dealing with curses after all. that much is understandable.

you’re currently in the teachers’ lounge room with nanami. even though he isn’t actually a teacher, he pays visits sometimes. he’s good company anyway.

“it’s nice to hear that you’re settling in well,” the blonde says with a nod. he loosens his necktie absentmindedly as he adjusts the newspaper in his lap. “especially with that gojo around. he can be a pain in the ass sometimes.”

you frown at the mention of the sorcerer, crossing your arms. you’re seated across from nanami, watching him idly look through the newspaper.

“oh, well, actually, he isn’t too much trouble. for me, at least,” you reply, brows furrowing, “he barely talks to me.” (in fact, he seems to avoid you like you’re carrying the plague or something.)

nanami looks up, raising a brow. “huh. you should be grateful then.” he then hums, “but maybe that’ll change once there’s actually new first year students to teach. you both are assigned to them after all.”

you lean back in your seat, your shoulders committing to a halfhearted shrug. “maybe. it’s not like i never did anything bad to him though..”

nanami sighs gruffly. “don’t think about it too much.” before he can continue, there’s the sound of footsteps. nanami brings his newspaper back up, muttering, “speak of the devil.”

“nanamiiii!” gojo’s voice sounds from around the corner. it almost startles you how lively he sounds. you realize you’ve never actually heard or seen how he acts without you around.

nanami doesn’t respond, rolling his eyes.

gojo strolls in enthusiastically, blindfold on. “heyy, nanami, we should-” he cuts off when he presumably sees you, falling quiet and stopping short.

you blink, a bit hurt. does he dislike you that much? but you don’t let it show, resorting to greeting him politely like you usually do when you occasionally pass each other.

“good afternoon, gojo,” you muse, offering a little wave.

nanami notices his reaction too, but doesn’t comment on it. he continues to ignore the sorcerer’s presence in fact, eyes still roaming over the newspaper.

gojo clears his throat and resumes his pace. “afternoon,” he responds, focusing his attention back on nanami. he reaches the two of you, giving you no further acknowledgment.

you don’t care if he can see you looking at him, you opt to stare at the black blindfold covering his face. you have a hunch that he can see, or at least feel, you staring at him.

“can i borrow you for a sec, nanami?”

nanami emits an exasperated sigh, but stands nonetheless to follow gojo out of the room for some discussion not meant for your ears apparently, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

do you make gojo uncomfortable? you don’t know what you could’ve possibly done so though. from what you’ve heard from the others, he can be rather eccentric and overbearing.

does he just not like you? perhaps he views you as inferior, too below his level and power to actually converse with you. while it seems a bit of a stretch, you’re sure it’s not out of the possibility also based on what you’ve heard about him from others.

your frown returns. before you can dwell on it any longer, nanami comes back into the room. “well, i certainly see what you mean from what you said about gojo earlier,” he announces.

his words do nothing to falter your frown. “right.” you then shrug once more, “it’s okay. it’s just a bit.. strange.” you then shake your head, trying to be a bit optimistic. “but also like you said earlier, that might change! who knows?”

who knows, indeed.

megumi tucks the cursed tools inside their designated box and closes the lid. he moves on to the next one right as gojo enters the shed, beaming a smile.

“hey, megumi. you almost done wrapping up things here?” satoru asks, undoing his blindfold naturally. there’s a pair of glasses in his hand ready for use.

the teen nods. they had used a few cursed tools during training session today, and the storage did need a bit of tidying up. “almost done.”

satoru makes a noise of approval as he places his glasses on. “great! do you need help setting up your dorm room?” he looks excited at the idea, still grinning.

meanwhile, megumi looks disinterested at his offer. “no thanks. i think it’ll be easy enough. it’s not like i’m decorating it anyway.”

“oh, boo.” but gojo doesn’t insist on it any further. he actually falls strangely quiet, which causes megumi to glance at him curiously.

his teacher looks.. distraught. it’s hard to actually tell, but he seems to be looking at the floor, maybe lost in thought. before megumi can say anything, gojo’s expression changes and he starts talking again.

“you’re, uh, with the new teacher for tomorrow,” gojo then informs. he shoves his hands into his pockets and kicks at the floor absentmindedly. (he’s fidgeting. subtly.) “it’ll just be you two, i think, on a small mission. so they can get used to actually working with students on field. it’ll be good for the both of you.”

megumi nods. he tilts his head afterward. “you can say their name, you know. it won’t kill you,” he says a bit pointedly, “and they’re not technically new anymore. it has been a few weeks now since they’ve joined the school.”

“right, right.” megumi’s face scrunches up as gojo’s hand comes down to ruffle his hair gently. (a habit that has not died since his younger days.) “whatever you say, megumi.”

despite your minimal interactions and his rather closed off demeanor, megumi is actually one of your favorite students. (and yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have favorites, but oh well.)

your mission with megumi, or rather, the mission you’ve been assigned to supervise the student on, is rather simple.

there’s been reports of a low grade curse roaming the premises of a supermarket neighboring a nearby cemetery, so megumi is to obviously exorcise it under your watch. the area has been closed off with a small veil. megumi had decided to check the parking lot first for any lingering traces, so here you are.

“i think we’re good here,” the teenager confirms as his demon dogs return to his feet, seemingly in the clear. you nod and let him lead the way towards the inside of the store.

as the two of you begin to walk down each aisle with one of the demon dogs trailing behind, megumi says your name in an inquisitive tone. “what do you think of gojo-sensei?”

the sudden question has you blinking in surprise. your eyes scan megumi as you both continue to trek down the aisle. “what makes you ask?”

“no reason.” he doesn’t meet your gaze.

you bite down on your lip in contemplation. you’re not sure what brings this question to mind for him, but you’re willing to indulge him for now. “well.. i think he’s.. alright.” you pause. “as a sorcerer, i admire his strength. though, i think a lot of people think that obviously.”

“and as a person?” megumi presses, turning to investigate the next aisle. he still doesn’t glance over to you, still preoccupied with searching for the curse.

(hell, for a teenager, he sure is perceptive.)

you choose your words carefully, thinking it over with a brief pause.

“i’ll admit, i don’t think i know him well enough to be sure. as a person, i think he’s.. self-centered and rude. sometimes, i see him act very carefree in a way. he’s.. obscure, i guess.” you clear your throat and reiterate, “but again, i don’t really... know him.”

you can see megumi go over your words silently. the quiet continues. the conversation seems to be dying, but it doesn’t matter when monstrous gurgling sounds up ahead.

a curse appears in front of you, the shelving of the aisles toppling over as it gargles some unintelligible roar. megumi doesn’t hesitate, using his technique to summon his demon dogs once more to swiftly engage in combat.

the fight is easily handled in three minutes top. (they weren’t kidding when they said it’d be easy.)

after the commotion has settled, you allow megumi to do one more check up around the store just in case. just as you are prepared to exit and bring down the veil, you decide it’s your turn to ask him now.

“and what about you, megumi?” you inquire lightly, giving one of the demon dogs a few head pats for their good work. “what exactly do you think of gojo?”

megumi hums.

“i agree with most of what you said actually,” he answers honestly, causing you to chuckle in amusement. the teenager tilts his head and finally looks at you. “but i also think he’s kind when he wants to be.”

his frontward honesty surprises you once more. this kid sure is something. you believe his words; he has no reason to lie to you, especially about gojo of all things. still, you poke at him teasingly, “really now?”

you don’t really expect him to answer, but then megumi says in a mumble so quiet that you nearly miss it.

“well, he did sort of raise me after all.”

“i just don’t think he likes me, shoko,” you puff out a sigh, watching as she puffs out smoke. “i’ve seen the way he is around other people, and he’s not like that with me.”

she’s on break right now, so you thought you could talk to her about a certain blindfolded sorcerer who’s been plaguing your thoughts.

it’s interesting to hear about the different sides of gojo satoru from your peers. from nanami, you’ve learned that he’s pretentious and troublesome. from megumi, that he can be caring in his own way. and shoko?

“he’s crazy.” the doctor waves her cigarette at you with a shrug of her shoulders. “but it beats me on why he doesn’t particularly like you.”

you groan, slouching in one of the chairs set up in the infirmary. “maybe i should’ve stayed in kyoto,” you mumble. it’s more of a joke than anything; your.. weird terms with gojo isn’t enough to actually deter you.

but shoko puts the cigarette back to her lips and tilts her head. “want me to ask him about it?”

you straighten your posture abruptly and look at her. “what? you don’t have to. he might think i asked you to or something.”

she shrugs again. “your call.”

your brows furrow. “maybe we just got off on the wrong foot somehow. even though all i did was shake his hand.” you snort. “maybe i can get him something to break the ice. what does he like?”

shoko doesn’t even hesitate. “sweets. he likes his sweets.”

oh. oh, okay! you blink and nod. who would’ve thought? the strongest sorcerer in the world likes sweets. “i can handle sweets.”

you, in fact, cannot handle sweets.

why are there so many? you’re at a local bakery staring at the rows and rows of pastries they have on display, looking as if you’re trying the decipher the world’s hardest math problem.

shoko never specified what kind of sweets he liked during your conversation with her a couple days ago. cake? ice cream? cookies? you might as well buy the whole damn store at this point with your luck. the last thing you want is to buy him something he won’t actually eat.

“oh, fuck it,” you mutter and finally decide on a small piece of cake. it happens to be your favorite kind of cake, but oh well. if he doesn’t like it, he doesn’t like it! it’s the thought that matters anyway, right?

as you exit the shop with your newly acquired dessert, you try to devise a way to give it to him. do you just.. hand it to him? or maybe it’ll be better to leave it in his office. or have shoko give it to him!

ughh, who knew how hard it’d be to give a man a cake? okay, okay. you’ll simply give it to him in person since he’ll know it’s directly from you. problem solved.

well, actually, problem is not solved. how are you supposed to give the cake to gojo in person when you have absolutely no clue where he is right now? after returning to the school, he’s no where to be found, so you eventually turn to yaga for help.

“he’s on a mission where??”

you stare at yaga with wide eyes as he names some city so far away you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to find an affordable ride to get you there in a reasonable amount of time.

“oh, alright,” you say, feeling a little disappointed. the cake suddenly feels a little too big and heavy in your hands.

the principal’s gaze flickers down to your little intended treat for his former student. “these kinds of missions are no trouble for satoru. i’m sure he’ll be back soon, so you can leave that in his office.”

you brighten up at that and nod. “thank you, yaga.” you then dismiss yourself with a polite bow after he informs you where gojo’s office is exactly, and you start to make your way there.

it’s only a few minutes until you get there. you open the door and catch sight of a desk. it looks rather plain, which is understandable since it doesn’t seem like he uses this space often. (though, there is a chair that looks more expensive than your entire rent.)

either way, you walk inside and set the container down on the desk with a small sigh. hopefully the gesture is appreciated! if he really does have a sweet tooth like shoko says, you’re not sure why he’d turn it down. again, you can only hope.

you sigh again and turn to leave when the sound of the door creaking open sounds again. you freeze in place when it swings out fully, revealing the very man you were thinking about.

(yaga was not kidding when he said that gojo finishes his missions pretty fast.)

gojo perks up at the sight of you in his office, and even with his blindfold on, you can tell he’s got a surprised look on his face. “can i help you.. or do you have a reason on why you’re snooping around in my office?” he inquires, walking in.

while not evidently hostile, his appearance and words suddenly have you anxious. “oh, well, i-’’ you want to mentally smack yourself for fumbling over your words. “i’m sorry for intruding. i, uh, just wanted to leave you a little something.”

it’s only then does gojo look past you and makes a small noise. you can’t really decipher it, but you watch as he walks by you to open the small packaging to see the slice of cake meant for him.

and when he makes a small noise again, you can tell it’s one of delight. “you got me.. cake?” he asks, looking to you again questioningly.

“i did,” you clarify with a small nod, summoning a small smile and rubbing the back of your neck a bit sheepishly, “i didn’t know what kind of sweet you would like, so i just ended up choosing my favorite cake. um, i really hope you don’t mind the flavor, but if you don’t you really don’t have to eat it so-”

“kikufuku.”

you stare at him, confused. “what?”

“kikufuku,” satoru reiterates, and it’s his turn to smile. (it nearly catches you off guard because although very small, it’s pretty.) “s’my favorite. or.. one of my favorite sweets. crepes are good too.”

his newfound friendliness has you smiling a bit more evidently, pleased that this interaction is your most pleasant one with him so far in the weeks you’ve been here. “oh, okay,” you chuckle, “noted.”

gojo opens the container and unwraps the plastic fork that had came with it. he takes a bite of the cake and hums in approval. “can see why it’s your favorite. it’s not bad.”

your face lightens up at that. “oh, i’m glad.”

he hums, popping another slice of cake into his mouth. “any particular reason on why you’ve decided to give me cake, if i may ask?”

you falter once more, now nervous in telling that you’re hoping to.. resolve this one-sided tension with you. ultimately, you decide to be straightforward, inhaling deeply and looking at him. (well, his blindfold.)

“well, i’m not an idiot, gojo. you haven’t exactly been.. friendly to me. i’m not trying to win you over or anything, but if we’re going to work together with the first year students, consider this a gift for a truce. or um, a peace offering so we can act somewhat decent with each other.”

the white-haired sorcerer falls silent at your confrontation. you’re half expecting him to brush you off and walk out of the room entirely. especially since he seems to have stiffen up (similarly to the way when you first met, you had noticed).

he seems to contemplate for a bit. you don’t know where he’s looking at; the floor, the cake in his hands, you? it’s suddenly nerve-wracking.

“you’re right,” he finally speaks up, “i.. i’m sorry for my previous behavior towards you. can we start over?” he places the cake aside and walks back over to you to hold out his hand.

“gojo satoru.”

your eyes flicker to his blindfold to his hand, then back to where his eyes are hidden underneath. the rumored powerful and breaktaking six eyes concealed from your ever so curious sight.

against your better judgment, you repeat your name and take his hand.

“it’s nice to meet you, gojo.”

your new relationship with gojo is steadily becoming better. he’s no longer curt with you, and actually engages in conversations even with no other people around.

though, you can’t help but feel like he’d avoiding looking at you for some reason. which is pretty far off since you can’t technically see where he’s looking, but it’s a hunch you have nonetheless.

but hey, it’s progress, progress that you’re somewhat happy about.

like now, as satoru leans over your shoulder to peer at the clipboard in your hands. you’ve just finished wrapping up a lesson with the soon-to-be second years out on the field.

“ooh, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow, teach?” he pries.

“assistant teach,” you remind him teasingly, going over the contents of the clipboard. “more sparring. oh, and the registration for that new first year.”

“the one from the countryside?” gojo hums.

you nod. “yep. a.. kugasaki nobara. we won’t actually get to meet her, but arrangements for her arrival are getting finalized.”

“oh, boo. s’just more paperwork,” the sorcerer beside you whines, kicking at the grass.

“at least megumi isn’t the only one now,” you point out and finally turn to him.

just as you expected, satoru glances away to look at panda and toge finishing up. you squint at him narrowly but don’t comment on it.

“that’s true. not like that kid cares anyway, but it’ll be good for him,” gojo agrees airily, shoving his hands into his pockets.

you eye him. “hey, gojo?”

“yeah?” his head remains turned to the students. (further proving your point! you feel like you’re collecting evidence here; the gojo satoru cannot look at you in the eye!)

you hesitate. “wanna grab some kikufuku?”

he perks up at that. (like a puppy, really. it almost makes you laugh.) “mm, whatever happened to not trying to win me over with sweets?” he teases.

you laugh at that then, shaking your head in soft denial. “no- that’s not what i-”

“well, you did said kikufuku.." satoru interrupts you with a dramatic sigh and heave of his shoulders, “so how could i ever possibly resist?”

satoru doesn’t dare to look down at you.

“care to join me?”

but you smile up at him cheekily, and he hates the way the sunlight is hitting your features just right. it looks like the color of your eyes is glistening.

you’re just.. lying down on the grass of one of the training fields, admiring the drifting formations of white clouds on the blue canvas that is the sky.

satoru keeps telling himself that shouldn’t be doing this. his first mistake was accepting your cake. allowing himself to get closer to you. but when you look at him like that, he feels like he can do anything. which is odd, becaues really, he can do anything. it goes without saying as his status as the strongest.

but with you, it’s starting to feel a bit different.

when he doesn’t give you an immediate answer, you tilt your head and continue to blink up at him. “you can see the sky even with your blindfold on, right?”

he snorts. “yeah, i can.”

you pat the space on the grass next to you welcomingly, a beckoning that he just can’t resist again. “well, come on and join me,” you persist.

he hesitates, shifting his weight on his legs for a moment. against his better judgement, he joins you. it’s surprisingly comfortable, he finds, as he kicks out his legs and sighs.

it’s a comfortable silence that it’s almost startling. how easy it is just to be around you. (which is the exact reason why he had been avoiding you in the start, in fear of slipping up around you. he still might.)

“you get headaches, right? if you don’t cover your eyes.”

he chuckles at your question. “yeah.” it’s a half truth, half lie. he does get headaches, but for another reason now. you can’t get out of his head. (he’s got a suspicious feeling it’s because the soulmate bond is incomplete. but again, that’s just a theory of his.)

“‘m’sorry. that sucks.” you pout subconscously, still looking up at the sky to admire it.

he scoffs fondly, clapsing his hands over his stomach. “it’s no biggie. you think headaches can take down gojo satoru?”

“hey now, tough guy. they can take down me sometimes.”

(he’d fight off headaches from you if he could.) his heart is thudding against his ribcage, warning him. but he doesn’t heed the warning, and continues to lay down with you on the grass.

it’s a nice feeling. he doesn’t feel like the greatest sorcerer in the world with his colleague. it feels like he’s just satoru, pointing out the different shapes and animals you can spot in the sky with his soulmate.

“hey, that one looks like you!”

“hah?!”

“i’m guessing you and gojo-sensei are getting along now,” megumi bluntly comments.

it catches you off guard slightly, and you can’t help but laugh. (of course he had noticed how the both of you interacted from the beginning.) “oh, uh, yeah.”

and as you watch satoru go down the steps of the stairs to head over to you both whilst waving an arm with much more enthusiam than needed, you can’t help but smile.

“yeah, we are.”

this is a mistake. he shouldn’t be doing this.

but satoru can’t help but be so selfish, selfish in indulging in your looks, in your scarce touches. when you had confronted him with your peace offering as you had so called it, he had given in.

and now he’s spending more time with you. be it after lessons with the students, on random days where you have nothing to do, during weekends when there’s no authorities to bother him—he can’t help it.

was it the bond wanting to be complete? you were still unaware of his true identity, of what he could possibly mean to you, so why does he feel like he needs to be so close? he gets antsy at times when you’re not in his sight. it’s starting to affect him.

the soulmate bond, or lack of it—that has to be the only explanation for it. because he knows that you’re his soulmate, he’s subconsciously drawn to you and your presence. (it’s definitely not because he likes the way you smile, or laugh, or-)

fuck.

after a relatively tough mission, you’re obviously sent to see shoko. you’re not fatally harmed, maybe a scratch here and there. and okay, maybe a gash on your shoulder..

it had been enough to sort of knock you off your feet, but you’re fine. totally. exorcising a semi grade two curse at 1 a.m. in the morning was no biggie at this point.

once she’s finished tending to your wound, she dusts off her hands and places them on her hips. “you’re all set.”

you smile gratefully. “thanks, sho. can always count you to patch me up.”

she snorts. “well, it is my job.”

gojo suddenly appears right next to the table and you yelp, startled by his teleportation. shoko, on the other hand, looks unfazed, as if she’s used to this.

“gojo!” you blink, your voice taking a scolding tone soon after, “geez, you scared me! what’re you still doing awake??”

the blindfolded man falters, looking apologetic. “sorry. heard you got back from your mission.” he sounds worried, but before he can voice his concern, shoko rolls her eyes.

“they’ll be fine,” she says.

gojo’s shoulders finally drop down and he plays off his previous display of concern with a laugh. “ahaha, yeahhh, i knew that,” he scoffs with a wave of his hand, “i can’t bless you two with my presence?”

shoko gives him a displeased look before she turns around to tidy up her tools. you chuckle at her annoyance. “thanks for checking up on me, satoru,” you say sincerely. your eyes go over his appearance; he’s dressed more casually: a pair of dark slacks and shirt that expose his collarbones. not that you’re.. particularly looking.

but his shoulders seem tense again at your words and he hums quietly. (huh, strange. at least he’s not refusing to look at you anymore, you think.)

“well, i say this calls for a little celebration,” satoru suddenly purrs in delight, waving his hands in the air.

“celebration? for me getting kinda beat up?” you blow a raspberry at him, only for him to blow one at you right back. even though you had done it first, you can’t help but giggle at his childish antics.

he grins at that, then shakes his head. “heyy, i heard you beat up a semi grade two curse!” he says, “i think that does call for a celebration, does it not?”

you stare at him, unsure on whether he’s joking or not. wait, how did he even know that? well, maybe he had gone through the mission reports and assignments. still, you’re surprised that he knows. “you can wipe those out in less than a minute, gojo,” you point out with a raised brow, “don’t try and humor me.”

his grin lessens. “well, yeah, s’kinda easy for me, but i think that goes without saying. you’re telling me don’t wanna celebrate an accomplishment of yours?”

you look to shoko who is almost finished with cleaning up. she just shrugs. you look back to satoru and shrug yourself whilst rolling your eyes. “alright, we can celebrate.”

gojo fist bumps the air. and here you are again, giggling at him.

eventually, when he leads you out of the infirmary and to the teachers’ lounge. he digs through one of the fridges and hands you a bottle of what seems to be alcohol.

“i didn’t even know this was allowed here,” you mumble, settling down on what of the high chairs near the counter. you wiggle in your seat to get comfortable as gojo takes the one next to you.

you offer it to him but he shakes his head, nose scrunching up a little. “i don’t drink.”

“wasn’t this your idea?” you blink. “suit yourself, more for me.” you shrug and open the bottle to pour yourself a glass. and another. and another. and then another.

(you don’t know what particularly drives you to keep drinking as you talk with him, but perhaps it’s the way you know that satoru’s eyes are lingering just underneath the blindfold. you can practically feel his stare.)

and gojo watches you gradually drink yourself to being mildly drunk.

“okay, no more for you,” he laughs as he takes the bottle away from you and holding it above your head when you try to reach for it.

“awh, man.” you pout and rest your head on your arms on the table, looking at him the best you can. “you meanie. you got me drunk on purpose. give it back.”

he snickers, amused and endeared by your drunk antics as he pushes the bottle aside. “sorry. you’ll thank me later, pretty.”

pretty. he’s never called you that before. you wanna hear him say it again. (amongst some other things.)

“pretty.. you’re pretty. i bet your eyes are pretty too,” you say into your sleeve, your other hand reaching out to his blindfold, “everyone else says they’re v’ry pretty.”

he leans back to avoid your hand, heart pounding in his chest a little too loud for his liking. he wonders if you can hear it. “sure. i guess they are,” he says softly with a small chuckle.

“i wonder who my soulmate is,” you then mumble out. maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s your incoherent slurring, but you sound.. sad.

before he can dwell on it, you’re slurring out another question that has come to your head.

“d’you have a soulmate?”

satoru’s eyes widen under the blindfold. he knows that you’re drunk. that you’re just saying things. but your hazy eyes stare up at him with a glint that makes his heart lurch.

and you won’t remember a thing in the morning, right?

before he can answer, you’re out like a light.

you wake up in the morning with a splitting headache.

with a groan, you sit up in what seems to be a bed that seems way to be to be your own, legs kicking the sheets that had been draped over you in alarm.

you have no idea where you are, but there’s a glass of water along with some painkillers on the nightstand beside you, which you down gratefully. there’s also the smell of food coming from outside the room.

you can piece two and two together that you’re probably in the home of someone you know.. your brain racks for information of what had happened last night but it’s only causing it to ache even more.

gojo.

you shake your head and make your way to what seems to be the bathroom to tidy yourself up. you notice that your’re still clad in your clothes of last night, so gojo had done the courtesy of tucking you in.

after you’re done, you take a deep breath and head outside.

you navigate your way down the hallway and follow the smell of food. as you turn the corner, you catch the sight of satoru in the kitchen. not that you doubted that the greatest sorcerer could cook, but for some reason, he looks so domestic.

he’s simply wearing sweats and a loose fitting shirt, your back turned to you as he tends to the stove, but the mere sight of it has your heart leaping into your throat. you have a feeling that it’s a sight meant for you, for you to see.

you don’t no how long you stand there, but suddenly a laugh rings through the kitchen from satoru teasingly. “take a picture, sweetheart, it’ll last longer.”

you yelp, embarrassed. (sweetheart? you try not to think about it, but you hate the way it makes your heart leap again. he’s just.. messing with you.) “erm.. sorry. good morning, gojo.” you approach the kitchen and take a seat at the counter.

when he finally turns to you, he’s not wearing his usual black blindfold, but instead what seems to be white bandages. you haven’t seen it on him before, but you don’t comment on it though.

he says good morning back before serving you some food, which you thank him for gratefully. “thank you for the painkillers too. i didn’t do anything embarrassing last night, did i?” you inquire, half jokingly.

you try to remember what had happened last night, but your memories are still a bit hazy. all you can recall is talking with him about things and staring at him. (you’re not going to tell him that though.)

“nah,” he waves off, “just told me your darkest secrets, s'all.”

you straighten up. “what?”

“kidding, kidding!” he snickers.

you groan and drag your plate to you. “i didn’t know you could cook.”

satoru looks mildly offended, emitting a dramatic gasp as he waves the spatula at you in a petulant manner. “hey now, i’m no expert. but i can at least make some sort of breakfast.”

(he totally did not look up a tutorial on how to cook for you. definitely not. but he’s a natural at everything, so at least his naturally gifted skill is in his favor this time.)

“thank you, gojo.” a smile tugs at the edges of your mouth.

“satoru.”

“what?”

“c’mon, you’re literally eating breakfast in my kitchen,” he laughs, sliding a mug of coffee (probably with extra cream and sugar because it’s gojo) towards you across the counter. “satoru’s fine.”

you test the name on your tongue, paying little attention to the way it makes the man before you stiffen up as you grab the coffee. “satoru.. thanks, satoru.” you think you can get used to saying that.

(he does too.)

satoru turns away back to the stove. “you’re welcome.”

“hey satoru, what did you say what you wanted again? i’m thinking bubble tea but i dunno..”

he likes the way his name sounds from you.

“uh, satoru? satoru? helloo, earth to gojo satoru? satoru!”

oh.

fuck, he hadn’t realized he had spaced out. gojo lifts his head in a sudden motion, making a surprised noise. he smiles sheepishly. “what’s up?”

“you feeling alright, satoru?” you tilt your head.

keep saying his name.

“awhh, i’m feeling more than alright, sweetheart.” he shoots you a grin, liking the way your eyes reflect the café lights, giving it a warm hue. “i’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“you seem to be in a good mood lately,” megumi points out. ijichi, in the front see, looks at the two of them through the rear view in silent agreement.

(a lot of people have noticed actually.)

gojo pauses, halfway through unwrapping the plastic of a popsicle. it’s the same one he used to consume during his youth, but his taste really hasn’t changed after all this time. “oh?”

the teenager eyes him narrowly. “yeah.”

gojo merely hums and pops the icy treat into his mouth.

“heh, i guess i am.”

you can hear gojo and shoko’s voices coming from the infirmary, causing you to smile absentmindedly. you didn’t think you’d be enjoying their company this much in the recent months—especially satoru’s.

(strangely, it feels so natural to be around him, you can’t help but wonder if he feels the same. you try to write it off as spending so much time together for a while now, but you can’t lie when you say he doesn’t make the stomach churn with butterflies.)

you turn the corner and announce your presence to the two with a smile and wave. you catch sight of them when they glance over to you, noticing something different.

shoko is wearing her usual white coat with a cigarette in hand, but she’s got her hair tied up in a rare bun to keep any strands from her face.

but that’s not what’s different as your gaze strays to the man next to her, the familiar frame of gojo catching you a bit off guard.

he’s wearing his glasses.

you’ve never seen him wear anything but his blindfold.

how does he look even more breathtaking than without it? you can’t see his eyes still, no—it’s a deep, deep shade of blue that still blocks his gaze from anyone else. but it’s a more casual look, seeing as his hair isn’t being help up and a few strands fall down and you can see his sharp facial features a bit more and-

and then he’s gone.

you audibly make a sound of confusion and hurt, because one moment he’s there and the next he’s no where to be seen. he had vanished without a single world.

he’s fucking avoiding you again; the realization of it makes your throat close up. after all you had been through with satoru.

“what the fuck was that?”

shoko stares at the space gojo had just been standing, just as lost as you.

there’s a distance between the two of you again. it’s painstakingly familiar to when you had first met gojo and he had kept himself strictly professional with you.

and you don’t know why.

it’s back to the cold shoulder from him; you’re seeing him less and less around campus, and those times where you did hang out off duty are practically a thing of the past now.

satoru is going to be the death of you one day, you’re sure of it.

and you and satoru aren’t even.. a thing.

then again, you’re not even sure what you are. you’re friends, yes, that’s much more than clear, but why does it feel so much more intimate than that despite the fact that the two of you have never even done anything?

however.. a part of you knows that you want more. more of those days lying in the grass with him, more of those mornings eating breakfast with him in his home, more of those afternoon café runs, more of everything with satoru.

is that why does it hurts so much now that he’s pushed you away again?

satoru is praying that you’re not in there with shoko as he approaches the infirmary a week later. she had called him over, and though he could’ve easily refused, he found himself obliging anyway.

“hey, what was that the other day?”

shoko is blunt and straight to the point once he arrived, striking him with a petulant and expectant gaze with her tired eyes.

gojo blinks innocently, tilting his head at shoko. “what was what?”

shoko then rolls her eyes. “you know what i’m talking about. what was that. you just- walked out like they we’re going to kill you or something.”

that’s the thing. you just might.

the white-haired man frowns and continues to feign innocence. he’s starting to wonder why he bothered coming here. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

his avoidance causes shoko to frown as well and she crosses her arms. “you’re doing the same thing that you did with them when they first joined here.”

when he doesn’t say anything, she continues, “avoiding them, pushing them away. i thought you didn’t have any problems with them. at this point, make up your mind because you’re just toying with their feelings and it’s not going to-”

“we’re soulmates,” satoru blurts out.

shoko is cut off, staring at him all wide-eyed for once. “you’re kidding.”

satoru falters. “i’m not. s’why i always wear the blindfold. and that’s why i.. i ran that night. just my glasses was too risky.”

what if he had angled his head the wrong way, what if you saw his eyes, what if you finally realized that you were fated to be together at the whims of the universe? he couldn’t do that to you.

“how long have you-”

“since we first met. i.. i could see it because of six eyes,” he explains, running a hand through his hair. “i don’t know why. i didn’t think i could have another one after-”

the two fall quiet at the mention of suguru, a heavy feeling hanging in the air between them.

“what are you going to do?” shoko asks quietly.

satoru sounds wrecked. “..i don’t know.”

“well.” shoko smushes her cigarette against the surface of the metal table. “you better do something before it’s too late.”

unfortunately, the higher ups have also noticed.

(the push and pull that has been going on between the pride of the gojo clan and a random transferred sorcerer from kyoto. nothing goes unseen by their tight hold on jujutsu society.)

and you are none the wiser when you’re an assigned a mission late so at night, at a secluded edge of tokyo. you would’ve questioned it, but after looking over the details, it seems easy enough since it was a low level curse.

ijichi drops you off near the location and bids you luck. the night is dark, with the shape of the moon only peaking out every now and then due to the clouds to offer minimum light, and then the veil is coming up.

it’s fine though, as you start walking to get this over with. the faster, the better.

what the fuck? the cursed energy here is much stronger than you had anticipated, almost as if it’s suffocating. now uneasy, you continue your search with more caution.

a low growl sounds from somewhere behind you, and you turn on heel to brace yourself in case the curse decides to catch you off guard with an unexpected attack.

your heart drops.

it’s a grade one curse.

something’s not right.

satoru can feel it. he can sense it in the air. something is lingering, a presence that makes even him feel uneasy, and he doesn’t know why. nothing makes him feel uneasy. but it’s a gut feeling, it’s the bond tugging and tugging and-

you.

something’s not right.

and then gojo is teleporting and finding ijichi in record time, giving the poor man a scare. gojo’s voice is on edge and leaves no room for argument as he demands the assistant director where he had driven you minutes prior. the veil still stands, undisturbed.

fuck, fuck, fuck- shoko was right. he should’ve done something before it was too late, because now it might actually be too late as he steps through the veil.

it’s too quiet for his liking, but the lingering silence only lasts for a few heartbeats before he hears you scream.

you’re going to die.

you don’t want to think that, but you’re definitely not going to make it out of this unscathed as you dodge the curse’s scarily accurate attacks, as if it knows where you’re going to move and land.

the curse screeches out something ugly, and you’re too stunned to react in time as one of its malformed limbs swings down with a speed that you can’t comprehend.

your throat cries for help even as the air out of your lungs, but then there’s the sudden brilliant flash of red that blinds your vision.

satoru?

you can’t see and your body aches everywhere while the sounds of the curse fade out. it’s replaced by the sound of someone speaking frantically. it is satoru as he crouches down at you, hands coming to lift you up gently. his infinity is off. “hey, hey it’s me,” he voices, “it’s me, sweetheart.”

satoru, it’s satoru. satoru is here.

you emit a sigh of relief, cloudy vision gradually focusing. you try and focus it on satoru, tracing over his features repeatedly, trying to engrave it into your memory.

“shit. those damn higher ups,” gojo grits his teeth into an angered scowl. the higher ups? were they behind this? you don’t know, but you know that you’ve ever seen him this furious before. “i am going to rip those old geezers apart limb from li-”

“satoru, we need to head back.”

he looks dazed, tufts of snowy hair now hanging a bit loosely over his blindfold compared to when it’s normally pushed upright. he even sounds dazed, the great gojo satoru, when he says, “yeah. yeah, okay.”

he’s holding on to you tight and suddenly everything seems to get blurry for less than a second before you blink. you realize he’s teleported you both not to the school, not to shoko’s infirmary, but to his penthouse.

the interior is at least familiar: white walls, a little messy, a couple of decorations, and—

“my place,” he clarifies, as if he had read your thoughts. he sets you down on his couch, uncaring if you’re staining the color of the cushions. but he doesn’t let go, hands still cradling your form so tight that you don’t know if you’re still shaking or that he is.

“are you okay?” you utter out weakly and scan him for any injuries while clutching at his arms, which is ridiculous because he’s untouchable. but you’re not in the right mind right now, and you have a feeling he isn’t either.

“i should be the one asking you that,” he retorts, and you also have the feeling he’s doing the same thing with you with the help of his six eyes.

“i’m alright,” you try to reassure him with a small shake of your head. it only aids you in wincing, but the pain is the last thing on your mind. especially with him here. “it’s fine.”

“it’s not fine,” he argues, his hold tightening even more on you, if that was even possible. is that a slight tremor in his voice? “you almost died.”

“and why do you care?” it’s not a malicious question from you. it’s more of confusion, of genuine. after all you’ve been through with satoru, you’re not sure where he stands. what he feels.

he seems startled by your question, like he can’t believe you could ask such a thing. “of course i care! why-”

you clench your fists in your lap, eyes tracing over his face repeatedly. “i don’t know what you want anymore from me, satoru! you’re not- you’re not telling me the truth.”

“i didn’t want to hurt you,” he tells you hoarsely. god, you wish you could see what he’s thinking. what’s going on in that head of his.

“you did hurt me.”

gojo trembles. “i know.”

“you seem to know a lot of things.” your voice sounds tired. your hand goes to rest on his chest, where you can faintly feel his heartbeat underneath. (oh, to be the only one who can touch gojo satoru like this.) “what are you hiding from me?”

“i can’t hide anything from you.” he draws a slow intake of breath. he then whispers,

“but how am i supposed to tell you that we’re soulmates?”

your heart skips a beat.

gojo satoru is your soulmate?

astonished, you now stare at him with wide eyes. “why- why didn’t you tell me??” you ask, voice cracking. to think, all this time, your soulmate had been right there, right beside you, right in front of you.

then it all clicks. his off-standish behavior, his reluctant interactions, his avoidance. his blindfold. he didn’t want you to see his eyes.

he’s known all this time somehow—and oh, oh. his six eyes. your lips part in realization as you stare hard, as if you could see his damned eyes beneath the cloth that hides you from the truth.

“i thought that if you knew that we were soulmates, you’d-” satoru shakes his head. “something always happens to the people i love.” he hesitates, “you still have a chance. you can find someone else.”

“what if i don’t want someone else??” you say out softly in protest, gripping the lapels of his uniform.

gojo shakes his head again. despite this, he doesn’t let you go. like he can’t, like he doesn’t want to. “we’re not bonded yet,” he says your name shakily, “please.”

still gripping the collar of his uniform, you tug him closer to you desperately. it’s so clear, so obvious that he wanted this.

“satoru, have you thought about what i wanted?” you breathe out, feeling tears well up in your eyes, “that maybe, there’s a chance that i want to take the risk? that i want to be bonded to you?”

your eyes flicker down to his lips momentarily. “that i want you too?”

satoru’s breath stutters.

“you haven’t seen my eyes.”

you cup satoru’s face in your hands, swiping your thumb under the space where his eye is hidden with a fierce tenderness that makes him listen.

“satoru, i didn’t need to see your eyes to fall in love with you.”

your confession has him stilling.

(all the times he had stiffened up in your presence, he had been falling for you, bit by bit. you know that now.)

his hand comes to cover yours, the one that’s still resting on his cheek, fingers smoothing over your knuckles. and then his hand continues to go up, up, up, and-

he tugs the blindfold up and over his head, revealing his eyes to you at last.

his eyes are gorgeous, a blue that seems to spill into your vision and take over your senses. a blue that you can get lost in, a blue that reminds you of the summer sky, a blue that tethers your soul to his, and you both can feel it.

the bond between you is so electrifying that you nearly forget how to breathe.

and then satoru is surging forward, closer, even closer, until your breath is his and you forget how to breathe for a whole different reason entirely.

he’s kissing you.

he kisses you like you might disappear right before him, his head angling into yours to capture your lips with a force that makes your world spin.

and you return it tenfold, one hand still cradling his face while the other sneaks to dig its fingers into his undercut, and he’s making a noise into your mouth with fervor.

you’re all too aware of his heat against you, the frantic touches he’s now giving into as he draws you closer. the surface of the sofa dissipates into nothingness and then-

suddenly he’s teleporting you both again—or maybe he’s kissing you dizzy. but you realize you’re now in space that’s not overly familiar with you, but you can tell it’s most likely his bedroom based off of the feel of the lush satin sheets underneath you.

less than an hour ago you were fighting for your life, and now you’re fighting for your life on gojo satoru’s bed.

“satoru, s’toru, wait-” you’re gasping for air, for something as he engulfs you with his presence. he’s everywhere all at once, and it feels as if the bond is intensifying everything he’s doing to you.

“nuh uh. think we’ve both waited long enough for this, baby,” he gasps against your lips, like it’s impossible to be separated from you again, “don’t know how much i wanted this, wanted you. drove me crazy.”

his words makes your head all fuzzy. you don’t even know if it’s the bond anymore, or just the way he makes you feel. maybe even both. your lungs feeling like they’re burning, but even then, you manage to get out,

“you have me, ‘toru, you have me.”

“yeah?” when he pulls back, it’s not even a few inches, his nose brushing against yours. his alluring eyes glimmer in the darkness of the room, and you’re almost so mad that you feel like kissing him again because he’s kept them from you for so long.

your hands hook over his neck again. when your fingers run over his undercut again, you can actually feel him shiver, causing you to giggle in delight. “yeah, ‘toru.”

“yeah, pretty,” he sighs out and he’s losing himself in everything that is you once more so willingly. your eyes, your very being, compels him to give you everything, so he does. “y’have me too. all of me.”

his confession rings through your ears before he’s kissing you again, kissing you breathless. it’s a blur on what happens next; feverish touches and passionate symphonies, but one thing’s for sure,

the magnetic glow of his eyes in the dark of that night is something that you’ll never forget.

as your stir amongst the tousled bedsheets, you can feel the warmth of a certain someone creeping over you, like a cozy cat searching for cuddles.

your eyes peer open to meet the blurry sight of the ceiling, along with the sight of messy white hair tickling your chin.

“good morning to you, sweetheart,” a voice says cheekily, followed by cascading kisses down your jawline, prompting you to giggle softly.

you watch sunlight spill over into the bedroom, engulfing the man above you in an angelic glow as he finally pulls back to look down at you.

so maybe you didn’t fall in love at first sight with gojo satoru.

that’s okay.

cause as you stare up into your soulmate’s pretty ceruleans in the morning light, you think you can fall in love with him like this a little more.

BONUS!

“you owe me.”

nanami drags a hand over his face as he digs into his pocket for his wallet. “this is the first and last time i make a bet with you,” he grumbles.

shoko merely smirks. “you have such little faith in gojo.”

“bet or not, can we go back to before they were together?” nanami looks like he’s close to investing in a pair of one of gojo’s glasses that can block any normal person’s vision.

satoru is clinging onto you like a sloth.

“babyyyyy,” your boyfriend whines, resting his chin on your shoulder with his arms wrapped around your torso. you can’t help but giggle, endeared by his clinginess. (he had claimed it was to make up for the way he had acted in the past and for lost time.)

he’s like another part of you now. not that you mind. being his soulmate is everything and more—from the tender touches to the passionate ones, to the talks of everything: to the mundane to the serious. after all, your soul is his, and his soul is yours.

(and then his hands are sneaking off to places they shouldn’t be.)

“‘toru, not here!”

nanami heaves out another sigh as his hand comes to pinch the bridge of his nose. “is it too late to quit being a sorcerer again?”

TAGLIST : @spn-obession , @deepestartisanhumanoidshark , @scarasw1f3 , @kalopsia-flaneur , @90s-belladonna , @peachipeachy , @chrystinaamanda , @kalulakunundrum , @hunnyheavenn , @dekusdante , @dontmindmelove , @cherries-lostgirls , @rv19 , @etherealstarlightqueen

+ a/n: this fic ended up being way no longer than i expected omg.. but thanks to all who asked to be on the taglist !! some didnt work so im sorry about that </3

like this fic? feel free to go ahead and check out my other works here! -> masterlist

[nadvs]

home before dark (part one)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

You’ve been looking at your reflection for five minutes now, eyes rimmed red from crying. Muffled, bass-heavy music is echoing from the front of the house.

You’ll do anything to delay going back out there. Even if it means standing still in the bathroom, trying and failing to stop tears.

Parties at Tannyhill always bring in massive crowds, yet your ex-boyfriend still managed to find you in the sea of people. You slipped away and have been hiding since, the anxiety of seeing him again crushing you.

Thankfully, you know your way around the estate. It was once like your second home.

As an only child, you latched onto the Cameron siblings the second you met them. You had just moved to Kildare, your dad having been an old college friend of Ward’s.

You practically grew up with them. You’re still close with Sarah. And even though Wheezie was only four when they lost their mother, she seems to find comfort in you always being around.

But your once best friend, who you’re merely weeks apart from in age, was transformed by the grief. Rafe is a stranger now. And you can tell that he loathes being around you.

When the door is roughly pushed open, the knob slamming against the wall, your heart lurches, overtaken by the sharp fear that Ty has found you.

But it’s Rafe, his hair hanging over his forehead and his nose dripping with blood, shattering your solitude.

He meets your eyes for just a second and looks away as soon as he sees it’s you. Like always. He never makes eye contact with you for very long.

“You’re bleeding,” you say quietly.

“No shit,” he mutters.

He barges past you to the sink, spitting crimson blood onto the porcelain. He’s hunched over the counter, panting, pissed off that you’re still standing there. Still lingering.

You’re always around. A constant reminder.

“Do you need help?” you ask, but you step back, your actions mismatching your words. You put distance between you for his comfort. Not yours.

“No.” His head is in splitting pain. He hasn’t accepted help in years and he’s not starting now.

This is how your conversations with him always go. You extend an olive branch. He snaps it in half.

You were both ten years old when the sweet boy you knew started hating the world and everyone in it. You had a front row seat to the tragedy that broke Rafe Cameron, a mama’s boy who suddenly lost the person he loved most.

But no matter what he does or says to you, you can’t hate Rafe back. After the accident that took his mother’s life, the compassion you harbor for him won’t let you.

While you definitely don’t like the person he’s become, a man so cold and aggressive, you couldn’t hate him if you tried.

You look at your reflections, side by side. You were once kids playing on the beach together, but in the mirror stands a bloodied cokehead next to a tearful mess, living in another summer of seeing each other everywhere and never speaking.

If it were up to you, it wouldn’t be like this. You’d still be friends. But he has his group of buddies who he drinks and smokes with and to him, they’re enough and you’re not.

Rafe looks up from his contorted position, the water rushing out of the faucet loudly. Frustration rises in him when he sees your silhouette in the mirror. He focuses on the edge of the sink, refusing to meet your eyes.

“You’re still here?” he snaps.

You’re used to the disheartening sight of a high and injured Rafe. He snorts lines and brawls at almost every party. Everyone calls him a psycho behind his back.

You want to ask what happened, but you know he’ll brush you off like he always does. You leave the room, determined to escape the party and go home. It’s past midnight anyway.

You’re nearly out the front door when frigid fingers wrap around your forearm. Your blood runs cold as you twist to see Ty, his eyes fixed on you.

“Did you block me?” he asks, the smile that once charmed you now making you sick. You look around at the crowds of partygoers as if someone can save you.

He’s still refusing to accept that you broke up with him a week ago. It was annoying at first. But now, it’s scary. He won’t leave you alone.

He texted you so many times over the last few days, going back and forth between calling you a waste of time and apologizing and begging to see you, that you had to block him.

After a few months together, you realized he wasn’t as nice of a person as he liked to pretend to be. Slowly, who he really is seeped in, unveiling a cruel and controlling brute.

“Of course I did,” you say. “I told you to stop texting me. I’m not your girlfriend anymore.”

“You’re not thinking straight,” Ty scoffs. “It can’t just be over.”

“Yes, it can,” you say, straining out of his grip. You had told him over and over that if he wasn’t going to stop disrespecting you, you’d leave. He kept apologizing, saying every outburst was a one-time thing, just to put you through the same pain again.

“Are you going home?” he asks.

You wish he didn’t know that your parents are on a business trip and will be gone for the next couple of weeks. Regrettably, he’s aware you’ll be sleeping in an empty house for the next while.

“No,” you lie.

“Then let’s get a drink and talk about this,” he says sternly. “Unless you’re with some other guy now and that’s why you tried to break up with me?”

Could that be the only way he’ll leave you alone? You try not to shrink under his gaze, a heartless, eerie abyss. The fact that he says you tried to break up with him tells you he still isn’t accepting that the relationship is over.

“I broke up with you because you treated me like shit,” you say. Your heartbeat is loud and your breaths are shallow and in a split second, you decide to lie as an act of survival. “But yeah, I am with someone else now.”

Rafe turns off the faucet, heart racing from the coke and the adrenaline of winning a fight. It all started because some guy looked at him wrong. That was enough for Rafe to start swinging.

Admittedly, letting out his aggression is a thrill. It’s his comfort zone. When he surrounds himself with chaos, it distracts him from the voices howling in his mind.

Life is nothing but a sick game of tag, and he’s been running away from reality and towards disorder for years.

Rafe’s nose is still throbbing from the only punch the other guy managed to get in when he heads back into the throws of the party.

He’s filling up a solo cup in the dining room when your eyes meet his. He can’t look away this time. You’re rushing towards him, fear written into your features.

Once you hastily close the distance, leaving mere inches between you, Rafe can see you’ve been crying.

“Hey,” you say over the music, overwhelmingly grateful that you finally found him after frantically rippling through the crowds. “Can you help me? Please?”

Maybe it’s because of the desperation in your glossy eyes. Or because you both once knew how to make the other feel better. Or because you chose him to help, when he’s used to never being chosen by anyone for anything. But he decides to hear you out.

“What?” he mutters, hollow blue eyes searching your face. Rafe’s brooding, all cleaned up now, the blood wiped away.

You look over your shoulder, your chest rising and falling at full tilt, then face him again.

“My ex is following me,” you say. “Can you pretend to be my boyfriend?”

“What?” Rafe’s mouth is twined in irritation. Of all the guys to use to make your ex jealous, you pick him?

“Rafe, please,” you say hurriedly.

You turn to see Ty, his eyebrows raised in clear surprise. After you talked to him by the front door, you rushed away, feeling his looming presence trailing after you.

You face your ex, standing beside Rafe with your hand curling around his hard bicep, finding unexpected relief in holding him. It’s jarring touching him after years of distance.

Rafe can’t remember the last time he was touched like this. It’s like a reprieve from the rush he’s always in, slowing him down.

Ty shoves his way through groups of people, his face carved with anger.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” he shouts over the music, eyes darting between you two. Rafe recognizes him. He’s seen you together at parties and the country club. This guy is just another Kook who gets shit-faced every chance he gets.

“Leave me alone, Ty,” you say.

“You’re with him?” he mutters with a laugh.

“Yeah, I am,” you say, tone shaky, praying Rafe plays along. He catches the brittle waver in your words.

“You can’t be serious,” Ty says. “That was fast.”

He steps forward and you find yourself cowering behind Rafe, who instinctually straightens up.

When Rafe realizes your hand is trembling, something in him twists. You’re not trying to make this guy jealous. You’re afraid of him.

Even after the years of hostility between you, somehow, you uncover a soft spot that Rafe didn’t know he had. He hates that this asshole is scaring you.

“Get out,” Rafe says to your ex, his deep voice sending relief through you.

Ty’s eyes dart to Rafe before his gaze is on you again.

“Really?” he ridicules you. “The guy you always call a psycho?”

Rafe’s arm flexes beneath your hand.

It’s a lie. People talk shit about Rafe, but you have never uttered a bad word about him to anyone.

“I never said that,” you retaliate.

“Just come outside so we can talk,” Ty says, his voice dripping with anger.

“Whose fucking house do you think this is, bitch?” Rafe shouts, roughly shoving Ty’s shoulder. “I told you to get out.”

You see fear on your ex’s face for the first time in your life. Your instincts were right to push you to run to Rafe. Everyone’s afraid of him.

“Chill,” Ty says with a forced smile, palms up in surrender. You’re sure he’s thinking of all the brawls he’s witnessed at these parties. Rafe might get roughed up, but he hardly ever loses a fight.

“Go,” Rafe sneers.

“I - I am,” Ty stammers. He meets your gaze one last time before he flees, his lips thinning in anger. Dread surges through you. You can tell you’re not rid of him.

Awkward tension settles between you and Rafe. He turns to look down at you, eyes flitting to your hand still on his arm. You let go.

Of the entire fervid exchange, what blares in your mind the loudest is Ty’s lie.

“I never said that about you,” you say.

Rafe scoffs. He figures it’s better to be feared, to be seen as a psycho, instead of the loser he knows he is.

“I don’t give a shit,” Rafe mutters, although, for whatever reason, he feels a piece of him caring what you think about him. He shifts to continue filling his cup with beer, pissed off and disoriented.

“He lied,” you tell him, stepping to the side to meet Rafe’s eyes again. You need him to know.

“Got it,” he says carelessly. He dips his head back as he downs his drink.

“Listen, I’m sorry to drag you into this, okay?” you say. “I don’t know what to do. He won’t leave me alone.”

He stills. Talking to you is hard. The fact that you’re still kind to him makes it harder.

But you’re so clearly terrified. Maybe he owes this to you. Everyone else wrote him off, but you, for whatever reason, still treat him with a gentleness he knows he doesn’t deserve.

“If he bothers you again…” Rafe says. He doesn’t finish the sentence, but you don’t need him to. This is his way of telling you he’ll protect you.

You stare at his hardened features. You always felt like grew up with Rafe from a distance. You know him in snapshots.

The ten-year-old who made small footprints next to yours in the sand. The seventh grader who got into so many fights that rumors of expulsion circulated around school. The high schooler who didn’t care to hide that he was doing lines at every party.

And now, he’s the man towering over you, drugged up, throwing punches every chance he gets, agreeing to pretend to be your boyfriend.

The fact that he’s willing to put on this charade for your safety makes you think that maybe there is a soft part of Rafe left somewhere deep inside. A part of the boy he once was.

“Thank you,” you say. You’re sure he won’t want to carry on the conversation, so you step away before he takes back his offer.

You find Sarah and ask if you can crash in her room tonight, knowing she’ll say yes. The thought of going to your empty house is too daunting.

The next morning, you’re sitting in the large kitchen of the Camerons’ estate, wearing last night’s clothes. You stare out the window, wishing your anxiety didn’t keep you awake last night.

You slept a couple of broken hours next to Sarah, thoughts of your ex and what he might be capable of rushing through your mind.

You’re not sure what to do next. In a normal world, you’d spend your summer partying and having fun with friends and enjoying your lack of a schedule. But things aren’t normal right now.

You’re desperate to shower and get into clean clothes and simply exist in the comfort of your home.

When Rafe sees you sitting in the kitchen, sunlight spilling over the planes of your face, he does something he never saw himself doing again. He approaches you, instead of running away.

Footsteps pull you out of your daze. You meet Rafe’s tired eyes. He doesn’t look away this time and it makes hope bloom in your chest.

He settles on the other side of the table, across from you, tensely raking his hair back. He doesn’t say anything, words trapped in his throat.

“You’re up early,” you say to break the silence.

Last night was one of many sleepovers you’ve had here. Even though you and Rafe don’t speak much, you’ve puttered around the house enough to have noticed his habits, one of them being that he typically wakes up well into the afternoon the day after a party.

But Rafe wants to cut through the bullshit of small talk. He can’t get how scared you looked last night out of his head. And he won’t admit that it’s the reason he wasn’t able to fall back asleep when the brightness of the sun woke him up this morning.

“Did he ever put his hands on you?” he finally asks, voice low. He braces himself for the answer. He doesn’t know how he’ll take it if you were getting hurt while he was always close by, ignoring you.

“No,” you say. The thought sends a chill through you. “He got… mean. And controlling. Or I guess he was always like that, but he hid it at the beginning. Maybe he would’ve eventually started hurting me. I don’t know.”

Rafe clenches his fist beneath the table. It may be hypocritical to be so angry at another man for being cruel to you when all he’s done for years is end every conversation you’ve tried to start with him. But Rafe has never claimed to reasonable.

“And he won’t leave you alone?” he recalls.

You shake your head no. Silence nestles between you, but this time, it doesn’t feel as uncomfortable.

Rafe’s eyes finds yours again, a shade of blue you can’t forget no matter how many times he’s averted his gaze.

“You scared of him?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you admit. The way your voice weakens puts Rafe even more on edge.

“You don’t have to be anymore,” he says. You exhale slowly, enveloped by a sense of security that you haven’t felt in a long time.

“He looked afraid last night,” you tell him. “When you pushed him, I mean. I’ve never seen him look like that.”

At least his anger was put to good use, Rafe thinks. It was actually worth something for once.

“Give me your phone,” he says.

You obey and watch him add himself into your contacts, a harsh reminder of the lack of a presence you have in his life. You don’t even have each other’s numbers. He texts himself your name.

“Call me if he bothers you,” he says. His promise to watch out for you is like a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, comforting you.

“Okay. Thank you.”

You realize this is the longest conversation you’ve held with him since before his mother passed. The day you heard the news, you came to this very house to offer your condolences.

You had knocked on Rafe’s closed bedroom door, telling him it was you and not his father, who you’d only seen be cruel to his eldest child.

Through the door, you promised him you’d do whatever he wanted. Cry together. Go down by the water. Talk. Or even just sit in silence. But all a ten-year-old Rafe offered you was a tearful go away, followed by years of avoiding you and brushing you off.

He hands back your phone and stands, walking away from you.

“Rafe?”

He turns to face you again, his hand on the kitchen counter.

“Could you follow me home?” you ask. “My parents are away and he knows it and… I just want to be sure he’s not waiting for me there.”

Rafe nods. You give him a grateful smile. He can’t return it.

Minutes later, his motorcycle roars as he tails your car down the street. Your house is only two blocks away from his. He couldn’t forget the way if he tried.

He visited your home with his family a few times as a kid, but most of your friendship was spent on the private beach behind his house, running around in the sand, your childish laughs tangling together in the salty air.

You used to bike to his house almost every summer day. He’d meet you by your gate, smiling so big his cheeks hurt, racing on your bikes to his house together. He would accompany you on the way back home, too, always making sure you got home before dark.

He realizes he always felt like he needed to watch out for you, even when he was just a scrawny ten-year-old.

Over the school year, you spent every recess together. Kids used to tease you about liking each other and he loved that you didn’t care because it made him feel like maybe you had a crush on him, too.

You two were inseparable. Until you weren’t.

Rafe tries not to think about it. This is exactly why he shut you out. You remind him too much of the last time he was happy. Before life became unbearable and before he was left with the parent who doesn’t love him.

Thinking about those days feels like trying to fall back asleep into a good dream, all while knowing he’ll plummet into a nightmare.

You pull into your driveway after getting through the remote-powered gate, parking right in front of the door. Rafe parks behind you, killing the engine and taking his helmet off.

He watches you step out of your car. You shield your eyes with your hand as you look at him, perched on his motorcycle in the bright morning sun, his helmet in his hands.

“I didn’t see his car on the street,” you say. “But I’m gonna make sure that the security system is armed.”

Rafe follows, stopping a few feet away from you as you unlock the door, on edge and ready to strike if he needs to.

You’re relieved to hear the familiar beeping that confirms the system is active and wasn’t triggered since the last time you were home. Rafe watches you disappear into the house to punch the code in.

“All good,” you say when you step back out through the front door. You face him as he stands on your doorstep, your chin tipped up to gaze at him.

“You said your parents aren’t here?” he asks. He’s frustrated that you’re alone.

“Away for work,” you say with a defeated shrug. You wish you’d broken up with Ty sooner so they’d be close by during all this stress. “Some things never change.”

Rafe looks down and nods. He remembers how often your parents travelled, leaving you with his family or babysitters while they were away.

Birds chirp in the warm air surrounding you. You stare at Rafe now that you have the opportunity to, up close. There are some freckles and beauty spots you remember. Some that you don’t.

He’s strikingly handsome and you wonder if he knows it. If anyone has ever told him.

“Alright,” Rafe says, stepping back, his way of saying goodbye. He doesn’t look at you again as he paces away.

His mother used to have to call you both into the house multiple times to eat lunch when you’d play on the beach together. You’d have so much fun that you didn’t want to do anything to interrupt it.

But these days, Rafe can hardly wait to get away from you. And even though it’s comforting having him watching out for you, having a string tying you to him again, you wish his coldness didn’t still hurt as much as it does.

(part two)

author’s note thank you to @rafedaddy01 for this idea @diorjadore for this idea!!! ILYSM!!!

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[devilander]

a mirror in half-light

18+ 1.5k. homelander x supe f!reader. blood, dirty talking, cunnilingus, use of telepathic powers, acts of violence mentioned (not between reader and HL)

From someone so concerned with shielding his mind, Homelander quickly comes to appreciate your telephatic powers and how useful they can be. Especially during a boring Seven meeting.

prompt sent by @infinetlyforgotten, thank you so much 🤍

When you were first introduced to the Seven, many, including your new colleagues, compared you to Mindstorm. Sure, there were some similarities—the ability to see a person’s thoughts or to project specific images. But that’s where it ended. 

The ace up to your sleeve, which distinguishes you and earned your supe name as Quickstep, is both your telepathic precognition, giving you leverage in hand to hand combat, and your crown and glory—possession. Supe or non-supes, all could have their minds hijacked by you; an ability Vought decided not to publicize. 

Your fellow partners in fighting crime knew, though; and from day one you could feel Homelander watching you with suspicion, a stare so filled with distaste your knees almost buckled. 

Seeing you in a corridor, Homelander signaled for you to approach.

“Quickstep,” he sneered, invading your personal space until he towered over you and your neck ached from looking so high up. “If I catch you using your little powers on me, be sure I’ll crack your spine. It’ll be easier than stomping on an ant. Got it?” His sudden artificial smile did nothing to lessen the weight of his words. 

Homelander was your hero, always, since childhood. Not only that, ever since you saw him for the first time, the shining blue eyes, the softness of his blonde hair, that commanding voice... You were a goner. And he most certainly knew. The disappointment almost, almost broke your heart. 

Little by little, however, with the unspoken promise you wouldn’t pry on his mind, you’d grown close. Partners in fighting crime, yeah, of course, but you had his back, no matter what. 

In one of your missions together, Homelander smeared in an innocent’s blood from head to toe, your first instinct was to help him—clean the mess. And you couldn’t lie, him in his violence and brutality did something to you. 

“Hey, you,” you murmured. “Let me help you, okay? Let me take care of it. Let me protect you.”

Surprisingly, he acquiesced. It took no more than minutes to possess the mind of some poor bystanders, having them fight and commit atrocious acts; they wouldn’t know what came over them and Vought would be too happy not to disclose. In quick action, the narrative changed; from rabid supe, to terrorist crowd. 

Later, you found yourself in his penthouse, in his bathtub, naked and cleaning the gore as he squeezed your waist. When you sealed your relationship with a bloodied kiss, you knew there was no turning back—and you loved it. Loved his quirks, his humor, his beautiful nose and soft hair, loved his flaws and all that came with it. Loved the tie that bound you forever. 

“I love you. I love you so much,” you whispered in his ear as you lay in his bed, a few hours before your meeting with the rest of the Seven. “I ache for you all the time. It overflows, sometimes.” You giggled, remembering when your desire burned you so passionately, so intensely, your mind had one focal point: Homelander and what he could do to your body. Without realizing, all your wants and needs were suddenly projected on his mind.

In the first time, you were fearful he’d throw a fit, but he simply grinned devilish at you. 

“Wow,” he laughed. “If I’d known more about your dirty little mind I would have put it to use a long time ago, babe.” 

After that, it became a fixture, in bed, in daily moments where voicing your thoughts wasn’t an option, or in missions when silent communication was useful. And bit by bit, he delighted in it, veritable proof of your devotion and love.

As it were, in this stolen moment, cuddled in his bed, he answered. “And I love you, my darling, My own mirror.” He nuzzled your neck. “No need to scream in my mind, I’m gonna eat your pretty pussy until you beg me to stop.” 

“I’d never,” you said breathily. 

Slowly kissing from your collarbone, to your stomach and thighs, mischievously looking you in the eye as he bit and kissed and licked everywhere around your cunt. His strength was enough to keep you in the exact place he wanted. Such a delicious torture. 

Finally he turned his attention to your clit, dragging his tongue over it in elaborate patterns—he was relentless, and you both moaned at the contact. You were loud, thrashing and screaming at the slightest touch, but only for him. He played your body perfectly. 

Your hands found his hair, soft to the touch, and yanked, wanting him closer and he groaned—the vibrations going straight to your core. Soon he started tongue-fucking, just as you liked it, going deep and slow, alternating to trace your slit from your asshole to your clit; not one part of you ignored. 

“Fuck, you taste so good. You’re fucking made for me, your pussy is mine, mine, understand that?”

“It’s yours! It’s all yours. Please, Homelander, please—”

“Please what?”

“Let me come, let me come in your mouth, I want to feel you.” It was all too much, the mess his tongue made, the wetness running down your pussy and dripping in the mattress.

Moaning, he plunged two fingers deep inside you, as he squeezed your ass, bringing you even closer. You cried from the pleasure he woke in you, and even in this madness you caressed his hair, closing your legs until he was in the position you liked most: with a perfect view of his face, his soft locks, his bright eyes. 

He smirked, squeezing you tighter, until you no longer touched the bed, and he slapped your ass so hard your whole body trembled. 

“Like that, princess? Like when I do whatever the fuck I want with your sweet body? Now show me. Show me what you want.” 

You complied instantly. 

You imagined him feasting on your pussy, licking it all until his spit and your slick became one and the same. His fingers marking your ass, your thighs; biting so deeply even your invulnerable skin would cleave to his superior strength. You wanted his tongue deep inside you, for yours on end, fucking your pussy so good your legs would spasm and you would scream for all the Tower to hear, pussy clenching just the way he liked. You wanted it all—Homelander slurping on your clit and swirling his tongue, making you squirt and swallowing it all, leaving his chin a beautiful fucking mess. 

In the aftermath, body boneless and exhausted, you wanted his fingers, for him to drag it all over your juices and make you swallow and gag on it. Then, in a little tenderness, he'd give you a breathtaking kiss, further proof of your intimate lovemaking. 

As you projected all of this on his mind, his smile grew bigger, more wicked. And you knew he'd deliver it, or even more. 

“You really are such a slut.” You giggled; it was all in the game.

Later on, as all the Seven were debating their latest terrorist attack, and what plan they'd need to put in action, all you could think was Homelander. His hands on you, his tongue lapping at your clit and his disheveled hair—which, you noticed, he didn't fix for the meeting. It wasn't fair, he was too mean at taunting you.

You couldn't keep your eyes off of him and he knew. Flashes of your morning together ran through your mind. No matter how satisfied you'd been, you wanted more, again, all the time. You wanted his kisses and devastation, his head between your legs and his mouth both teasing and giving you the most world-shattering pleasure. 

You wanted to caress his hair, your newfound obsession, while he fucked you, hiting that sweet spot and filling you up with his come.

In your daydreams, you tuned out from the conversation, and like being burned you found Homelander staring straight at you, an expression oh so familiar. Unintentionally he'd become the spectator of your fantasies. 

Rising from his chair so quickly you barely caught it, Homelander said, “That's enough for today. I have other things to take care of. Quickstep, you stay.”

Whispers of complaint were quickly shut down, as Homelander glared at them until each and everyone left the room.

“Well, well, seems like someone is still wantin' for more.”

He laid his hands on your chair, then turned it so you were face to face. 

“I couldn't help it,” you smirked. “I can't get enough.”

“But that's not fair, don't you think?" He clucked his tongue. "It's your turn to please me.” He pulled you from the chair, and manhandled you until you fell to your knees with a thud. “Now, princess, get to work.”

[vnti-vntiety-recs]

GUARDIAN GLOVES (M)

★  PAIRING: Boxer! Jeno x Reader 

☆ WORD COUNT: 12k

★ GENRE(S): Brother’s Bestfriend AU, Childhood Friend AU?, Smut

☆ SUMMARY:  No matter how badly you want to start over, your rebellious past follows you to college, and you can't run from it forever Your brother Jaemin was your rock growing up, but now that he has left for an out-of-state university, he can no longer save you. You do not want to burden your brother's best friend, but he might be the only one who can save you from the person of your past who refuses to let you go.

★ ☆ WARNINGS: Unprotected sex, sexual intercourse, fighting, harassment, and stalking, mentions of violence, guns and drugs, abusive relationships.

☆★ NOTES: Read with caution, please; some scenes can be intense. Leave nice comments, please <3 

It was a mistake; you knew it was a mistake; your brother and friends both told you so. Now, due to the enormous amounts of red flags you have ignored, you have found yourself in some hot water. What can you say? Love makes you blind.

“You cant keep putting up with this! We need to do something,” your friend Ryujin stressed “This has been going on for too long; im scared something serious might happen” You were worried that wrinkles might form from how much shes been furrowing her brow.

“Im fine! Its not even that serious, ok? Just drop it,” you say, sitting on your bed with your head buried in your hands as your roommate paced the dorm room. You had never seen her so upset. 

“No! I will not sit here while my best friend gets harassed! We need to report this!”

“We are NOT reporting this ryu; that will only make things worse.” you sigh before sitting back to look your friend dead in the eyes

“He pushed you down the stairs!?” 

“It was a mistake!”

You met Yuta during your junior year of high school. He was your typical run-of-the mill bad boy; he skipped classes, hung out late, and got high. You knew he was trouble, but that was what you wanted. You grew up rebellious; you were young and dumb. You just wanted attention, and hanging with the wrong crowd got you plenty. You felt unstoppable when you were with Yuta and his crew. When Yuta would parade you around school in your too-short skirt and pretty long legs, you felt special; you felt wanted. Your friends hated him, and they hated what you became. You didn’t listen to their warnings, and you stuck around. 

You stuck around even when skipped classes turned into stolen cars and the weed highs turned into selling. You were stupid to think you could keep up with his lifestyle. You just wanted to piss your family off. You were used to bad boys, but Yuta was something else. 

She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself “Look, he's clearly getting bold; I'm afraid he’ll seriously hurt you!” 

“Please, drop it,” you beg in exhaustion. Its been a long day. You had classes all day, and with your yuta problem, you found yourself getting tired a lot faster. You had to turn in his class work on top of yours, which resulted in more time spent in the library. You had been getting home later and later. 

“What about Jaemin? Have you told him? You know he would do anything for you.”

Your brother left for college the year before you. You couldn't ask him to fight your battles  anymore. He got a full ride and was off in another state, living his life, while you were at home bawling your eyes out over the fact that the heartbreaking bad boy broke your heart. 

You had finally broken up with Yuta when you realized he was cheating on you. You should have seen it coming, honestly, The day you checked his phone and found the messages, he didnt even try to pretend like he cared. He had been talking to several other girls while he was with you. You felt so stupid, and that was your last straw. Let us just say he was not happy about it, and he and his friends have been harassing you since.

“That's exactly why I can't tell him; I don't need him flying out just to take care of my issues; I can handle them on my own. He's got his own life; he can't afford any more distractions.”

Your brother was practically your hero growing up. Whenever you were in trouble, he was by your side to protect you. Even though he was really only your stepbrother, he didn’t love you any less. You would always be his little sister.

 Jaemin had been in and out of the boxing ring for years. Bad boyfriends weren't anything new to you or him; he was the one who typically kept them in check. You were the main reason he picked up fighting; he knew, as your older brother, it was his job to protect you, and he would do it to his last breath. He tried to warn you about Yuta, but you didn't listen. You knew he would drop anything if it meant coming to your aid, but you couldn't ask that of him. 

You also know he would never let you live it down. 

You thought once high school was over, you would finally be able to escape Yuta’s torment, but he followed you to your new school. Your brother warned you about him, and now he's not here to protect you anymore. 

"Ok, what about Jeno?” She states hesitantly,

“Absolutely NOT!” you scowl, throwing yourself back into the sheets to hide under the covers

“Yes! Jaemin literally told you to go to him if you need anything! He probably knew you would be too proud to contact him if you were in trouble.”

You sit back up and throw the covers off of you. “It’s not his problem! I got myself into this mess. I'll get myself out, ok?” you state firmly

"Fine, you know what fine, its getting late I’m heading to bed…but I swear if he—”

"Ok, Ryujin, thanks really,” you say sincerely. You could never be mad at Ryujin; she was only looking out for you, and you knew she meant well. For all that it was worth, you knew she would always have your back. She would run head-first into battle for you.

You could definitely be mad at Ryujin. In fact, you've been upset for the last hour.

She promised a surprise for you; she said she wanted to take you somewhere to take your mind off of the whole Y*ta situation. Honestly, you were grateful to be getting out of the house; you had been limiting yourself to only going to classes. You were trying your hardest to not run into him. 

You make sure to dress prettily. You were just too excited to finally have a reason to dress up again. You were so excited, you didn't even blink at the all-too-familiar signs and buildings as Ryujin pulled into the parking lot of a run-down boxing gym.

It's not until you have walked into the threshold and over to the rusty sideline benches that you feel overdressed and out of place. Your eyes scan the room, and everything feels so familiar yet out of place that you feel stupid for not realizing sooner.

As your eyes take in the old tattered banners and boxing ring, you realize you were walked blind into your brother's old gym. He and Jeno used to come here all the time to spar and train. This place used to run official matches and business, but it went bankrupt and had to close. Now it was just a place that hosted underground fighting. 

You knew what this was about, and you were upset that Ryujin fooled you into coming. You crossed your arms protectively over your chest, and you had hungry eyes staring at you from each angle.

“You...are... insane,” you hissed at her in anger after you two got settled in your seats. 

“And you are a coward. I'm sorry I lied Ok, but we need his help,” she contests

“You just walked me into a den full of hungry wolves. We're gonna need a lot more than help now!” You whisper harshly.

"Oh, come on, you know jeno’s not gonna let anything happen to you”

It was as if saying his name aloud summoned him; the next thing you know, he is in the ring.

You can't help but hold your breath at the sight. He had grown since the last time you saw him, and you didn't even think that was possible. His face was more refined and sculpted, and his arms were toned with muscles. His shoulders would have had you drooling if it weren’t for the perdicament you were in. They were broad and covered in cuts and bruises, much like the rest of his body. His body relaxes as he shakes away his nerves. He was standing in one corner of the ring, while his opponent stood menacingly at the other end. You think you hear the announcer call out his name—was it Jaehyung? Jaehyoon? Something like that.

You try to duck your head, not wanting to be seen, but you stand out like a sore thumb. As Jeno finished up his quick stretches, his eyes somehow wandered to you. First comes shock, then confusion, and as he rakes his eyes over your outfit, he’s overcome with anger.

Tonight was going to be a long night.

You could hear the scolding now…

”it's too cold to be wearing that”

“it's too dangerous for you to be here”

“This isn't some show; don't bring your friends here”

It wasn't even your fault you were here! You already knew he was not going to hear any of that, though.

He fixes you with a stare that says, “We’ll talk later,” and you groan in annoyance.

Before you can even open your mouth to give Ryujin another piece of your mind, the match begins and draws your attention back to the ring.

Jeno sizes up his opponent as they circle each other, looking for openings. His opponent, Jae Something, was twice his size, and honestly, you were a little afraid for Jenos sake. Jae was inpatient and struck first. Jenos weaves left and holds his guard strong. Jeno played the defense; he was patient, and you find that his fighting style was the mirror opposite of his personality. Even though Jeno had a tendency to lose his temper, it was fascinating to watch him change when he stepped into the ring. He moved with poise and thoughtfulness at every turn. 

Jenos patience rewarded him and he saw an opening In his opponents gaurd. He struck Jae, causing him to stumble back on unsecure footing. This allowed jeno to push his opponent back and switch to offense. Jae was already worn out, and Jeno used this to his advantage, knocking him down and out after hounding him with jabs and hooks.

Jeno was an endurance fighter; his goal wasn't to win through brutality but by outlasting his opponent in a fight.

You were amazed at how far he had come. He was a skilled fighter, as he always had been, but now, after years of honing his craft, you could see he was nothing like the boy you knew before.

The match was over and you were brought back to reality as you realized just what kind of scene you were in. This was an illegal boxing match, and now that it was over, the illegal part really started to stand out. Bets had been placed on the matches before hand and were now being fulfilled. Money was being passed around, and some exchanges even turned aggressive. You knew Jeno had probably wanted you to stick around for your lashings, but this was your queue to get the fuck out of there. You grab Ryujin's hand and try to lead her away from the ever-increasingly aggravated crowd. You navigate through groups of people as you hurry towards the exit. 

On your way, you trip over your stupid heels that Ryujin convinced you to wear and accidentally bump shoulders with someone. You find your footing and apologize. You try to walk away, pulling Ryujin behind you, but feel a rough hand on your shoulder pulling you back.

“Where do you think your going?” a gravelly voice calls out.

“I already apologized; let me go,” you grit out, trying to pull away from the man. He was a little bit taller than you and was twice your age. You noticed the wad of cash in one of his hands and the sickishly sweet smile on his face, and you figured he must have placed a winning bet.

“Don't be like that; how about I take you and your friend here out and we go somewhere private” he says while flashing his money. “Of course you'll have to work for it if you want a tip,” he says repulsively.

From the corner of your eye, you see Jeno pushing through the crowd. The look on his face gives you the chills. 

“Don’t be scared, baby; I don't bite,” the man says. 

Oh, you’re not scared of him; your scared for him.

You know what's coming before it happens, and the man is on the ground in seconds. His money flits through the air before joining him on the ground. The man is clutching his face, and before Jeno can get his hands on him again, men dressed in all black pull the man to his feet and drag him out. You figured they must have been something like security. 

Everything happens so fast, but all you know is that you and Ryujin are both being pulled by an angry Jeno deeper into the building into some back room. Ryujin looks a bit shaken, but you assure her everything is okay now.

 It was dark and chilly in the room. The cement walls offered no warmth as you stood in the middle of what you assumed to be an old locker room. The back of the building was really coming apart; water leaked from the ceiling, and it smelled like mildew. No one really occupies the space anymore. 

Now occupying the space were Jeno,currently trying to reel in his nerves as he drags a hand down his face; Ryujin, shifting from one foot to another awkwardly; and you, who crossed your arms definitely over your chest as you waited for Jeno’s reprimanding.

“You know what I'm going to say,” he huffs.

“I'm sorry, it's really not her fault I'm the one who drug her here; I didn't realize how dangerous it would be” Ryujin tried to defend you, but she didn't know Jeno like you did. He wasnt one for excuses.

“Who are you?” He asks dismissively.  

Jeno had never met Ryujin before. Ryujin had only heard about him through the stories you would tell her about growing up with him and your brother.

“Im a friend; we didn’t come here without a reason we wanted to—” She says but doesnt get to finish

"Jeno, dont be rude. She was only trying to help.” You interrupt. You could not have her bring that up now; you needed his attention back on you. 

“I'm sorry, Ryujin. Can you give us a moment?” He sighs in apology.

Ryujin gives you a look but takes the hint and doesn't push the topic again. She reluctantly walks to the door and waits outside the room. 

Once the door shuts behind her, Jeno wastes no time telling you off. “I dont know why your here or whats going on but you need to leave. You know better than this,” he scolds

You wanted to jump off a cliff. This is absolutely not how you wanted to meet him again. You had imagined this meeting a thousand times in your head. When you finally reconnected, you were supposed to show him how mature you had gotten. This whole fiasco definitely sets you back 10 steps. 

“I wouldn't be here …I wouldn't be dressed like this if I had known we would end up here. It was a mistake. We'll leave, ok?" You say arms crossed and closed off as you dig your heel into the ground.

Even after all this time, he still had a soft spot for you. No matter how hard he tried to be stern with you, one look at the pout on your face made him feel bad. He walks over and closes the small distance between you two. He engulfs you in a hug, and you’re reminded of home. He reminds you so much of your past that it makes you nostalgic. He kisses the top of your head affectionately and lets go, and you’re reminded just how smelly and musty he is as his sticky skin peels from yours.

“Gross,” you grumble

“I think you'll live,” he jokes with a smile. He's a lot calmer now. He leans down to meet your gaze “I'm sorry for being hard on you; I was just worried. You popped up out of nowhere after all this time.

It was so easy to fall back in step with him. You want to tell him everything; all you want is for him to fix everything, but you are no longer that little girl, and you are determined to prove it. 

You’re deep in thought when he asks, “Is everything OK, Storm?”

Your heart skips a beat at the nickname; you haven't heard that in awhile. He's always called you that; when you asked him why, he told you it was because you would stir up so much trouble wherever you went, growing up like a storm. It may have sounded negative, but he didn’t mean it like that. He always said it affectionately. 

“I'm fine; Ryujin brought me here because I said I missed home. She wanted to take me around to some familiar places. I guess she didn't know what really went down at this place” You try to cover up the truth.

Your campus wasn't too far from your hometown, and you go home almost every weekend, but hopefully Jeno doesn’t know that and buys the story. 

He looks a bit sceptical. "Lately, its been hard to come by you,” he says “Are you sure your not in any trouble?”

"I've just been busy with school; its nothing really,” you explain.

He just nods, and you know he does not believe it, but he doesn’t pry either. “Lets get you home; it's getting late” 

When you open the door, Ryujin falls forward, clearly listening in and she gives you a sheepish smile. You grab her arm and pull her along as jeno personally escorts you out and to ryujin's car.

He holds your door open for you and watches as you clamber inside before buckling your seat belt and closing your door for you. You internally groan in annoyance. He was never going to see you as anything but the 7th grade version of you that he first met. The girl needed her brother to save her from herself. 

You are grown now!

He can practically see the words printed on your forehead as he huckles to himself. He didn’t care; he would always take care of you, no matter how much you hated him for it.

 He motions for you to roll down the window before leaning into the car and caressing your face affectionately with his rough, bruised hand. You decide right then that you would never let him get hurt for your sake. He’s fought enough.

 “If you need anything, call, ok?” He says this before drawing his hand back. You don't respond, and he quirks an eyebrow.

"Ok,” You grumble 

“You have my number, right?”

“Yes!” You say a bit louder in annoyance.

"Ok, ok, I'm just checking, you never reach out, I just want to make sure your okay,” he continues 

“Actually, can I take your number? I'm practically her guardian now. I'll make sure to keep you updated if she needs anything” Your friend butts in with a smile.

Jeno happily gives her his number, and you just sit in the passenger seat like a child, watching as your parents fuss over you.

You are grown now!

Mondays are the worst days of the week, not because you have to go back to classes. You loved class, you loved learning and you loved your teachers. It wasn’t until college that you found out that you really enjoyed learning. Yuta would have definitely laughed at you if you told him that in high school. 

Yuta was the reason you hated Mondays. Mondays were the worst because they meant no more hiding. You couldn't stay in all day; you had to go to class, and that meant running into the devil. You were lucky enough to only have one class with Yuta, and that class only met on Mondays. 

You find your way to your seat at the back of the class, hoping to hide away from him, but you know he will find you. You felt his presence as he slipped into the seat next to you. 

“Morning doll, did you get my text?” 

You hated when he texted you; it was always a disturbing photo. Last time you opened a text from him, it was a video of him fucking some girl in a dark alleyway. In the video, he made the girl drop to her knees and open her mouth. He pressed the barrel of his gun into her mouth and made her suck it off. ‘Wish this was you’ was the text he sent after the video.

Since then, you have made it a point not to open his texts, but it seems like he wasn't going to let this one go.

“I’ve been busy; i hadnt had the chance to”

"Well, that's no good doll; why don't you open it now?” he smirks wickedly.

“I dont think—”

“Open it,” The playfulness slips off of his face and replaced with seriousness 

You never noticed it before, but Yuta could be terrifying. He never showed this side to you before, but your certain this was the side everyone else saw. He made a promise to follow you to the end of the earth, and so far he has kept true to it. 

He had gone from being your high school’s bad boy to the campus’s star athlete. Yuta had completely rebranded himself after graduation, and it made it even harder to report him. No one would believe you. He would just spin the story and make you out to be some bitter ex, making up lies to try to ruin his college career.

With shaky hands, you unlock your phone and go to your messages, clicking on the conversation with the unsaved number attached to it. There, you find a video waiting for you. You turn your volume all the way down and hit play. This time, it was a video of you a few nights ago, exiting the gym with Ryujin and Jeno. The camera work was shaky, and it seemed to have been taken from behind a car or a bushr? You couldnt tell but your heart was beating outside your chest.

Your eyes are glued to the screen as you feel a firm hand caress your tense shoulder until it grips the back of your neck. "Now why does it look like my doll is cheating” You freeze in place as your mouth hangs open. “Who is that?” he asks.

You had no idea he was following you. How long had he been following you? The grip on your neck tightens.

“Answer me,” he whispers cruelly, his eyes darkening with rage.

“He’s no one” tears well up in your eyes. Ryujin was right; this was getting out of hand.

“Let me catch you with him again; I'll make you regret it,” he whispers. He kisses the side of your head and breathes in the scent of your shampoo. He releases you, and you release the breath you had been holding. 

You can barely pay attention to anything your professor is saying; you just stare blankly at the front of the room.

You sent Ryujin a text to meet you in the library. You hated to dump all of this on her but you had to talk to someone. You could already tell she was frustrated with you about the situation, but she was the only one you could confide in. With her around, you didn't feel so alone in this. 

“He did what?!”

“Its ok, if I do what he says, everything will be fine; i have it under control,” you reply sheepishly

“No! You need to report his creepy ass to the cops!” she yells in disbelief.

“Keep it down; we’re in a library,” you remind her

“Dont try to change the subject,” she whispers 

“I'll figure this out” 

“We will figure this out.” she says, grabbing your hand and giving it a supportive squeeze.

When she lets go of your hand, hers slip under the table. You don't see it, but she’s texting someone, typing furiously before hitting send.

You try not to be mad at Ryujin, but you can't believe she went behind your back and snitched. Now, here in front of you, sits the last man on earth that you want to worry. Ryujin mouths a sorry and sends you an apologetic look. Jeno had arrived about ten minutes earlier, and he looked to be trying to keep his calm before confronting the matter.

“Is this some intervention?” you joke to lighten the mood. 

“Ryujin told me everything; do you think this is a joke?” He questioned, trying to stay patient with you. “Why didnt you tell me sooner”

You sigh, feeling ashamed. Everything was always so tense between you two. You had grown apart over the years, and it was difficult to think he was once like a second brother to you. But time was not the only factor to blame; high school also played a part. Puberty changed everything. It changed you, it changed jeno, and it definitely changed how you felt towards him. You had such a massive crush on him in high school that even your brother found it hard to ignore. You made Jaemin swear to secrecy and never tell a soul. If you had known Ryujin was going to call Jeno, you would have sucked it up and reached out to your brother.

You didn’t want Jeno to get involved. You kept telling yourself you didn't want him to get hurt, but you had to be honest with yourself. There was another reason you didn't want to ask for his help, and it was because you were still embarrassed. Anything was better than sitting in front of the man who rejected you. 

Summer freshman year of highschool

You thought you had finally grown up in his eyes; you thought your newfound curves were enough to make him see you as more than “Jaem’s little sister.” You thought you could fool yourself into believing you had a chance. 

It wasnt abnormal for jeno to sleep over at your place during highschool. He would crash in Jaemin’s room and eat breakfast with your family, like he lived there. One night, you catch him alone and tell him how you feel. You waited for him outside the bathroom. He was showering, and you were certain your brother was too engulfed in his game to interrupt you. Jeno had exited the bathroom wearing sweats and a tanktop, drying his hair with a towel. He had almost walked right by, not noticing you. You stood in front of him wearing a similar white tanktop and sleeping shorts, your nipples poking through the fabric of your shirt. You were so sure you would have his attention, but he just tentatively acknowledged you.

“Im sorry, was i taking too long?” he asked apologetically

"No, i actually wanted to talk to you about something”

He just nods his head and waits for you to continue

“I really like you, and I was hoping I could spend more time with you... just uh… the two of us,” you said shyly, unable to find the right words.

You couldnt meet his eye and stare at a random spot on the carpet

You felt a gentle hand stroke your head affectionately. You look up, hopefully but your world comes crashing down with his next few words

“Your like a sister to me; of course we can hang out more,” he smiles brightly, unknowingly ripping your heart out

Ever since that night, you have avoided him like the plague.

‘I just didn't want to worry you or jaem.” you say, ashamed.

“I won't tell him but if you think I'm going to sit back and let this happen, your wrong”

“I didn’t think it was that much of an issue yet.” you say, picking at your sleeves.

Jenos eyes harden with disbelief  “Are you serious? Not much of an issue?” he grits “Hes threatening you”

"Ok, ok, your right; I shouldn't be taking this lightly” You try to soothe things over with a weak smile.

“Give me your phone,” he says, holding out his hand

You unlock it and hand it to him, unsure of what he's going to do. After messing around with it, he hands it back. “I blocked him; dont even think about texting him again.” he warns

“Jeno! I have to; hes going to be pissed!” You take your phone back, looking through your messages, but you’re unable to find the conversation again. You didn't realize how much control he had over you. You thought all you had to do was follow his orders, and you would be alright; one day he would just get bored of you and stop. 

“Don't you hear yourself? Your scared!” he yells. He hated seeing you like this. He promised Jaemin that he would watch after you, but here he was, blind to the cruelty that you had endured. “Once this is all over, I'm telling Jaem.” 

(¬_¬) snitch 

He gets up, preparing to leave, while both you and Ryujin stare at each other. Well, you glare at her while she communicates a response with her eyes in return. He doesn’t turn to leave before saying one last thing: “Keep your phone on you at all times, and I'll be walking you from your classes from here on out,” he states sternly. 

“I dont know if that’s a good idea; he told me not—”

“Are you more afraid of him or me?” he asks you

Point taken.

You wait until Jeno is out of earshot before you whisper yell at your friend, “I told you not to tell him!”

“I had to! I was worried”

"Well, great, now he's worried and probably thinks I'm an irresponsible idiot!”

"Well, you are,” she counters, “whats your deal anyway? You seriously think Yuta is just going to leave you alone? He's gonna end up killing you!” she scolds.

You take a moment to process her words. She had a point, but she didn't know Yuta like you did; neither of them did. He was dangerous. You just wanted to keep your friends safe, but you might have gotten in over your head.

You finally make it to your destination; you drove to the old gym, hoping to find Jeno. You could have called or texted him, but you knew it would be easier to get your point across in person. You had at least wanted to let him know what he was getting himself into. Yuta was dangerous, and no matter how strong Jeno was, he wasn't bulletproof.

You park your cute little beetle and cringe; you definitely didn't belong in this scene, and everyone around was going to know it. A sticker-bombed Volkswagen Beetle in the middle of the parking lot of a broken-down and shady gym? Perfect combo!

Luckily, there were only a few cars tonight. You figured it must not be fight night, and you prayed that you found Jeno inside. You gather up your courage and march inside. You make your way down a narrow hallway that opens up into the main gym, and that's where you find him. There were a few other fighters occupying the space, but they seemed to be wrapping up. Jeno must not be the only one who comes here to let off steam, you assume. 

"Oh, who's this cute thing?” one of the guys says as you catch his eye on his way out.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you Haechan; thats Jenos Girl,” another voice says, coming up behind him before slinging an arm over his shoulder. “Excuse him,” he says politely before pulling Haechan away and scolding him.

The one that wasn’t Haechan was there the night Jeno punched that weirdo out. Apparently the whole gym knew you as Jeno’s girl, according to his rambling. Their arguing fades away and the last thing you hear before complete silence is “Get off me Renjun your musty”

You laugh to yourself before scanning the room, and you bring your eyes back to the man nestled in the corner. He's facing a punching bag with his hands tightly wrapped and his headphones secure on his head. He wasn't still for a second, staying light on his feet as he threw a few hooks at the bag. 

You were almost afraid to accidentally sneak up on him because that would not end well. You stay cautious and keep a safe distance, choosing to call his name a few times to get his attention. Your practically screaming, but he can't hear you. You wonder what brand of headphones he had because that noise cancellation was crazy! You choose a different approach and spot a disregarded boxing glove on a side table. You walk the short distance, grab the item and chunk it at the back of Jeno’s head. 

Now clearly, you weren’t trying to poke a bear. You were aiming more towards his broad shoulders, given that was a better target, but your aim was off, and you almost knocked the expensive-looking headphone off his head.

Jeno whips around angrily, opening his mouth to curse, but stops himself short once he notices you. He settles for a deep, exasperated sigh and a sharp glare. He must have been at it for awhile because he was drenched in sweat, and his bangs hung messily in his eyes and were dripping sweat. He pushed the wet hair back from his eyes, showing his forehead. He looked so good when he was angry; his eyes were narrowed dangerously, and his chest heaved heavily.

“Why are you fucking with me?” He says this, coldly pulling his headphones off his ears and letting them hang around his neck "You better have a good reason for being here when there is a psycho after you. I clearly remember telling you to stay away from this place?” 

Oh yeah, you definitely poked the bear. Hes pissed.

“Are you sure you want to get involved?” You try to find your words. “Yuta isnt like the little boys you and jaemin used to beat up in highschool”

“You could never keep yourself out of trouble, huh?”

“I'm not asking for your help!”

“Drop the act for once, would you? Your not tough so stop acting like it!”

“I’m not being tough; I just don't want to be a bother! I'm not the same kid! When I’m falling, you always save me, and I'm sick of it. I'm sick of being weak. I don't need your help, so why don’t you drop the older brother act? Your barely even older than me!” You pitch back

“Jaemin told me to look out for you so thats what im doing,” he huffs 

“And that's your only reason, right? Your just looking out for me because my brother said so” you scoff, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice. " How about this? I take you in the ring and show you what I got. Let me show you I can take care of myself” You cross your arms and send him a defiant look.

“Are you seriously—” he cuts himself off, shaking his head in disbelief “You know what fine. Show me what you got”

You smile in triumph and walk over to the center of the gym, where the ring sits. You take off your shoes and crawl inside. The mat felt cool under your feet; it was a grounding sensation, and just once you understood why Jeno loved standing in it, even if it meant fighting. You scan the gym, and memories fill in all the rust, broken pipes and holes in the wall as you remember what the gym used to be. Your stuck in a trance until you feel something soft but firm hit you in the head, knocking you from your daydream.

“That was payback…. but you also need to be mindful of your surroundings. Not starting off so well, angel,” Jeno says, shaking his head as he adjusts the punching mitts over his hands. 

You’re brought back to the present and finally notice the boxing gloves at your feet. You get the memo and put them on. 

“This can't be too hard,” you mutter to yourself.

Your both centered in the ring and you focus on jenos movements. You grew up being dragged to almost all of your brother's matches; you figured you had watched long enough to catch on to some moves. You throw a punch at Jenos mitt, and he cushions the blow. He lets you get comfortable throwing a few punches before he counters. He makes his movements very big and obvious; you can see his strike from a mile away. You weave under it and throw a punch at his gaurding mitt. 

Hes going easy on you

You continue to spar, and Jeno is in full coach mode. He's guiding you in the correct stance and helping you learn what to look for when someone strikes. You've been at it for about 30 minutes now, and you've gotten faster at dodging and reading his movements. He’s still going extremely easy on you, but upping the ante just a little. You were completely absorbed in the lesson.

“Nice hook, put you jab lacks power,” he instructs.

You were good at putting your body into your hooks, but you just couldn't build enough momentum for a strong jab. You try again, but it falls flat, and Jeno shakes his head. 

“Follow through; come on, try it again,” he encourages you. You take a breath and send a jab into his mitt. Still not enough. 

Jeno takes off the mitts and moves in closer towards you.

"Here, watch me,” he says, raising his gaurd and striking the air. “You want to step into it, see?” He shows you again, a little bit slower.

You give a determined hum and copy his movement, but you can tell by Jeno’s face that you're missing the mark. 

"Ok, come here; let me show you” Jeno moves in behind you and grabs your arms. He helps you fix your posture and you instantly heat up at the contact. You try to keep it together, but the way his chest was pressed up against your back and the way he was breathing heavily in your ear had you reeling. "Ok, now focus, step into it and jab.” 

He moves one hand down to your waist and pushes you forward, guiding your step, while the other helps you jab. He was so close. You wanted to blame the sudden weakness in your limbs on the endless training he has you doing, but you know its from the heat of his body.

“Are you okay? That one was really weak. Are you shaking?” Jeno looks at you from over your shoulder, worried. 

You meet his gaze and nod silently. He's so close. His lips are a breath away, and all you have to do is turn your head to meet his lips. The hand holding your waist travels up your side and grabs your chin. He tilts your head up a little, and his lips are meeting yours. You turn in his grasp and kiss him back. His lips are so soft, and when you pull away, you immediately miss the feeling of his lips on yours. 

“I'm sorry; I shouldn't have done that,” he says softly.

Before you can protest, he pulls away from you, cleans up the equipment you two used, and calls it a night. You let him walk you to your car, and you say nothing before you drive away. If it wasn't awkward before, it definitely would be now.

How could he kiss you and then pretend like nothing happened? You’re too embarrassed to bring it up again. Does this count as being rejected for a second time? Nah, he kissed you; you're not taking another L. 

It had been a week so far, and Jeno had shown up promptly to all your classes. He shouldered your bags and carried your books as you both walked across campus. Neither of you brought up the kiss, but fortunately, it wasn't awkward anymore. He had started teaching you to defend yourself at the gym sometimes after class. Those moments felt the most intimate. You could feel his passion when he taught you, and it warmed you in all the right places. You two talked about everything in these moments. You shared embarrassing memories from high school, and he told you stories about Jaemin that you would never let your brother live down. You talked about everything but the kiss. You wonder if he regretted it?

The funny thing about college was that the classrooms were so big and there were so many students that it was hard to keep track of who was who. That's how Jeno ended up in you’re lecture every Monday. It was the only class you had with Yuta, and Jeno wasn’t taking any chances. You told him it wasn't a good idea, and the eyes burning into the back of your head were proof of that. Jeno was by your side the entire period, and to onlookers, you two probably looked like a couple. He had scooted your chair directly next to him and was practically shoulder to shoulder with you. 

“Back up; I can feel you breathing down my neck” 

“I want to see what your doing”

Jeno didn't go to college. He mainly just worked during the day and fought on the weekends for extra cash. His parents were absent for the most part, and he kind of took care of himself growing up. He didn't really have a support system growing up, and that was one of the main reasons he found himself at your house. The only other place he felt safe was the gym. You could only imagine how devastated he was when it shut down. You can understand why he decided to stick around when things turned shady. Jeno earned enough money to support himself, so he never felt the need to go to college, which is why Jaemin didn't feel to bad about dumping you off on his shoulder.

“I can't concentrate Jen,” you scold.

He spends half the class peaking over your shoulder as you work and the other half asleep on the desk. Some guard dog he was.

Yuta didn't bother you during class anymore, and you were grateful. You could finally focus on bringing your grades back up, but you couldn't shake the feeling that he was plotting against you the entire time. After class, he would hang out in the library or, if you had a long day, the gym before returning to pick you up.

Later that day, Jeno was supposed to meet you after your econ class, which was your last class of the day, but you were surprised to not see him silently leaning up against the wall opposite the door. You try your best to calm your nerves as you try to decide if you should wait for him or not. You tried not to freak out; he was probably fine. Maybe he thought you could handle walking yourself home for once; you couldn't expect him to be there all the time. Not to mention you hadn't run into Yuta anywhere other than class.  

Your last class ends late, and the sun has already gone down, so you were really reluctant to leave without Jeno. You try your best to channel the old you, the one that ran with bad crowds, the one who feared no one and nothing, and the newer you, who had trained with Jeno and learned how to protect yourself. You put on your best face and begin trekking home.

As you walked, you realized It wasn't so bad; you had honestly forgotten how nice it felt to just walk around by yourself and clear your head. You were enjoying your walk home, and you were about two blocks from your dorm when you felt something in the air shift. Suddenly, you didn't feel so alone. You try to pick up your pace as subtly as possible and pull your phone from your bag. You dial Jeno’s number with quickness and wait for him to pick it up. You can feel the person behind you’s steps quicken. 

Come on, please

You beg internally as you break out into a small jog. Screw being subtle; someone was clearly following you. You didn’t dare chance a look over your shoulder as you cut across a lawn; his phone went to voicemail, and you dialed again. The person behind you is right on your heels and you drop your phone as a firm hand grabs your arm. Your first reflex is to scream, but you remember Jenos teachings: you jab your elbow as hard as you can into the attacker's ribs. Your about to break his grip when you hear a familiar groan. You turn around to look at your attacker, and you notice its just Jeno.

He's looking at you with a worried expression, like he didn't just chase you for a full block.

“What are you doing!?” 

“I was trying to catch up to you!” He lets you go and holds his ribs, groaning in pain.

“Why didn't you pick up weirdo? I thought someone was going to get me!”

“I was running late and left my phone at home; I thought you would at least wait for me,” he states

You calm your nerves and sign in relief. You shake off your backpack and shove it into his chest.

“Dont be late again; what if something had happened”

“You know I would never let anything happen to you, right?” His eyebrows furrow, and he looks into your eyes. He needs you to know that he would throw down everything to make sure you were okay.

“I know that” Your heart skips a beat, and he grabs your hand reassuringly. You were grateful for the night sky because you could feel your face heating up.

"Good,” 

You finally arrive at your off-campus dorm and make your way inside. Your roommate didn't seem to be home yet; typically, she came home late because she had to work late at her job so you were grateful for the time you had alone with jeno. 

It isn't until he sets your things down and you flick on a few lights that you see a few bruises and cuts on his face. It was not surprising to see Jeno bruised up, given his fighting background, but these appeared to be from a recent fight. When he notices your gaze, he turns to hide his face and begins unpacking your bag and arranging your study materials.

Jeno had insisted a few days ago that he stick around a little after he drops you off. He insisted it was for your protection so you guys started studying together. Well, you started studying; Jeno just watched you or took a nap next to you on the sofa. 

“We should start soon; it's getting late,” he says, trying to redirect your attention.

You refuse to let it go though and move in closer to get a better look. “Who did this?” you say as you gently caress his face, moving it around to examine the damage

“I had a match the other—”

“Don't lie to me,” you urge

“He sent some guys after me,” jeno confesses

Your heart drops. This is exactly why you didn’t want him to get involved. Its like he can read your thoughts because he immediately tries to ease your worry.

“Calm down; this is nothing. You know me, I can hold my own,” he says

You didn't respond.

“I took care of them; you dont have to worry”

You stare at him incredulously “Is that why you were late today?” 

"Maybe,” he winces

“Jeno!” you scold. “Was Yuta there?”

“I tried to look for him after, but apparently he had an away game tonight,” he answers. 

“Let me clean you up” 

Jeno wasn't that much taller than you, probably just a few inches, but you found it easier to work on the cuts on his face by sitting on the counter. You already had your materials prepped; you kept a first aid kit on hand at all times; it was a habit you couldn't shake. This wasn't the first time you found yourself in this position with Jeno; you had always cleaned him and your brother up during childhood. You felt terrible; you worked in a silence that Jeno kept trying to break. Anytime he would open his mouth to speak, you would dab at his lip with more ointment to shut him up until he got the memo. He kept trying to cheer you up and you werent in the mood

He winces at your touch, and you immediately let up and give a short apology. You go back in with a lighter hand and add a bandage. As many punches as he takes, you would think a little peroxide wouldn't hurt. You were done fixing him up, and you busy yourself with putting your kit back together, ignoring the eyes that bore into you. You wanted to leave and put some distance between you but he wouldnt step from between your legs. 

“Hey, look at me.” he calls out to you. 

You could not bring yourself to look at him; each scar on his face reminded you that it was your fault that he was hurt. 

“Its not your fault” its like he was reading your mind.

"Yes, it is! I shouldnt have gotten you involved! I should have just called Jaem.”

“You would rather see Jaemin beat up?” He jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

“He would have at least deserved it,” you say, rolling your eyes and thinking of all the times he tormented you growing up.

A comfortable silence falls between you two after sharing a laugh. He was so close, but you reached out like he was going to disappear. You tentatively caress his bruised cheek; he leans into your touch, and the look he gives you gives you butterflies. He looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. 

“I like being near you;  don’t push me away again”

"Jeno,” you say, shocked by his confession

“I dont want us to go back to the way things were I—

You push him away before jumping down from the counter; you don't want to hear anymore. You had a feeling you knew what he was getting at. After all this time and all the hurt, now he likes you!?

“You were the one who made it like this! Made US like this. I told you how I felt all those years ago, and you rejected me!” you argue

“What are you talking—”

“Drop it,” you demand, trying to leave the bathroom, but he stands in the doorway, blocking your path.

“What did you mean? When did I ever reject you?” Jeno tries, but you ignore his gaze until he grips your chin and forces you to look at him.

“Stop being like that and answer me.” he says.

You were tired of holding your tongue; you might as well get it over with. “Do you remember that time during highschool? When you stayed with us the whole summer?” you worry your lip. “I told you I liked you and you said I was like a sister to you,” you heave out in one big breathe

Jeno takes a moment to process your words, and he finally says, “I had no idea that was what you meant back then. I thought you hated me since I was always over. I thought the ‘I like you’ was more of an ‘I like you around’,” Jeno explains.

“Why would I hate you?” You ask in shock

“Jaemin used to always drag me around to scare off your boyfriends; I thought you might have hated me for that. You never really went out of your way to speak to me, I guess? I asked Jaemin if you hated me that same night, and he told me no. Then I ran into you in the hallway, and you suddenly told me you liked me, so I figured he told you to set things straight?” 

He wasn't wrong; back then, you kept to yourself and watched from afar. You hoped you could make him come to you. You were too scared to approach him, so you did everything you could to get his attention. You got into trouble, so he and Jaemin would have to come to your rescue. You dated all those guys to make him jealous. This whole time, you thought he couldn't care less about you, but it seems the whole time he was worried you hated him. 

"Well, that doesnt change the fact that you only see me like a little sister” 

“I kind of did, at first. You were my best friend, little sister, and I had to see you that way. Jaemin would kill me if I didn't. But I can't, not anymore. Truthfully, I never had.” He caressed your face and pressed his forehead against yours “I'm sorry if this is all confusing for you. I know it has been for me, but can we just try something?” He holds your eye contact, and your faces are so close that you can feel his breath. He smelled so good; the minty scent of his tooth paste mixed with the natural musk of his skin was driving you crazy. You had waited for a moment like this for almost forever.

“Anything; I'll do anything with you,” you say, almost forgetting to breathe.

He pushes you back and sets you on the counter again as he leans in and caresses your lips softly with his, teasing you like he has been doing for the past few years. You cannot take it anymore; you cannot wait anymore, so you take the dive. You press your lips fervently against his, causing him to hiss slightly from the sting, but when you try to pull back to apologize, he grips the back of your neck and reconnects your lips again. He moans into your mouth as you lick the cut on his lip, which will undoubtedly scar apologetically. You try to kiss him more gently but when he feels your hesitance, he pulls away just for a second to whisper, “don’t hold back”

Your hands find their way into his hair and his find their way under your thighs, hiking them up and around his waist. Things were getting heated fast, and you could hardly breathe. Everything you ever wanted was coming to fruition right in front of your eyes. When he finally pulls away to catch his breath, he does not waste any time kissing your neck. The force of his kisses makes you weak, and you have to lean against the mirror behind you to stay upright. 

You could hardly keep up; your limbs felt like they weighed a ton, and you could hardly hold your head up. The way he was rolling his hips into yours made your breath start to make condensation on the mirror as you laid your face on the cool glass. Jeno eventually found your lips again after his short exploration and claimed them hungrily.

“What's gotten into my baby? You can't handle it?” he teases

This was the first time he’s called you that, and it was driving your heart beat up dangerously.

“Don't worry, I'll take care of you, like I always do,” he murmurs against your lips before leaving you with a peck. 

He pulls you off the counter as he leads you to your bed. You were in a daze; your brain was running hot, and you couldn't even think of anything but the feeling of his hands caressing your sides from under your shirt. 

“Tell me you want it” Your eyes flutter a bit at his tone. He sounded so good. You needed him inside of you; that was the only thing you could think of.

“I need you inside,” you moan with a roll of your hips

“Gotta get you ready for that first,” he says as he begins to strip you of your clothes before he follows with his own.

You definitely had brain fog but the sight infront of you cleared it up. He looked so good, you had to bite your tongue before you let out an embarrassing sound. His broad shoulders and slim waist hovered over you tauntingly, like his body was begging you to mark it. His length stood proud against his abdomen, and you had to will yourself to meet his dark graze again. When he licks his lips, you pout and give him a "hurry up" look.

 He wastes no time and starts stretching you out over his fingers. You return every kiss and nip he gave you earlier and more. You mark up his neck with kisses and bites and leave pretty claw marks down his back  and chest as he works his fingers in and out of you skillfully. He had to bite back the groans that threatened to leave his mouth as you gushed all over his fingers. He couldnt wait to feel you around his cock. You feel yourself getting so close. You roll your hips as he scissors you open. He senses how close you are and hooks his fingers as they drag deliciously against your walls. You finish all over his fingers.

“You must have been so pent-up, baby; that didn't take long at all?” he coos teasingly

You shoot him a glare and retaliate by wrapping your legs around his waist, locking him into place. You grab his length and stroke it. You give him a few sensual pumps before you crack. You wanted to tease him like he's been torturing you, but you couldn't keep waiting; you needed him inside so you slipped him in. He chuckles softly at your failed attempt to get back at him and pecks your lips affectionately. You shudder at the feeling, and your walls are squeezing him so tight that the soft patterns he was drawing on your skin turn into harsh grasps of your hips while his soft chuckling turns into a surprised gasp. He moans softly as he tries to ground himself.

“You want it bad, huh?” he tries to get you to beg but it comes out more whiney than domineering 

“No more waiting; if you wont do anything, I'll do it myself,” you threaten. 

He finds your threat cute and has decided to take mercy on you. He strokes slowly at first, making sure you’re not hurting or uncomfortable. You loved this man, and you loved how much he cared for you, but right now you didn't want that. Despite his constant nagging, he has always been nothing but gentle with you for as long as you can remember. You don't want that side of him. You want it rough.

“Dont hold back,” you mirror his words from earlier “you wont break me,” you reassure him when you see worry settle into his features

“What if I do?”

“I want you to,” you whisper back 

That seems to do the trick because now he was hoisting your hips up, tilting them to fuck into you as deep as he could. Your lower half is lifted from the mattress and all you can do is hold on to the sheets. He was thrusting in deep, craving as much contact as possible. 

You try to match his pace and fuck back on him, but you grow tired and just settle for taking everything he gives you.

He sets your hips back down before yanking one of your legs over his shoulder. He starts back  up again, and you can see the way his veins strain against his arms at the force he's using to fuck you. You were sure to have pretty bruises in the shape of his hands in the morning. The bed creaked loudly as he pounded you into the mattress, and you prayed that Ryujin wasn’t home yet. 

It was like he couldn't keep his hands off of you; they were never still on your body. First they were grasping your hips, holding you steady as he drilled you, then they were grasping at your breasts, and finally one of them took a purchase wrapped around the base of your neck. He wasn’t applying much pressure; he was just holding it there.

Your walls flutter around his cock and hw tightens his grip around your neck at the feeling. He can tell you’re about to cum and when you do, he has to hold you down with his other hand. The lack of air triggers your survival responses and heightened senses, making you feel everything tenfold. The burn against your throat hurts, but the pain mixes with the pleasure to give you a beautiful ending. You can tell by the sticky warmth that fills you and the groan that follows that Jeno wasn't far behind at all. He rolls off of you and plops down on the space beside you to catch his breath. You pull yourself up and start to get out of bed before he grabs your arm.

“Where are you going?” He asks as hurt crosses his features.

“I need the bathroom,” you explain, sleepy “This is my house anyway; you thought I was going to leave?” You joke with a laugh

Jeno visibly relaxes for a second before he too gets out of bed. He makes his way over to you and helps you to the bathroom. You go to the bathroom, and he runs a bath, and you realize how much more domestic your relationship has become in the last few weeks, to the point where it feels natural.

He helps you into the bath and slips in behind. You two talk more in the bath as he pampers you. You have never felt more at home than when you were wrapped in Jeno’s arms. When you get out, he lays you back on the bed before cuddling up beside you. You study his face, and for the first time in awhile, you take a good, long look. If you looked close enough, you could still see traces of the boy you knew all those years ago under the man that stared back at you. For some reason, that made everything hurt. You knew Jeno would do anything to protect you, but who would protect him? With Jaemin gone, all he had was you. You shut your eyes at the thought.

You don't know what your thinking; you just knew you had to be strong and that you were going to put an end to this tonight. You didn’t have his number anymore, but you always knew where to find him. 

It was getting late, and instead of heading to the gym for your weekly training with Jeno, you were on the other side of town. You hug your jacket tighter to your chest, bracing yourself against the cold winds of the night. When you turn a corner, the flashing neon lights almost blind you.

찬스노래방

Chance Karoake

You open the door to the front of the building and make your way in. You put on your brave face before trekking over to the back of the shady building. Room 0824 was your destination. 

This was the building Yuta ran most of his deals out of. Karaoke rooms are a known hotspot for drug deals and other illegal trades. It was rare to see Yuta here now due to the fact that he had to keep his image clean but you knew his schedule and you knew when he would pop in. Dont get him wrong; yuta wasnt some big-shot crime boss, he was just some kid who dealt in shady business. 

You knock on the door and wait. When the door swings open, a cloud of smoke hits you in the face. The room stinks of weed and disposables, the smoke burning your eyes as you try to focus on the figure in front of you. 

Cheshire grin meets an apprehensive frown as you stand face-to-face with Yuta.

“Welcome home, doll”

You feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins at the man standing in front of you, the source of so much trouble in your life. The atmosphere is tense, filled with the lingering smell of drugs and the weight of unspoken threats. You knew this was your chance to finally confront him and put an end to this dangerous game you've been forced to play. With a steely glance, you lock eyes with Yuta and prepare yourself for the confrontation that will determine the course of your future.

“Don't call me that” You push past him and enter the room. There is plenty of sitting room on the couch, but you’re too anxious, so you decide to stand. A few of his friends occupy the room, and he doesn't have to tell them twice to leave the two of you alone.

Even after all this time and all your history together, you cannot bring yourself to look him in the eyes. Jeno was right; he terrified you. You could pretend to be brave all you wanted, but the truth was, you were just a scared little girl inside. 

“Don't push me, doll,” he warns before wrapping slender fingers around your jaw and forcing you to look at him. “Where's your little boyfriend? Not here to save you?” he taunts

“I want you to leave him alone,” you grit out. You had to be brave.

“You think you can just walk in here and give me orders? You forget who you belong to?” He shakes your face in his grasp.

You rip his hand from your face and twist. No, you would not let him control you any longer. This had all gone too far. Despite feeling intimidated, you refuse to submit to his control any longer.

All you could think about was Jeno; you couldn't let him get hurt anymore because of you. You loved him more than you feared Yuta. You refuse to let him own you.

With the grasp that you have on his arm, you twist his wrist farther until hes crippling down onto his knees. As he winced in agony, you could see the fear etched on his face. With a steely resolve, you pressed harder. His cries echoed in the empty room as you held him in place, making sure he felt every ounce of pain he had caused. Your grip tightened, a silent promise that this would be the last time he hurt anyone.

“If you want to continue playing and keep your scholarship, I suggest you leave me the hell alone. Next time you harass me, I'll break it,” you spit.

With a final, warning glare, you released your grip on his wrist. His body crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath as he clutched his throbbing wrist. You had made it clear that harassment would not be tolerated, and the threat of losing his scholarship hung heavy in the air. 

The weight that had been dragging you down for so long began to lift, replaced by a newfound sense of confidence and self-worth. With your head held high, you strode forward. Although you know for certain that Jeno would kill you if he ever found out, you think deep down he would be proud; after all, he created this monster.

When you get home, Ryujin’s on your ass for being out so late. When she had called Jeno and he hadn't seen you either, she thought the worst had happened. You check your phone and find 10 missed calls and even more frantic text messages from Jeno. 

You apologize for causing worry to Ryujin and explain that you lost track of time while out. You decide to quickly call Jeno back to assure him your okay. 

You wait as the phone rings, but there is no answer. You call again, and he still doesn't pick up. Something didn't feel right, and you grabbed your keys, rushing out of the house.

“You just got here; where are you going?” a stern Ryujin calls.

“Gotta find Jeno!” you call back before hopping back into your car.

For as long as you’ve known him, you knew Jeno could be a hothead sometimes. You knew the moment he heard you were missing, he went out himself to go looking for you. You drove to his house to find him. When you pull into his driveway, it's empty. You park and rush up the stairs to his apartment. You bang on the door until someone answers. You almost sigh in relief until you realize its not Jeno. The person on the other side of the door looked clearly aggravated. His black hair was messily strewn on his head, and his shirt hung off his frame like he just threw it on. 

“Can I help you? A raspy voice calls

“Uh, im looking for Jeno,” you ask the man

“He left like an hour ago,” he yawns lazily, leaning against the door frame like he could barely stay awake. “Its almost one in the morning. Whats going on?” 

“Its nothing; can you call me if he shows back up” you ask frantically.  If Jeno had left an hour ago, who knows where he could be now? You give him your number, and he tells you his name is Mark. You thank him and rush back to your car. Your about to pull out when your phone lights up. Jeno was calling you back.

“Hello? Jeno where have you been?” You feel a weight lift off your shoulder as you take your keys out of the ignition and slump back into your seat. 

“”I found Yuta”

“Jeno…What did you do to him?”

“I beat his ass,” he says, “and then I made him tell me where you were”

“Jen—”

“Why did you think it was a good idea to go and threaten him on your own?”

“I had too. I had to do it for me”

“Where are you”

“At your apartment”

“Stay there”

You get out of your car and lean up against the hood, and you wait to see his car roll down the street. 

You breathe in the cold, crisp night air and let it soothe your nerves. You did not want to argue with Jeno, not right now. Headlights blind you as a car pulls up behind yours. You hear the engine cut off and the car door slam. As Jeno quickly approaches, you prepare yourself for the confrontation. The tension hangs heavy between you, but you take a deep breath and gather your thoughts before engaging in what could be a difficult conversation. 

"Jeno, can we talk about this—” You're left speechless as his lips meet yours in an unexpected kiss.

Confusion and conflicting emotions swirl within you as you reluctantly allow yourself to be swept up in the moment, momentarily forgetting all of your worries.

He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours “Don't scare me like that” His hands caress your face like he can't believe your standing in front of him, like he's making sure he's not dreaming. His frame is shaking, and you’re not sure if it was the cool night air or the light rain that chose this moment to fall, making him shiver.

He pulls you in for a tight hug, and your heart twists, your throat closes up, and you cry. You cry because you never want him to pull away; you cry because you realize how much he loves you; and you cry because you’re both safe.

“Im sorry Jen i didnt mean to—”

“No excuses,” he says, shaking his head “promise”

You hug him back tight and bury your head in his shoulder. “I promise I wont do anything like that again” 

He pulls away from you and you notice hes soaked to his bones. The rain had picked up and was now pouring down over you two; you could only imagine your clothes were in the same state. You laugh and push his wet hair out of his face.

“Mark is going to kill us if we soak the carpet.”

“I think he's already upset; I woke him up earlier. Come on, lets get you out of the rain”

He leads you inside by the hand, and you kick off your wet shoes and socks. You try your best to make your way to the bathroom to change. Jeno brings you some dry clothes, and he closes the door and changes alongside you into something more warm.

You follow him to his room with light steps, afraid of waking Mark up for a second time. You lay down next to Jeno in his bed, and you tangle your feet with his seeking warmth.

“I feel like my heart starts beating again when our hands hold each other,” he whispers

“Back then, when we drifted apart, every day felt like I was drowning. Now because you are here, I'm breathing,” you confess

He hugs you tighter and kisses the top of your head “im not going anywhere”

And you believe him, because somehow you had always known he was your guardian angel. You close your eyes, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the reassurance in his words. In that moment, you know that no matter what challenges may come, you both can face them together. With his arms around you and his promise to stay by your side, you finally feel at peace, knowing that you have found your way back to each other.