#but I really do feel like I've stumbled back into the room covered in blood and holding a smoothie.
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I've let this wolf into my home (I feed it even when it bites)
Blood nose and a crooked tongue (I always wanted to be someone) - series masterlist here
pairing: tim drake x reader (gender neutral)
length: 1.5k
genre: fluff ??
warnings: you don't know red robin and timmy are the same person but he sure knows you, he's also so so awkward but he can't help it
a/n: alright alright alright here we go <3
The jingle of the coffee shop door opening startles you, your head snapping up from where you're sitting, slouched over in the corner. It's a 24-hour shop, yes, but who else would really be here at 3am? The barista behind the counter looks just as surprised, blinking rapidly and looking at the person who came in.
You, on the other hand, opt not to, sighing and looking back down at your table, instead. The coffee in your to-go cup is still hot, burning your fingers as you shift them over the label. It's bright, a cartoonish sort of thing that grins up at you like an old friend you should be happier to see. You've been getting this coffee for years. You're never quite as happy as you should be.
The chair opposite you makes a horrible sort of sound as it's pulled out and you look up to see who's sitting across from you. You purse your lips in annoyance while he just looks at you.
"All the other tables have just been cleaned. They're wet," he points out. You let your eyes flit around the cafe, the tabletops shining wetly in the dull glow of the lights, the disinfectant bottle still sitting abandoned on one of them.
"Lucky me," you bite back, taking a sip of your coffee. It's sweet - too sweet, but not enough to cover the bitterness of the burnt grounds. You always think that if you pile enough sugar into it, it'll mask what's wrong. You're never right.
The man sitting opposite you takes a sip of his own - he left it black, you notice. He grimaces slightly at the taste, but keeps drinking anyway. There's no effort there to pretend it's anything other than what it is - burnt, cheap coffee sold to him in a cafe full of ghosts, in a city that should be sleeping but never really does. It's interesting, you think, as you look out the window and into the dark street. You'd almost managed to convince yourself that you were really alone - that there was no one else in this world except you, until he walked in and broke the reverie of your 3am silence.
For what it's worth, Tim regretted it as soon as he'd walked in. He hadn't meant to stay, really - ending up in a part of Gotham he didn't often find himself in, in his civvies and in desperate need of a hot cup of coffee and a long sleep, he'd stumbled across the flickering, neon sign of a 24-hour coffee shop.
What good luck, he'd thought. Now, sitting across from you, there's a desperate little part of him that thinks maybe it wasn't just that - maybe it was intuition that drew him here. You don't know who he is, of course, all your previous meetings happening in the shadows of your home with his face hidden from you. Tim shifts in his seat, suddenly aware of how naked he feels, exposed to your wandering eyes.
And you do let your eyes wander, narrowing them suspiciously as you take him in. Tim feels a pang of guilt that surprises him when he thinks that this is probably how you've always felt with him - like a lamb with a wolf at your door. As you lean back in your chair, swirling your coffee and letting your gaze trail away from him and towards the window, he feels his shoulders drop in relief. He's not the only wolf in your living room late at night, he realizes. You've got teeth of your own that he'd just never noticed.
You're good at this, Tim thinks with a start - you've got a foot propped up on the window sill next to you, your head resting in your hand as you watch the street outside idly. Or, at least, it's supposed to look like that. He thinks that if he were anyone normal, he would believe it. But Tim has spent enough time as prey to know when someone's pretending to let their guard down.
He looks away from you almost forcefully, staring down at his cup and running his tongue over his teeth as he thinks of the burnt taste of it. He wonders if you were smart enough to put sugar in yours - wise enough to bury the bitterness with something nicer. It's something he always thinks he should do. He can never quite make himself.
"I'm sure those other tables are dry now." Your voice makes him flinch, a hard, forceful thing that cuts through the silence of the night that's blanketed the two of you. Tim looks around at the dull, streaky tabletops and shrugs.
"I'm already comfortable here," he offers. You cock your head to the side and look at him, but make no move to fight him on it. He thinks it's probably stupid of him, inviting a lion into his home like this. He wonders if you feel the same way every time he slides in through your balcony door.
There's a silence that, once more, overtakes the two of you as he shifts in his seat. Tim wonders if he should drink faster, if he should pretend to be finished so that he can leave. It's funny, he thinks, how he finally felt like he'd stopped running away when he started running into you. It's funny that, now, he's itching for it, his hands gripping his cup in an attempt to still his heart - his need to escape.
You look back at him just in time to see him squeeze a little too hard, the cheap plastic lid popping off and hot coffee sloshing a bit over his hands. A mild, bemused sort of look crosses your face as you watch him curse and splutter as the coffee burns his hands and spills onto the table. Then, without a word, you stand up and begin to walk away.
Tim, in the meantime, is rubbing his hands against his jeans, his eyes squeezed shut in mortification as he wonders how he ruined it all so quickly. Not for the first time, he wishes he was in the mask - thinks maybe the only way to hold onto you is to make sure that's all you ever see. But then your cup scrapes across the table and he opens his eyes to see you sitting opposite him again, sipping idly and watching. There's a stack of napkins that he swore wasn't there before and - oh.
"Thanks," is all he can make himself say as he grabs them, cleaning up the mess he's made. As he goes to pop the lid back onto his cup, he looks at the dark liquid inside and grimaces, deciding that maybe it's not worth it.
"It's shit coffee," you say, and he slams his hand against the table, crushing the plastic lid in the process. Truly, he's not sure if he's ever acted this nervous before. You pay it no mind. He thinks maybe he could take off his mask, just this once, and reaches up to his face in time to remember that he's already exposed to you. "You're better off finding something else… or just going somewhere else." Tim smiles, then, a charming sort of thing that has you narrowing your eyes.
"I dunno,' he says. "There's something I like about right here." You glance down at your own cup, at the label that you've picked and peeled off until it's unrecognizable, the colours torn and cracked.
"There's nothing good about right here. And things like that don't change." Tim looks at you for a long moment after you speak, letting the words tumble around his head before he stands, taking his cup and squished lid and pile of wet napkins with him.
"Well, I've never been big on change, anyway," is all he says as he walks away, dumping everything in the bin and letting the bell on the door jingle as he walks out. Looking back down to the table, you notice the card he's left behind - the Wayne Ent. logo flashing behind his name. Flipping it over, his number's been written in a hasty scrawl.
As you thumb a corner of the card, you wonder when he'd slipped it onto the table - when he'd written on it. Mostly, you wonder what kind of person he'd have to be to do it without you noticing. You trace the numbers with your finger and think that something, far in the back of your mind, is telling you that there's a familiarity about it all.
But what's familiar about seeing someone in a place where you never should? What's normal about that man, appearing like a ghost in the night and disappearing just as fast? As you pull out your phone to add his number to your contacts, there's a part of you that thinks maybe you should run away - that maybe you're not the only thing stalking the streets of Gotham this late.
#smsn.writes#tim drake#tim drake x reader#tim drake x you#tim drake x y/n#tim drake fluff#tim drake imagine#tim drake fanfiction#tim drake fic#red robin#red robin x reader#red robin x you#red robin x y/n#red robin imagine#red robin fluff#red robin tim drake#tim drake wayne
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Creative Hubris takes another unsuspecting victim.
#non mdzs#It's not even that many pages and I'm getting my ass kicked!#As much as I have been clawing at the walls - I have learned so much! This project pushed me more than I thought it would#I am so excited to share what I've made. I think its actually some of the best work I've ever done.#but I really do feel like I've stumbled back into the room covered in blood and holding a smoothie.#The issue being: at some point the sunken cost fallacy kicks in and you go:#'well I might as well put in extra polish since I've spent so much time on this already'#That's your EVIL BRAIN talking to you who wants you to live in EVIL COMICS LIMBO.#Sorry to my followers who miss the mdzs comics. I went mad at sea for a month and all I brought back was a short comic.#Posting my silly side doodles to bide me time as I continue to drink the sea water.#Set me free into the plains where the horses roam and I will be able to heal <3
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Caught.
A/N: Tumblr tells me I've been on here for a year already. Time really flies! Just a quick one for Happy self anniversary and Merry Christmas.
***
"Hello?!"
Nayeon calls out as she enters your apartment, closing and locking the front door behind her. There's an eerie silence as she walks through the hall. Your door is slightly open, just a crack. Nayeon gives it a light nudge and pokes her head inside.
"Merry Christm-"
Nayeon drops her duffle bag by the foot of the bed, her breath quick and heavy. Her heart almost stops beating. Her body freezes, rigid with shock.
She hears groaning, coming from a figure laying on your bed in the center of the room. Your cock in your hand, your phone in the other, frozen in place while your best friend looks at you in disbelief.
You can't take your eyes off her, quickly placing your phone back onto the nightstand.
You didn't even think. The content of your phone remaining visible until the screen falls asleep: a photo of her - nothing even scandalous about it, just a photo of her, smiling at the camera with her cute bunny teeth and gummy smile—making a dumb cute little peace sign and acting like a goof. The screen finally goes dark, but the image is burned into her mind. A photo of her. You were jerking off to a photo of her. Your best friend.
Nayeon stumbles forwards, her mouth agape and her brain still failing to comprehend any of the shit that's happening.
It's like an out-of-body experience. Nothing makes sense anymore, everything is wrong. All the air seems to escape from her lungs, and all her thoughts melt out of her ears.
You lay there silently, your cock sitting on your stomach, covered with your own precum. Your heart is about to burst out of your chest, sweat sticks your hair to your forehead, heat emanates from every inch of your body. You should have heard her outside.
"Nayeon, it's not what you think."
"Oh yeah? What is it? Because this seems pretty fucking obvious to me."
"I don't know! I mean, I do, but...shit."
Nayeon fumbles through the photos. More images of her, from different angles, of different clothing, none particularly pornographic or inappropriate. A few shots that highlight the curve of her body, one that is focused on the swell of her firm ass, one from the front where you can see how snug her yoga pants are.
"So this is what you're into then, huh, jerk?"
Nayeon sits down on the bed with a thud. You're at a loss for words, laying next to her awkwardly, cock awkwardly hanging against your stomach. Nayeon doesn't speak at all. You can practically hear her think, processing this information, unsure what it means, uncertain whether she should feel flattered, used, hurt, betrayed, disgusted.
Without another word, or any kind of warning…
Nayeon starts to undress, her shirt thrown behind her. Her basic pink bra cups her petite breasts, a small layer of flesh rises up over the cup, but it's hard to make out. The top half of her torso, from her clavicle to her abdomen, is toned muscle, lithe and defined, feminine and sexy. You can't tear your gaze away from the taut curves of her shoulders, her arms, her hands, which start working on taking her jeans off.
"Keep going jerk. Touch yourself."
You look at her quizzically. Nayeon has never talked to you so harshly, especially about this kind of stuff, and even less while she was slowly stripping out of her clothes in your bed. This is a new side to her, your best friend still has the same looks to her, only now she's half-naked, stern and intense and almost angry as she watches you slowly jacking yourself, holding your member at a gentle but eager pace.
"Is this what you like? Pervert. Thinking about me while you jerk yourself off? Is the real thing better?"
Her barrage of questions makes your head hurt. Or perhaps it's just the amount of blood that seems to be going to your cock, as your mind fills with a haze of lust and desire. This condescending tone. The humiliation. Is this really what you're into?
Your thumb glides over your swollen, sensitive tip, a quiet moan escapes you as Nayeon lays next to you on her side, watching.
"Disgusting. Tch."
With each disparaging comment from her lips, the greater the pit forms in your stomach.
"You wanna see them?" Nayeon teases, letting one of her straps fall down her shoulder.
Your throat is dry. So fucking dry that it's hard to talk. So you nod your head in the most shameful and guilty way imaginable. It's Nayeon. Your Nayeon. There are boundaries that aren't supposed to be crossed and lines that shouldn't be crossed, and here you are, crossing them both.
She lets the other strap slip off her shoulder. Nayeon plays around with you a bit, letting just a hint of tit flesh spill out of the side before sliding the cups up again. After letting your pathetic begging whines linger for a minute, she undoes the hook of her bra in one smooth, single-handed motion and slowly takes it off.
"Well better or worse than what's in that fucked up head of yours?"
"Better..." You groan out, your hand instinctively reaching out towards her chest.
She slaps your hand away, pinning your wrist down into the mattress.
"Perv. Fucking touch me and I'll tear off your dick, got it?"
Nayeon said no touching, but she did nothing to stop you from jerking off in front of her. Actually, quite the opposite: Nayeon leans in even closer, her fingers trailing down the sides of her small perky tits. She lifts the small handfuls and gives them a playful shake, grinning at how desperately your mouth hangs open, lust clouding over your eyes, completely entranced. She knows full well she doesn't have a spectacular pair of melons, but in this case, she's fairly confident in them and what they're able to accomplish. And accomplishing a whole lot right now, it seems like.
You're mesmerized and enamored and lost and whatever the fuck else the synonyms for obsessed are. You want her. God do you ever want her, your arousal building more and more as Nayeon trails down the waistband of her underwear. Down, past her soft curving hips, exposing the tight pink slit underneath.
"You're not gonna cum already are you?" Nayeon mocks. "Look into my eyes" she orders, taking her thumb and giving your bottom lip a tug, forcing your drooling face to stare into her smoldering eyes, her tone still berating.
"Focus. Don't you look away, okay?"
A whimper and a nod. "Okay Nayeon." You're willing to do anything at this point, if only she allows you to keep staring at those brown bedroom eyes of hers. You are so fucking screwed.
"Good. Follow my fingers now. But remember, no touching." With that her hand slides down: down to neck, hovering over perfect handful of tits, gently pinching her rock hard nipples, a blissful smile washing over Nayeon as she does. Fingers trace around her navel, delicate and lovingly, teasing your poor erection with an agonizing display of sexuality and intimacy, torturous enough to make you beg for it, but never doing. Your balls feel so tight. Your entire pelvis feels like one massive tight knot.
"Keep watching..." Nayeon notices your blanked out expression, snapping her fingers to draw your attention back to her. Finally, finally! Her hands slither under the waistband of her underwear, and with a devious smirk, finally pulls her panties off and throws them to the floor. Nayeon presses a couple fingers to her nether lips, feeling the wetness, then showing off her slick coated finger to you.
"Wanna sniff?"
You want to so badly. It would only take a moment, it'd be so easy to cross over those inches. Her beautiful eyes. The girl you've known for so many years. Your best friend. You pathetically pant, like a dog who knows he shouldn't be begging his owner, but still hoping against hope to get the treats she has locked away.
Nayeon thrusts out her fingers again, rubbing them directly against your nose—smearing the honey across your upper lip. That heavenly sweet aroma. An explosion of alluring femininity that hits you like a brick, a thick waft of her womanly smell so strong and enticing.
And yet you can't touch, unable to do anything but pathetically touch yourself , like some kind of fugitive prisoner denied everything but the cruelest of tortures. You want to run. Escape from the intoxication and humiliation. To say 'let's just not ever bring this up again, be friends like we always were.'
But that'll never happen, not when Nayeon holds her hand over yours.
"Why don't you cum already eh? I'm waiting to see what a worthless perv like you looks like when he orgasms. Look at your gross, needy face."
If only you weren't so damn excited. A warm, burning sensation coils in your chest, pooling downwards. Nayeon isn't even touching it—there's no skin on skin contact with your cock. Instead she's using your hand like a puppet, pumping faster and faster, bringing yourself right to the brink, watching with wicked glee at the pitiful state you're in.
"Thinking about your best friend. After all we've been through. How the fuck do you even live with yourself? Pathetic."
A shudder goes through your body, as if you are absorbing the verbal abuse she gives you, making you even more aroused than before, feeling ashamed and dirty and alive. It's sick, perverted, and horrible, yet you revel in it, taking pleasure in feeling inferior, seeing her act with superiority and indifference to you and your pleas.
Her hand is over yours, her soft skin so close to your cock, yet so far—forcing your hand up and down, the head throbbing and swelling, unable to hold on any longer. Your entire focus is on Nayeon and her lithe touch. How her tiny tits jiggle ever so slightly when she moves. How her dark locks drift about her frame, flowing past her slim arms.
Before you even know it, you're blowing your load, feeling like a teenager in your own body, humiliated as it happens, almost falling backwards from the force, completely submitting to the control of another, spraying all over yourself, as Nayeon stares at you with disgust and contempt in her eyes. "You already came? God damn, that was even faster than I expected."
You can't stand the fact that you orgasmed within seconds of Nayeon touching you, even if it was over your hand. So easily able to dominate you, you are overtaken by desire, need and lust. By shame and embarrassment, your cock in your hand with jizz all over you.
She picks up her clothes and walks away, leaving you with a mix of shame and indignation, getting dressed while ignoring you.
As she is about to leave she turns back and faces you.
"See you tomorrow, pervert. Coffee. Yea?"
You're left alone, covered in jizz, looking down and watching yourself go soft and your member drip onto your lower belly. Your head is cloudy with afterglow, unhinged and confused feelings settle over you; part guilt, part exhilaration, all humiliation. Your body feels exhausted. The cold December air cools the sticky substance, drying it against you, you feel it, that's your shame, a shame that Nayeon exuded upon you and that you took pleasure in.
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anyone else
part: 3
pairing: paige bueckers x oc
word count: 3.3k
c/w: slight mention of blood, language
a/n: hi guys! so sorry this is probably much later than you expected, i've just been so busy with school and other stuff. here's part 3. let me know what ideas you guys have for other fics and what you might want to see :)
OCTOBER 2020
Ava you good? 8:24 PM
Yo I’m waiting at mine 8:43 PM
Avaaaa 8:46 PM
I’m going crazy thinking about you dude 8:52 PM
I’m serious 8:52 PM
Don’t leave me hanging like this 8:52 PM
I read over Paige’s messages tiredly. I feel so incredibly stupid. How many times has she used these lines on girls? Probably more than she can count. I nearly laugh out loud. Poor Paige, I think to myself. Keeping track of a roster like that while being such a shitty person must be hard. The hatred is bubbling in my chest, angry and scorching. It pushes me to my feet, out my door, and to Audrey’s room.
Before I know what I’m doing, I knock on the door, plastering a smile on my face. “Hey, what’s up?” Aubrey says brightly when she opens her door. “Nothing much. Who was that, though?” Audrey smiles sheepishly. “Swear you won’t tell anyone?” She asks. My heart pounds painfully. Paige had asked me to keep quiet about us hanging out, too. I nod nonetheless. “It was Paige Bueckers.”
I knew that. I knew that. But somehow, hearing it out loud hurts even worse. “How-how did y’all meet?” She giggles, covering her mouth. “Okay, you remember that night we were at the gym? Doing serve-receive? Like last month?” I nod, the thudding in my chest suffocating me now. “She ran into me and she just, like, asked for my snap. And she’s hot so I gave it to her.”
The night she walked me home. The same night she told me I was pretty and told me that my smile was beautiful.
She played me.
“Was she good?” I ask bluntly, my voice foreign to my own ears. Aubrey’s eyes widen. “Uh, yeah? Like, really good. Oh, my God - she did this thing with her tongue...” There’s a roaring in my ears all of a sudden.
She fucking played me.
“Avantika? Are you okay?” I nod, too wrapped up in my own thoughts and back away, stumbling back to my room. Had I liked her that much? Why does it hurt this bad? I glance around my room, my eyes landing on an article of clothing. Her hoodie. A UConn basketball hoodie. She’d given it to me after walking me home from practice one night.
She’d come to the volleyball gym just to walk me home. She told me I looked good in her clothes, but that I’d look better in her bed.
I’d slept in it for three days straight after.
I want to burn it now.
NOVEMBER 2021
The surprise party is at Paige’s apartment. I haven’t been there in over a year. But I find myself standing in front of her door, too nervous to knock. Which doesn’t make any sense, obviously. There’s no reason to be nervous; it’s just like any other party. I’m dressed in a strappy green tank top and cargo pants, my hair down and curly. Taking a deep breath, I rap on the door with my knuckles.
Paige opens it. My breath catches, and I hate that it does. She’s in a pair of blue shorts and a sports bra, drying her hair with a towel. Her hand drops to her side, towel in hand, when she sees me. “Avantika, hi.” I smile slightly. “Hey,” I reply. “Am I early? I didn’t wanna be late, so-”
“Nah, ur good. You can help set up, actually,” she tells me, shuffling to the side to let me in. Her apartment looks the same as I remember. I catch a glimpse of her familiar, ludicrous purple bed sheets through her cracked room door. I turn to her, inhaling deeply. “What can I help with?” I ask, holding out my present for Azzi. Her eyes linger on me, trailing over my body as she takes the gift in one hand and continues drying her hair with the other. “I blew up balloons, but I didn’t string them together yet. You mind?”
She sets the present on the counter, hopping up onto it. Her legs dangle off the edge, spread wide as she watches me string together balloons that say ‘Happy Birthday’. She fishes a dab pen out of her pocket and takes a hit. “You want?” She asks. I glance at her, shaking my head. She shrugs, tipping her head back to release the smoke. My eyes draw to her jawline, fingers going slack. I curse myself for still letting her have this effect on me. Her head lolls back forward, catching me staring. I see her mouth twitch into a smirk, ever so slightly, before she clears her throat. “You all good there?” She asks, gesturing to the balloon garland I’m supposed to be helping with.
I laugh shakily. “No, yeah. All good.” Paige shakes her head, grinning. “Here, I’ll do it. There’s a package in my bedroom with streamers. Go grab it?” I roll my eyes, handing the balloons and string over to her. “You remember which one it is?” She hums, eyes flicking to mine. My mouth twitches. I nod wordlessly.
The silence is so suffocating. I’m not used to being alone with her - at least, not anymore. I hate that her presence is still so intoxicating, that there’s still this undeniable force pulling me to her. I hate the way she laughs and the way she talks and the way she looks at me.
I get in and out of her room as quickly as possible, snatching the Amazon package off of her bed. I grab a knife from the kitchen to slice through the tape, but I’m so distracted that I accidentally slash my own finger. I hiss in pain, dropping the knife onto the counter with a clatter. “Fuck,” I whisper agitatedly, Paige’s head whipping up. “Avantika?” She asks. “All good,” I say, turning away from her, holding my finger to my chest, trying not to get blood on my top. It’s really flowing now, in rivets down my finger, pooling in my palm.
“Yo, Avantika,” Paige says, turning me towards her by my shoulder. “Oh, shit,” she breathes, grabbing my hand. “Okay, wait, it’s fine-” I try to get out, but Paige already has my finger in her mouth. My eyes widen as she licks away the blood, walking me backwards with her to rummage around a kitchen drawer. “Paige!” I say. She shoots me a look, taking my finger out of her mouth and wiping at her lips with the back of her hand. She fishes out a bandaid and an alcohol wipe.
“I can do it-”
“Hush.”
I shut up immediately, watching as Paige cleans my cut, shaking her head when I hiss at the sting of the alcohol swab. She tears at the bandaid package with her teeth and applies it smoothly, wrapping it tightly around my finger. “How’d you even manage that?” She muses. I narrow my eyes at her, snatching her hand away. “It was very strategic, actually, I wanted to slice my hand open-”
“Clearly-”
“What are you, fuckin’ pre-med now?” I demand.
“Might have to be, if you can’t take care of yourself,” she laughs, shoving me lightly.
I shove her back, smiling back at her. I can’t help it.
Her eyes meet mine. “No ‘thank you'?” She asks.
I scoff. “You put a bandaid on me,” I ridicule.
Paige’s eyes widen. “I could’ve let you bleed to death,” she says.
I gape. “You are so dramatic-”
“And you’re ungrateful as hell, come here,” she complains, grabbing at my waist and pulling me against her more or less bare torso, hands going to my sides to tickle me. I shriek with laughter, fighting at her, clutching at her hands to pull her away from me. But Paige is relentless, hands going everywhere, ordering me, “Say thank you! Say thank you and I’ll stop!”
“No shot!” I gasp, eyes welling with tears of laughter, trying to ignore the scent of strawberries that invades my nostrils.
“Say it!” She demands, an arm winding all the way around my torso to hold me against her as I fight harder.
“Yo, why the fuck is nothing set up?” I hear a voice demand. Paige’s hold loosens, but doesn’t relax. Her arms hang limply from my body, and when I see Evina standing indignantly in front of us, I shove her away. Paige clears her throat, backing up.
“Hi, Evina,” I say, my tone suddenly solemn. “Hi, E,” Paige says. She at least has the sense to look sheepish.
“Well, if y’all are done fucking around, Caroline’s about to drive Azzi back. Let’s get it together,” she commands, clapping her hands. Paige and I snap into motion, finishing up the decorations and hanging them up in a relatively organized fashion.
The party goes smoothly - Azzi does a good job of acting surprised, though I’m sure she’s well aware of what the girls were going to do in the first place. We cut cake and load her up with presents, before Paige calls for a round of shots.
And that’s when the night really takes off.
Soon enough, Paige has made some sort of insinuation that she can drink better than me, and I’m going shot for shot with her. She’s really putting me through it, knowing just how to push my competitive nature. Me, her, and Azzi begin alternating between vodka and tequila. We’re about 5 shots in before Aubrey and Christyn challenge Paige and Azzi to a game of beer pong. Azzi shakes her head adamantly. “If Paige loses because of me, I’ll never live it down,” she insists. “Ava will go!”
I protest immediately when Azzi pushes me towards the table, Paige in hot pursuit. “No way! I’m not playing beer pong with a bunch of basketball players,” I say indignantly. Suddenly, I feel Paige’s breath hot on my ear, and her hand at my hip. “Hey, I got you, okay? Trust.” Her voice sends shivers through me, and I feel my eyelids flutter. Damn her. I elbow her ever so slightly, shooting her a grin. She smirks back.
Paige dips a ping-pong ball into a cup full of beer on our side, shooting it to theirs. It swirls into their middle cup, and she hands me the other one. I mimic her actions, making it into the cup at the tip of their triangle. We get the balls back, and Paige makes another shot, holding up a 3 on her hand when it plops into a cup at the corner of their triangle. I giggle at Christyn and Aubrey’s annoyed expressions, staggering into Paige. She braces her hands on my shoulders, her chest vibrating with laughter. “You good?” she laughs. I look up at her, her stark blue eyes framed by long, dark lashes, her perpetual smirk. “Yeah,” I breathe. “You want help with this shot?” She asks.
Paige doesn’t give me time to respond before she turns me around, wrapping her arms around me to position my arms, then flicking my wrist for me. The ball lands in their middle cup, and the other two girls groan, reaching for the cups to chug them. I expect Paige to move away from me, to drop my arms the second I’ve made the shot. But her hold lingers, an arm looped around my waist as she laughs, jeering at Christyn and Aubrey, tossing them the balls out of pity. Her arms stay around me, my head leaning back against her chest, hands lingering on her arms, swaying to the music I’m too drunk to recognize, dancing with the girl I’m too drunk to push away. She doesn’t remove her arms from around me until she has to shoot again.
I don’t remember who loses or wins that game of beer pong. I remember the taste of beer in my throat. I remember Paige’s voice in my ear - “Shot of Pink Whit?” I remember Azzi giggling as she leads me into the kitchen, her arms linked with mine as we down the shot of pink liquid.
I remember Paige’s eyes hot on mine, her gaze challenging and curious.
I walk up to her, holding out a shot of Pink Whitney. “Drink,” I command. Paige takes the shot from me, not breaking eye contact. She tips it back down her throat, straight-faced, and then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
Fuck, she’s hot.
I clap gleefully, spinning away, but she catches at my waist, pulling me into her. “Avantika,” she murmurs. I cock my head. “Paige?” I ask. My heart is beating out of my chest, and I’m so drunk I don’t even realize how close we are. “Are you okay?” She asks sincerely. I nod happily, looping my arms around her neck. “Are you sure?” She repeats. I close my eyes, tipping my head back and laughing. “You don’t have to pretend to care about me,” I slur, lolling my head back towards her.
I must be drunk. I must be, because that’s not a flash of hurt that flits across her face. It can’t be.
So I continue.
“I mean, you never really cared about me, did you?” I scoff, hanging off of her neck. Her brow furrows. “Avantika, what are you-”
“You just wanted to have sex with me…” I say sadly, pouting, tracing her face with my finger. Paige’s eyes widen.
“It’s okay. I wanted to have sex with you, too,” I admit, shrugging, tapping my finger against her lips. Paige shakes her head. “Avantika, you’re drunk,” she says. My hands trail down to rest on her chest. “No, I’m not,” I say indignantly.
“You are.”
“No, you are,” I retort, getting frustrated.
“Ava-”
I push her away immediately. “Do not fucking call me that,” I spit. She holds her hands up in surrender. “Okay, I’m sorry,” she tries to amend, reaching for me again. I stagger away. “No, fuck you,” I snap. “Avantika, you’re so drunk right now. Please, just come lie down.”
She’s pleading with me. I hesitate. “Please,” she begs again, holding a hand out.
I hesitate. “Okay,” I whisper, taking her hand. She pulls me into her chest, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. We stumble through the apartment, the din of conversation in music echoing faintly in the background. Dimly, I hear Azzi’s concerned voice cut through the haze. “Is she okay?” Paige nods. “She was trying to keep up with me,” she explains. “And you let her?” Azzi demands. “Look, I’m sorry-”
“Put her to bed in your room. And no funny business. She’s my friend.”
“Whatever, Azzi.”
Before I know it, Paige’s soft bedspread is tickling my nose. “Avantika, you want water?” She asks. I stretch out, nodding sleepily. “Here, sit up.” I let Paige feed me water, her fingers fumbling with the cap of the bottle. Then she lays me back down. “Sleep, okay?” She turns to walk out the door.
And then, like it has a mind of its own, my mouth opens. “Paige?” I whisper. She turns around immediately. “Will you stay?” I ask softly.
Wordlessly, she climbs into bed with me, kicking off her shoes. She wraps her arms around me, pulling me against her body, and I let her, breathing her scent in, happy that I get to touch her. I snuggle into her, too drunk to care about the implications of how close we are or what we were doing the last time we were both on this bed.
“Paige,” I say quietly. “Hm?” I shift to look up at her, tracing the line of her nose with my eyes. “I don’t actually hate you,” I mumble. She laughs. “You better go to sleep before you say something you regret,” she murmurs. I blink, not fully understanding her words. But I nestle against her chest, letting my arm loop around her waist.
“Avantika?” She asks after a few minutes. I don’t respond. I feel her hand tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “Ava,” she repeats, more firmly. I still don’t answer, too tired to move my mouth, humming softly.
Her breath whistles against my forehead when she says what she says next.
“God, I missed you.”
NOVEMBER 2020
“Ava.”
It’s just after a tough loss to Georgetown, and I’m exhausted. As soon as I exit the gym, though, Paige is waiting for me. I have no idea how she’s managed to get anywhere near the volleyball locker rooms.
I deliberately ignore her, brushing past her.
“Ava, come on, talk to me!” She calls, jogging after me.
“I have nothing to say to you,” I say shortly, walking faster.
“You owe me an explanation,” Paige pants, catching up to me and grabbing my arm. She spins me around to face her. “Why haven’t you answered my texts?” She demands. There’s a hint of hurt in her voice. There’s purple under her eyes.
Fuck her.
“Didn’t even realize you’d texted me,” I say casually.
Her eyes narrow. “That’s bullshit and we both know it.”
I shrug nonchalantly. “Maybe I just don’t think about you as much as you think about me,” I say, rolling my eyes. She looks taken aback. The truth is I’ve thought about her every single day since that night about a week ago. I’ve replayed every moment, every touch, every word of everything she’s ever done or said to me in my head. And then I remember her leaning in to kiss Audrey. The way she cupped her face. The way she grabbed her waist and pulled her in. The way she smiled that heartbreaking smile against her lips before she pulled away.
Paige recovers from her shock quickly, reaching for me again. I step back away from her.
“Ava,” she tries again.
It hurts to hear her say that. That name for me that only she’s ever called me, and it’d only been a couple of months, but this girl had made her way into my head and my heart.
“Don’t call me that,” I tell her coldly.
“What?” She asks, stepping closer again.
“I said don’t call me that. Are you deaf?” I demand. I know I’m being rude. Mean, even. I don’t care. I need her as far away from me as possible.
Hurt flashes across her features.
“Matter of fact, don’t text me at all,” I say, disgust lacing my tone. I force it there.
“Why the fuck are you acting like this? You were all over me a week ago, just begging me to fuck you-” Her voice is raising, but mine can, too.
“Oh, shut the fuck up, you piece of shit,” I snap at her.
“You know what, you’re being such a bitch right now-” She accuses, her features twisting with annoyance.
“It’s not my fault you can’t take a fucking hint,” I sneer.
She crowds my space, towering over me, leaning down slightly to snarl against my face.
“And what was the hint I was supposed to take, hm?” Her voice is quiet, but there’s anger in her tone, dripping into me in the way her breath hits my face. She’s so close, her scent so intoxicating, that I just want to give in. “Was the hint that you were stripping for me in my bed? Or that you were moaning my name? Which one was it, Avantika?”
I slap her. Not hard, just enough that she stumbles back. Her hand flies to her cheek, eyes widening in shock.
“I don’t want you,” I say coolly. Liar, liar, liar.
“So leave me the fuck alone.”
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off the deep end. (06)
~(part six) the echoes of loss ~
pairing: rebel!felix x reader (f)
genre: non-idol au, post-apocalypse/dystopian au. wc: 20.8k
series rating: 18+ **minors do not interact**
chapter warnings: violent mature themes, explicit sexual content (consensual, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), dom/sub themes), mentions of murder/death, oppressive government, fighting, weaponry (gunfire, knife use), injury, blood, vivid descriptions of nightmares, language, major angst as always, please lmk if i missed any!!
a/n: thank you all so much for your patience and continued support, it really does keep this story alive.<3 as always any feedback, likes, and reblogs are more appreciated than you know. i've been feeling a lil nervous to post this (what else is new lol) but im so happy to finally be able to share it with you. i hope you enjoy this one, its a bit of a doozy.♡♡
~series masterlist~
“Things become sweeter after they have been lost. When I finally grasped what I'd so desperately yearned for, it was turned to dust in my hands. And a small part of my mind remembers an alternate pattern of events, before I opened my eyes and returned to cold embrace of a reality in which I never truly belonged.”
Swallowed by darkness, he's stumbling backward but he isn't going anywhere. His mind isn't working correctly, isn't processing. His knees hit the ground and he closes his eyes but he can still see them. Misshapen faces, their expressions warped, disfigured, as they look through him. Right down to where the remorse festers in his guilt-ridden soul. He's delirious, on the verge of flight or fight. His chest constricts as he takes in shallow breaths. He tries to speak, to beg for their forgiveness. Yet its as if his lips have been sewn shut, his tongue far too heavy to move.
Instead, they speak to him in distorted voices that swell as he covers his ears. And suddenly they're reaching out, clamping icy fingers around his throat, pulling his hair, clawing deep scratches into his skin. They ask if he remembers their faces, what he's done to them, but how could he forget? Don't they know he carries it with him? Don't they know how it haunts him? He recoils, he fights to break free, but its no use. It never is. Even as his eyes wrench open, their grip lingers. A permanent reminder that they’re a part of him, and they always will be. Waiting for him there in the shadows every time he dares to close his eyes.
With a sudden jolt, his body shot upright from the hard wooden floor, covered in cold sweat that sent a shiver coursing through his frame. A shuddering exhale fell from his lips as he ran a trembling hand through his hair. A single tear traced a silent path down his cheek—a physical manifestation of the nightmare.
He blinked, taking in his surroundings.
Shadows danced across the walls as the faint glow of the moon filtered in through the boarded window above his head. As his breathing steadied, his focus began to sharpen. There, around him, lie the slumbering forms of his friends, his soul mates, the only people in the world he could trust. Each was nestled in their own corner of the room, soundly asleep, their tranquil faces untouched by the horrors that plagued his own mind.
And then, he glanced down to his side, to the figure closest to him.
You stirred, a slight pout forming on your lips as if your subconscious had somehow sensed his absence. His fingers twitched as he watched the slow, steady rhythm of your chest, and an unconscious urge fell over him to reach out and touch you. To reassure himself that this was real.
That you were real.
He eased his aching body back down onto the floor. You shifted closer, instinctively reaching out for him, and he welcomed the warmth of your touch.
Felix knew he’d have no chance at falling asleep again tonight, the clutches of the nightmare having left their mark on his consciousness. It was routine. He was used to it. So he lie there, still and contemplative, as his eyes trained to the ceiling. And it was in moments like these that his mind often drifted, the quiet solitude granting him the opportunity to reflect on his past and the individuals that had shaped his present.
Felix was born into a life stripped of control. He gritted his teeth when the devil’s symbol was seared into his back. He took lives when commanded—some innocent, some not—but he did it without question because it was all he’d ever been taught to do. Like second nature, he had grown numb to its weight. And in a twisted way, the sense of control that taking a life brought had become addicting to Felix. A fleeting illusion of power in a world where he’d always had none.
By the time Felix met Bang Chan, he had forgotten what it meant to be human, if he had ever truly known at all. He walked through life with a detached numbness. A hollow vessel, weighed down by the gravity of his sins. When Felix met Bang Chan, he had all but lost his soul. However it quickly became clear that Chan, despite being just a few years older than Felix, possessed the ability to help him find it again.
With the wisdom of someone far beyond his age, Chan became a guiding light for Felix. He instilled in Felix a moral compass, and although it might have been a broken compass that didn't function correctly all the time, at least it was there. At least Chan was there, to guide Felix back whenever the needle threatened to point in the wrong direction.
And so, in time, with Chan by his side Felix gradually came to realize that despite the desolation around them, despite the horrible things he had done in his life and the monsters who had forced him to do them, there would always be things worth fighting for.
Things worth fighting for, and people worth believing in.
Felix had never come across anyone with such innate passion for survival, until he crossed paths with Seo Changbin. A force to be reckoned with, Changbin was unapologetically himself. A fiercely loyal companion who challenged Felix to push beyond his limits—both physically and mentally. Changbin was the flame that reignited Felix's spirit, and through his unwavering support, Felix gathered the strength to keep moving forward no matter how hopeless things may seem.
Felix had never been particularly fond of loud noises, until he heard Han Jisung fill an empty space with laughter for the first time. In Jisung’s presence, Felix often found himself caught in fleeting moments where he could allow himself to be young, to feel free. He gained new experiences through Jisung, who had a way of weaving captivating stories and spinning enchanting tales that demanded the attention of everyone around him. Even if it was no secret among the group that many of Jisung's stories were fabrications, born from his own need to conceal the burdens he carried, that didn’t stop Felix from hanging on to every word. And sometimes, on sleepless nights when the lines between nightmare and reality blurred, when he felt himself slipping away again, Felix would replay those stories in his mind. He would imagine himself in Jisung’s place instead, and it helped.
Felix had never truly grasped the fragile nature of human life, until he was introduced to Lee Minho. Despite his awareness of Minho's skills as a trained healer, Felix was more than hesitant to let the boy from District 9 treat his wounds. His body bore a map of faded scars. Every mark served as a permanent reminder of the cruel nature of the world that had shaped him. The idea of relinquishing control, even to someone as capable as Minho, ignited a fire of reluctance within Felix. And so, instead of accepting his help, Felix chose to let his own cuts bleed as he observed Minho tend to the wounds of his companions. Countless times, he watched Minho’s patient hands move with a touch so delicate it was unlike anything he had ever witnessed before.
But this wasn't the only reason that Felix found himself drawn to Minho's presence. Because Felix came to realize that beyond his remarkable ability to mend physical wounds, Lee Minho also possessed a unique understanding of the intricacies of the human heart.
In Minho's company, Felix didn’t feel the need to maintain a facade of unyielding strength the same way he did with Chan. And whereas Jisung introduced Felix to fleeting moments of happiness, Minho taught Felix that it was okay to feel like he didn’t deserve them—that grappling with his self worth didn't make him weaker. Minho's impact on shaping his sense of self was profound. And it was because of this that Felix, who had entered the world without an identity, eventually came to find comfort in embracing Minho's surname as his own.
Lee Felix found himself captivated by the bond shared between Kim Seungmin and Yang Jeongin, a testament to the strength that comes from placing unwavering trust in another human being. Their connection stirred a repressed longing within Felix for a similar closeness, and Seungmin’s patient demeanor granted Felix the freedom to achieve it. To open up at his own pace, to learn to navigate the delicate art of trust on his terms. Seungmin asked questions with genuine interest, but he didn’t pry, he didn’t judge, and so he and Felix were quick to develop a bond of their own built on the steady foundation of mutual respect.
In Jeongin, Felix witnessed an innocence that he himself had been denied. Throughout his life, Felix had grown accustomed to the way others regarded him. Those he had targeted as victims consistently bore the same expressions of fear. And among the boys, despite their best efforts to conceal it, there was always an undertone of pity in their eyes when they looked to Felix.
But when Felix met Jeongin's eyes, he saw no traces of fear or pity behind them. Instead, he saw genuine admiration. And although the role of mentorship was not something Felix had ever sought, it was in the youngest member of the group that he discovered a newfound sense of purpose—the responsibility to serve as a guardian himself in a world where innocence was more than rare.
Lee Felix had never found comfort in a silent space, and he never understood people who did. People like Hwang Hyunjin, who could sit for hours underneath a gnarled oak tree with only the still air and a journal to keep him company. To Hyunjin, the silence was as much of an empty canvas as the pages in front of him, and he used it to sketch his thoughts in elegant strokes, capturing the faded beauty of a dying world. Hyunjin’s ability to create something delicate with his own two hands was a talent that fascinated Felix, who’d always had a tendency to overlook the intricate details of life.
Always restless, constantly on the move, Felix was a perpetual wanderer who trampled over flowers underneath his shoes, who paid no mind to the warmth of a summer breeze against his skin. Even the moon had once been nothing more than a distant companion to Felix, overshadowed by the need to keep moving to survive.
Until he found Hyunjin.
After fate led Felix to Chan, it brought him to Hyunjin.
Beneath an uncharacteristically clear sky on a sweltering summer afternoon in District 4, Felix found himself compelled to venture out in search of water. It'd been a few days since he’d last seen Chan after the older boy had embarked on a supply run that he'd insisted on making alone, so after leaving behind a small note in their usual spot, Felix set off. Determined not to stray too far, his steps were fueled not only by his parched tongue but also the need to keep his mind off of his growing concern for Chan’s absence.
It wasn't long before Felix found himself within a thick patch of vegetation, where he came across a small pond. And as he stood at the pond's edge, swiping the hair from his sticky forehead and debating on whether or not he was desperate enough to drink the murky liquid, a figure emerged from the brush on the opposite side.
A golden haired boy, injured and in desperate need of help.
Felix’s initial instinct was to take advantage of the boy’s vulnerabilities, to steal what he could from him and abandon him to his fate. But he was different now. He was no longer the person he once was. Throughout his time spent alongside Chan, Felix had learned how to reset his own compass. And so, with newfound clarity he cautiously approached the boy. Felix draped an arm around his waist, and in silence he helped support the boy's weight as the two retraced his steps back to camp.
That night, as the boy drifted in and out of consciousness, Felix’s knowledge of his background remained confined to a single detail. A name—Hyunjin. And as Hyunjin slept, Felix pressed two fingers to his neck periodically to make sure that his heart was still beating.
Felix thanked the gods he'd never believed in when Chan returned the following evening. Through a single shared glance between two kindred souls who had become attuned to each other’s thoughts, a silent conversation was held. Understanding passed between them, followed by a nod of approval from Chan that resonated deeply with Felix.
While Chan himself was no medical expert, his time spent navigating the districts had offered him a bit more understanding about basic healing than Felix—who had been trained solely in the art of taking lives, never saving them. Chan hastily took over Hyunjin’s care, making most of the limited supplies he had returned with. And that night, as the moon returned to bathe their campsite in a delicate silver embrace, as Chan monitored Hyunjin’s sleeping form, he shared with Felix the story of a place called Clé and a woman named Hira.
His words painted the picture of a sanctuary for lost souls, orchestrated by an arms dealer whose beauty shone through her scars. The corridors within Clé called out to those who believed in the possibility of an escape from their lives. However, its doors were not open to all seeking solace.
Hira selected her guests with a discerning eye, choosing to bestow her favor upon only the most physically alluring souls. And those deemed unworthy were turned away, left to return to the unforgiving terrain of the districts they so desperately wished to escape.
Individuals that did find themselves granted access to Clé were groomed to master the art of pleasure, sculpted and shaped to perfection through teachings that revolved around the art of evoking desire and temptation. And when Hira deemed them sufficiently molded by her touch, she would whisper them away to District 9, transported by armed guards to the heart of the Inner Circle—where their beauty would become its own form of currency, traded away to the leaders who governed its polished streets.
It was a journey that came at the highest of prices, demanding a sacrifice of dignity in pursuit of survival. A final attempt to slip free from the rusty chains of their current existence, only to find themselves imprisoned on the other side by a shiny new cage with an unbreakable lock.
It didn’t take long for Chan’s heavy eyes to fall shut that night, eager to embrace the welcome arms of sleep now that he was back where he belonged. But even as light began to flood the sky above, sleep remained elusive for Felix. He suddenly found himself gripped by an unexpected gratitude for his own past, for it had ultimately led him in the opposite direction from the sinister paths that snaked throughout District 9. And as he lie there pondering the twists and turns of fate, Felix found himself wondering if he would have meet Hira's standards, had he found himself seeking refuge within Clé. He contemplated whether or not he would ever have been deemed worthy of a destination such as District 9—a question that lingered within his consciousness for quite some time, even if he had no real desire to know the answer.
As the days turned to weeks, as Hyunjin's condition gradually improved, the duo became a trio. They fell into a seamless rhythm, trading roles and responsibilities without the need for explicit communication. Hyunjin effortlessly assumed the role of the heartstrings that held the three of them together. Each time Felix let his temper get the best of him, it was Hyunjin who went chasing after. Whenever Chan pushed himself beyond his limits, it was always Hyunjin who stepped up in his place. And as the weeks faded into months, as Felix came to know Hyunjin on a deeper level, it was as if a filter over his eyes had begun to lift. The once-overlooked intricacies of the world now caught his attention. Hyunjin intrigued Felix in a way that nothing ever had, and the shared curiosity between them prompted the two to weave a separate history of their own.
But it was a complicated history, one that struggled to withstand the pull of Felix’s dark past. Because whenever their friendship edged on evolving into something more, Felix would instinctively withdraw, grappling with his inner turmoil and the fear of exposing Hyunjin to the mistakes of his past. Hyunjin, too, harbored secrets of his own, which only added to the strain between them. And despite the tender moments that were truly good, they were both still so young. Too young to fully understand the complexities of love and life.
Too human, to comprehend the workings of fate and destiny, but still perceptive enough to appreciate the significance of what had brought them together. Which is why, even after it all came crashing down, spiraling far out of either of their control, the bond between them remained. A delicate bond, worn and frayed at the edges, was left lingering in place of something that could have been so much more. But it remained, nonetheless. Because Hyunjin had been there on nights when Chan couldn’t be. When Felix woke from unforgiving nightmares, drenched in sweat and overcome with fear, the golden haired boy was at his side in an instant to wipe away his tears and provide soft hums that lulled him back to sleep.
And so even now, in moments when his ears buzzed with silence, Felix continued to find peace in Hyunjin's presence. Because just as Chan had shown Felix the difference between right and wrong, between morality and depravity, Hyunjin taught Felix the true essence of living. To appreciate the colors of the sky when before he had only seen shades of grey. To hear the music in a quiet moment when there was no sound. To feel the warmth of shared memories through the ghost of Hyunjin’s touch, long after he stopped receiving it.
Hyunjin left a new kind of mark on Felix, a testament to the level of emotion he was capable of feeling. Which is why when Felix met you it was as if fate had given him a second chance to explore the depths of human connection. He built his walls like always—old habits die hard, or something like that—but this time Felix built them on a foundation that was just a little less sturdy.
A fraction less resilient than before.
Because in your eyes, he saw the reflection of the person he was still struggling to become—someone who had known darkness and pain but still managed to overcome it. You didn’t avoid his scars, you looked directly at them with understanding and acceptance in your eyes. And in the intimate moments when it was just the two of you, Felix felt a sense of belonging that he had never experienced before. Not even with Hyunjin, whose efforts to unravel his innermost layers had fallen short because there was a part of Felix that Hyunjin could never fully reach, no matter how hard he fought to.
But you, you soothed his burning skin with your touch, closed open wounds with every kiss, mended his broken soul a little further every time you spoke his name. Which is why this time, Felix wasn’t just letting his walls come down—he was tearing them down himself. Because in your presence, Felix had begun to develop the hope that some day he would be able to free himself completely from the darkness that had once consumed him.
And as he lie there beside you that night in Clé, Felix couldn't help but notice the way your fingers occasionally brushed across his form as if to reassure yourself that he was there. He shut his eyes, he recalled the gentle pressure of your hands through his hair just hours before, and as he relished in the comforting warmth of your body next to his, Felix felt himself begin to believe in the possibility of a different kind of love that wouldn’t end in loss.
For the first time in his life, Felix allowed himself to entertain the thought that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.
The night was eerily still, save for the faint rustling of leaves outside as a gentle breeze slipped in through the boards covering the windows. You were lost in a comfortable, dreamless sleep when an insistent shake startled you awake. When your eyes snapped open you found yourself face to face with Felix, his own eyes wide and brimming with alarm.
“Hey, wake up,” his hushed voice reached your ears through the darkness, and despite the drowsiness that still clung to your senses, it would have been impossible to miss the urgency in his tone. “Something isn’t right.”
You sat up quickly, the familiar feeling of adrenaline beginning to flood your veins once again, erasing any lingering remnants of sleep. Felix draped the jacket you had been using as pillow around himself before promptly pulling you to your feet.
“What’s happening? Where is everyone?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes with your free hand as you registered the emptiness of the room that had been full when you'd fallen asleep. Felix shook his head, his grip on your hand firm as he swiftly guided you toward the door. “They’re downstairs. We need to go.”
“What? Go where?"
“Anywhere but here, we need to go," he urged. Without further question, you hurriedly followed him down the dimly lit corridor. When your gaze briefly fell to the supply closet, your time spent inside with him earlier that night flashed through your mind, warming your cheeks. But the memory was quickly overshadowed by a shrill cry that pierced the air when you reached the top of the staircase.
Felix quickened his pace, mirroring the rising hysteria in the voice that grew louder with every step you descended. Your hold on him tightened when you registered the words it carried.
The same words. Two simple words. Repeated over and over again.
I'm sorry.
The source of the voice was revealed at the bottom of the staircase, where you were met with the sight of Yeonjun, kneeling on the floor in the kitchen. A handful of small candles flickered on the table, casting a warm glow across face—cheeks wet with tears, puffy eyes red and swollen as he looked up to where Hira stood over him.
Sensing your unease, Felix lightly squeezed your hand, urging you to stay put as he observed the exchange between Yeonjun and Hira.
"How could you?!" Hira’s voice erupted in sudden anger, her fury directed down at the crying boy. Her tone was chilling, ice cold, and the words that followed sent an electric shock drilling up your spine. “You’ve sentenced us all to death.”
Glancing to Felix, you held your breath as you watched his features darken. The look in his eyes reflected your own growing realization, and your suspicions were confirmed when Yeonjun's voice rang out again.
“They threatened me! They were going to kill me, and they were going to come back for you!" A sob caught in his throat, and he paused to swallow it down before continuing. “They promised to let us go..they said they wouldn’t hurt anyone..that they just wanted to talk to them, and I-I’m sorry! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry, Felix."
When Yeonjun turned to look at him, Felix froze. His eyes went wide and his grip on your hand went stiff, leaving you with a sinking feeling in the deepest pit of your stomach.
Because not only did he know why Yeonjun was sorry, but he knew exactly who they were.
And so did you.
Movement against the far wall caught your attention as the thin curtain over the window was blown aside by a gust of wind. Through the open space, you noticed two round spots of yellow light in the distance. And Yeonjun's cries were drowned out by the frantic drumming of your heartbeat in your ears when you realized that they were headlights.
Time stood still as the fragile moment of solace you had found with the freckled boy last night was shattered to irreparable pieces. From the corner of your vision, you caught sight of Hyunjin as he came rushing in through the entrance to the kitchen. “They're getting closer, we need to go now!" His panicked words, along with your shared understanding of the situation, left no room for further hesitation from either you or Felix.
A fiery determination seemed to ignite within Felix when he began to move, dragging you with him. You lowered your head as you passed by Yeonjun and Hira in the confined space, however your heightened senses were immediately called back into focus when a cold hand clasped around your free wrist. Your movement came to an abrupt halt, causing Felix to do the same. With wide eyes, you lifted your head to him before shifting your gaze down to where Hira had claimed a vice-like grip on your flesh.
As her sharp nails dug into your skin, leaving deep crescent shapes underneath, her elegant features twisted into something unsettling—something outright disturbing, that grew even more pronounced when her lips parted to speak.
"This is your fault," she snapped. "I knew it was you from the moment I laid eyes on you. The resemblance..I never expected to see her face again..but you..you look just like her."
The scrutiny in her eyes held a flicker of recognition, as if she saw someone else when she looked at you—as if you were suddenly entangled in a history that you hadn’t been a part of writing. And your mind raced as you tried to make sense of whatever connection she could possibly believe that you had to her own past.
“I-I don't know what you're talking about,” your voice quivered as she took a step closer. When you tried to free your wrist, she fastened her hold, forcibly yanking you toward her.
"Felix-"
The freckled boy reacted immediately when his name fell from your lips. Dropping your other hand, he lunged forward in a single motion, prying Hira's fingers from your wrist with such force that she stumbled back, colliding harshly with the wall. Long strands of tangled hair fell into her face at the impact, but she made no effort to sweep them away as her gaze shifted from Felix back to you.
Her words hovered in the space between you, but before they could fully settle in your mind, before you got any chance at all to ask her what they meant, a single bullet fell in through the open window—striking Hira in the skull with lethal precision.
Blood splattered across the wall behind her, a few droplets landing against your cheek as her lifeless body slumped to the ground.
Every muscle in your body locked as your focus tunneled to the frozen expression on her face and the disturbing sensation of the warm droplets against your skin.
Yeonjun’s cries turned violent when he crawled over to take her into his arms. And as you watched him cradle her limp form, the world around you suddenly felt so distant that hardly any of it seemed real at all.
When a second bullet embedded itself into the wall at your side, Felix swiftly drew you into the shelter of his chest. His deep voice resounded through the air, rising above Yeonjun's as he shouted at Hyunjin to “GO!” assuring him that the two of you would be close behind.
Around you, Hira's guests began to flood the room from various directions—the common area behind you, the staircase up ahead—and as their eyes fell upon their fallen leader, their shrieks formed a chilling chorus that drove you to seek further refuge in Felix's chest. He covered your ears with his hands to shield you from their screams, his touch gentle even amidst the chaos.
“Princess I need you to move, we have to go now,” he pleaded, tilting your head to meet his gaze. And the effect was immediate. The unspoken promise in his eyes to keep you safe, the sound of his voice, coupled with with the caress of his thumbs as they swiped the blood from your cheeks—it worked. Felix brought you back to the present moment as you grasped hold of the fact that your survival, that his survival, depended on getting the hell out of there.
You managed a single nod, and Felix took it as your agreement. In an instant, his arms were back around you as he began to shoulder through the horrified guests in the room. When you stumbled free of the kitchen, he broke into a swift run, replacing his grip on your hand.
"Stay close," he instructed, and you responded with a firm squeeze to his hand.
Outside, the fresh air hit cold against your clammy skin, shocking you out of fear and replacing it with fierce determination to protect the boy whose fingers were interlocked with yours. The moon that you had depended on for guidance so many times before was shrouded in darkness tonight. Unfamiliar voices, gunfire, and the rumble of a single engine in the distance filled the air behind you, disorienting you further.
Around the backside of the building, flashes of movement revealed where the rest of the boys had gathered at the rover. “They’re closing in! We need to get out of here!” Chan shouted in your direction.
Felix lifted the motorcycle to a standing position, and while he ensured it was ready to go, you squinted through the darkness to count the bodies in the rover.
Seven.
There were seven, including Hyunjin, who had assumed his original place beside Jisung. When you settled down on the bike after Felix, he reached behind himself to secure your arms around his waist. “Don’t let go, I’ve got you," he affirmed. His voice carried steady strength, and there was a sincerity in his words that made you believe that he meant them—that he did have you. And that you would always be safe with Felix, even if it would never be possible for him to guarantee.
When the rover carrying the rest of the boys surged ahead, Felix followed suit. Positioning the bike at its side, he quickly took the lead in front of Chan who directed him to steer the chase deeper into District 6. It meant veering off course from the route you had originally planned to take to get to Miroh, but none of that mattered now.
The morning you’d spent planning for your journey inside Yellow Wood felt like it had taken place years ago.
The night you’d shared with Felix on the rooftop, a lifetime.
Guided by a single headlight, Felix navigated the dark terrain expertly. He mastered every twist and turn, every jolt and bump, with skilled precision. And as the ground beneath you transitioned from soil into concrete, the barren stretches of land suddenly gave way to remnants of civilization once again.
Above you, a passing cloud released the the moon, freeing it to cast long shadows across fractured pavement that led straight toward a city. An abandoned city, from the looks of it, as there was no flickering firelight in the distance, no glimmering lanterns—only a dark expanse. An oppressive, pitch-black void that radiated something menacing, as if warning you to stay away.
The wind stung against your face when you lifted it from Felix's back. “You know where you’re going?!"
His attention remained fixed straight ahead as he shouted, “Been here a few times! Not enough to remember it all but we might be able to lose them in the streets!” And then, in a single movement, Felix placed one of his hands over yours where they were interlocked at his waist. It was a small gesture meant to reassure you, that instead made you regret everything—the entire chain of decisions that had led you to this point. Because the thought of what would happen to him if you weren't able to outrun your fathers guards tonight was a burden that you couldn't fathom bearing.
Towering structures loomed overhead as the vehicles raced into the city, their windows like hollow eyes watching over you as the sounds from the pursuing guards resonated in the near distance. The guards were close, but Felix was fast. He weaved in every direction, attempting to use the crumbling structures to your advantage, and surely he would have succeeded in losing them amidst the ruins if it had just been the two of you on the motorcycle. But the layout proved to be an added challenge because wherever he went, Felix had to ensure that Chan would be able to get through behind you.
And if he could, then your father’s guards could too.
Rounding a corner as you neared heart of the city, the street you had been following was unexpectedly barricaded by a collapsed building, leaving you trapped.
With no way forward, Felix brought the bike to a screeching halt.
“Fuck we have to find another way. Hold on,” he muttered, maneuvering the bike around just as Chan and the others pulled up behind you.
"We’re never going to be able to outrun them!” Minho shouted, his eyes darting back and forth in search of the best sign of escape.
“Everyone get out! We'll go on foot!” Chan commanded. And the boys obeyed without hesitation, driven solely by survival. Because that's what it was—survival. If caught, your father's men wouldn’t let them live.
And every single one of you knew it.
Following your lead, Felix swiftly dismounted the motorcycle. He cast it aside before reaching for your hand again, and you didn't hesitate to take it as Chan directed the group toward a building with glass doors that had been shattered open, beckoning you closer.
Upon entering, you found yourselves within a vast, open space underneath a high ceiling supported by several white pillars that gave the place an air of importance. Moonlight streamed in through elongated windows overhead, casting silhouettes along the once-pristine interior. The pale marble beneath your feet was cracked at nearly every inch of its surface, rendering you unsteady.
In a race against time, you pushed yourself to run faster than you ever had, pulled forward the boy you would have given anything to protect. Ragged breathing filled the air as you closed in on a second set of doors at the far end of the space, but before you could exhale a sigh of relief, a sudden cry rang out from behind you.
Your eyes swept across the scene, instantly drawn to where Jeongin was sprawled on the ground a few feet away, clutching his foot as he hissed in pain. It was difficult to discern through the darkness exactly what had happened, until a single beam of moonlight caught on something shiny protruding from the worn out sole of his shoe.
A shard of glass.
Felix took a step forward but Chan was closer, quickest to reach Jeongin’s side.
“I can keep going,” Jeongin insisted through clenched teeth as Changbin joined Chan in lifting him from the ground. His arms looped around their shoulders, and he began to limp forward while Chan shouted at the rest of you to keep moving.
You turned to Felix and when his wide eyes connected with your own, a sinking feeling took hold over your entire body. “It’s okay, we’re okay,” he breathed. Yet despite his words, despite his best efforts to conceal his fear, the steadfast determination that had marked his expression only minutes before had vanished entirely.
In an instant it was as if if you could feel your undeniable fate settle in around you, ready to consume you whole.
Slowed down by Jeongin’s injury, the danger the nine of you faced had reached a critical point. And the realization that you weren’t going to be able to escape it dawned on you the very moment you emerged from the threshold on the opposite side of the building.
Felix was first of the group to make it out, followed closely by you with your hands still interlocked. The second you set foot onto the pavement, the entire area around you was flooded with a blinding burst of light.
Flashlights and a single set of headlights were switched on, causing your senses to reel. Your eyes painfully adjusted to the sudden brightness, and your feet skidded on the gravel as you instinctively sought refuge behind Felix, lifting your hood and pulling it low to shield your face.
The menacing sound of numerous firearms being raised echoed throughout the air as they took aim at you from every direction. And the severity of the situation escalated even further when a second rover came barreling around the corner to join the first—rendering you severely outnumbered, with virtually no chance at escape.
Felix made an effort to withdraw, stumbling as he pushed you behind him. “Go, go, go!” he repeated, desperately urging you to retreat back inside the building. But despite his insistence, fear rooted you in place.
Over your shoulder, you watched as Minho and Changbin swiftly raised their own guns, taking up defensive positions just inside the entrance, knuckles white against the weapon's dark metal. They stood at the forefront next to Chan, who met your gaze through the shattered glass doors that separated you. And although his stance was resolute, the sheer terror in his eyes was overwhelming.
“Enough! Stand down!” a bellowing voice ripped through the air without warning. It was a familiar voice, you had heard it before, however in your current state of alarm you couldn’t recall exactly which one of your father’s guards it belonged to.
Your eyes remained fixed on Chan, who responded by bravely stepping out through the doors with raised hands. He took a few tentative steps forward, positioning himself directly beside Felix in a subtle attempt to further shield your face from the guards.
When Chan addressed them, his voice was surprising steady. “We don't want any trouble, we’re just trying to survive.”
“You’re fugitives. You’ve already caused enough trouble,” the guard snarled in response.
You pressed your forehead to Felix's back, clutching his jacket as you wrestled with the conflicting thoughts in your head. Maybe, you thought, maybe if you revealed your identity and offered yourself up in exchange, they would let the boys go. But it was a fleeting thought, because deep down you knew they wouldn’t.
They wouldn’t.
And the understanding that you were completely and utterly helpless was enough to bring tears to your eyes. But it was nothing in comparison to what you felt when you registered the shuffling sound of approaching footsteps.
Your pulse quickened as Felix shifted, straightening his posture and positioning himself closer to you.
“Wait-” Chan's voice rang out with urgency as he tried to take a step forward, only to be shoved aside by the barrel of a gun held by an unseen guard.
And then, without warning, Felix was suddenly wrenched from your grasp in a heart-stopping display of brutality.
The guard that seized him spun him around violently, and panic rose hot in your throat when his hand pressed down on Felix's head, driving him to his knees.
Without turning around, Chan motioned frantically for Minho and Hyunjin to lower their guns.
"Looks like we've got ourselves a bargaining chip," the guard taunted. His comrades snickered around him as he raised his gun and pressed the barrel against the back of Felix's head, tapping it a few times before resting it still.
Felix winced as he glanced up from his position on the ground. His eyes immediately found their way to yours, and the shimmering emotion in them hit you like a devastating blow.
"P-please, don't," you choked out, completely ignoring the fact that—aside from your hood—your face was almost entirely exposed. But your plea fell on deaf ears as the guard failed to acknowledge you. His index finger dropped to hover over the trigger, a sadistic smirk spread across his lips, and your stomach churned violently in response.
Felix was going to die.
The freckled boy with the stars in his eyes was going to die, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.
Well, maybe one thing.
Your trembling hands moved of their own accord, lifting to meet the thin fabric of your hood. A surge of alarm coursed through your veins when a second guard's voice rang out, "You there, freeze!"
Felix's expression dropped, pleading with you through the silent connection of your eyes to reconsider.
Chan didn't utter a single word, but you felt him tense beside you.
You tuned them all out.
With a shaky breath, a heavy heart, and all but one of the guards' guns now pointed in your direction, you lowered your hood. And in the fleeting moment before your face was fully revealed, you mouthed the words "I'm sorry" to Felix, hoping he would find some way to understand.
Hushed murmurs rose around you, filling the air. The guard who held Felix hesitated as he studied your face. His gaze was firm, eyes unblinking, as he traced along your features. His expression gradually shifted from uncertainty to recognition. And he smiled. He smiled—a sinister curl of his lips. Because he knew that by dragging you back to your father, he would secure a life of unimaginable wealth and resources—far beyond what anyone in the outer districts could ever imagine.
The instant your eyes met, a wave of recognition surged within you as well. Because although you'd never bothered to learn his name, his face, along with the devilish glint in his eyes, had been imprinted into your memory ever since the night of the raid. When he had whisked you away from the grand hall, separating you from Felix then, too.
The guard opened his mouth to speak and you instinctively reached for the knife in your waistband, bracing yourself for whatever was to come. But you would never get to know the words that fell from his lips, as his voice was instantly swallowed by the deafening crack of a gunshot that ripped through the air.
The guard beside him was struck, collapsing to the ground in a heap.
“What the-"
Whoever said it, you couldn’t be sure.
You ducked down, instincts urging you to seek cover as a shower of bullets began to flood the air. When you lifted your head, you witnessed Felix waste no time in engaging the guard in a desperate struggle for control of the gun. You shifted, driven by the desire to help him, but it was almost as if he had anticipated your thoughts when he called out for you to “stay down, y/n!”
Crouched on the ground with your hands above your head, you watched in awe as he overpowered the guard with surprising skill—moving with a fluidity that told you he had done this countless times before. As soon as he gained control of the weapon, Felix used the blunt end to deliver a blow straight to the guard's chest, sending him tumbling to the ground. He cocked the gun with a polished flick of his wrist, and the fallen guard raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
With a single, split-second glance back to you, Felix turned and pointed it at the man’s head with chilling certainty.
And you looked away, burying your face in your hands, when he pulled the trigger.
The next think you knew, the next thing you remembered, Felix was at your side—arms encircling your upper body, a warm hand on the back of your neck. And although you thought you might have heard his voice reach out to you, thought maybe your name had fallen from his lips, it was impossible to make sense of anything over the ringing in your ears.
Summoning the courage to peer through your fingers, you finally gained the opportunity to grasp hold of the situation as it played out before you.
Your eyes fell upon three figures, each armed with heavy weapons of their own, atop three stocky animals. Their presence suggested that the initial gunfire hadn’t come from any of the guards or the boys. And your jaw dropped when you glimpsed a flash of red hair.
Yeonjun.
It was Yeonjun, flanked by two unfamiliar individuals that you could only assume to be more of Hira’s people, seeking revenge for their fallen leader.
Their arrival had thrown the entire situation into an unexpected twist, offering momentary relief for you and the boys. But the relief was short lived, because although Yeonjun and the others had secured the element of surprise, they too faced the critical disadvantage of being outnumbered.
Huddled over you, Felix let out a gasp as his own eyes locked with Yeonjuns.
"Get out of here, Felix!" Yeonjun's strained voice pierced through the chaos.
Felix froze in disbelief, visibly astonished.
You tugged on his sleeve, but he remained motionless. You tried to speak, but no words came out. Time seemed to grind to a halt, and for a moment, it was as if it would never start again.
Until Chan's strong grip took hold of your arm.
"Come on!" he urged, determination filling his eyes as he pulled you with him. Felix, still dazed, stumbled to his feet beside you, and the three of you sprinted into the building, heartbeats pounding in rhythm with your steps.
Even after you'd made it inside, Felix's reluctance to leave Yeonjun behind was evident. You broke free from Chan's grasp when you noticed that he had come to a stop behind you. "Felix, we need to go," you pleaded as you rushed over to him, grabbing his hand to try and pull him with you.
"It's okay," you continued. But it wasn't.
"They'll be alright," you added. But they wouldn't.
"Please, Felix," you implored, "I need you." And it wasn't until your trembling voice cracked with raw emotion on the final word that Felix finally yielded to your insistent tugging.
As soon as he gave way, your feet were in motion again. Together, you hurried through the building and emerged on the other side where your vehicles awaited. And you didn't even remember climbing onto the bike, but suddenly you were there, clinging to Felix for dear life as he revved the engine. With one last glance—first in the direction you had come, then down to you—he gritted his teeth and followed Chan’s lead.
As vehicles accelerated and sped off, your thoughts remained with Yeonjun and the others you had left behind. Fear transformed into guilt, a resounding guilt, that settled deep within your bones, intensifying further with every gunshot that pierced the night behind you.
You willed your eyes to remain open, determined to keep the trailing rover in your vision.
As the abandoned city dissolved into another terrifying nightmare, the memory of the first night you’d spent on the bike with Felix tugged at your heart. It left behind an ache that had you feeling like the foolish girl your father had called you once. Because that’s what you were—foolish, for allowing your feelings for Felix to develop in the way that they had.
Tonight’s close call had ripped away any illusion of control you thought you might’ve you had over your own emotions. If things had taken a different turn, if the guard had so much as twitched his ready finger and his loaded gun had fired against the back of Felix's head, would you have been able to deal with the aftermath? If you had lost Felix would you have been able to cope with the weight of his absence? To live with yourself after?
And what did it mean if you couldn’t?
You’d watched him shoot a man with raised hands tonight, and it should have frightened you—the ease with which he’d aimed the weapon and pulled the trigger. It was a stark reminder of the darkness that existed within him, but when his eyes met yours in that split second before he’d done it, they held an unmistakable air that his actions had been driven by a need to protect you. To protect you, and the rest of the boys, and so it only made you cling to him tighter. Because Felix didn’t need words to express that he was driven by a commitment to do whatever it took to ensure the safety of those he cared for—which you were now more than certain included yourself, too. A realization that left you torn between the undeniable feelings you had developed for him and the fear that you had crossed a line you were never meant to cross.
You couldn't escape the magnetic pull of his presence, yet you were acutely aware of the reality that hung over your heads. The circumstances, the world you inhabited, it was all designed to keep you apart. You knew it. He knew it. And not only did it force you to confront the painful truth that your relationship with Felix could never progress beyond its current state, it had you questioning whether or not your paths were even meant to cross in the first place.
It was an overwhelming thought, one that brought tears to your eyes for the second time that night.
When the first signs of dawn began to streak the sky above, Felix released his steady grip on the throttle. Chan caught up, and a signal passed between the two, prompting them to pull over nearby.
As the boys scrambled out of the vehicle, you caught sight of their expressions filled with shock and disbelief as they grappled with the weight of the close call. Chan raked his hands through his hair after his feet landed on the hard earth. “Too close, too fucking close,” he muttered, his words mirroring the thoughts in all of your minds.
Jisung dropped to the ground, Changbin tilted his head to the sky, Hyunjin leaned wearily against the rover, and Jeongin remained seated inside—gripping onto Seungmin as Minho examined his injured foot.
You stepped down from the motorcycle on unsteady legs, a residual effect of the adrenaline that had coursed through your veins during the escape. Felix dropped the bike with a loud thud, startling you when he spun around and placed his hands firmly on both of your shoulders. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Fuck, are you okay?” his words tumbled out in a rush, eyes darting up and down your figure.
You nodded frantically as your trembling hands peeled back the edges of his jacket to check for signs of injury. “Did you..A-Are you…” your voice shook, rendered speechless by the violent rush of emotions inside you.
When Felix spoke again it was barely above a whisper. “I’m okay," he reassured you, taking gentle hold of your hands to guide them away from his body. You searched your palms for any signs of blood but they were clean—they were clean, and yet the compulsion to keep checking for hidden wounds persisted.
“-Princess. I’m okay,” he repeated. And your actions drew the attention of the others but you paid no mind. As if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, you were suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to tell Felix everything that had been gnawing at the edges of your consciousness. Starting with the fact that you would have thrown away any chance at saving the world tonight in order to keep him safe. Because nothing in your life had made sense before Felix. And you were certain that if the world were to take him from you now, your spirit would turn restless inside your bones—cursed to wander forever in search of what you had lost.
“-What the fuck happened back there?!” your thoughts were interrupted by Chan, his voice yanking you back from the edge of vulnerability you were about to tumble over. “Hira wouldn’t have turned us in to those guards, I know she wouldn’t have,” he added, brows knitting together as he wrestled with his desire to comfort Jeongin and his responsibility to discover the truth about what had just taken place.
Felix swung his gaze around to meet Chan's. “Hira is dead,” he stated flatly. “And you’re right, she isn’t the one who turned us in. It was...Yeonjun," he gulped, hesitating at the mention of the orange-haired boy.
“What?” Chan stammered. “H-how...and Yeonjun? He saved our asses back there. Why would he do that if.."
Guilt.
Although he did not say it out loud, Felix was certain it was the reason. Because he saw it there tonight, unmistakably present in Yeonjun's eyes. And Felix knew all too well that, for some, the mere thought of a lifetime plagued by guilt after making the wrong decision could be far more terrifying than death itself.
“They shot Hira, before we even made it outside,” Hyunjin chimed in. “I just can't wrap my head around how Yeonjun managed to double-cross us. It makes no sense. He was with us the entire time.”
“-Until we went to sleep,” Changbin interjected. And the group fell silent. A thick, uncomfortable silence, broken only by soft muttering from Minho’s direction as he tended to Jeongin’s foot.
“So what, you think Yeonjun left to track down those guards after we went to sleep?” Jisung stood, joining the conversation. "How would he have known they were out there? We never told him we were running from them."
Chan's focus sharpened as he considered Jisung's words. “Felix..” he started, his tone cautious. “After we were separated from you and Hyunjin, how long was it before Yeonjun found you?”
"I dont know, maybe an hour?" Felix replied.
“What if Yeonjun came across the guards during that time?" Chan's voice was steady as he held the group's attention. "What if after Yeonjun left us with Hira, he was confronted by the guards? What if they threatened him and coerced him into admitting that he had seen us and knew where we were headed? Then they released him to find you two. He eventually brought you back to Clé, and they tracked his movement, waiting until nightfall to-”
"-Wait a minute,” Hyunjin asserted. “Now that I think about it, Yeonjun was acting a bit strangely on the way to Cle. And maybe you would’ve realized it too, Felix, if you weren't so preoccupied with.." as he trailed off, Hyunjin's dark eyes met with yours, causing your breath to catch in your throat. He looked as if he had more to say, but before he could continue, he was interrupted by a sharp cry of pain from Jeongin.
The boys immediately abandoned the conversation, rushing to the side of the vehicle. You shifted on your feet, hesitating to join them because on some level, even after everything that had happened tonight, you still felt like an outsider.
Sensing your reluctance, Felix turned and met your eyes with a wordless invitation that urged you to come closer. Drawn by the invisible thread that seemed to connect the two of you, you positioned yourself between him and Jisung. As you stood between them, you couldn't help but notice how Felix shifted just a fraction closer to you. And although he kept his focus on Jeongin, you soon felt the gentle pressure of his shoulder against yours.
Inside the vehicle, Minho's inner conflict played out across his features. His gaze shifted rapidly between Jeongin's pale face and the sliver of glass firmly lodged in the sole of his shoe. “I can't just leave it embedded,” he voiced his concern aloud, directed at no one in particular. "It could lead to infection..I just can’t tell how deep its gone..”
Seungmin’s expression grew more strained as Jeongin squirmed uncomfortably in his arms. “What if you make it worse by trying to take it out?”
“We don’t really have a choice,” Minho responded, his medical instincts wrestling with the reality of your limited resources.
Chan’s fingers tapped an anxious rhythm against the side of the vehicle. "We should at least try to sterilize the area to buy us some time."
“Time for what? Everything we have is here,” Minho snapped, whipping around to face Chan as he gestured to the surrounding bags of supplies.
Next to Chan, Hyunjin's expression furrowed as he glanced from Minho to Jeongin. “We aren't that far from Yellow Wood. We could go back, let it heal, and try again for Miroh when-”
“-If we sit still for too long now, they'll find us,” Minho stressed. “Besides, if we can actually make it to Miroh there might be medical supplies there that aren’t shit. But getting there will take days, and we can’t afford to leave it untreated for that long,” he added.
“T-take it out,” Jeongin whimpered, "Please, I can handle it." His gaze shifted across the faces of each of the boys, his trust in them evident even despite his pain. And when his eyes landed on you, your chest ached with the realization that he looked at you in the exact same way, with the same level of trust.
Chan leaned into the rover, placing his hand gently on Jeongin's shoulder where he offered a reassuring squeeze. "We're going to take care of you, okay? Just hang in there." His gaze shifted to Minho and a wordless exchange passed between them as the rest of the group shifted even closer, forming a tight circle around the vehicle.
As the boys began to offer their own words of encouragement, Minho glanced up, his piercing eyes locking hold of yours. “You. You have some medical training right?”
“Dude she has a name..” Jisung grumbled from beside you.
Minho shot him an irritated glance, clearing his throat before addressing you again. “y/n,” he pronounced your name with a sour undertone, as if it left an unpleasant taste on his tongue. "Do you or do you not have any medical training?”
He wasn't wrong to assume you would, given your background. Your father had always prioritized combat skills over healing, but you'd been given a fair share of private medical lessons too. And even if it was a limited amount, your knowledge of the subject undoubtedly surpassed that of any of the other boys.
Eager to help Jeongin in any way you could, you nodded. Minho motioned for you to join him inside the vehicle, and the protective glare that Felix shot his way gave you a much needed boost of confidence as you sat down beside him.
Minho gave you a brief rundown of what he needed, his instructions clear and concise. In preparation, he handed Jeongin something to bite down on. And as he began, you couldn't help but admire the way his practiced hands moved.
As the wound became more apparent, you felt a slight twinge of unease. The quantity of blood was surprising, but upon closer inspection, you were relieved to find that the glass hadn't gone nearly as deep as you'd anticipated.
Jeongin's face contorted in pain as it was carefully extracted from the thin sole of his shoe and, subsequently, his foot. You worked in tandem with Minho, assisting with whatever you could, and the collective breath held by the group seemed to release in sync with the shard's removal. Minho held it up, allowing it to shimmer in the morning light before setting it aside.
As he moved on to stitch up the wound, the process felt excruciatingly slow. Your attention shifted back to Jeongin, cradled securely in Seungmin's hold, and you couldn't help but notice the way his hands clenched and unclenched against the seat beneath him. Without thinking, you reached to take the hand that was closest to you. His fingers relaxed as they laced with yours, and you could feel the warmth of his gratitude when he briefly opened his eyes to meet your own.
When you glanced up to Seungmin, he gave you a soft nod of approval over Jeongin’s shoulder.
After Minho had finished stitching the wound, the boys' attention gradually began to shift toward their next steps, driven by a shared sense of relief now that Jeongin's discomfort had been temporarily eased.
You remained fully absorbed in helping Minho clean up—so focused that you barely caught the murmured "thank you," that came from where he sat beside you. You paused, convinced you hadn’t heard him correctly, until he added in a slightly louder tone, "You have a steady hand, y/n. You'd make a good medic."
Taken aback by his sudden appreciation, your eyes followed him as he stood. "Anybody seen any water?" he asked, scanning the vehicle's interior. Changbin handed him a canteen, which he promptly passed over to Jeongin.
After ensuring that Jeongin was as comfortable as possible, with the unexpected compliment from Minho still ringing in your ears, you stepped down from the rover.
Your eyes immediately found Felix, leaned against the vehicle with a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips. He took a step, but before he could close the distance between you, Jisung was at your side. “Nicely done, District nine. I knew you’d come in handy,” he grinned, giving you a solid pat to the back.
And then it was Chan’s turn to steal your attention. "y/n can you come look at this?" You swiveled around and he motioned for you to join him and Changbin where they had the map spread out across the hood of the rover.
When you turned back to Felix you found Hyunjin at his side, effectively blocking your view. With a small, resigned exhale through your nose, you made your way over to stand beside Changbin.
Chan asked for your help in determining the best route to take to get back on track—where your father’s guards would be less likely to follow. After thorough examination of the map, and a collaborative discussion between the three of you—with the occasional interjection from Minho—you reached a consensus.
After what had happened last night, crossing into more challenging terrain was deemed well worth the risk by all of you. And so the decision to alter your route was unanimous. You would head in the direction of a mountainous region that spanned across District 5, as it would make tracking your movements far more difficult.
With a plan in place, you glanced back at the motorcycle where Felix was now seated, tying his hair back.
He looked up as you approached. "You sure you don't want to go with them instead?” he asked, nudging his head in the direction of the rover. “You can sleep in the truck," he added.
You ignored his suggestion, making your choice known when you swung a leg over the bike and settled down behind him. You drew him closer, gently wrapping your arms around his waist. “I’m not tired, and i don’t plan on going anywhere,” you mumbled into his shoulder.
"But-" Felix began to protest. He turned to face you, but the words caught in his throat when you leaned in at the same time—your closeness catching him off guard.
“Just drive, Lix.” Your voice was soft, a murmured exhale against his lips. And you looked up to meet his eyes before pulling back to settle into his form.
A pink blush crept up to his ears as he twisted around, glancing over his other shoulder to where the boys had piled into the rover a few feet away. “Yeah, right.." he stammered, eyes following the rover when it took off from your side, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. And a faint smile crossed your lips as Felix cleared his throat before manipulating the throttle and setting the bike into motion once again.
After several hours of uninterrupted travel, muted rays of buttery light filtered in through the clouds above as the sun began to set. The ground beneath you was etched with crevices and jutting stones, creating a labyrinth of rocky terrain that stretched on endlessly.
In the dying light, you found yourselves in search of shelter once again. Not necessarily because you couldn't keep moving at night—if anything you thought it would be smarter to travel under the cover of darkness—but every single one of you was beyond exhausted, and it showed.
It showed in the subtle swerve of the motorcycle when Felix's head dipped, snapping back up when you called his name. It showed in each set of drooping shoulders and even in the gradual slow of the vehicles, as if they too were struggling to keep up the pace.
On that particular evening, luck seemed to be on your side when you came upon a cave nestled snugly between a cluster of natural rock formations. With the vehicles secured just outside the entrance, the group collectively made their way inside.
Upon entering the cave, you were greeted by a cool, refreshing environment, a stark contrast to the toxic haze that loomed over District 6. Flashlights flickered on one-by-one, casting their light upon the walls to reveal a spacious chamber. Felix and Chan immediately set about the task of creating a fire and it wasn't long before the flames began to dance and crackle before their eyes. At the other end of the space, the uneven ground converged into a single pathway that drew your attention and you watched as Hyunjin, Changbin, and Jisung gravitated toward it.
Beckoned by your own curiosity, you glanced back to Chan who shot you an inquisitive look before tossing you his flashlight. "Don't go too far, yeah?" he cautioned, and you nodded in agreement.
Trailing the boys, you sensed the familiar weight of a pair of eyes on your back, following your every move until you slipped out of sight.
The narrow passage came alive with rhythmic footsteps and the occasional murmur from up ahead, mostly Jisung. The sound of trickling water drew your attention and around the corner, a sudden widening revealed an open area where the rocky floor dipped down into a large basin, filled with crystal-clear water. It was a miniature oasis of sorts, a natural spring lit by glowing blue bioluminescence that lie nestled within the depths of the cave. The water's surface sparkled beneath a crevice in the ceiling through which you could see the moon.
The boys rushed forward, cupping their hands to sip the cool water, splashing it across their faces and arms. When you bent down to fill a canteen from your backpack, you were caught off guard by the sudden sight of your reflection in the water’s rippling surface.
A layered film of dirt and sweat clung to your skin, deep shadows had formed underneath your sunken eyes, and your once-tamed hair was now in complete disarray. It would have been a harrowing sight for anyone from District 9 to see themselves in such a state, and yet, oddly enough, you liked the way you looked like this. A raw version of your former polished self, without the vibrant makeup and suffocating clothing that had always left your skin feeling itchy and irritated. Stripped of the insincere smile you had been forced to wear throughout your life, you looked like you. A bit worn out, sure. But you embraced it wholeheartedly because it was the first time you truly felt as if you belonged among the boys.
As your eyes swept back and forth, another presence began to emerge from your appearance—your father. Subtly etched into the lines of your face, the shape of your nose, the color of your eyes—almost as if your own features were mocking your attempts to distance yourself from him. Because he was there, and he always would be. You could run from him as much as you liked, forever even, but you would never be able to escape your own reflection.
When the boys stood, you did the same, gaze lingering on the water's surface for a last second. Turning to leave, you were surprised to find Jisung waiting a short distance away. The blue tint cast a beautiful glow against his face, accentuating the gentle curve of his cheeks and the warmth in his eyes. The metal piercing in his eyebrow glinted in the faint light. "We can stay a bit longer, if you'd like," he offered.
There was an attractive sincerity about Jisung that had always intrigued you, but your eagerness to leave behind your reflection overpowered the allure. With a subtle shake of your head, you let out a small “’s okay," followed by a tender smile which he returned.
You moved at a slow pace, shoulder to shoulder, guided by the light from your flashlights as you winded back through the passage. Jisung kicked a pebble, and your eyes followed its movement. After a subtle clearing of his throat, he eventually broke the silence. "It was really cool, what you did for Jeongin earlier.”
You shrugged, inadvertently meeting his eyes. "I didn't do much...just followed what Minho told me."
Jisung responded without hesitation. "Yeah, but I know it means a lot to Jeongin. And to Minho, to finally have someone who knows what they’re doing that can help him."
"Does it? Because I think he kind of hates me.." your brows knitted together, and a gentle smile tugged at Jisung's lips.
"Minho doesn't hate you, he's just cautious," he said, returning his gaze back to the path ahead. “And I know he might come off as distant, but there's more to him beneath the surface."
Beneath the surface.
You were no stranger to what lay beneath that surface. Because your connection to Minho existed whether either of you wanted it to or not, born from the shared roots of District 9. And along with it came a shared understanding of a part of the world that, out of the nine of you, only you two could truly comprehend.
“Just give him some time, he’ll come around,” Jisung continued, accompanied by a sympathetic smile.
"Thanks, Ji. I really hope you're right.”
As soon as the nickname escaped your lips, Jisung’s expression dropped. A range emotions crossed his features. His eyes held yours for a moment, and within them you detected profound longing, tinged with traces of sorrow and grief. Unspoken, but undeniably present.
"Ji," he chuckled softly, a sad sound. "No one's called me that in a really long time."
"Well it suits you," you offered, scanning his face.
His eyes took on a glossy sheen, and his lips curled up into something bittersweet. "Yeah, I guess it does," he replied. After a moment, he blinked away the emotion and shifted the conversation. “So..want to tell me what the hell's been going on between you and Felix?"
Your foot caught suddenly on a rock, and you reached out instinctively for Jisung to steady yourself as heat flooded your cheeks. "I-uh..what about us?" Your gaze nervously darted away as you stumbled over your words.
A wistful grin tugged at the corner of Jisung’s lips. "Come on, I'm not blind. I've noticed things, you know? Subtle glances..the way he looks at you."
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” you questioned, recalling when Chan had told you the very same thing in the forest outside of Yellow Wood.
I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Never. Not anyone.
Jisung chuckled lightly in response. "Well, usually when everyone notices the same thing, it means there's some truth to it," he mused.
"Or maybe everyone's just reading too much into it."
"Whatever you say," Jisung shrugged. "I guess we’re just not used to Felix looking at anyone in a way that doesn't suggest he wants them dead. Usually he's..Well by now I'm sure you know how he is."
"Yeah," you affirmed, "I know how he is. The second time we ever spoke was while he had a knife pressed to my throat."
“He what?"
"Long story," you said. Although, in reality, the story was actually quite simple. And you'd never held it against Felix. After all, what else was he supposed to do when he'd come face to face with the daughter of the man who wanted nothing more than to see all of them dead.
"That reminds me," Jisung started, twisting the flashlight around in his hand. "I always wondered how you guys met.”
"He didn't tell you?"
Jisung shook his head vigorously in response. "Let's just say every time one of us would bring it up he'd turn bright red and shut down the conversation immediately, usually by fleeing to the rooftop."
You laughed at the mental image of Felix escaping in embarrassment whenever the topic of your first meeting was raised. "I guess it is a bit complicated.”
"You know..someone told me once that sometimes things are complicated because we're afraid of what's simple," Jisung replied.
You brought your bottom lip between your teeth as you considered his words. A comfortable silence settled between you, and you didn’t feel the need to respond.
The conversation concluded as you returned to camp. Felix looked up immediately upon your arrival, his eyes briefly meeting yours before glancing away. "See what I mean?"Jisung leaned over to whisper into your ear. A knowing smile tugged at his lips, and he winked at you before his steps carried him away from your side.
With a playful roll of your eyes, you walked over to Jeongin and offered him the canteen you had filled with water from the spring. His face brightened, although the weariness remained etched into his features. After taking a few generous gulps, he returned the canteen and nestled closer to Minho's side. The older boy's presence seemed to provide him with a sense of security as his eyelids drooped and he drifted off to sleep.
Across the fire, the rest of the boys rummaged through a sizable bag of supplies in search of anything to alleviate their hunger for the night. You found a quiet spot to claim for yourself. Sinking down against the cavern wall, you brought your legs upward as hushed chatter began to fill the chamber.
Felix couldn't help but steal a few glances in your direction as he tended to the fire. A sharp pang of jealousy resonated throughout him when he watched the way your eyes followed Jisung's reaction to something Changbin said, a wide smile forming on your lips in response to his infectious laughter. Felix didn't need to wonder what you thought of Jisung. Of course you liked him, it was impossible not to. And he couldn't even blame you for it because it was only natural that someone like you would be drawn to someone like Jisung.
After the group had eaten and settled in around the fire, Chan took the opportunity to share his first memory of Hira. He depicted her as a neutral force—neither entirely good nor entirely corrupt—but someone whom, for whatever reason, he'd always felt that he could trust.
When he'd finished, Chan passed the conversation to Jisung who proceeded to share a story about a mishap he and Seungmin encountered last winter, during a supply run in the same abandoned city you'd crossed through last night. The story involved a ridiculous chase through the streets, with Jisung somehow ending up as the hero. But Seungmin couldn't resist chiming in. "Hold on, hold on," he raised a hand with a sly grin, "Let's be real, less than half of that actually happened.”
Jisung responded with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, a playful retort forming on his lips as he prepared to continue the banter. Before he could, Felix chimed in. "Making things up again, Han? This sounds a lot like the time we all found out you can't actually tell edible plants from poisonous ones,” he teased. His eyes shimmered in the firelight, and when he smirked you couldn't help but appreciate the way it accentuated his canines.
Jisung let out an exasperated gasp. "I told you I was still learning!”
"I threw up for a week straight after you insisted it was safe to eat those purple berries! I thought I was going to die!" Seungmin exclaimed, failing to control his laughter.
Jisung threw his hands up in defeat. “Who even needs to know which plants are safe to eat when you can just charm your way into getting free supplies?" A sly grin fell across his lips but it vanished when Changbin added, “That only happened once, and wasn't it Hyunjin that actually did the talking? Pretty sure you just stared at your feet the whole time because you couldn't even make eye contact with the girl.”
Changbin’s response elicited chuckles from the entire room, yourself included. With a dramatic huff, Jisung turned and lie down on his side with his back to the group. He feigned annoyance, but was unable to hide his own amusement as his shoulders shook with gentle laughter.
After the excitement died down, Minho's soft-spoken voice broke the silence. He recalled a late night conversation with Jeongin not too long ago that had unexpectedly evolved into a heart-to-heart about their shared fears. When he was finished, he glanced down in fondness at the sleeping boy nestled against his side.
You leaned your head against the rock, allowing your eyes to close as Hyunjin began to share about a distant memory that involved his mother, with whom he'd spent some time in a cave like the one you found yourselves in now—before they had gotten separated. As he spoke, you tried your hardest to recall just one single memory of your own mother, but you were unable to move past a particular phrase that continued to linger in your thoughts.
You look just like her.
And then it hit you. A sudden blow, like a dagger straight to the heart.
What if Hira hadn't been speaking in general terms, about a woman from her past that you resembled.
What if she had been referring to your mother.
Your eyes snapped open and your posture straightened away from the wall as you tried to put it all together in your mind. You'd stopped asking questions about your mother a very long time ago, due to the anger that rose within your father at the faintest mention of her. He refused to speak about her, and so you had created a simplified narrative of your own—that she had been plucked from the residents of District 9 to marry your father for her social standing and wealth. But what if there was more to her, and your own origins, than you had ever thought possible.
Felix, who had been lying with his hands behind his head a short distance away, picked up on the change in your demeanor. Concern flickered in his eyes as he sat up.
"Hey, you good?" Chan's voice echoed from across the room as you realized that the rest of the group had fallen silent, their attention now fixed on you.
You managed a soft smile in an attempt to mask the intensity of your thoughts. "Yeah..just tired."
"Maybe its time we all get some rest," Chan responded.
As his suggestion was met with a general consensus of agreement from the group you cast a glance back at Felix. The fire's dwindling glow traced his features with delicate strokes, accentuating the furrow between his brow and the subtle tension in his jaw, before the flames were extinguished by Chan.
Ten minutes, twenty, an hour.
You tossed and turned repeatedly as restlessness consumed your mind, preventing you from succumbing to the fatigue that gripped your aching muscles. When soft snores began to fill the darkness, envy stirred within you at the boys' ability to find solace.
Maybe they were just desensitized to it all—the constant brushes with death, the daily ritual of having to bury their fears again each morning when they woke. Maybe with time you would grow used to it too. But tonight, the weight of it all, combined with the mystery surrounding Hira's final message had left you without any chance at falling asleep.
And although you didn't want to admit it, the notion slowly crept into your mind that the only reason you had gotten any sleep at all the past few nights was because of Felix. Especially last night—his steady heartbeat, protective embrace, and the comforting warmth of his body heat lulling you into a sense of security.
Maybe he wouldn't notice if you inched a bit closer..Just so you could manage a few hours..
A frustrated sound escaped your lips as you banished the thought, because it wasn’t fair to rely on Felix to chase away the darkness when you couldn't bear to face it alone. He had his own battles to fight, his own burdens to carry, and if he was going to drive the motorcycle then he probably needed the sleep more than you anyway.
Your eyes failed to adjust to the darkness when you sat up. Cut off from any sense of place and time, the air around you suddenly felt so thin, so scarce, making it difficult to draw in a steady breath. Your skin prickled as if tiny insects had begun to dig their way into your flesh, and you couldn't get it out of your head.
All of it.
Your mother, nothing but the faded memory of a woman with a face you hadn't known long enough to remember. Your father, with a face you would never forget, because it chased you in your own reflection. Hira's lifeless stare, empty and cold. The knowing look in Yeonjun's eyes when you left him behind to die. And Felix, who, even with a loaded gun pressed against his head looked to you as if your safety would always be far more important to him than his own.
“It gets easier with time."
You jolted, startled by a sudden voice that broke the silence.
“Falling asleep, I mean. It gets easier with time,” he repeated. His tone a calm and steady contrast to the turmoil in your mind.
"Then why are you still awake?" you remarked, lowering your voice to a whisper to keep from disturbing the sleeping boys around you.
Felix let out a soft sigh. His gentle breath mingled with the darkness that enveloped you both, and you sensed movement as he sat up somewhere close by.
“I didn’t say it gets easy, just easier. Besides..” he paused, a long pause. Hoping you wouldn’t be able to sense the struggle he faced to keep his emotions in check. "How am i supposed to sleep when you're breathing so heavily…it's distracting," he finally settled on. And you couldn't help but scoff at his feeble attempt at masking whatever it was that he actually wanted to say.
As the silence stretched on, the uncomfortable sensation of needing to escape your own skin grew unbearable, driving you to your feet.
"Where are you-"
"-The dirt, the sweat, the blood, I need to get it off. I just need to get it off." Without waiting for a response, you fumbled through the darkness. Your fingers met the coarse stone wall at your side, and you trailed along it as soft footsteps began to echo from somewhere behind you.
Cool mist fell against your skin as pitch-black was steadily replaced by calming blue. In the soft ethereal glow, you stepped over to the waters edge where you lifted your shirt and slipped out of your pants. All the while, your senses were acutely aware of Felix's presence behind you, his watchful eyes glued to your backside. He could have chosen to let you wander off alone, but some part of you knew he couldn't resist. And selfishly, you liked that.
When you entered the water it rippled around your waist. The coldness sent shivers throughout your body, but it was invigorating. A welcome sensation against skin that seemed to burn tonight. You took a deep breath, letting the weight of the past twenty four hours wash away when you submerged yourself beneath the surface. The water welcomed you into a desensitizing embrace and for a moment, only as long as you could hold your breath, the unpleasant images in your mind and your fears surrounding the war outside were replaced by complete and utter silence. Nothing at all.
You resurfaced facing Felix. His eyes trailed up and down your half naked form, lingering a bit too long on the places his hands always went first. Your heart skipped a beat when you realized that he was approaching. When he lifted his shirt, you couldn't help but take the opportunity to glance over the contours of his sculpted abdomen. He let himself down into the water and the soft splashes of his movements filled the silence between you.
“Maybe you should just…stay over there," you mumbled, averting your gaze from his chest.
You wanted him close, that you couldn't deny. But hours had passed since last night, and your panic had since died down—giving way to frustration once more. And it wasn't even about him nearly losing his life, it was about how that near-loss had stirred a depth of emotion within you that you could no longer control. You were frustrated with him for almost getting killed again, something that (this time) he'd had absolutely no control over. But you were even more frustrated with yourself for letting it affect you in the way that it had.
Felix raised his hands defensively, abiding by your demand to keep some distance. When he sank down into the water, the tips of his hair skimmed the surface.
"Princess..you alright?" his sudden inquiry caught you off guard. It was his tone, laced with genuine concern, that caused your heart to pound beneath the surface of your calm exterior.
No, I'm not alright.
Nothing about what happened last night is alright, you thought.
"Yeah, I'm managing," you said.
His lips curved upward, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Managing, huh? Guess you’re tougher than you look."
You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your own features when you responded. “And you? What about you?"
"I've been through worse,” he trailed off. A veil of shadows fell over his features and suddenly, Felix felt miles away. Worlds apart, as if he had been transported to some distant realm of memories that he would have given anything to forget.
“Chan told me a little..what you’ve been through is more than most people could handle, you know?” you hesitated, questioning if it was the right decision to acknowledge your awareness of his past. But the divide between you had always felt easy to bridge in moments like this, when it was just the two of you. Sometimes leading you to forget that it had even existed at all.
"He shouldn't have said-"
"-But I'm glad he did," you interrupted. "And I might not understand it all but I do know know that none of it is your fault, Felix."
Felix let out a bitter scoff, a defensive edge to his tone when he responded. “You don't know anything,” his eyes flickered back to you, and in them you saw a glimpse of the pain he carried beneath. When you took a step forward he retreated with a single stroke of his arms in the water—a reflexive withdrawal.
And then he sighed heavily, noting the subtle trace of hurt in your expression at his retreat. "I'm sorry..it's just..thinking about it, talking about it, its not easy for me."
“It’s okay,” you offered, making a conscious effort to ignore the compulsion to reach out and wrap him in your arms. To reassure him over and over again that he didn’t deserve the things he had been through. To make it clear that, in your eyes, Felix would never be to blame for his past.
Felix cleared his throat, his desire to avoid the subject prompting him to redirect the conversation. “What was that earlier with you? Around the fire."
Unsure of how much to reveal, you hesitated again, mindlessly tracing shapes on the surface of the water. "I think..there might be the possibility of a connection between my mother..and..Hira.”
Felix's expression transformed as he scanned your face in bewilderment. “What? What kind of connection?"
“Hira said I looked just like 'her', Felix, and I don't know why but I can't shake the feeling that she was talking about my mother."
"You think Hira knew your mother?” his mouth fell open, he looked at you as though you had completely and utterly lost your mind, and you really couldn't blame him.
“You heard her, you saw the way she looked at me," you pressed.
“Look, princess,” he insisted, drawn closer when he noticed the trace of sadness in your eyes at the mention of your mother. “I know Chan talks about her like she was a saint, but the woman was a lunatic. She didn't have any idea what she was talking about half the time, so don’t overthink it. Hira dealt with people from the outer districts, and she never went to District nine herself. It’s impossible.”
"Yeah..you're probably right." Mimicking his earlier movement, you lowered yourself in the water until it enveloped your shoulders.
After a moment you drew in a breath. When you went to speak, Felix did the same. Your words collided in the narrow space between you, and he chuckled softly, a warm sound that filled your ears. “You first,” he said.
"Today was..” you paused to recollect your thoughts, pursing your lips in concentration.
“I know,” he sighed. “It was a close call. We don’t have to talk about it.”
“Yes we do,” you asserted. “We should. I don’t know how any of you do this. Its like one minute everything’s fine and the next.." you let out a frustrated exhale before continuing, “And then they're just able to sleep like nothing happened?! Its like you’re all fearless.”
Felix's lips quirked into a small, sympathetic smile as he inched closer. “Fearless? Nah, its just survival, princess. You get used to it, you learn to move forward." His voice lowered before he added, "Even when you’re afraid.”
As you considered his words, you found yourself studying his eyes in search of a glimpse of his inner thoughts. Had Felix felt fear today when he was leading the chase from the guards? When Jeongin was injured? When the cold metal of the gun touched his skin?
“I wish I had that kind of strength,” you admitted.
“You’ve got your own kind of strength," he began. “You're here aren't you? And you had no problem revealing yourself to those guards last night. Why did you do that?"
You felt your cheeks warm as you looked down, gliding your hands through the water. "Isn't it obvious?" When he didn't respond, you sighed, glancing up to meet his eyes again. “I just thought that maybe it would buy all of you a chance at making it out of there alive."
"Exactly. And every single one of them recognizes that,” he stated, nudging his head in the direction of the passage that led back to the sleeping boys.
“But it still doesn't mean they trust me, right? Still doesn't guarantee that they ever will?" you returned, raising a single eyebrow.
Felix rolled his eyes, and when they reconnected with yours you held his stare, narrowing your gaze. "I shouldn't have said that," he muttered.
Felix was incredibly difficult to read, most of the time, but something about the sincerity in his tone and the pause in his speech made you believe that he really did regret what he’d said that night in Yellow Wood, about how the others might never trust you.
"No, you shouldn't have. But it’s okay." You shifted closer, and with the distance between you now almost nonexistent, even the atmosphere felt alive—charged with pulsing energy, as the water flowed like an electric current between you, prompting you to reach up and drape your arms around his neck.
As if your actions had given him permission, his own hands instantly found their way to your waist. Your legs lifted to wrap around him and the water responded with soothing ripples around your bodies.
With you in his arms, Felix stood. He waded backward until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the spring where he settled down against a makeshift seat embedded within the natural contours of the rock.
Straddling his waist, you brushed the hair from his neck and laid your head down in its place. Splaying a hand against his chest, you felt for the steady strength of his heartbeat beneath your palm. And you stayed like that for quite some time, drifting in and out of a light sleep as he traced idle shapes across your back.
After a while, your eyes fluttered open. “Lix?”
“Yeah?” his voice was a low murmur in your ear, soft and attentive.
“Promise me something?” you breathed.
Anything, he thought.
“What is it?” he said.
"Promise me you’ll try to be more careful from now on? Because..I don't think I could handle it..if..” you lifted your head from his shoulder as the words hung between you like a fragile, fragile thread. The confession was like a heated blade in your throat, searing it raw, and you let it burn. Because you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words that followed, paralyzed once again by the weight of your unspoken feelings.
But you didn't need to say anything further, because to Felix, it was obvious what you were implying.
I need you.
Your words from last night echoed in his mind. He remembered how desperate you sounded, how you'd pulled him with you as if your life depended on it.
He searched your face in a desperate attempt to understand how someone like you could ever be so concerned with the safety of someone like him. And he wondered if it was because, perhaps, you still couldn't see it—the stains of the choices he had made, etched into his soul. He wondered if he had allowed himself to become too wrapped up in his own feelings, creating a version of himself in your eyes that was far more forgiving than the truth.
When silence between you grew, his lips parted slightly as if he wanted to speak.
In another life, one in which Felix saw himself differently, he would have promised to be by your side for as long as you wanted him there. He would’ve kissed you deeply, and he never would have let you go.
In another life, it might have been the moment Felix realized that he was meant to love you.
But in this life, in this harsh reality, a silent battle raged on inside Felix—torn between his selfish desire for you and the instincts that kept him alive. He knew he couldn't promise you a life without danger, and he certainly couldn't guarantee you his survival. But goddammit Felix wanted nothing more than to swear that he would do everything in his power to try and stay alive. For you.
Overwhelmed by his feelings, your close proximity, and the fact that last night he had been come closer to death than he had in a very long time, Felix surrendered to that powerful, selfish desire.
"Yeah-" the word caught in his throat, as if he was afraid of what came next. Cupping your face with one of his hands, he added, "I promise.”
You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, embracing the warmth of his palm against your skin and the reassurance in his grip.
"Besides," you started. “You can’t leave me alone with them. I'm pretty sure Minho and Hyunjin would plot to kill me in my sleep or something.” A soft giggle escaped your lips, and Felix couldn't help the wide, toothy grin that spread across his face at your attempt to lighten the mood.
“Please, Jisung would never let them,” he returned. And your raised eyebrows prompted him to continue. "I'm serious, in fact Jisung would probably prefer to have you all to himself," he insisted. And then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, Felix gave a sudden squeeze to your ass with both hands that caused your eyes to widen.
"Oh really? Is that so?" Your fingers lightly traced a pattern on his bare chest as he hummed in agreement. "I don't know..maybe I should ask him myself just to be sure. You think he'd like to join us?" With a teasing smirk, you released your hold on Felix, stepping back down into the water and turning to face the direction you'd come from. Cupping your hands around your mouth, you began to call out "JI-"
"-Shhhh," the water splashed when Felix lunged forward. His arms encircled you from behind, grazing the underside of your breasts as he captured you in a sudden embrace. And a squeal escaped your lips when he pulled you with him beneath the water's surface. Coming up for air, you retaliated with a splash that sent a wave of water in his direction. His laughter echoed off the walls, deep and genuine. It was a sound you hadn't heard before, and yet, it felt as if you had been craving it for a lifetime. Soft crinkles formed around his eyes, and you wove another precious memory of the freckled boy into your mind.
Felix shook the water from his hair before catching you again. Your arms naturally reclaimed their place around his neck, your legs came back up to wrap around his waist, and the water rippled around your shoulders.
As you held each others eyes, his amusement gradually gave way to a more thoughtful expression.
“You know," he began, "Jisung..he uh..lost someone once. I think that’s why he’s like that with you, I think you remind him of her."
His words carried solemn weight, offering a touch of insight into why Jisung had trusted you from the very beginning. And a simple “Oh” was all you could manage in response, your heart breaking at the thought of Jisung carrying such pain beneath his hopeful, kindhearted exterior.
“But he’s better now, he's come a long way since then, mostly thanks to Minho,” he added. His expression revealed the traces of another painful memory, before he willed it away.
With you still in his arms, Felix reclaimed his spot against the edge of the spring. Perched just above the water's surface with his back supported by the rock and his legs dipping into the soothing water.
And while you considered his disclosure about Jisung's past, you realized that you had never truly known loss. You had forgotten your mother—had no memories of her touch, her scent, the sound of her voice—and because you had never really known her it had been a relatively easy loss, if any ever was.
You had lost Jisoo, but it was a different kind of loss—a choice you had willingly made that you hoped you would come to forgive yourself for some today.
But the mere thought of being forced to lose the boy with the stars in his eyes was crippling. You couldn't bear the thought of those stars fading away, because he looked to you like you were the one that had put them there. And it terrified you that some day he would pay the ultimate price for it, leaving you behind to grapple with a new kind of loss that you weren't sure you would have the strength to overcome.
"What?" Felix said, catching the intensity in your eyes as your fingers reached to play with the hair at the back of his neck.
“You almost died today," you stated. "For real this time."
His expression furrowed, and a gentle crease appeared on his forehead before gradually easing away. "Well..yeah," he shrugged, "I'm still here, though."
Here. With you.
You shifted underneath his stare, trying to reach a more comfortable position. Your hands found their way to one of his, guiding it to rest in your lap where you played with his rings absentmindedly.
Sensing your restlessness, Felix gently ceased the movement of your hands when he intertwined his fingers with yours.
“I don’t know how to do this,” you blurted. “And I'm scared, Felix. I'm scared that I’m too weak to handle it. That its going to get all of you killed.”
Felix frowned slightly before drawing you closer. “We all have weaknesses, princess," his eyes fell briefly to your lips before continuing. “Chan wants to save the whole goddamned world, and he gets so wrapped up in it that he forgets to take care of himself, too. Han—Jisung, I mean, trusts too easily. And Minho doesn’t trust enough, even when he should. Changbin is reckless as hell, if you think I’m bad, you should've seen him when we first met. Jeongin doesn’t want to hurt anyone, so he hesitates in situations where it puts his life at risk. And Seungmin is too damn smart for his own good, and he knows it, so his confidence gets the best of him sometimes."
He shook his head and you brought a hand up to swipe the stray droplets of water that fell down onto his cheeks, fingertips mapping out the constellations painted underneath. He closed his eyes in response, tilting his head as he welcomed your touch.
A brief, heart-pounding silence hung between you before you dared to speak again. “What about you, Felix? What’s your weakness?”
The freckled boy tensed beneath you. His jaw clenched, and for a long time he held his silence. Just when you began to brace yourself for the possibility that he might not respond, his eyelids gently lifted. His hands rose to cup your face, one of his thumbs traced your upper lip, and in another life you would have stopped him from saying the words that followed.
“You, princess. My weakness is you.”
You blinked, opening your mouth just to close it again. When Felix leaned in closer, you turned your head, causing his lips to lightly graze along the side of your jaw. "I thought I'd already be dead, if it were up to you," you mumbled.
“I shouldn't have said that..either," he stated. And when he pulled back to meet your gaze, there was a familiar intensity in his eyes. Felix looked to you like he did every time he wanted to fuck you, but there was more behind it now.
"You did say it, though. You said it, and you meant it," you pressed.
But you were wrong.
And it was driving Felix insane.
Because he was well aware of the simple fact that he should have meant it. That it should have been easy for him to hate you. After all, he'd never had a problem directing his disdain toward the world and its inhabitants. But there was something that stopped him from casting that hatred upon you. No matter how hard he tried.
"I wanted to mean it," he breathed.
And it was on that night, sheltered deep within a cave on the outskirts of District 6, that you realized what the others had meant when they spoke about the way Felix looked at you. As his deep brown eyes bore into your soul, they spoke volumes about the complexity of his feelings, far more than words ever could. That night, your feelings intertwined with his, and you did nothing to stop it. Shared vulnerability bled into deep affection and for the first time you chose to overlook the danger that came with it.
“Its driving me crazy, pretending I’m okay every time you get hurt. You do realize that, right?” you exhaled, reaching for the fading red handprints on his neck. But Felix intercepted your hand before it could make contact with his skin. Bringing it up to his lips, he kissed it softly.
“I’m sorry," he leaned in to press another open kiss your shoulder. It was gentle, it felt good, so you let him.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” his warm hands trailed up and down your back, chasing away the chill that had settled over your body, so you let them.
Felix knew he wasn’t good for you. He knew you deserved someone like Jisung, who would be able to bring out the best in you without even trying. Someone like Chan who you could grow with. Or Minho, who would challenge you to reach your full potential. But Felix was none of those things. Instead, he was selfish. Selfish, and pathetic, and cruel. And despite the fact that he knew it, despite the fact that he hated himself for it, he just couldn’t help the feeling he got every single time you looked at him like he was the only one you wanted.
Felix hated every part of himself, except for you.
"Tell me we shouldn’t do this,” you kissed him. A gentle kiss, pressed lightly to his bottom lip.
"We shouldn't," he exhaled against your lips.
"Tell me you mean it," you pleaded.
"I can't," is all he said.
And it was all you needed to hear.
You met his lips again and Felix eagerly fell into the kiss. He slid his tongue in your mouth and swiped it against yours, causing a breathy moan to escape you. His hands wandered up your sides where he squeezed lightly. Your teeth clashed, and when you pulled away for a breath he chased your lips with his own.
“Never again, remember?” you whispered, dragging your fingers along his temple, pushing back his hair.
“When I said that I didn't mean..I-I just meant that.." his eyes fell to your lap as he trailed off, making you aware of the slow grinding motion your hips had begun to trace against the growing bulge in his underwear.
A small sound of pleasure rose in his throat when you added pressure to your movement. You leaned in, your noses brushed, but before you could kiss him again Felix threw you off by widening the gap between his legs.
"What're you…"
“Use me, princess. I don't see anything wrong with that, do you?"
You hated the cocky expression he wore when he flexed the muscles of his thigh. You hated it, and before you knew it you were straddled around his left leg, silently cursing the thin material of your underwear as it was the only thing that separated your pooling heat from the bare skin on his thigh.
The gasp you let out turned to a whimper as he took hold of your hips and began to guide your pace, bobbing his leg underneath you. When your eyes fell to the obvious tent in his underwear, you pulled one of his hands away from your body to press his own palm down against it.
"Touch yourself, Felix. I don’t see anything wrong with that, do you?”
His breath hitched when you squeezed the hand over his bulge, and your pace slowed as you watched him comply. Bringing his hand up, he shoved his underwear down just enough to take out his hard cock, such a pretty cock, with a pretty pink tip. And you fought the urge to run your tongue along it—to taste the salty release.
Felix leaned back, locking eyes with you as he began to stroke himself, making your aching pussy involuntarily clench around nothing. When he bucked his hips up into his fist, you hissed at the sudden movement of his thigh. Your eyes followed the slow motion of his wrist, and as his thumb began to circle the tip, you decided that you couldn't fucking stand it anymore.
You leaned over and forcefully turned his head, placing a sloppy, wet kiss to his already parted lips. A rumble escaped his throat, and sweet, husky moans filled your mouth when you replaced the hand on his cock with your own.
It wasn't enough. It could have been, you knew you were close. One more flex of his thigh, a few more swipes against your sensitive clit, would have you tumbling over the edge. But his cock in your hand would never compare to how it felt stuffed inside your pussy.
Felix let out another low moan that turned into a chuckle when he watched the way your glossy eyes followed your hand as it moved up and down his throbbing length. "You know, you’re more than welcome to sit on my cock princess, if you think you can control yourself."
“Do you think you can control yourself if I don't let you touch me while I do it?" you managed.
Felix smirked in response, a dangerous smirk, dark eyes full of lust as he raised his hands dramatically before setting them down at his sides. And then your fingers were in his hair, trailing down his body, drawing a path with your touch. You pulled yourself back over to straddle his lap, and Felix moaned louder than you did when you pushed your panties to the side and sank down onto his thick length. Without giving yourself time to adjust, the burn from the stretch had you struggling to catch your breath, dizzy with pleasure.
Felix kept his hands at his sides as his hooded eyes trained to your chest. Sensing that he wanted to touch you there, you slipped out of your bra, cupping your breasts to tease him. He watched intently with his tongue between his teeth, and when your walls fluttered around him he let out a deep growl as his cock pulsed inside you.
Your fingers followed his eyes when they dropped down to where your bodies met—to your clit, where you began to rub lazy circles, causing his hands to twitch at his sides.
When he noticed the bulge in your lower abdomen, visible proof of how deeply he was buried inside of you, Felix thought he was going to lose his mind at the sight. His head fell back, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he tried to keep from painting your walls with his cum right then and there.
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, there was a calm sea of black in place of the stars.
“I can feel how bad your pussy wants me to touch you, angel.” When you opened your mouth to protest, he stole a kiss from your lips, swallowing your words before continuing. “To wrap my fingers around your throat,” you shuddered when he brought a hand up to your neck, but he didn’t make contact with your skin. Instead, he used the hand to reach around and grab a fistful of your hair at the roots. You let out a whimper when he jerked your head to the side before leaning in to whisper against your ear. “To fuck you dumb on my cock.”
You moaned again and a strained “fuck” fell from his lips when you shifted in a desperate attempt to feel him move inside you. When he let go of your hair, you dropped your head to his neck, and your hums mixed together in a symphony of pleasure as you began to rock your hips. Shamelessly giving in to your body's desire.
“Ah shit, just like that," he groaned, squeezing his hands into fists where they hovered at your sides. The twisting pressure in your core had you whimpering into the hot skin at his neck, “touch me, touch me please,” and Felix wasted no time. He roughly grabbed your hips and slammed himself up into you, shushing the soft cries that spilled from your lips as a result. "Such a good girl princess, gonna let me take care of you now?"
You nodded, preparing for him to thrust into you again, but Felix did something unexpected instead.
He lifted you up over the edge of the spring, and you clung to him as he laid you down on top of the clothing you had shed before getting into the water. It provided a barrier between you and the cold surface of the ground, and once he was satisfied and made sure that you were comfortable, he ripped your panties off and dragged the flushed tip of his cock back to your entrance, parting your folds.
And Felix thought it was cute, when you looked up at him with big shiny doe eyes waiting for him to take you. So sweet, so innocent. And something about it made him want to ruin you until you cried, just so he could be the one to wipe your tears.
"Don't forget who owns this pretty pussy, sweetheart," he growled hot against your ear as his cock pressed at the entrance of your needy hole. You let out a pathetic whine when he stopped his movement.
"Please, it hurts," you begged, squirming underneath his hold as your release leaked out around his tip.
"Tell me who owns this cunt, and I might just give you what you want," he huffed.
Your nails dug into his skin, tears pricking at your eyes as you whimpered, “Y-you do."
“C’mon baby I know you can do better than that. Say my name, sweetheart.”
“F-Felix...you do Felix, please,” you gripped his shoulders tighter, fingers passing over rough scars on the skin underneath.
“Thats right,” he hummed, easing himself into you at an excruciatingly slow pace.
“Does that feel good?” he chuckled at the way your hips greedily met his. When he bottomed out, you pulled him down into another heated kiss just to feel more of him. And then he began to thrust, moving his hips at pace far too slow for your liking as he relished in the feeling of your tight walls sucking him in.
“S-so good, Lix, harder please. I can't-" Your back arched, your eyelids fluttered closed, and Felix had to bite his lip to keep from losing it at the sight.
“Yes you can," he purred, leaning down to whisper into your ear. "You begged for it like whore. So be a good girl and take it like one, hm?" And then without warning, Felix picked up his pace, drilling into you faster, deeper, harder.
You let out soft sobbing noises that he muffled with kisses—kisses along your jaw, down your neck, to your collarbones where he sucked and nipped at the skin. The marks he left behind would be covered by your clothing tomorrow, but they would be there, and only Felix will know it.
One of his hands snaked up to grab at your tits, then down to your clit where he pressed the pad of his thumb. He began to draw gentle circles, pushing you that much closer to your orgasm. And you didn't even try to hold back the loud moans of pleasure that escaped you as his thick cock bullied deeper into your cunt.
"'m fucking close, Lix-”
Felix was too, in fact he certain he wasn't going to last ten more seconds if you kept clenching around him. “I know-shit” he cursed under his breath, “But you’re going to hold it just a little bit longer for me.”
He pulled out with a deep groan and you let out a noise of protest at the sudden lack of fullness. "Shhh, I know but I haven't even gotten to taste you yet,” he muttered, shifting down to lower his face between your legs.
“Oh fuck-” your eyes shot open when you felt hot breath against the inside of your thighs. Your hands found their way to his dark locks, pressing his face into your cunt, and it was almost embarrassing how quickly you came when his broad tongue collided with your clit.
The pleasure was overwhelming as the orgasm ripped through. Felix continued to lap at you, collecting your arousal on his tongue. You cried out his name, over and over again, because you had forgotten everything else. And within seconds, before you had even come down from your own high, Felix was pumping his cock over your pulsing heat. He emptied himself on your pussy, against your folds, the warm sensation making you hiss.
After he had painted the most intimate parts of you with his cum, Felix took his fingers and spread his release over your overstimulated clit, making your legs tremble. And it took everything he had to fight the possessive urge to collect it on his fingers and push it inside your spent hole.
When the stars faded from your vision, you looked up to find him staring down at the mess he'd made. Eyelids half-open, lips parted in a daze. You reached down to collect some of your shared release onto your fingers and sat up to swipe it across his swollen lips. And then you kissed him, tongues meeting to taste the mixture of your releases. You pulled him back down without breaking the kiss, and he held himself up on shaky arms as your lips moved. Slow and passionate, wet and sloppy, as you inhaled each other in.
When the kiss broke, Felix pressed one final peck to your forehead before collapsing at your side, reaching over to pull you into his chest.
"You okay, princess?" his warm breath tickled your ear and you hummed in response. “Shit that was…you're so fucking hot."
"Never again though, right?" you teased, burying your face in his neck. Felix smiled softly against your hair, his chest shook with gentle laughter, and a sense of familiarity washed over you.
As if that very moment had repeated countless times before, in every single lifetime.
You stirred as the first rays of dawn found their way into the cave. Blinking away the grogginess, your body slowly became aware of the weight draped around you. Felix was still soundly asleep and you hesitated to disturb him, but the sudden need for fresh air pulled you gently from his hold.
With cautious steps over the rest of the sleeping boys, you made your way outside, momentarily taken aback by the bright golden rays that bathed the landscape. The sun's presence, without the usual cover of clouds, was a precious rarity—a gift that nature seldom chose to bestow upon the remnants of humanity. It called you to take a few steps further, to let it bathe your skin.
"Enjoying the view?"
You startled, cursing yourself for not paying more attention to the number of sleeping bodies in the cave. When your head snapped to the side you found Hyunjin perched on a large stone with a bright red apple in his hand and an open bag at his feet.
"Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you," you grumbled, taking a step back.
"Don't worry about it," he replied casually, "It's not like I own the sunrise." His tone suggested that he might actually be trying to lighten the mood, to lessen the tension between you, and the surprise must have shown on your face because he let out a light chuckle before taking a bite of the apple.
"Hungry?" he asked. "You didn't eat much last night."
You hesitated, caught off guard by his observation. "A little, yeah."
"Here," he reached down into the bag and pulled out a second apple, tossing it to you. His eyebrows lifted when you caught it with ease. And then he shifted, as if he was making space for you to sit beside him. You paused, studying him for a brief second before accepting the invitation and settling down at his side.
"Thanks," you stole a quick glance his way before biting down into the fruit, appreciating the crisp sweetness as the juice ran down your chin.
"I've known Felix for a long time, y/n," he suddenly blurted out. Your chewing slowed as you turned your attention to him, intrigued by the sudden change in topic. "He's good at adapting, but I'm not sure he knows how to handle anything beyond survival anymore.”
After a moment, a half-smile ghosted across Hyunjin's features and he continued. “Felix is who he is. He isn't going to change for you, and he doesn't need the distraction. Just be careful with him."
"Because you weren't?" the words tumbled out before you could stop them.
"Something like that," Hyunjin's response was measured. They had history. You'd sensed as much, understood that some level of complexity existed between Felix and Hyunjin that wasn't there between the others.
When Hyunjin stood, he tossed his apple core aside and your eyes followed the movement, catching on one of his fingers—adorned with a ring that matched one of the rings Felix wore. The sight was like a punch to the gut, a tangible symbol of their bond, forged through circumstances that you couldn't even begin to understand.
“You’re wrong,” you stated as he prepared to leave.
His steps faltered, but he didn’t turn back around to face you when he spoke. “I’ve known him a lot longer than-“
“-Not about Felix,” you interrupted. “About me. I don’t have any desire to change him. I like the way he is because its whats kept him alive.”
Hyunjin stood motionless, as if he was choosing his next words very, very carefully. “You should try to get some more sleep before the rest of them wake," he stated plainly. And then, almost as an afterthought, his voice dropped before he added, "Didn’t sound like you got much last night."
Embarrassment fell over your entire body as he disappeared into the cave. With a heavy sigh you opened your hand, letting the half-eaten apple roll to the ground in front of you as the sweet flavor turned bitter in your mouth.
Upon re-entering the cave, Hyunjin was nowhere to be seen, leaving you to assume that he’d gone to the spring to clean up.
When your gaze shifted to Felix, still asleep where you had left him, your heart sank. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and the anguish etched across his face was unmistakably characteristic of a nightmare.
You stepped closer, concern deepening with each passing second as you watched his eyes dart behind closed lids. Kneeling down beside him you extended a hand, positioning it above his shoulder, but as your fingers inched closer you were abruptly halted by what fell from his lips.
It wasn't merely the despair in his voice that seized you—no, it was the word he spoke that left you frozen in place.
A simple word, whispered like an agonizing plea.
Your name.
Swallowed by darkness, he's stumbling forward but he doesn’t remember how he got there. His knees hit the ground, and he closes his eyes but he can still hear them. Heart-wrenching sobs echo in his ears, sending a shiver down his spine, because he knows it is your voice that they come from.
When he looks up, he sees you on the ground up ahead. Hunched over with your head in your hands and your back turned to him, your entire body shakes with each pained sob. He approaches you cautiously, heart heavy with concern. He reaches to place a hand on your shoulder, and he is surprised to find that your skin is ice cold.
When you turn to meet his eyes, your tear-stained face contorts in anguish and confusion. "Why?” you croak, your voice trembling.
The accusation in your gaze is like a stab to his heart, something he can't bear to see, yet his eyes refuse to close. “Why did you do it, Felix?” you continue. Your sobs turn violent, and his heart breaks as he is forced to watch your pain. He tries to speak, to beg you to forgive him for whatever it is he has done. Yet its as if his lips have been sewn shut, his tongue far too heavy to move. He extends a hand to wipe your tears, but you flinch away from his touch.
And suddenly you’re standing, facing each other. He doesn’t remember how it happened, but he is relieved that your sobs have ceased. He is relieved, until the newfound stillness brings a fresh wave panic to his veins. Because your sadness has been replaced by fear. And as your bloodshot eyes stare directly into his, Felix realizes that it is him, you are afraid of.
You breathe, but it is a ragged breath, as if you are struggling to draw in any air at all. "I trusted you," you whisper, but your speech is gargled as if you are being choked by something. Droplets of crimson fall from your mouth, and his eyes widen in horror as your lips tinge red with blood.
A final tear travels down your cheek as you lower your head. And Felix follows your eyes down, down to where his hand is tightly clutched around the blood-soaked handle of a knife.
A knife adorned with an intricate floral design, mercilessly embedded in your heart.
Part 7
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a/n: requested by @mischivana " can you please do 2, 6, 8, 10, 12, or 48 either jason or connor. or 24 or 44 (or both) with jason. can you make them x mortal reader cause there really isn't enough mortal reader stuff around and I've been craving it, thank you!!!! " i've done this for jason since i haven't written much for him, so i hope you enjoy! my past two things for him have been very sad, so this is a bit happier lol
warnings: minor injury detail
prompts: "Don't worry; it hurts a little less each time." and "I love you and it terrifies me."
gn reader
What Are You So Afraid Of? - Jason Grace
Midnight. There's a crash downstairs.
You jolt up in your bed, heart pounding. It's silent for a moment, and you start to think that you might just be hearing things, but then there's another. Louder, closer. Heavy. With your heart racing, you grab the nearest thing you could use as a weapon - a stuffed teddy, for heaven's sake - and stand on tired legs.
There's a bang on your door, and you jump. You should call the police, but your bones feel locked with terror. You can't bring yourself to reach for your phone. This is perhaps the worst time for your parents to be away.
Another bang, and a rattle of your door handle, and the intruder stumbles in. All at once, they fall into your wardrobe with a series of curses and shouts, and you launch the teddy bear at them. It gets the expected result, simply bouncing off the intruder's header, and it's then that you notice who it is.
"Jason?"
"Yours truly," the intruder groans.
"What -?"
He makes a gasping sound as he steps forward, and you can only see his shadowed form as it stumbles. Immediately, you rush over, catching him under the arms and dragging him over to your bed, laying him over top of your dishevelled covers.
"Watch your eyes," you say before flicking your bedside lamp on.
He curses again when the light switches on, covering his eyes with a bruised and bleeding arm. Already, there's blood on your bed sheets.
"What happened?" you demand.
Jason shifts slightly, getting as comfortable as he can as you check him over for other injuries. Besides his arm and a gash on his leg, he's seemingly all right, but the amount of blood is making you nervous.
"On a quest."
"Yeah, I guessed. But what happened? Haven't you taken some ambrosia?"
His arm moves now, and his eyes slowly adjust to the dim light of your room. Though bloodshot, they still gleam a gorgeous glittering blue that has you almost transfixed. You catch yourself before you get distracted, rifling around in your nightstand for the little first aid kit you keep in there for situations like this.
"Ran out," he says quietly. "You've still got some here, right? I think I left some last time."
You pull it out just as he asks, wordlessly passing him a chunk of the godly food. It's sat in your drawer for a few weeks now - somehow it hasn't gone off - and you're glad that you forgot about it. As a demigod, the ambrosia helps Jason heal, but if you, a mortal, were to eat it, you'd likely combust into flames and die. If it always smells as good as it does now, you're eternally grateful for your bad memory. You probably would've been a pile of burnt ashes had you remembered.
"Fighting some monsters at North Beach, but they got some good hits in." He looks over at you then, noting the horrified expression on your face at how easily he speaks about being almost killed. "Don't worry; it hurts a little less each time."
"That's supposed to make me feel better? Jason! You're bleeding everywhere!"
He waves his hand nonchalantly and plasters on a smile, but you notice the way the pain he's in makes the scar on his lip twitch. "I'm all right, (name). Promise. just needed some ambrosia. I'll be healed up in no time."
You watch carefully as the blood slowly stops flowing, and the skin gradually mends itself back together. Begrudgingly, you shove the first aid kit back into your nightstand.
"I can't stay long," Jason says, closing his eyes for a moment. "I can't put -"
"Me in danger, yes I know. Son of Jupiter and everything." Kneeling beside the bed, you resist the urge to take his hand in yours and squeeze it, more for your own comfort than his. "You can't just walk back to your camp from here in the middle of the night. It's too dangerous. You always say monsters are more dangerous at night."
"I'll be fine."
"Jason."
His eyes open again, locking onto yours. Fifteen years old, and already those eyes hold more than they should have. You've seen your fair share of things in that same amount of time, but you can't even begin to think what life as a demigod could entail. What it could do to a person. Already, they hold more memories and horrors than they really should.
"I can't risk your life, (name)," he insists.
"You and your saviour complex! You're staying here tonight. You can head back in the morning when I can call you a taxi."
"You could call me one now."
"Absolutely not."
"(name) -"
"I won't hear any more about it," you say.
You grab the spare blanket you keep in your wardrobe, wrap it around your shoulders, and pull the duvet on your bed over Jason until it reaches his chin. He could easily move and hinder the process, but he stays still. You've got a feeling that he doesn't mind being taken care of sometimes. Not when he's usually the one taking care of others.
"Get some sleep," you tell him, sitting on top of a pillow beside the bed. "You have to be exhausted."
He shakes his head and rolls onto his side so he can face you. "I want to make sure you're all right."
"I'm not the one that was attacked tonight."
"That could change."
You give him a look. "Jason, I've been fine every other time you've come here. What are you so afraid of? In all the time we've known each other, no monsters have shown up at my door."
He goes quiet then, and you worry that you've pushed too hard. Jason may be in charge of the camp he stays at, but you know how hard it all is for him, what with being the son of the king of the gods. He's lonely, and you're well aware that his coming to see you, whether it be after a quest or just on a whim, allows him to escape that life. But always with the monsters, the warnings. He's never stayed more than an hour, afraid he'll get you killed, but you want more than that. You need more than that. You don't want to spend the rest of your life waiting for him to appear, just for him to leave so soon.
"I'm sorry," you murmur. "I just -"
"I love you," he interrupts, "and it terrifies me."
The rest of your sentence gets stuck in your throat, and for a moment you can't breathe.
He looks away, the lamplight reflecting in the bright blue of his eyes. "I've loved you for months. Ever since we met, really, when you accidentally saved me from a bunch of monsters following me in the Legion of Honor and told me that I needed to brush my teeth if I was going to get so close to you. But I'm - I'm scared of losing you."
Your hands are shaking a little. "You're not going to lose me."
"I don't want to risk that," he says. "I don't remember my family - my mom and sister. I've known nothing but being a demigod all my life. But you help me forget about it all and pretend that I'm a normal kid for a little while. I don't want to lose that or you. But me being here puts you in danger."
"Jason..."
"You don't need to feel the same." He still won't look at you. "I just needed you to know."
"Will you look at me?"
He struggles with himself for a moment, but eventually, he turns his head, fixing his gaze on yours. With a shaky hand, you find his beneath your duvet cover and squeeze gently, offering the best smile you can manage.
"I do feel the same," you say. "And, I've been safe all this time. I'll stay that way regardless if you stay a few more hours, okay?"
He doesn't look entirely convinced, but still, he nods and says, "Okay. But just this once."
"Like hell it'll be just this once."
A soft laugh escapes his lips. "I'll keep you safe."
"Of course, you will, Jase."
Even still, it takes barely ten minutes for him to doze off peacefully, smiling so softly that it makes your heart feel warm. You don't let go of his hand, ensuring that even in sleep he knows you're still there. And you press a soft kiss to his forehead as you switch your lamp off, praying that this wasn't all a dream or some figment of your imagination.
I love you. The words still echo in your mind, even as you eventually fall asleep, head fallen on the pillow his own rests on.
I love you.
#jason grace x reader#hoo jason x reader#hoo x reader#heroes of olympus x reader#heroes of olympus fanfiction#heroes of olympus#hoo fanfiction#jason grace fanfiction#jason grace#x reader#fanfiction#givema-dam-break
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Caught making out
hello! 😊, I would like number 4, it would be Louis James moriarty x Reader
Make it funny and cute at the same time, I really liked William's version.
Louis James Moriarty
A/N: Better lock them doors and turn the lights down low~
Tag/s: Established Relationship
Warning/s: Profanity, Suggestive
"Hey, Louis. Fred is asking about--Oh, shit. Sorry, my bad..." Sebastian muttered as he entered Louis' room and left just as quickly.
You and Louis froze in place, your hair and clothes a mess, while you straddled Louis' lap.
You heard rapid footsteps fading into the distance, but you couldn't help but feel anxious.
"Hey, Bonde! You couldn't believe what I saw in Louis' room!" you heard Sebastian's muffled voice followed by a hearty laugh, making your heart drop.
"Oh, f-...!" you quickly pushed yourself away from Louis, stumbling out of his lap and landing on the floor.
"(Y/N)!"
"I'm okay! " you reassured as you quickly got up on your feet, buttoning back your clothes as you rushed out the door.
You quickly looked around the hall, seeing Sebastian making a run towards a confused Bonde.
"MORAN!" you screamed in desperation, stepping on the stair railing and jumping, your eyes locked on the colonel.
"(Y/N)!" Bonde called out, trying to catch you, but you landed on Sebastian's back, making him fall on his face.
You groaned in pain as you stood up, stumbling a little as you grabbed the back of Sebastian's collar.
"Come here..." you grumbled, making him chuckle.
"Hey now, there's no need to be embarrassed. Besides, it was my fault for not knocking,"
"Huh? Why? What happened?" Bonde asked, intrigued as he looked at you.
Your cheeks flared up as you looked away, making Sebastian snicker as you pulled harder on his collar.
"Do you want to join our past targets in hell?" you taunted, a dark aura surrounding you while Sebastian kept a smug grin.
"Hey, at least I've never been caught-" you covered his mouth tightly, almost letting him not breathe as Bonde put two and two together.
"No way! You and Louis!? Since when!?" he excitedly asked as he grabbed you by the shoulders, shaking you violently.
"What about Young (Y/N) and Louis?" Jack-sensei asked as he entered the room with Fred from the gardens.
"What's all this commotion about?" Albert asked as he and William entered, coming home from their business in London.
You felt your soul leave your body as you fell on the floor, wanting the Earth to just swallow you right then and there.
"Just kill me now..." you grumbled, making Sebastian laugh as he patted your back.
"Congrats~" he grinned, emphasizing his greeting as you tried to hide your face as much as possible.
"That's enough," you heard Louis sigh as he pulled you up, wrapping your shoulders with his coat.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly, making you blush as you felt many eyes staring at you both, surprised to see a new softer side to Louis.
"Yeah... I'm okay," you reassured, turning away as your ears started turning red.
"Moran, what did you want?" Louis asked, appearing calm as he shielded you from the crowd.
"Fred just wanted to ask when you were gonna make dinner," Sebastian answered, innocently smiling as he dusted himself off.
Louis furrows his brows as he checked his pocketwatch, seeing he was off schedule.
"R-Right... Apologies. I was preoccupied with something," Louis coughed as he rushed to the kitchen, his hand on your waist as he brought you along.
"Sorry..." he whispered, his ears completely red as you covered your face.
"No... It's okay..." you reassured, staying close to him in the kitchen.
You looked back at the group and saw Sebastian and Bonde staring at you with a knowing look, making your blood rush to your face.
"Oh? Oh..." Jack-sensei muttered, turning to you with a surprised expression.
"Oh, dear..." William muttered, turning away as he covered his mouth, trying not to laugh while Albert pursed his lips and stared at the floor, covering his face with his hand.
"It was nice knowing you all." you smiled in defeat as you walked off.
"Aw, (Y/N). Come on!" Sebastian protested and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, keeping you in place as the others followed.
"We were just messing with you!"
"There's no need to be ashamed,"
#yuukoku no moriarty x reader#moriarty the patriot x reader#valentines#louis moriarty x reader#louis moriarty#louis james moriarty#jq valentines event
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Little Wolf Pt 2
Summary: {Y/N} is taken by Peter as time isn't on his side.
Rating: M
Words: 2k
Imagine: Angst, Smut, Fluff.
Warning: Canon Death. Breeding Kink ;)
{Y/N} sat in her room playing with a lock of her {H/C} hair. Derek hasn't come back since he came to tell her that he had a plan to get rid of the Alpha. That was about 5 days ago. Stiles still hasn't told her he knows, but she will let him decide when. He was at the school formal.
" I really need to get out more." {Y/N} groaned as she picked up her car keys and went down the stairs. As she walks out the door, she feels like someone is watching her. Night had fallen about two hours ago. She grabbed a leather jacket over her {F/C} tank top and {S/F/C} shorts. while {F/C} sneakers covered her feet. The next thing that {Y/N} knew was getting hit in the face.
" What the!" She screamed as she saw those glowing red eyes.
" Hello {Y/N}. I've heard so much about you." He growled before hitting her face once again as blood spewed out of the wound. Her vision dimmed as she felt like she was getting picked up.
" What are you doing to me?" {Y/N} growled as she was put in the back of a car.
" Using you to draw out my nephew and Scott." He growled at her. This was the Alpha!
" You going to kill me like everyone else? Cause I have better things to do than be your bait!" {Y/N} yelled before she was hit in the back of the head. Darkness found itself within her mind. The pain was bad but bearable. {Y/N} awoke to being pulled out of the car. Peter carried her to a room and looked at her with a grin.
" Just great." She groaned as Peter smirked at her.
" After I kill the Argent's, I'm going to bite you and watch as you kill everyone you love." Peter said as {Y/N} saw his fangs. Her heart raced as she felt fear coming to her.
" Now stay here and don't move." He told her before running out the front door. {Y/N} heard the growling, snarling, and pain coming from the other room before she heard glass shatter. She ran out to see Peter in his wolf state holding up Scott. She ran off the porch and hid behind a tree. {Y/N} saw Stiles and Jackson pull up with canisters. He threw one at the Alpha as it stared at Scott, who had kicked him off.
" Oh, damn!" Stiles' voice was full of fear as {Y/N} watched Scott scramble for the archery bow.
" Allison!" He screamed as he threw it to her. {Y/N} clung to the tree as the cut on her cheek bled more. She sees in horror as the Alpha is set on fire. Her screams as he trudged away grew loud before they stopped. A familiar face came to her.
" Are you alright?" Derek asked as he looked at her all over and saw her cheek.
" I'll take care of this, {Y/N/N}." He said as he pressed a reassuring kiss on her cheek.
" Thank you for saving me." {Y/N} whispered as he got up and went over to his uncle.
" Wait! You said the cure comes from the one who bit you. Derek, if you do this, I'm dead. Her father, her family-- what am I supposed to do?" Scott screamed out to Derek. All he could think was that his uncle killed his sister, and killed so many others, but worse kidnapped his girl. He raised up a clawed hand while Scott begged again for him to stop. It was too late as Derek had slashed Peter's neck wide open. He got up and smirked.
" I'm the Alpha now." Derek growled as his eyes gleamed a robust red declaring himself the new Alpha. He turned his attention to {Y/N}, who got up slightly shaking. He walked over and held her.
" Thank god you are safe." He whispered into her ear as tears had welded in her eyes.
" Don't disappear on me ever again or I'll kill you." {Y/N} cried out as he held her tight.
" I promise." He said as he pulled away and then gave her a hot and steamy kiss. They pulled away as {Y/N} heard Stiles' gasp out.
" You knew!" He yelled out.
" Yup, since I was 16." She replied as he groaned.
" I wish you had told me." He said as {Y/N} shook her head. She slightly stumbled from all the adrenaline running out of her body.
" I think your sister needs to rest." Derek said as he picked up {Y/N}. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He walked away with her in his arms not caring that Argent had seen the two interacting.
" I missed you." {Y/N} says as Derek keeps carrying her through the woods towards her house.
" I can't let my girl get hurt now can I?" He asked with a smirk. {Y/N} smirked and kissed his cheek.
" Your girl huh?" She asked as they arrived at the house. He set her down as he saw her keys on the ground. He picked them up and gave them to her.
" If you wouldn't mind?" He asked as {Y/N} smiled and pulled him into a deep kiss that felt nuclear in her heart. She pulled away as lust filled her pupils. Derek couldn't help but want to protect her more. That kiss gave him his answer.
" Now let's get you a hot shower. I'll be joining you." She says as she takes his hand in hers. As they go inside, Derek can smell her emotions as they go into her room. Small bits of fears, but he can also smell longing, happiness, and lust. As Derek locked her door, he can hear the shower turn on. He smiles and remove his clothes.
" Join me." {Y/N} called as he walked into the bathroom. He saw her silhouette behind the curtain and slipped inside. He missed this, bit more importantly, he missed her. As {Y/N} scrubs the Hale clean, he couldn't help but feel her smooth skin as she got every crevice. He found himself scrubbing her clean and carefully cleaned the claw mark his uncle left. As they stept out of the shower, Derek couldn't help but dry her off first before himself.
" You always know how to comfort someone." {Y/N} said with a grin as she put her hair up. She took his hand and lead him to the bed, where Derek began to kiss her slightly rough as he laid her down.
" No need to rush." {Y/N} says as Derek began to kiss her neck.
" We have all the time we need." She whispered as he slowed down. Moving his hands to the bottom hem of her top before sitting up so he could take it off. {Y/N} removed her bra as Derek laid her back on her bed and engulfed his lips around her nub and played with the other between his fingers.
" Oh fuck!" {Y/N} gasped as the sensations all over drew her nuts. Derek let go of her now swollen nub before messing with the other one as his free hand began to go to her shorts to pop the button out of its holding.
" Gods help me." She gasped as Derek let her other nub go.
" They can't save you from the pleasure I'm sending you." He growled as his eyes gleamed with that robust red. He kissed down her stomach before getting her shorts and {F/C} panties off. He hauled for a moment as thoughts ran through his mind. He growled as her scent was driving him up a wall.
" You smell divine. Mind if I have a taste?" Derek asked as {Y/N} blushed. He's never acted like this before, like a starving animal.
" Go ahead." She grinned as he parted her legs and began to lick with such fury, it almost felt like a sin to feel so good. {Y/N} gripped his hair as he held her thighs apart so it wouldn't interfere with what he was craving. It was her, all of her. He wanted her all for himself!
" Derek! Fuck!" {Y/N}'s cries of pleasure rang in his ears like an echo as she proceeded to cum all over his tongue and he couldn't help but lap up every drop she had to offer. It was his ambrosia. Her taste was all he can think about, the drive to make her his grew ever more.
" Just as I thought. You taste like pure heaven, {Y/N/N}." Derek growled before coming up and aligning his cock at her entrance.
" Don't make me wait." Her words gave Derek all the more encouragement.
" I want all of you." He growled before plunging deep into her greedy pussy. Her moans and screamed dying out as Derek kissed her. Swallowing every drop of her voice.
" I need to fill you full." He groaned as he settled into her heat. {Y/N} never knew this was something he wanted. He just became an Alpha. He wanted that? Of all things? With her?
" I need to see you full." His voice was heavy with his wolf. It was a primal desire coming off of him.
" I trust you." {Y/N} told him. The key words hit him like a bag of bricks. Derek proceeded to hover over her and began to restless pound into her. {Y/N} moaned out in exctasy as the rhythm, the heat, the desire hit her all at once.
" You feel so good around my cock." He growled as he dug his nails into her hips to raise them for a better angle. {Y/N} bit her lip as the heat of the friction was making her Gspot scream in exctasy.
" You feel so tight, God how!" Derek groaned in her ear as he pressed deeper. {Y/N} gasped as she could feel every vein in his shaft hitting her spot and it was pure heaven.
" I feel it!" {Y/N} cried as it was getting to much for her as Derek kept pounding inside, the heat and friction of it all was making the coil inside tighten to an almost unbearable amount of pleasure. He was edging her to oblivion.
" I'm ready." {Y/N} cried as Derek then smirked and rubbed her clit quickly. The sensation and heat made her fall over the edge as Derek growled out. He was holding her tight against him as his own orgasm found its way. They had climaxed together and as the motion of his shaft worked her, it sent her spasming. Derek growled as her wall tightened around him like a vice. It was pleasure and pain as she shook underneath him. He collapsed on her while he remained inside.
" Gods that felt ecstatic." {Y/N} gasped tiredly as Derek pulled out of her and laid next to her. She slowly crawled over to him and laid her head on his chest as she was still reeling from the past few hours.
" Did you mean what you said?" {Y/N} asked as Derek went to catch his breath. He thought for a moment and nodded.
" I did. I'm not going back on it. Meeting you in the woods. It felt right." He said as he played with a {H/C} lock of her hair. He rubbed her shoulder with reassurance.
" Now that you are a big strong Alpha. How about you show me what you can really do." {Y/N} said with a lustful glint in her eye. Derek felt his body respond and he made good on what she asked.
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My Pet
Non MLM/NBLM DNI
Pairing- Prince! Loki x Male! Servant! Reader
Summary- Being a servant for the god of mischief is perfectly fine, that is till a small accident ends up with you bent over a table
Word Count- 1277
Content Warnings- Servant x Royalty, Rough Sex, Hair Pulling, Pain Play, Degrading, Power Play
Scared was an understatement of the emotions you were feeling right. You were only trying to do what you were asked, deliver tea to the prince.
Being a servant wasn't always easy but how you fucked up such a simple thing was beyond you. It took your body a moment to jump into action as you grabbed a small napkin and began to try and dry the prince's black trousers.
“I'm so sorry my lord!” Your mouth could only produce your apologies as you tried to wipe up the mess. The black haired man scowled down at you, green eyes tracing your fear-covered face. While you attempt to clean a pale hand catches your wrist, holding you still. You look up, eyes meeting him. He looked angry, but there was something different behind his eyes that made a chill go up your spine. You immediately bow your head, dropping the napkin in the process. “Please forgive me my lord, it was an accident!” God's you sounded so annoying. His breathing was slow as he stared daggers into you.
“Stand.” He finally says, voice stern. You immediately comply, nearly falling as you stumble to your feet. He doesn't move for a second, instead he just looks you up and down as if he's trying to figure out what to do with you. “Look at me.” His voice was just above a whisper, as though someone was going to hear him despite being the only two people in the room. You stand with your hands in front of you, waiting for him to do something, slap you, kill you, something. Instead he just looks at you, a sly grin forming on his face. “For as long as you've worked here, you've never done a single thing wrong, why are you suddenly messing up?” You'd think he was mad if it wasn't for the grin on his face. You rack your brain for an answer as he brings your face closer to his. He knows what he's doing, doesn't he.
He holds you close by the jaw, seemingly enjoying your frightend face. His eyes darken as he whispers in your ear. “Why is it that you're only like this around me?” You can feel all the blood in your body travel down as his hand finds your waist. “I'm sorry my lord, it won't happen again.” Your voice is just above a whisper as you try to forget how close his face is to yours. “No, it wont.” You barely notice him move as he bends you over the table, taking the breath out of your lungs for a moment.
“I've been looking for a reason to punish you, and you finally gave me one.” He speaks as he runs his hands up your sides. You stare ahead at the marble floor as you try to assess the situation. “Tell me, pet.” He says, as he bends over to your ear, his voice tickling your ear as he talks. “Would you like me to ravish you?” You didn't even notice how hard you were till he pressed against you, moving your hips against the end of the table. A small whine leaves you as you try to catch your breath. “Yes my lord.” You can barely hear yourself over the sound of blood pumping through your ears. You can practically feel his smile get bigger as he grinds against you again.
You've never known the prince to take things slow, and he certainly wasn't about to change that now. You feel his cold hands begin to pull your own trousers down as you suddenly realize what's really happening. “My lord are you sure about this?” He doesn't listen as he grabs you by the hair, making you moan out your words. “What if someone walks in?” He lets out a small laugh as you feel his fingers slide down your back, mouth going back to your ear, giving the shell a slow lick. “Well then I guess they'll get a show, won't they?” Your face goes hot, his hands explore your body. You feel two steps behind as you try to catch up with your own heartbeat.
He presses his tip at your entrance, your breath falling short as you try to turn around and look at him. Instead he grabs your hair, holding your head against the table. The tight grip on your scalp makes you moan as you try to back up into him. Loki growls as he tightens his grip, looking at your face to make sure he doesn't go too far with you. “I'd loosen you up if this wasn't supposed to be a punishment.” Your body goes tense as you realize what that means, feeling the slight stinging pain of him entering you.
A small gasp of pain exists in your throat as he pushes further, agonizingly slow. “Lord, please!” You beg, though you're not sure what for. He laughs as he bottoms out, bending back over to press his chest against your back. He pulls out completely, making you whine at the loss of him. His breath tickles your ear as you're suddenly aware of how close he is to you. He stays there for a second, letting you attempt to move back against him. “I'm going to ruin you, pretty boy.” There's no warning as he thrusts into you again, continuing his rough movements as he grips your hair for support. You feel your eyes roll back in your head as the grip on your hair somehow tightens, the feeling in your stomach tightening with it as your vision goes spotty.
Loki suddenly stops all motion as he pulls you up into an arch by your hair, making you cry out in pain. “Did I tell you to come?” He growls into your ear, you can feel his chest shake from his voice. “I'm sorry my lord.”
Your words barely come out as he starts up again, slamming your head back into the table. You feel the knot in your stomach tighten again as the pain mixes with pleasure, slowly reaching your peak again. Loki shifts as he reaches his hand around and starts to stroke your already sensitive cock. You try to move somehow to lessen the feeling, but he keeps you still. “Now now pet, if you want to cum so much then cum.” You feel him start to get more sloppy with his thrusts as his own moans get louder. “I'm gonna fill your pretty hole, pet.” He moans out. You feel him leave your back as he squeezes your hips harder. You look back at him to see him completely disheveled, black curls stuck with sweat against his face, head thrown back. The knot in your stomach finally snaps again as your legs begin to shake.
You finally feel yourself calm down as Loki pulls out. As you catch your breath and try to lift yourself up, Loki begins to move around behind you. You jump a bit at a cold feeling on you. “Relax pet, I'm just cleaning you.” You relax a bit as you let him, calming your breathing down. Loki begins dressing himself, though neither of you were really that naked. “Come to my chambers tonight.” You nod as you pick up the things that had fallen from the table. “I should go, I have other chores to get done.” Before you can go Loki's hands find your waist again, pulling you in to kiss your temple. “I'll see you later pet.” You smile up at him as you kiss his cheek. “Goodbye my Lord.” Loki grins as he goes back to his seat. “Goodbye pet.”
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Hi again, I’m sure you know I’m gonna ask for a Spencer Dutton where he and the reader are back at the ranch and the reader protects the other women and Spencer is proud and bragging about her? Please 🙏
Sexy Angel Ain't You're Only Nickname
Whipping my head around I fired another bullet from the shotgun in my hands seeing that the sheep herders were back on our ranch again. Kicking my horse in the belly I saw Cara and Elizabeth coming from the barn but neither had a firearm since they were working. They screamed ducking underneath the shots where I also saw my husband Spencer shooting some of the men from the front porch. I fired the last shot that I had killed the final sheep herder that was directly in front of them where he collapsed onto the ground. "Y/n!" Spencer rushed down the stairs watching me lower my weapon hair tousled and I was covered in a little blood but he found you absolutely badass and beautiful when he approached. "Uh...let's get you cleaned up inside."
"Thank you, sweet girl." His aunt Cara responded leading Elizabeth to another part of the house to try and calm her nerves. Jacob and the cowboys would take care of the bodies and send a message to the ones who were left alive. Spencer pushed open the door to our bedroom open watching me walk inside pulling my shirt over my head wincing when I saw that a bullet must have grazed my side because I was bleeding a little. "Crap. I didn't even feel it...I guess I'm not as good of a fighter as I thought." Spencer strides up cupping my face in his hands kissing me longingly where it almost feels like the wind was knocked out of me. Wrapping my arms around his neck I deepened the kiss where he picked me up carrying me into the bathroom sitting me down on the tub breaking the kiss when we needed air. "You're still a sexy Angel to me, Y/n - honestly I am so amazed by you. I want you so bad right now do you know that?"
Leaning up I gripped his shirt in my hands drawing him in for another heated kiss where he moaned when my fingers ended up in his hair. "Then what's stopping us. You told me the night we met that life was too short." Spencer didn't waste another second picking me up again and we stumbled into the bedroom and onto the bed. He kissed me deeply where I moaned when he kissed my neck removing our clothes in the process. "You aren't like most girls I've come across Y/n...you're my darling." He muttered where I smiled into the kiss knowing he was right because I wasn't immediately attracted to him. I also knew how to fight even though I was raised to be a proper lady. "Spencer if you keep calling me every nickname you can think of we might never leave this room ever again." I chuckled breaking the kiss to see a huge smirk grew across his face before I squealed until we heard his uncle holler from the front porch. "We can hear! Close the window!"
Comments really appreciated ❤️
#spencer dutton x reader#spencer dutton#brandon sklenar#1923 series#1923 request#1923#1923 yellowstone#yellowstone 1923#requests open#ask box is open for anything#comments really appreciated#yellowstone
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𝑩𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅
Vampire Copia / Papa Emeritus IV
(Dracopia) x reader
𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤:
◇ There is mention and description of gore right at the beginning, with only brief mentions of it afterwards ◇
◇ Copia isn't depicted as a 'soft' vampire
(The violence is strictly tied to Copia's vampirism) ◇
◇ Copia is Copia, and Copia is baby- but Copia also accidentally mauled an innocent person to death :^) ◇
◇ Sorta slow burn with lots of angst ◇
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before you get into it, do have mercy on me, please. i've not posted a story since i was 14-15 and it was not a serious attempt at all. this is my first ever actual attempt at a story, so feel free to send in any criticism or opinions, please!!
(and apologies if Copia or the Ghouls are out of character. this is just how i personally think they'd act!!)
love ya,, thanks!!
-
ali
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☆☆☆☆☆☆☆Chapter☆ 1☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
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(reader) has watched Copia flourish from their anxious, awkward, and generally uncouth Cardinal to a powerful Papa. Years of budding friendship allows them to share nearly everything with each other. Be it shared anxieties, insecurities, or just the feeling of loneliness and not belonging.
Not even his sudden rise to power really surprises them, not when they saw their friend becoming more confident and proud over the years. They helped him through with open arms over his 6 years of coming to terms with himself.
They really thought they helped him through, that they knew everything about him.
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The sight of a panting Copia huddled painfully in a corner of the library as he helplessly claws at his cheeks and jaws, a pair of fingers dipping into his red-stained mouth in an attempt to expel whatever he'd consumed makes that belief fly out of the window.
Forcing myself to look away from my dear friend crumpled up in red, I shakily let my gaze drift a few feet away from Copia. Eyes following the red trail that seems to have followed him to the corner, finding the source sprawled across the libraries antique wooden flooring.
A Sibling of sin, laying in a position that if not drowned in blood would look sound asleep. I internally thank the lorde that their petrified face is lulled down, hidden with messy hair.
My mind cannot get rid of the image of their body covered in gashes and bites, and what looks to be bruises, and…
I feel bile rise in my throat as my eyes wander over their already paling skin, unable to rip my eyes away from the places where their skin has been torn, some places looking like it'd been done by teeth.
My body doesn't allow me to move, only forcing out a broken, chocked whimper as I forcibly move my eyes away from my fellow Sibling. The sound alerts Copia to my presence, making his head snap up as his hand shakily and limply slips from his drooling mouth, leaving a line of transparent red between his puffy lips and gloved fingers. His looks as if his entire world is crumbling around him with just the glossy, overflowing look in his eyes.
I can only sob out a crackly and nearly silent call of his name before he's darting out of the room faster than I've ever seen him. I could only stumble out of the library, expression void and sunken as I slowly walk back to my room, sticking to the walls with a light hand to keep myself upright. My brain finally -for once- spares me some mercy, allowing my thoughts to ease into nothingness. Allowing me to make it to my room with an empty brain as I unceremoniously dump my weighted body to my bed. I don't sleep well that night.
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After that day, I stuck to myself. Everything I enjoyed, I abandon.
Everything I once did to socialize, I abandon.
Even small pleasures and things I enjoy I abandon in favor of hudling under my covers until I'm forced to crawl out of them.
My drop in work quality doesn't go unnoticed by Sister or my peers. I have talk after talk with Sister, endlessly forced to voice why I'm hiding away and shying away from my extra work- only to get nothing out of me.
Even my fellow Siblings notice when I quietly and half heartedly tell them I cannot do their work, or even help them anymore. Never offering a reason as to why.
They'll never know that I see that Sibling from the library when I look at them.
Their very clothing, the habit that I myself wear makes me sick, sending nauseating memories of that night in the library. I've had to cover my mirror and turn around with clenched eyelids as I get dressed.
I can't even bare to look at myself.
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The first week I spend spinning memories of the ghouls and Copia in my brain, frantically attempting to convince myself it was a dream, knowing my Copia would never…
No, not a dream.
It's apparent in the way he's avoided me.
My thoughts only give way to ugly sobs as I suffocate them my pillow.
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The second week I spend repeatedly rocking myself on my bed, back bent over my knees with my arms locked around them, blanket covering my compacted body and i endlessly attempt to self sooth. The fear of what I saw grows along with the disgustingly potent need to see Copia.
I internally curse myself, screaming at and berating myself for wanting to see him. Surely he's not the man you knew. My brain attempts to conjure the word monster in my desprate attempt to right myself, only for it to falter before I can even think it.
I could never think of him as a monster.
My brain is definitely faulty. Some wires or circuits are definitely frayed or fucked up, surely.
But I could never see him as a monster.
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On the third week, I give into desprate mindsets.
Letting myself stare at messy handwriting, intentionally vague, bland…not a word of what happened.
i hope your work is treating you well. i miss your company. you are well??, I wrote plainly, the shake in my writing betraying the anxiety I felt when writing it. In the dead of the night, I sneak out of my room to place the note outside his door. I didn't dare even write my name on the letter for fear he'd discard it.
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On the fourth week, I continue writing notes. Some more stiff and short than others, while some could be long and drawn out as if I were spewing out what was in my mind if he were truly there. There's always an air of emptiness and sadness to my writing.
My notes increased along with my appearances outside of my room. Only long enough to get to and from, but it was progress. There was always an air of panic around me when I dropped of a note for Copia to find. Always to avoid the library in my attempts to catch a glace at or the attention of him.
My efforts only bore fruit a couple of times, and yet they meant nothing. Only the slight widening of Copia's eyes showed he saw me at all before he'd turn his head, acting as Papa once more.
At the same time, acting as if I didn't exist.
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It started with the fleeting sights of the ghouls around me, always watching through the day. That's definitely not a rare or even unappreciated occurrence, but they hardly ever come to talk to me anymore. Usually, my day would be filled with chores, then my optional work later on in the day- be it doing simple errands for the overworked Papa's, or perhaps a Sibling of sin who wants to blow off work, but most of all gardening work with Papa Primo-
All of my off time you'd see me kneeling on stiff, hurting knees as I giggle along with whatever Primo is drawling on about, counting the time on the old-fashioned clock Primo keeps around as I wait for Copia to be done with work. Conversations help me forget time as Primo's aged hands guide and teach me how to properly care for his beloved plants.
A handful of times the two of us are accompanied by a helpful Mountain or Aether, the two helping lift heavy things that I can't manage, even less so the elder Papa. It's always warm, friendly ghouls always wandering through the garden to chat and cut up with me and Primo.
On rare occasions, we even find some of Secundo's ghouls wandering through. They hardly talk, but they prove to be good company still with how attentive they are to the garden's needs, proving to be quite good listeners, too. It's a real treat, but most of our visitors are Primo's own ghoul's, and (now) Copia's ghouls. Primo's ghouls (and the few retired ghouls. cough cough cowbell cough) will always stay near the gardens, ever loyal to their Papa. While Copia's ghouls are just plain and simple the most personable and sociable of the lot.
Soon I found my friendships with the kindly Papa and the ghouls flourishing like the flowers we care for so often.
It's no surprise it bled through "work" and into everyday life. Perhaps I was already friendly with them, knew them because of Copia, but I'd like to think the time we spent working together as a group made us close. It would explain how for the last few years, they made a habit of watching over me and approaching me to talk whenever they saw me.
I always appreciated how they looked over me rather than me being creeped out by it. In a way I understand their odd habits and affections. It made me feel safe knowing that they cared for me enough to have an eye out for me, even the notoriously hotblooded (asshole) Dewdrop.
But nowadays they only watch, and notably only Copia's ghouls. Maybe that's why their lack of seeking me out combined with their increased watching makes my neck prick with a chilled sensation. It just doesn't feel right. Maybe they're worried by my abrupt disappearance from our daily gardening routine, or maybe they can sense my dismal mood. Whatever it is, they don't say anything.
It only makes me want to hide away in my room more. Away from responsibilities and questions, and sure as hell away from who I consider my dear friends unreadable gazes. It makes my stomach twist and churn until I make it my mindless mission to make my way from room to room, never staying in one room longer than necessary during chores. The relief I feel from "evading" a ghoul is always short lived when after only a few minutes, I notice a different ghoul in the room I'm in.
I don't dare call out to them or say anything. Not unless they say something first. The fear pricking inside of me restrains my need to know what's going on, effectively silencing me and forcing my body to continue on with the world's worst game of where's the ghoul. I have an idea of why they're like this, anyway.
What I saw…
Surely whatever friendship I think I had with them was trumped by their loyalty to their master. They probably see me as a liability now. Waiting patiently with open ears for a slip up, waiting for me to break and spout out what I saw. Shouting to my fellow Siblings of sin that our beloved Papa IV is a monster.
That's why on the fourth week, when he finally acknowledges me in full, my heart nearly falls to my toes. With a single note with my name writen in neat writing poised on my bedside table, my heart thunders in my chest.
He had one of his ghouls come into my room and place it, or maybe he did it himself…the thought makes me lean agaisnt my headrest for support as I snatch the letter up with a shaky hand.
If you really wish to do this, come to my room.
9 : 0 0
I will be there. I will be waiting.
- yours,
Copia
My nerves make me feel as if I'm going to throw up as I scan my aching eyes over his writing. Even the fact he wrote 'Copia' instead of 'C' makes me feel ill. With a pained groan, I rub my sweaty forehead. "fuck this…", I think out loud, voice broken and scratchy from lack of use. "I'm gonna take a shower…lorde knows I need one."
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additional notes:
alrighty then, thanks for reading all the way through!! hope u enjoyed it!!
i'll have an ao3 account soon enough. hopefully, the formatting will be just how i want it, but until then, i hope how it is at the moment is okay!!
-
ali
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#copia x reader#cardinal copia x reader#papa iv x reader#dracopia x reader#vampire copia#vampire papa iv#mmmm delicious drama and trauma#ghost x reader#ghost the band x reader#ghost bc x reader#covering all bases with the name smh#papa emeritus iv x reader#Dracopia#first fanfic#dont crucify me pls#the nameless ghouls#papa emeritus x reader#cardinal copia#papa iv
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Winter Warning
Hi all! I know this one was technically for last week but shhhhhh last week was busy and now I've finally got some time off to catch up. Anyway, this is for Week 4 of @the-slasher-files Blood Fest, hope y'all enjoy!!
Warnings: ***Dub/Non Con***, alone in the middle of the woods with an asshole kidnapper, dead dove don't eat. Rough, quick and dirty, the reader doesn't get off, kidnapping, restraints, knives/threats with knives.
Word Count: ~3k
Prompts: Mask. Knives.
Keywords: Enliven. Raw.
You’re met with your own face reflected back, eyes widened in fear. Your face is covered in flecks of snow, collecting there as your body heat is too slow to melt them. There are simply too many. The mirror is surrounded by darkness, a void in the middle of this snowstorm you’ve gotten caught in. In a way, you’re almost certain you’ve died out here from the cold, and death has come to take you.
“Whatchu doing out here like this? Get lost?”
You blink slowly. The darkness spoke. With a Southern accent, no less. But it begins to slowly dawn on you that this isn’t death, and you’re not dead. The mirror is ski goggles, wrapped around in shiny reflective material. The darkness is merely the hood of a coat and a scarf over a face.
“Shit, you still in there?”
This time you nod, unsure of how to properly respond. There isn’t enough energy in you to muster anything meaningful. Your legs feel like lead and your face feels numb from the cold. You’d been hiking and suddenly a snowstorm hit, and you’d gotten turned around. Even now, you can barely see five feet from your face.
“Well c’mon. Cabin’s not too far from here.”
A heavy gloved hand wraps around your forearm, pulling you along before you can say as much as boo. But would you have really said no? He’s the only one you’ve seen out here, and you had no proper shelter and nothing in your bag to keep you fed if this storm took longer to pass. So you followed, as there really wasn’t much choice if you didn’t want to become a popsicle.
His cabin wasn’t far at all. In fact, you most certainly would have stumbled upon it eventually. Tucked away in the trees, the snow wasn’t as harsh on your face as he dragged you along. Once inside, warmth hit you in waves, and you sighed in relief as your face began to feel a tad less numb. You were standing in a mud room, cluttered with outerwear and boots and shoes and all manner of things. Your savior pulled back his hood and ripped off his scarf, his jaw firm and dusted with scruff. As he pulls the mirrored goggles up, you’re met with piercing blue eyes, narrowed as they look back at you. This throws you for a bit of a loop, as you expected a far more friendly face. But everything about him was firm, hardened, and cold. It was almost as if there was a hint of disdain in his eyes, even though everything about him so far seemed to be at the very least helpful.
“Ya just gonna stand there freezing to death? Or ya need help?”
Before you can say anything, he’s kneeling in front of you. You hiss in pain as your legs start to gain feeling when he pulls off your boots. Your socks are wet, you hadn’t thought you needed taller boots today. You unzip your jacket and toss it on an empty chair as Boone removes your socks. His bare hands are warm on your raw skin, and he rubs your foot firmly as a way to bring back some circulation. As you awkwardly place your hand on his shoulder for stability.
“Sorry… thanks…” your voice is small as it comes out, and he stands up abruptly, tossing his own coat to the side. He’s in actual proper layers for this weather, a heavy tan Carhartt jacket on top of a hooded coat, and he’s wearing heavy overalls under that. He throws you a glance as he undoes the straps, and you see he’s wearing discolored jeans underneath it all. “I… uh… didn’t realize the weather was going to be that bad…”
“No shit,” he tosses back, and you feel a bit lost for words. He didn’t have to let you into his home, so why was he so stiff? Perhaps he just didn’t like people but felt obligated to help anyway.
As you go to follow him deeper into the cabin, he stops you. “You’re gonna catch hypothermia in those.” He gestures to your jeans, soaked through and cold. You nod, as if that’s obvious, and try to continue, but he stops you again. “Take ‘em off.”
This causes you to stop. Stuck with a strange man in a strange cabin in the middle of God knows where without pants. Sheepishly, you offer, “Do you have something I can change into?”
He merely nods. “Don’t want ya tracking it through the place though.” He did have a point… yet you still felt like everything was wrong here. Before you could even try to work your way around this, he adds, “There’s more shame in being dead from something ya could’ve prevented than whatever stupid modesty shit you’re worried about, kid.”
You bristle a bit, but you know he’s right. After a few moments, you reach down to your belt, undoing it as he watches, seemingly annoyed. There’s still a struggle as the wet fabric clings to your legs, and it feels embarrassing having him watch you fight with such a simple task. But finally, you’re free from them, standing in just your underwear and hoodie before him. At the very least, his gaze doesn’t seem to be leering, and he turns without a word and walks through the door.
Walking through the kitchen and into the living room, you wished you still had socks on. The man has a mud room but the place still looks like the floors haven’t been vacuumed. At least it’s all hardwood and throw rugs. But what you’re more focused on is the fireplace at the far side of the room, and the man throws a blanket onto the floor for you to sit right in front of it. As you sink down, the heat begins to envelop you, your skin slowly coming alive again as your limbs begin to tingle. The man drapes another blanket over your shoulders to cover you, and he turns to leave the room. “Wait-” You stop him and he turns. “What’s your name?”
He stares at you for a few moments, until he answers. “Boone.”
“Thank you, Boone. This is really kind of you.”
His eyes are still an enigma to you, unable to read his emotions as he assesses the sight of you before him. But finally, he merely nods and turns to leave.
--
Over the course of a few hours, Boone was incredibly attentive, if not mildly unenthused with his new company. He brought you hot coffee, black, and you gulped the bitter liquid down. It was better to have something warm to drink than nothing at all. He had brought you sweatpants that were a bit baggy on you, as well as heavy wool socks. Even though you were feeling far too warm now, you couldn’t help but stay right where you were. You never wanted to feel cold again.
The longer you sat on the floor, the more Boone seemed to linger. He didn’t continue any conversations when you tried to initiate it. Even when you told him your name, he didn’t bother to use it. It was like he fit the solitary man in the middle of the woods trope perfectly. His eyes continued to look you over, not necessarily in a dirty way, but one that made you feel small and meek. You started to wonder just what was on his mind, considering he wouldn’t speak up every time you tried.
“Is it still going to be bad out there for a while, you think?”
Boone, who was leaning back against the windowsill, gave a sideways glance to the window. “Probably.”
“Can’t you look on your phone or something?”
“Don’t got one.”
Again, that feeling of being in the middle of nowhere with this man is sinking in. But you do your best to shrug and act like it’s no big deal. “Oh, well, I’ve got one in my bag. I can grab it and check.”
His response is quick. “Don’t bother. Got no service out here anyway.” Boone seems to be rather nonchalant, but there’s something there that detracts from whatever calm demeanor he’s trying to convey. His eyes are narrow, almost glaring down at you for the suggestion. So you simply nod and pretend you never asked.
After a little bit, the anxiety begins to eat away at you. Whatever is going on, you’d feel safer with your phone. You don’t know if he’s telling the truth about service. You might be closer to town than you think. So, to seem a bit less conspicuous, you ask. “Can I use the bathroom?”
“Second door on the left.” He barely so much as glances at you as he stares outside. It makes you relieved that he seems to be more occupied with something else rather than you.
You end up going to the bathroom anyway while you’re there, and splash some water on your face. Trying to reassure yourself that you’ll be fine, you look at yourself in the mirror again. Your eyes look just as wide as they were before, like a deer in the headlights. You rub your palms over your face, trying your best to ignore it all. Nothing is going to happen to you. That sort of thing only happens in horror movies. He’s not going to gut you and skin you like some wild game.
As you exit the bathroom, that thought enters your mind again. You need your phone. You need to check. So, you slowly pad back to the mud room, trying to not work yourself up in a tizzy. You’ll grab your phone from your pack, you’ll see he was right, and everything will be fine.
But when you stop in the doorway, you see that your pack is gone. Your clothes are still there, Hell even the jeans he said he’d hang to dry are still in a wet heap on the floor. The terror begins to twist and bubble in your stomach, panic flooding your veins. This was wrong. This was all wrong. And everything you felt wasn’t just you being silly. It was right. You were right.
“Got lost?”
You don’t even turn around, your feet launch from the floor as you try to make a run for it, run out the door, but his arm wraps around you faster. There’s a pinch on your neck, and at first, you figure it’s his hold on you, but your brain begins to piece together your surroundings more clearly, even with your heart thumping in your ears. It’s a blade. A big, fuck you blade. Pressed against your neck.
“Where’d ya think you’re going, kid? Huh?” His gravelly voice is low, taunting in your ear. “You gonna go outside in that? It’s even worse than what I found ya in. You’ll be dead before ya make it anywhere safe.”
All you can manage are pathetic little whimpers as you stand on tip toes, trying to push yourself away from the blade but end up leaning further against his chest. His hot breath is on your neck, one arm securely around your middle and the other on your throat with that blade. Weak hands pull at his arm, but he’s too strong for you to fight back. It’s useless.
“Let’s go back inside, hmm? Get your blood pumping again.”
You’re unceremoniously dragged back into the cabin, back to the living room, all the while trying your best to squirm away from the knife pressed against your neck. Tears prick your eyes as you try desperately to calm yourself down. You’re trapped. There’s no getting out of this. You need to placate him or else you’ll be dead. Even if there’s a chance you’ll be dead either way…
Pushed onto the floor, he climbs over your body, knee pressed between your shoulder blades as you cry out. He grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging it as he forces you to turn to look up at him. The cruel smile and sharp gaze are the most emotion you’ve seen out of the man the entire time you’ve been here. Your heart is thudding in your chest, your throat dry as you try your best not to squirm, the blade still ever-present.
He tilts his head slightly, clicking his tongue as he takes it all in. “Ya know, maybe if you’d have been smarter and not decided to hike in the goddamn winter, ya wouldn’t be here. Pretty stupid’ve ya to do.”
All you can do is nod, bottom lip quivering. After a moment, you whisper softly. “I don’t want to die.”
He snickers at that. “‘Course not. No one dumb enough to trespass ever does.” The flat of the blade taps against your throat, taunting you. “But if ya make it worth my while… ya might not have to. Your choice.”
There is no choice. Who would choose death? “...Okay…” the word sounds so pitiful, but it seems to please him.
The blade still lingers by your throat, his knee lifting from you as you can breathe a bit easier. The hand holding your hair frees itself, instead going to the sweatpants of his you’re wearing and shucks them down. You can barely stand to look back, your gaze focused on the floor.
But his hand is soon between your thighs, and you can’t help but yelp and squirm as he chuckles in your ear. “Feels like yer already desperate for it,” his breath low and raspy in your ear as you struggle to not feel shame at your body’s natural reaction to this. To being manhandled and pushed around and taken control of. It was no use denying it, so you don’t. He wouldn’t care anyway.
Even if you’ve mentally prepared for what will happen, he doesn’t give you much time for it. Not when he seems to have himself free before you can even realize it, and your underwear and sweats bunched around your thighs as he pushes himself in from behind. You cry out, hands pressed against the floor as he groans deep in his chest, his member thicker than you anticipated. The blade moved to the nape of your neck, his free hand grasping your hip as he barely gave you time to adjust.
“Fuck…” His breath is hot on your neck, his hips merciless as you struggle to keep your face from being pushed further against the floor. “Can’t believe you were keepin’ this from me…” As if it was on purpose. “So fuckin’ tight…”
You struggle to relax, to try to ride this out. It doesn’t help that it truly feels good, the stretch of him against your walls, his body heavy against yours as he just… takes you. He’s ruthless, all in chasing his own high as he uses you for his own release.
It doesn’t take him long before his hips begin to stutter, his grip bruising on your hip as he growls incoherently in your ear. You try to squirm, but it’s no use. It only seems to speed up the inevitable. He spills inside you, warmth spreading through you as you whimper softly at the feeling. Your sex is tingling with unfulfilled need, and you know he’s not kind enough to return the favor. You’ll be left wanting. You don’t know what’s worse, Boone satisfying you or leaving you wanting more.
There’s a shuddering sigh of relief that hisses from your lips, your body relaxing. It was finally over. You’d be given a break, you could relax and recoup and figure out what you’d do next. You should have known it wouldn’t be that simple.
As soon as his hands are on you again, there’s a struggle as he forces you up, the knife clattering to the floor, forgotten. You’re tossed over his shoulder like a sack, and you’re unable to keep your cool, you pound on his back with your fists, legs kicking wildly as he grips your thighs to his chest with a strength that terrifies you. It’s not long before he’s forcing you down a dim set of stairs, the realization filling you with dread.
What you can see of the basement is dark and lonely, but fairly clean. There are rows of shelves of goods, but none you can focus on right now. You’re tossed onto a soft surface, and as you realize it’s a dingy mattress, everything grows more clear. Even more when he wrestles with your legs, pants still around your thighs and making it difficult to fight back. A cuff is secured tightly to your left ankle, and the tears flow freely now as you yell and scream and tell him it’s not fair, you did what he wanted, he couldn’t do this to you.
All it does is make him laugh. “What? Didja think I’d give ya free reign of the place? Let ya share my bed?” His hand comes to your chin, forcing you to look into those soulless eyes. “Y’ain’t special enough for that, kid. No one is.”
He ignores your curses and spitting and weak punches, merely stepping out of your way as you struggle to move yourself too far with the ankle cuff. He turns and tosses a blanket at you, one that you’re shocked is somewhat heavy. “Be good, and if ya aren’t hollering too much, I’ll bring ya dinner.”
And with that, he turns back to the stairs, all while you yell incoherently back at him. The door slams, leaving you, your thoughts, and a single dim bulb illuminating the cellar. Slowly, it dawns on you that this might be a fate worse than death.
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Harley D. Dixon 13
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Author's Note. Quick update this time, guys. As always, please enjoooooy!
"Where's my Dad?" Is the first thing I ask when we make it to the house.
The horse skids to a stop in front of the porch, and I waste no time in sliding to the ground. I hit the grass with a painful grunt, and Rick, who was already on his feet, hurries forward along with Glenn to support me as I try to stand. I grab their bloody hands and they grab my clean ones as I stumble forward, dizzy, trying to get into the house as quickly as possible. I push past them; scramble up the steps. A man I don't recognise blubbers to me that he's sorry, he's so, so sorry, over and over again, but I don't know what for, and Rick sternly warns him to save it for later. He catches up with me; grabs me again. It makes me sick to look at his shirt, which is over-saturated with blood — My Dad's blood — and so I scrunch my face up and turn the other way, like a baby who doesn't wanna look at its peas. Glenn opens the door and Rick helps me inside.
"Is this her?" An elderly man at the end of the foyer asks, wiping his hands — also bloody — on a white rag. "Is this the daughter?"
"Rick, where is he?" I ask again, sniffling.
"Just give us a minute, sir." Rick tells the man.
"Where's Daddy?"
"He's right in here, honey."
He leads me to a door on our left that's only open an inch, but it's more than enough to catch a glimpse of my Dad's motionless body lying on top of the covers. From here, it looks like he's dead. Has he always been that pale? A pathetic, weeping sound escapes my mouth at the sight.
"I'm so sorry." The stranger continues pleading. I think he's talking to me. "I'm so sorry. It was an accident. I swear."
"Not now." Rick repeats himself, looking at him over his shoulder.
"He's not dead, is he?" I whimper.
"No." Rick shakes his head, before another I'm sorry comes from behind us, and he frustratedly shouts, "Shane, take him outside."
"C'mon." I hear him order the man. "Buddy, let's go."
As the distressed man gets ushered back outside to the porch, I stare into the room like I'm about to jump off a cliff, when really all I'm about to do is open a door. I feel like the floorboards are about to snap and give out underneath me; like I'm about to fall, like I'm doomed. I reach my hand out and an awful creaking noise echoes throughout the old house as the door slowly swings open. I take a step inside. Rick trails me, followed by Glenn. They're prolly here to make sure I don't pass out, which I think I just might, as I watch my Dad's stomach very closely as it ever so faintly rises and falls with his breath. I shake on the spot, frozen in fear. I've never seen my Dad like this before. It's like it's not even him.
"Daddy?" My voice cracks as I call out to him, beckoning him to wake up. He doesn't.
I see Rick and Glenn in my peripheral exchanging subtle looks.
Outside, I hear, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, and Shane sayin', shut up.
I step forward until I'm standing over him.
"Daddy." I whisper, hoping he just couldn't hear me the first time. "Daddy, pl-please wake up?"
One second, he's alive and offering to sing me to sleep, and the next he's struck down, dying in a stranger's bed.
I carefully touch his shoulder, which is bare and warm and familiar, tattooed with thorny roses. I give it a little shake, but nothing happens. I move my fingers upward, onto his stubbled cheek, and then softly over his left eye, and then his right, and then his other cheek. His lashes don't twitch. His lids don't flicker. The only part of him that's moving is his chest. I look down at it again just to remind myself that he's not dead yet, and I watch it go up and down, up and down, up and down for a couple minutes, thinking to myself that this is all my fault.
I should've told someone about Dad and Shane before something like this happened.
Apparently it wasn't Shane who did this, 'cause he's not the one who's apologizing profusely right now, but my gut instincts tell me something is off. I don't know what exactly, but something definitely happened out there while he was gone. There's a reason Shane disappeared for hours too.
Dad always says, listen to what your gut tells ya.
I got no proof and nobody to talk to about it, but I know I'm not wrong.
After a while, Rick takes off his hat and steps forward. The look on his face says this is hard to watch for him.
"Harley," He says, "Let's head back out, now, huh?"
If I ignore the bandage wrapped around his stomach, and the blood on everyone's clothes, I can pretend he's just sleeping.
Hesitantly, I back away from the bed.
His belly continues rising up and down, up and down.
He's just sleeping, I tell myself.
That makes it much easier to leave the room.
My Dad needs surgery.
Well, actually, he needs another surgery. The old man, whose name is Hershel Greene, says that I need to try very hard to remember if I've ever heard a doctor or a nurse or anything like that mention my Dad's blood type before. I tell him I can't, 'cause we almost never went to any doctors before, 'cause my family ain't never liked to make a fuss outta anythin' like that. When I dislocated my shoulder, or Dad grazed his knee, or Merle got himself a concussion, we just stuck it out until it stopped hurtin'. Herschel looks like he don't even know what to say to that.
What this all means is he can't safely give my blood to my Dad.
He says if his blood and the new blood mixes together and they ain't the right ones, it turns into poison.
But my Dad needs blood.
His body can't replace it quickly enough on its own to keep him alive.
Herschel sighs and tells us about something called a universal blood type. It's magical blood that anyone can have injected into them.
They've been using Glenn's blood up until now, but he's given too much. He'll become sick if he gives any more.
Shane speaks up for the very first time when Hershel suggests a trip to a nearby veterinarian college that might store this type of blood, but he only does it after Otis, the man who's very sorry, offers to go first. Herschel makes sure Shane knows this is very dangerous, and might get them both killed, but he still doesn't change his mind. He just says somethin' about saving my Dad no matter the cost, and then the decision is final.
"I'll see ya later, Harley." He tells me as he hugs me goodbye at the door, a giant, empty rucksack over his shoulder. "Be good."
I pull back, wiping my eyes, which have never fully dried since arriving here.
I feel a strong urge to ask him why he agreed to this, seein' as he hates my Dad's guts, but I restrain myself.
"I will." I nod.
"Good girl." He ruffles my hair as he stands.
"Don't die, please."
He smirks. "Don't worry a thing about it."
"Here's a map and the list of things you'll need to find." Herschel hands him a small pile of papers. "Respirator, forceps, et cetera. I need it all."
"You got it." Shane mutters.
Otis tells me he's gonna make this right, but I don't even care. If he dies on this trip, I'll feel nothing.
Shane hugs Rick, and Otis hugs Herschel, and then they leave in Maggie's green car together, driving off into the trees.
"Noble man, that Shane." Comments Herschel.
"Sure is." Rick clears his throat, uncomfortable. "Always... Always has been."
I turn back into the house without saying anything.
"Ouch."
"You're doing good, Harley. Just a few more and then it'll be all over."
I squeeze my eyes closed, waiting for Herschel to finish up the last of my new stitches. He put a dollop of numbing cream on the area beforehand, but the tube was basically empty, so it's doin' a whole lotta nothing. Stings like a son of a bitch, Uncle Merle would say.
I think I might be breaking Glenn's hand with how hard I'm squeezing it, but he ain't complaining.
"And there we go." I groan as Herschel drops the needle onto a metal tray, peeling off his gloves. Ugh. It's over, finally. "You should keep them as dry as possible for the first forty-eight hours, and then after that we should change the dressing every three to four days. You might feel some itching, but that's a healthy sign — Try not to touch them. It should be completely healed in two weeks; maybe one. You did well, Harley."
"Very well." Rick agrees.
Hershel chuckles as he sticks a plaster over the wound. "What'd you say you had in there, again? Fishing line?"
"Our friend T-Dog's got stitches with it, too." I say. "He's back at the highway with the others."
"Well, I'll have to take a look at him when he gets here as well."
He picks up the tray and takes it into the kitchen.
Rick says, "I think he'd appreciate that."
"And you, son? How are you feeling? Any dizziness?"
Glenn shakes his head. "Just feel kinda tired."
"That'll pass. Keep drinking plenty of water."
I ask, "Is it gonna hurt as bad when you take the stitches back out again?"
Herschel turns the faucet on, rinsing off his hands.
"Well," He sighs, "That depends on whether or not your group is going to still be here next week."
"Daddy." Maggie warns.
"I can't lie to these people, Maggie." He tells her.
I frown. "We can't leave. My Dad, he needs help."
"I know," He says, "I'm going to do everything I can for him, but this is all temporary — Like a stay in a hospital. It can't be forever."
I've never been to a hospital, so I don't know how they work, but I sure wish I did so I'd be able to argue that he actually should let us stay.
"We're very grateful, either way." Rick interjects. "Can't say enough how you've saved our hides, doin' this."
Maggie changes the subject.
"In the meantime, you're very welcome to help yourself to anythin' you need," She smiles, finishing up as she makes cheese sandwiches for everybody. She cuts them into triangles and comes around to the table, setting a plate in front each of us. "Probably starvin', aren't you?"
"Very." Glenn answers enthusiastically. "Thank you."
"Thank you." Rick nods.
"Thank you."
"Wow. How polite are you guys?" She laughs, sitting down. "Thought you might'a lost your manners spendin' that much time on the road."
"There's definitely nothin' polite out there." Rick scoffs. "Nothin' polite at all."
"How long have you been out there?" Hershel asks.
"Since the very beginning, pretty much. Found us an abandoned quarry for the first few weeks, but that didn't work out. We had to leave."
"Mustn't have been easy."
"No. Nothing is, nowadays." He takes a bite. "Wow, this is good."
"Cheese is homemade." Maggie proudly says. "We get lots of milk from the cows and churnin' it's easy enough. Gives ya muscles, too."
She flexes her arm, trying to make me laugh.
I force a smile so she don't feel bad.
Picking at the corner of my sandwich, which I'd usually be very excited about seein' as it's got real cheese and butter in it, I think of my Dad. Back when all the doctors of the world were still alive, things might've been easier, but all we have left now is the remnants of old procedures, leftover supplies in veterinarian colleges, and stuffy old bedrooms instead of hospital rooms. I ain't even sure his chances would be any good back then, let alone now. If we have to celebrate over cheese, then I don't even wanna think about respirators and forceps and whatever else my Dad needs.
Rick notices that I'm not eating. Being a parent, it's his natural instinct to pester me about it. "You're not hungry, Harley?"
I shake my head and lie, "No."
"I can make you somethin' else, if you'd like." Maggie offers sweetly. "We got an orchard out back. You like peaches?"
"No, thank you." I mutter.
"Here, you want some of mine?" Glenn asks me, holding out half his sandwich. "It's got lettuce in it."
Overwhelmed, I struggle to tell him no.
"Glenn, what kid likes lettuce?" Rick mutters.
"I don't know."
Cheese drops all over the table.
He cusses to himself.
"Maybe I should just get you some juice." Maggie awkwardly suggests. "We have apple?"
"Can I get a paper towel over here?" Glenn cringes, clumsily smearing butter and cheese everywhere. "Please?"
This is too much for me. There are too many people saying too many things, and I can't decide which to listen to. My Dad, he's the one I always listen to, but he's not here right now. It's a sour reminder that makes me feel even worse about everything. I've never been on my own, before.
"Oh, uh, sure." Maggie says, about to stand. "Let me just—"
I beat her to it. My chair scrapes noisily against the floor and I leave my sandwich on the table as I storm out of the room.
I make it down the hall, and I slam my Dad's door closed behind me. Already, I feel better; calmer. It's quiet in here, and slightly dim thanks to the sheer curtains hanging from the bay window. I crawl onto the bed, snuggling up to my Dad's side like a tired cat, and I close my eyes. I listen to the sound of his breathing, and the mooing and clucking outside. It smells like mothballs and blood in here, but I don't mind. It's just me and my Dad.
I don't realize I've fallen asleep until somebody opens the door a few hours later, leaving two pills, water, and a bowl of peaches on the dresser.
I think Dad would tell me to get that shit in yer belly 'fore you keel over, so I tip-toe across the room and stick the pills in my mouth, down the glass of water, and then bring the fruit back to the bed. I nibble on the slices of peach, licking up the sugary, pink juice that coats my fingers.
I don't believe in any God, but I hope that if he's out there, he knows how much I love my Daddy, so he can save him for me.
I doze off again beside my dying Dad.
"So, do we ring the bell? I mean, it looks like people live here, don't it?"
Later in the afternoon, I wake slowly to the sound of T-Dog and Jacqui's voices out on the porch.
"We're kinda past this stuff, aren't we?" She sasses him.
"Just 'cause the world's gone to shit, doesn't mean we gotta."
"Fine. Just ring it, then."
"You ring it."
"What? Why me?"
"I got a sore arm."
"I think you're capable of ringing a bell, T-Dog."
"I might have blood poisoning, lady. You wanna make a chronic patient risk his life to ring a bell for you?"
"Oh my God. You're so dramatic sometimes."
"I'on care. Might be some crazy axe-murderin' dudes livin' here. You do it."
"I ain't gettin' axed. You get axed."
"Nuh-uh. You do it."
I hear the front door open suddenly.
"Can I help you?" Maggie deadpans.
T-Dog and Jacqui make noises of surprise.
"Hello," Jacqui chuckles awkwardly. "We met earlier on the highway. I'm Jacqui Daniels. This is T-Dog."
"Hi," He says.
Maggie hums. "You're the one with the fishing-line sutures, aren't you?"
"Uh, yeah. It's not a bite, though." T-Dog clarifies. "I just cut myself pretty bad."
"We'll have it looked at."
"And we got some pain killers, here." Jacqui adds. I hear her shaking the bottle. "If Harley or Daryl need any."
"I already gave her some." Maggie says, "But thank you. Come on inside and I'll make you somethin' to eat. You like cheese sandwiches?"
"Boy, do I." T-Dog answers.
"We got some more people coming. They're hangin' back right now but they'll be here by tomorrow."
Maggie replies, "You'll have to talk to my Dad about that."
The door closes, and they move down the hall and into the living room. They talk for some time, about where Shane and Otis went, and why I've locked myself in this room; how I got new stitches but I should be alright in about a week. T-Dog asks to see me, but Rick advises him against it, 'cause he says I'm a little sensitive right now. Hell yeah, I'm sensitive. They got half a mind to leave me alone forever at this rate.
When they start talking about Dad's surgery, I hold my breath to listen better.
"They don't get back soon," Herschel says, "We're gonna have a decision to make."
"And that is?" Rick asks.
"Whether or not we operate on your man without the respirator."
Instinctually, I put my hand over my Dad's chest, as if they're gonna barge in and do it right now.
"You said that wouldn't work."
"I know. It's extremely unlikely, but we can't wait much longer."
Extremely unlikely.
Oh, God.
I don't wanna listen anymore.
I cover my ears with the pillow and close my eyes.
The next time I wake up, it's night-time.
Glenn stands in the doorway, a stack of blankets in one hand and a brass candle holder in the other, which I think makes him look a little bit like someone from the eighteen hundreds. The tiny orange light flickers over his surprised face, bouncing softly off the walls, the floor, the roof.
"Sorry," He whispers. "Didn't mean to wake you up. Doors are creaky in this place."
I don't like havin' anyone in here, 'cause even though it's not my room or even my house, I feel like it's mine and Dad's space and no-one else's.
But Glenn feels like he belongs here. I'm fine with him being in the room, and Dad would be, too.
I sit up, sleepily rubbing my eyes.
"What's the time?"
He steps inside and carefully sets the candle down on the dresser.
"Like, eleven, I think. Everyone's gone to bed. Maggie told me to give you these," He says, "In case you were cold."
I thank him quietly as he hands me the blankets, helping fit them over both me and my Dad. One of them is the blue blanket with the fish and sharks printed on it, and hidden amongst the fuzzy bundle is Matilda, in all her wild-haired glory. I pick her up. Maggie wouldn't know where to get these things. Jacqui and T-Dog must've brought them when they drove down, thinking of me. That makes me smile for the first time today.
In the dim light, I notice her dress no longer has any of my blood on it. It's back to clean, green gingham.
"Her dress is clean."
He smiles lightly. "I asked Maggie to clean it for you."
Aw. Maggie's real nice. I feel awful for not eating the sandwich she made me today.
"She did a good job. You can't even tell it was dirty."
"It's vinegar and bath salts." He says, before joking, "Don't tell her I told you that. Apparently, it's like, classified family information."
I promise, "I won't."
"Good. She's scary when she's mad."
"What? When's she ever been mad since we got here?" I laugh. "What'd you do?"
He shrugs, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
"I may or may not have accidentally said her great-grandfather looks like a bald George Washington."
"Wh—?"
"It was a really old photo, alright? How was I supposed to know she'd get offended?"
I roll my eyes. "Glenn, you're an idiot sometimes."
"So I've heard."
The conversation gently tapers to an end, and Glenn is happy to sit with me in the silence that follows, listening as an owl huh-hoots outside in the night. The candle-light morphs across my Dad's peaceful face in strange, fire-colored shapes, contouring his features with harsh blacks and greys; highlighting his bruised eye. Violence always seems to find its way to my Dad, like waves find their way to shore. Shane's out there right now, probably spilling blood and fighting for his life to save my Dad's. I hope violence can put him back together the same way it broke him.
Please, I'd tell Shane if I could, Please, you reckless moron, get back here before it's too late.
"He's gonna pull through." Glenn says, then. He sounds like he's sure of it. "Your Dad's tough."
I know he is. But so was my Uncle Merle, who was one of the toughest men I knew, and he died, too.
"I'm just worried." I whisper, staring at my Dad's face.
Glenn doesn't answer for a while, but then he tells me, "You know, the morning after we found out you weren't infected... Your Dad told me that every day he wakes up, he does it for you." I feel my eyes start to tear up at the memory. "He said you were the most important thing he has."
Harley's my only girl, I remember he said.
I'm all he's got.
But he's my only Dad.
He's all I got, too.
I wonder what might've happened if he never got shot; if he got the chance to sing me to sleep that night, like he promised. I wonder if he'd tell me loves me — If he's sorry for everything; sorry for confusing me so much.
I'd forgive him in a heartbeat.
I know Shane wouldn't want me to — He would want me to stick up for myself — but I just wouldn't be able to help it. I'd forgive him.
Even if he wants to beat me for the rest of my life, I'd let him, as long as he's alive to do it.
When it comes to my Dad, I'm like a puppy weaned off poison. I've learnt to live with its taste. I need it to survive.
"I was awake, you know." I randomly muse.
"Hm?" Glenn tilts his head.
"That morning." I meet his gaze. "On the RV. I was awake the whole time."
He raises a brow. "You were?"
"Yeah."
"I had no idea."
"I know you didn't." I chuckle. "You idiot."
"Woah. I'm just getting it from all sides tonight, aren't I?" He smiles, shaking his head. "It's pretty late, you know. I should let you sleep."
"Okay." I say, pulling the covers up to my chin. "Thanks, Glenn."
"For what?"
"Giving your blood to my Dad. I don't... I don't think he'd be okay without it."
"It was nothing. He's saved my life plenty of times, so I'm just paying him back."
He stands up.
"Okay. Night, Harley."
"Night, Glenn."
He blows the candle out in one breath, and the room goes dark.
Once the door clicks shut, I belatedly mumble, "Night, Dad."
I fall asleep to the sound of his shallow breaths.
"Harley, get up."
It's the middle of the night when Glenn shakes me awake. Car lights blind me as they move across the window. I hear people running upstairs, downstairs, outside; shouting things. I can hardly keep track of anything as I blearily make sense of the room, sitting up with Glenn's help. I try to ask him what's going on, but before I can, I get kicked in the leg by something under the blankets. I gasp, turning to look at my Dad. Glenn tugs on my arm, urging me out of the bed. Without even thinking, I let him pull me out, and I stumble backward toward the door.
I watch in horror as my Dad convulses on the bed, stiff like a board, but moving in all directions.
"What's wrong with him?" I breathe, and there's a moment where I think he's turned; that he's a walker, and I'm petrified at the sight of him.
Rick bursts through the door. "What's going on?"
"I think he's having a seizure." Glenn answers, breathless. "I don't know. I don't know."
"Dad?"
"Get her outta here." Rick points outside, already moving toward the bed. "Shane's back, anyway. It's time for the surgery."
Glenn forces me out the room and into the foyer, where Herschel, in his striped pyjamas, pulls on a pair of medical gloves. He looks sleepy but determined, ready to perform an emergency surgery in his farmhouse, with only the help of his family and a couple strangers.
"Beth, go get some towels." He orders. "Maggie, go turn the generator on. We need light. You over there, is your name Jacqui?"
More people flood into the foyer, only adding to the chaos.
"Yes, sir."
"You helped stitch up your people, didn't you?"
"Yes, sir, my sister was a nurse."
"Good. I'll need your help in there. Jimmy, help me carry this stuff inside, will you?"
"W— What do I do?" Glenn asks.
Hershel looks him up and down and answers, "Stay out of the way," before making a bee-line outside.
It's just too crowded in the house.
I follow Herschel outside, into the light of the high-beams.
"Shane?" I call out.
He slams the car door shut, both his and Otis' backpacks slung over his shoulders.
"Where's Otis?" Herschel asks. "What happened?"
He just shakes his head with a dazed expression on his face.
"They kept blocking us at every turn." He stresses, "We w-were down to ten rounds, and I couldn't— I couldn't—"
When he sees me running up to him, he crouches. He catches me as I tackle him in a hug. Tonight is so awful. It's the worst night of my life. I need somebody to hold me like my Dad would, and I know Shane will. He hugs me back tight. His clothes fill my nose with the stink of blood and flesh. This might be the worst night of his life, too, with the way he's trembling; the way his eyes are open, but he's not really seeing anything.
"Then he said he'd cover me and I should keep running," Shane continues, not even sure who he's speaking to. "So that's what I did, I— I ran."
Otis is dead, then. Dead and gone.
"I looked back and— But I— And—"
"We don't tell Patricia." Herschel says to the boy. "Not until after. I need her."
They're going to do the surgery now. They're gonna cut my Dad open and dig around for the bullet in his belly. I cry and slobber onto Shane's shoulder, moaning about how I don't want my Dad to die, and he shushes me softly; tells me everything's gonna be alright. He repeats it over and over, like he needs convincing, too. I don't know what happened to him out there, but he's real shaken up about it. It's driven him to talk nonsense.
"It's gonna be alright, Harley." He mutters, breathing shakily. "It's alright. I did it. We're alright."
"What did you do?" I hiccup, confused.
All he does is continue mumbling, I did it, I did it, I did it.
I pull back, getting a look at him through my teary eyes.
"What'd you do?"
"We're alright."
"Shane, we need the bags." Herschel demands. "We need those supplies, right now."
He shrugs both bags off his shoulders, which land softly in the grass — A little too softly.
I realize, right alongside Herschel and the boy, that they're completely empty.
He gapes. "You didn't get the supplies?"
I push off of Shane and fall to my knees. I rip open the rucksack. I rip open the backpack. Empty, empty, empty.
"What?" I shriek, searching more frantically by the second. "No. No, no, no."
"I'm sorry." He mutters. "I'm sorry, I— I just— I couldn't."
"No, no, no, no!"
Dad's chances of survival without the respirator are extremely unlikely. That's next to nothing. That's zero. That's death. Herschel and the boy cut their losses and turn back into the house, and all I'm left with is two empty bags and a broken heart. I wail on the top of my lungs, hearing the words extremely unlikely, extremely unlikely, over and over again in my head. All this, and they didn't even get the supplies.
"Harley, come here." Shane's voice cracks as he says this, reaching for me again. "Come here, sweetheart."
I collapse into him, sobbing, sobbing, sobbing.
"He's gonna die, Shane. Oh, he's gonna die."
"I'm sorry." He murmurs. "I'm sorry, Harley."
"He can't die." I moan, choking on air. "I need him, Shane. I need him. I c— I can't. I need him."
"Hey, hey, no. You got me." He grabs my face; thumbs the tears from my hot, red cheeks. "You got me, remember?"
"He's gonna die-e-e-e."
"Hey, stop."
He wraps me up in a hug, rocking me side to side.
"You got me."
I'm too upset to notice that he's not even trying to convince me that I'm wrong. He doesn't oppose what's happening; doesn't dread it. It's almost like he's embracing it; like this was meant to happen. The possibility of my Dad's death rolls off his shoulders like water. The only reason he's coddling me is because he knows I'm hurting. I know he won't care if Dad dies, but I can't afford to be offended. I can't afford to be alone right now.
My Dad's all I got, but if he dies, then I have nothing.
"You got me." Shane coos. "It's okay."
You got me.
Maybe I won't have nothing.
Despite everything that's happened tonight, I take solace in at least that.
I have Shane.
The next morning, I go into the orchard with Maggie to pick peaches for breakfast.
I didn't sleep at all last night. When she woke up to go to the bathroom, she saw me sitting upright on the sofa, wide awake, and offered to take me outside to try take my mind off things. After she lent me one of her little sister's cardigans to wear, she handed me a wicker basket to collect the peaches in and led me around the side of the old house. A thin mist rises up from the earth, glowing faintly as the sun blushes behind it all.
"I'm sorry ya couldn't sleep last night." Maggie says, trailing the path beside me.
"It's okay. It ain't your fault."
I wasn't allowed to sleep in Dad's room last night. That's why I had so much trouble getting to sleep. I was so paranoid about not bein' able to hear his breathing that between biting my nails and crying my eyes out, I just couldn't relax. Rick and Herschel said it's best I sleep in the living room with everyone else until my Dad wakes up. I ain't stupid. I know it's 'cause he could turn into a walker at any moment, now.
"Me and my sister used to listen to music to help us get to sleep, but since things went South, we've had to make do without. Some nights, I just toss and turn for hours. I'd kill to get my Mp3 player back."
Even though my eyebags are heavy and my back aches, I smile.
"I used to have an Mp3 player, too."
"Really?" She exclaims. "What color?"
"Pink."
"Oh, lucky. We only ever had white ones. Beth used to think they were borin', so she put stickers all over 'em."
I never really had expensive things like that. The only reason I had an Mp3 player was 'cause Merle stole it for me off a lady on the bus.
"What kinda music did you like listenin' to?" Maggie asks.
"Uh. What my Dad liked, I guess. Sometimes it was good, but most the time it was just people screamin'."
She laughs. "Yeah, he seems the type to listen to that stuff."
"How you mean?"
"The tattoos. The flannel shirt. The edgy rings."
I chuckle. You know what, I guess he is.
"He used to have even more rings." I tell Maggie. "He had a whole bunch. They had snakes and skulls and stuff on 'em. He had knuckle dusters, too, but he didn't wear 'em, really. But my Uncle Merle sold most my Dad's stuff one day, and now he only has a few left."
"Why'd he do that?"
I shrug. "Dad went to prison for a while. We needed money."
Maggie stops in her tracks. "Wow. Your Dad went to prison?"
"Uh-huh. Arrendale State Prison."
"What for?"
I don't think I should answer that, 'cause the answer's, he murdered someone. People here might not like him so much if they know he killed someone before it was necessary to survive. Everybody back home used to know all about how Daryl Dixon clobbered Ronnie Fletcher to death, and it was a bit of a glorious tale for a while, but nobody treated him any different. If anythin', they were just a little more scared of him than they already were. He used to get free drinks because of all the rumours. Daryl killed a good-for-nothin' pedo, was the whispered headline. I got no idea what that last word means, but apparently it's good if you kill 'em. I heard nobody but Ronnie's Momma went to his funeral that year.
Maggie senses that I won't elaborate, so she asks a different question. "Did you miss him when he was gone?"
I pluck a low-hanging peach, setting it in my basket. "Yeah... I cried just about every day."
"That must've been hard." She smiles a little sadly.
We continue down the aisle of spindly, green trees together.
"Made for a good story, in the end, at least." Maggie throws a peach to me, and I manage to catch it. "Dad goin' to prison? That's pretty badass. I bet no kids messed with you in school after that, huh?"
I giggle. "No, I guess not."
There was this one boy, Issac, who used to pull on my ponytail in class. Dad told me to kick him in the nuts next time he did it, and I did, and he never bothered me again. It was also common knowledge that if you look at a Dixon the wrong way, they'll either mess you up or snap your neck.
I tell her all of this, and she scoffs.
"My Daddy used to just tell us girls to pray for 'em."
"Did it work?"
"Some things you can't just pray away." She sighs. "Like little boys in fifth grade who poured glitter paint down your trainin' bra."
"What!" I scrunch up my nose. "That's way worse than pony-tail pullin'."
She nods. "Mm-hmm. I think I'm still washing out that glitter to this day, you know."
"Boys are stupid."
"You got that right."
We fill our baskets a little more before heading back. She asks if I want to stop by the chicken coop and see the new hatchlings, and I of course say yes right away. She opens the little door for me, and I duck inside, overwhelmed by all the chirping and clucking and cute little faces looking up at me. Maggie tells me to sit down, because she's going to show me a trick. I take a seat in the pokey straw and watch as she sits beside me.
"Watch this." She wiggles her brows, biting a chunk off a peach. She spits it out and places it on her hand, then lifts her arm in the air.
The closest chicken, whose got a very fancy red and white mow-hawk of sorts, squats and wiggles its butt.
"What's it doin'?" I whisper.
"Shh." Maggie hushes. "Don't wanna ruin her groove."
She makes little kissy noises at the chicken. It tilts its head curiously. Then it jumps in a flurry of wings and feathers onto Maggie's forearm.
It perches there, pecking at the fruit.
"Woah," I exclaim. "She jumped so high!"
"Sure did." Maggie chuckles, lowering her arm to let me pet the chicken. "When I was little, I used to try gettin' 'em to jump through hoops."
"Like a chicken circus." I giggle.
"Yeah." She smiles. "Can't say it ever worked out, though. These are strictly egg-layin' hens only."
"Eggs are my favorite."
"You wanna add 'em to the menu this morning?"
Excited, I nod. "Can we have 'em scrambled?"
"We can have 'em however you like."
"Definitely scrambled."
"Scrambled it is, then."
We take a couple speckled brown eggs from the nests and put them in with our fresh peaches.
When we make it back to the house, I realize that Maggie's plan worked. A whole half hour passed, and I wasn't anxious for one minute of it.
"Is that eggs?"
T-Dog comes into the kitchen a while later, obviously lured in here by his nose. Maggie's pancake, egg, and peach breakfast smells like heaven mixed with sugar and syrup, and I can't hardly stop myself from just gobblin' it all down right now.
"Pasture-raised." Maggie confirms happily. "Thought y'all could do with a bit of a pick-me-up after yesterday."
"Mornin', Harley." He smiles before sitting at the bench. "As long as it's no trouble."
"Trouble?" Maggie scoffs. "No. Ain't no trouble. We're up to our eyeballs in eggs this time of year. Trust me, you're doin' us a favor by eatin' 'em."
"If you say so." T-Dog shrugs.
"How's your arm?" I ask him. "Maggie's Dad sew you up, too?"
"Yeah. Gave me some actual antibiotics to go along with it." He sighs, relived. "See? Told you we'd pull through."
"Uh, I remember Dale sayin' that."
"Pssh. Dale, Shmale."
"Whatever." I roll my eyes. "Just be glad he ain't here to say I told you so."
As the smell of breakfast slowly fills the house, everybody starts filing into the kitchen — Rick, looking as tired as I do. Beth, already filled with enough energy to out-power the sun. Herschel, dressed in his smart suspenders, with a kiss on the cheek for both his daughters. The teenage boy, Jimmy, and Patricia, who definitely got the terrible news broken to her last night about Otis' death, judging by her gloomy mood.
Jacqui stays behind in Dad's room. There has to be an adult in there at all times to keep an eye on him.
And finally, Shane. He comes in last. The first thing I notice about him is that he ain't got no hair anymore. It's gone. Like, buzzed, gone.
"Morning, y'all." He mutters, slinking off to the table, alone.
"Interesting new haircut." Patricia snobs as she sips some apple juice.
"Why'd he go and do that for?" T-Dog chuckles. "He startin' a rap career we don't know about?"
"Leave him be." Rick says wearily. "He had a rough time yesterday."
"Did he tell you what happened?" Herschel asks.
He shakes his head. "Somethin' tells me it's best not to ask, neither. Let's just wait for him to tell us in his own time."
All the Greenes try not to make it too obvious that they're eyeing Shane, but the rest of us know by now to ignore him, so that's what we do. I think I'm not the only one who's itching for a story, though. It makes no sense that he not only returned alone with a dead man's backpack, but he returned completely empty-handed, too. Two bags'a nothing. That whole campus, and he didn't even bring back a band aid?
Maggie and Beth scramble the last of the eggs and hand everybody a plate.
We all waste no time digging in.
"Damn." T-Dog groans. "You got a golden goose out there? 'Cause these are the best damn eggs I ever ate."
Everybody murmurs a similar sentiment as they bite down the spongey pancakes and salted eggs.
This meal is the best thing to happen to us since the fish fry.
I save some eggs for my Dad, 'cause scrambled are his favorite. It's why I chose 'em. I like to think he'll wake up soon enough to eat 'em.
But we've still got a long road ahead of us.
Author's Note.
I LOVE THE FARM. The vibes are just, ugh!! Perfect!
Welcome to the chapter where Shane starts to go off the rails. We've been rooting for him so far as opposed to Daryl, but things are just gonna keep getting greyer and greyer from here on out. Redemption arc here we come. Also... a bit of a who-dunnit thing going on. I think it's pretty obvious, but the timeline's a bit confusing, so maybe not. Besides, Otis seemed pretty guilty 🤷♀️
Please share your thoughts below on this chapter! I always love reading your comments. It brightens my day every single time. As always, thanks for reading! Sending love! <3
#the walking dead#twd fanfiction#twd#daryl dixon twd#daryl dixon daughter#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon#daddy issues#rick grimes#shane walsh#fanfic#ao3 fanfic#angst#reader
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Taylor Swift Songs that Would Describe Relationships with the Murder Husbands (Part 2) - Hannibal Preference (NBC's Hannibal)
Title: Taylor Swift Songs that Would Describe Relationships with the Murder Husbands (Part 2)
Characters: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter
Word Count: 2,401 words
Warning(s): (Will's) death, (Hannibal's) death, mention of sex
Author's Note: This isn't really connected to the other one. It's just more ideas I had. Stories are not in chronological order.
Dudes. I used a scene from season 3 for this.
-------------------------------
Will Graham:
Hey Stephen
Can't help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain so
Come feel this magic I've been feeling since I met you
Can't help it if there's no one else
Mmm, I can't help myself
I carefully walked around the people walking out of the lecture hall. Will was standing at his desk, putting away files as he got ready to leave.
"How was the lecture," I asked.
He didn't seem shocked to see me. I had made a pattern of visiting him after he teaches. I used it as a friendly visit. A way to see the person that had so quickly become one of the most important parts of my life. He seemed to be comfortable with this, even if he was unaware of the true reason for my visits.
"Fine," he nodded. "Not very outstanding."
"The audience must've been very focused."
"Or I was sending them to sleep."
I chuckled. "I doubt that's true. You're one of the most interesting people I know."
"I wouldn't believe you," Will said. "But you have a pattern of walking into the room and all but guiding the lights to you."
I was stunned by the statement. "Are you calling me an attention-seeker?"
"Attractor," he corrected.
"Why is that," I asked, stepping forward. "What has formed that view of me?"
He didn't respond. He let a small grin cross his lips. Like he knew that he made a mistake. Stepped into a trap.
"Will," I said, stepping around the desk and going to stand in front of him. "Answer my question."
"Because that's the effect you've had on me. Every time you've walked into the same room as me. I've allowed you to take my attention. All I could do was notice it. I couldn't stop it or explain it; just recognize it was happening."
"I don't think you're telling me the whole truth."
"And what am I leaving out," he asked.
"You can explain it," I replied.
"Not truly," he corrected. "All I have is an idea."
"Will," I mumbled.
"Yes?"
"As much as I love this little back and forth that we've stumbled into, I would prefer it if you actually made a move."
Will blinked at me a few times, almost caught off-guard that I would suggest it. I chuckled and leaned forward, pecking his lips lightly. He didn't move much, more stunned than anything.
He didn't move much until I leaned away. He then leaned forward and kissed me again. His hands gripped my sides like he was scared that I'd run from him. I touched his upper arms, grinning into the kiss.
He pulled away slowly, carefully loosening his hold on me. "I'm sorry."
I leaned over and pecked his cheek. "I'm not."
seven
Love you to the moon and to Saturn
Passed down like folk songs
The love lasts so long
--Third Person--
It had all gone so wrong.
The plan had been to get Hannibal arrested for all his crimes. All within the walls of his house.
Jack and Will hadn't been planning for anyone else to be there. (Y/n) knew they shouldn't have gone. Alana shouldn't have been there. No one even knew that Abigail was there.
The events of the night seemed to blur in Will's mind as he frantically held his arm over his own wound and crawled over to (Y/n). (Y/n) was hyperventilating, also trying to hold their own wound. They were both covered in blood. Their own, each other's, and Abigail's.
Will's free hand pushed on (Y/n)'s arm that was resting on the wound.
"I love you," (Y/n) said softly. They had fallen into a state of acceptance. Will had not.
All the pair could do was wait for help to get to them. Neither one of them would get far if they tried to leave. All they could do was try to hold on.
(Y/n)'s eyes fluttered shut for a moment.
"(Y/n), no," Will shook them lightly to get them to look at him. "Just hold on."
They nodded at him. "Do you remember that feeling that you'd get when using a swing?"
"What," he asked.
"That freedom," they continued. "For just a moment, you were flying."
Will furrowed his eyebrows, wanting to understand.
"You gave me that feeling," (Y/n)'s voice was quieter now, clearly weaker than they had been. They were losing hope. But they were okay with that. They reached up and cupped Will's face. "Thank you."
"No, no, no," Will pressed down harder. "Stay. Please. Don't leave me."
"I don't want to... I love you so much, Will," a sob broke through (Y/n)'s lips. Said so softly. Never wanting the words to be thrown recklessly, instead being spoken as if made of glass. "Just say it back. Please."
"I love you too," he replied, leaning his forehead on their's.
"Remember me as I was, not as I currently am. I don't want to haunt you."
Will just nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to their lips, "I'll never forget you."
(Y/n) didn't know if that comforted them or scared them. Will's commitment could be the end of him, but they knew it was the same way they would be. Holding onto every memory no matter what.
Will knew that he would always see them as his safe place. Even when they were gone, he would see them as beautiful as ever. He'd hold onto that feeling of being loved.
That's all he could do anyway.
Daylight
I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you
I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you
I've been sleeping so long in a twenty-year dark night
And now I see daylight, I only see daylight
Will had never been the most affectionate.
He was more closed off. Hesitant. It had taken a long time to work through the awkward phase between us. Slow progress, but it was progress.
I didn't really mind. What he did was enough for me. I tried to make sure that he always knew that.
One night, I was curled up in one of Will's chairs, reading a book as I pet one of the dogs with my free hand. Will had told me that I could head over without him because he needed to talk to Jack about something.
Will walked in a little while later. He froze by the door for a few moments, focusing on me. I grinned at him, closing my book so I could greet him.
He walked over, getting to me before I could move. He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. His hand cupped the back of my head, keeping me from pulling away as he kissed me. Not that I would've.
He slowly pulled away. I smiled up at him.
"I love you," he mumbled like he was scared of anyone other than me hearing him. Like the words were too fragile to be said any louder.
Maybe they had been. It was the first time he had said the words to me. Out loud, at least.
"You are the brightest thing in my life," he continued before I could respond to him. "You have willingly followed me through the darkest parts of myself only to guide me back. And you've done it all without even realizing."
"Will," I muttered before he could continue his speech. "I love you too."
It was true. Those three words felt fragile as I said them.
And as I leaned up to kiss him again, I committed to never letting them break.
Hannibal Lecter:
False God
But we might just get away with it
Religion's in your lips
Even if it's a false god
We'd still worship
Running away with Hannibal was probably the most shocking thing that I had ever done. It didn't take much for him to convince me to go with him. I already loved him, getting to be with him wasn't a difficult decision.
I was relaxing into the warm bath that Hannibal had drawn while I had been changing. Hannibal was sitting behind me. He wasn't in the bath. He was just sitting on the floor behind me, running his hands through my hair and along my shoulders.
"Hannibal," I mumbled, almost scared of destroying the warm, relaxed atmosphere that had formed.
He hummed to show he was listening.
"Why did you bring me with you," I asked. "You could've easily left on your own. Run for the hills. But you came back and got me. Why?"
"Because, darling, you are the center of my world," he explained. It sounded like he was explaining something so obvious. Something that I should've already known. "The only thing I would protect with my life. The one person that I would kill for and die for. You are my perfect being. My angel."
I felt my face warming up as I bit back a grin, "I didn't take you as one to see perfection."
"Perfection has millions of different definitions," he continued, leaning forward to kiss my cheek. "All varying from person to person. For me, you are that definition."
His lips brushed my skin. He stopped to lay a kiss just beneath my ear. I tilted my head away from him, allowing the length of my neck to be exposed.
"I would worship you before I worshipped any God," he muttered into my neck.
My eyes fluttered shut, mind turning foggy as he continued pressing kisses to the skin. One of my hands reached up to touch his hair.
My small grin turned into a smirk as I spoke up, "Prove it."
Wildest Dreams
You'll see me in hindsight
Tangled up with you all night
Burnin' it down
Someday, when you leave me
I bet these memories
Follow you around
--Third Person--
After getting arrested, Hannibal had grown used to falling into a part of his mind. Disconnecting from the world around him in exchange for digging through memories.
His cell had become littered with drawings and sketches. From mere portraits to whole memories unfolding on the paper. (Y/n) in all versions. All versions that reminded Hannibal of what had made them perfect to him.
He didn't have many options beyond that. He had no hopes of seeing his love again.
Not because they had been arrested. No. Hannibal had a belief that knowing they were in prison would have been much worse. More painful to have something just out of reach than to have something gone forever.
No.
Mason Verger got to (Y/n) long before the F.B.I had the chance.
(Y/n) had been shoved to the ground in front of Hannibal's cage. They looked at him, refusing to let the tears fall as they forced a grin onto their lips. Never a sign of weakness. Always strong. Their hair was messy, eyes tired, bruises and cuts forming.
"Please. Don't let this be how you remember me," (Y/n) begged. "Remember me fondly."
"No other way," he promised.
"I love you, Hannibal."
"I love you too, my dear."
Mason had a man grab (Y/n) and slice their throat in front of him. Hannibal refused to let him see more than a glare in his direction.
He never got the chance to die for his love. But he could live for them. He could fulfill their final wishes. Remember them fondly. That's when the sketches came into play.
"They were a good person," Alana spoke up, watching the man draw.
"The love of my life," he replied. No reason to hide the fact. No one could use a dead person against them.
"I know."
Hannibal grinned at her, "Mason Verger may have taken them, but I will never allow control over my memory of them."
Alana nodded. This was the most vulnerable Hannibal had been since being arrested. She knew how tightly he had held onto (Y/n). It almost seemed like a natural progression for him to hold onto their memory just as tightly.
"I will protect my angel in death as I should've protected them in life."
Everything Has Changed
All I know is you held the door
You'll be mine and I'll be yours
All I know since yesterday
Is everything has changed
Meeting Hannibal had been a complete accident.
We both happened to be at the same event. I guess we both had caught each other's eyes. We were glancing at each other from opposite sides of the room.
He had been the one to make the first move.
He walked over slowly, politely nodding at everyone that had looked at him. When he made his way over to me, I felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest.
"Hello," he greeted before holding out his hand. "Hannibal."
"(Y/n)," I said as I shook his hand. "Pleasure to meet you."
"And you."
We spent the rest of the night talking. We ignored the room around us. Instead of joining silly, formal conversations about boring topics, we discussed art and writing. I had tried to persuade him to read one of my favorite stories, which I had hoped was effective.
Hannibal's presence was almost distracting, maybe verging on intoxicating. In a matter of moments, he had become the center of my attention. I had focused purely on him instead of anything else at the event.
When it was finally time to leave for the evening, Hannibal walked me out of the venue. We stopped just outside of the venue, neither one of us wanting to leave the conversation. We had been completely trapped in our own little world.
"I've had a great time tonight," I said, finally accepting that the evening had drawn to a close.
"As have I," he nodded. "I hope to see you again."
That made my smile grow a little bit more, "So do I."
I was about to leave for the evening. I had started walking away but stopped before I had gotten too far. I asked Hannibal for a phone number. He seemed shocked for a moment but nodded as he held his hand out for my phone.
As I walked away, awkwardly moving my phone from one hand to the other, I felt something in my stomach. It was like a sign. A sign that things were going to change. That everything was going to be different.
And I was okay with that.
-------------------------------
Author's Note: I feel like the "Wildest Dreams" one was a bit of stretch, but I really liked it.
-------------------------------
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#hannibal preference#hannibal x reader#hannibal imagine#hannibal fanfiction#fanfiction#imagine#x reader#hannibal lecter preference#hannibal lecter fanfiction#hannibal lecter imagine#hannibal lecter x reader#will graham x reader#will graham fanfiction#will graham imagine#will graham preference
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Would you mind sharing your top 5 favorite Tim getting knocked up scenarios?
ABSOLUTELY !!!!!!!!!!😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍
forced pregnancy- either on tim or both their behalf. either mind control, magic, some kind of fuck or die scenario. with unwilling pregnancy i really like scenarios like 'how to breed better livestock' where ra's is using old magic to make it impossible for tim to get rid of the fetus. or maybe tim's held captive and can't use any way to prevent a child from being carried to full term. but with magic i love the idea of a ritual taking place where tim absolutely needs to get pregnant in order for it to happen. or a somnophilia kind of thing where tim gets impregnated without his knowledge and it's not until he's showing that he figures it out and by that point it's too late. just tim getting pregnant and having to carry the child.
'i didn't know i was pregnant'- okay but lowkey i loved this show as a kid. (that and monsters inside me and deadly women were my bread and butter). actually timpreg on twitter brought it up in their tweets and it's all i've been thinking about. like tim's uterus is maybe just a bit further up in his body and his baby is just born small. and tim is fond of weird food combinations and if he's a little moodier sometimes that's fine? he gets stressed? tim's not menstrating? well lots of vigilantes don't menstruate, amenorrhoea is surprisingly common among them and lots of elite athletes. so tim's just going about life as normal and then one day he just feels...off. there's this odd ache in his gut and a pulsing pain in his lower back but that happens somtimes. odd body aches come with the job description. but hours later and tim is seriously thinking of skipping patrol because...there's just something wrong. he can feel it and he doesn't know what it is. his heart is beating so fast and then there's a strange shift inside him, a pressure. bruce goes up to tim's room because he hasn't come down to get ready for patrol and everyone else is waiting only to stumble across the sight of tim's bed drenched with amniotic fluid, blood, and a crying baby cradled to tim's chest.
surrogacy. i love the idea of tim being pretty, like very very pretty. he's also incredibly intelligent and talented, he has his awkward moments but on the whole people do like talking and interacting with him. so in high socitey, i'd think (which is backed up by it's frequency given how many celebrities do it) there'd be not a small amount of wealthy couples and even single women/men who offer tim substantial amounts of money to be their surrogate. i tweeted about this before here and i still very much am in love with the idea!!! i think tim would be more open to so long as it's not his egg being used but that's alright because couples and women usually want to use their own men and single men already have an egg donor they just want tim to carry the baby because he's such a cute package to wrap around their gift. and who knows? maybe some of those looks and smarts will leak into their kid. and honestly tim's not particularly interested but is the guy who pretended he couldn't walk for more about a year and went to fake physical therapy. if he needed to do something drastic to keep his cover he'd definitly accept someone's offer. he'd be getting paid, someone would attend to his every need, the kid wouldn't be his so it's not like he'd be in charge of raising it. what tim wouldn't be expecting is just how much his family likes seeing how sweet and rounded with a child.
secret child. tim not wanting his child endangered because so many enemies know his identity and they could use his child as leverage. it's likely an accidental pregnancy so no one knows or suspects and tim has always been good at lying. so good he even lies to the rest of his family because they...they've let him down before. not believed him on something he desperately needed them to, betrayed him, lied to him, tried to kill him. there's not a single person who hasn't fucked tim over or helped in fucking him over- not even alfred. bruce even released his identity to stephanie, something she immediatly weaponized against him when she hired people to ruin his life. tim can't trust them to not...ruin this. he can't trust them not to ruin this for him, discourage him from this, or try to take this over (bruce is controlling, he'd try to speak over and stamp out any and all of tim's parenting decisions). so when tim gets pregnant he just...tells people he's going undercover and has his baby in peace under a fake name in a hospital. tim knows he can't hide it forever but he's already been so distant from the family. tim can't retire, can't just hide away forever because he's seen how well that works he knows that if someone really wants to find him they will. so he goes back to work, and he acts like everything is fine. he requests to be able to work from home and aside from some jabs that he's becoming even more of a hermit they leave him alone. they leave him in peace. no one has any idea. no one ever asks him where he goes, no one inquires about his life or if he has anything going on in his personal life, and no one comes over to his house. it's not until tim is horribly injured as a civilian and hospitalized. he's in a coma, this might be when they're hit with the realization that he really might not pull through, and bruce is in the chair beside tim's bed, fists clenching and agitated and stressed as the rest of the family paces or sits silently. when a social services worker walks in and they're confused because tim is no longer a child? he's over the age of 18? and they're like no we know we're not here about him, we're here about mr. drake's child who has no appointed guardian and may enter the foster system if one is not found for him. and they're just....silent. and they're introduced not to a baby, not to a little child, but to a fully 5 year old articulate child that looks so much like tim.
virgin mary situation- i find the idea of tim being a pregnant virgin absolutely hysterical. like maybe he had a creepy enemy who saw tim passed out and happened to have a cup and pipette on hand. or even better, tim has a break with reality while bruce is disappeared and impregnates himself with some sperm bruce had on ice and people are horrified to learn he's pregnant with bruce's child and bruce just...stays gone because tim is too pregnant to go looking for him and ra's never succeeds on his own. so bruce's legacy is just he was a good mentor, a good friend, and apparently he fucked his son but we don't talk about that. or maybe tim has a brush with a god who takes a liking to his quick wit and abilities and is like 'ur cute, i will reward you with my spawn' only they don't fuck him they just knock him up by rubbing his flat little tummy. just pregnant timmy sitting there all knocked up knowing they're the consequences of sex he never even got to have. the jokes would never end.
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Whumptober day 12: What Could Go Wrong?
Fandom: Young Justice
Prompts;
Mayday mayday
Cave in
Rusty Nail Alt #5: Ambushed
Alright, I've only watched two seasons, the ending messed me up and that was back when we didnt really know if we were getting a season 3. So, this is timeline adjacent obviously. 😬 and super short but my brain is barely working ya feel?
Going on missions-real missions- still sent a thrill of excitement through the team, though some hid it better than others. There was just such a difference from the lives they led before, to what they get to do now. Even if they were a little rocky as a team at the start, now it was hard to imagine fighting by anyone else.
Wally loved fighting by his Uncles side, dont get him wrong, but this team, his friends, he couldnt imagine going back. He couldnt imagine a world where he wasnt fighting side by side with these people. Well... he could, but he didnt like to think about that world.
Hes only half listening to the conversation taking place, he'd read through the mission report a million times, and listened to the first speal Kaldur had given, he knew the plan. Wally supposed its a good thing in the long run (ha), as he looks out from the BioShips view screen and reacts faster than anyone else can. He has everyone in their seats and buckled before they can blink, calling out a warning just as he makes it back to his own seat. The impact jars everyone, Wally is thrown, he hopes the others are okay.
...
"Im losing control! We're going down!"
"Mayday Mayday! This is Young Justice calling for back up and Medical! We are going down!"
"Guns, everything down! Whatd they hit us with!?"
"I dont know, I didnt see, Wally- wheres Wally!?"
"Brace for Impact!"
...
Robin really doesnt know how he keeps surviving things like this. Though hes beginning to think it has something to do with Wally or genetic modification. Hed have to do tests when he got home, but Wally is a common variable about these situations so...
Wally.
He wasn't answering. He wasnt in his seat. He got out of his seat to move everyone else... where...
Where was Wally? Where was everyone? Where was he?
Forcing his eyes open seems to alert his body, as he feels like one giant bruise covered by another bruise. A cloud of dirt is still settling, and his throat is scratchy with it as he coughs. The fact hes no longer in the bioship is concerning to say the least, and as he forces himself to sit up his gut sinks further.
The bioship has reverted to its sphere form and looks worse for wear to his human eyes. He coughs again, clutching his ribs as he scans his surroundings. It takes him a moment too long to realize he's using nightvision mode on his mask, to see the rocks surrounding him in all directions, to realize their crash must have caused a cave in.
A groan interupts his oncoming panic, allowing him to mentally smack himself, as his eyes find two bodies he hadnt seen. Kaldur is slowly sitting up, and M'gann is twitching beside him. Robin forces himself to his feet, stumbles his way over to them and falls to his knees to check them over, and only to check them over its so not because he couldnt stand.
"Robin? What...where are we?" Kaldur coughs and Robin is sure this dust is killing his lungs.
"A cave in. We were ambushed, they hit the Bioship with something."
Mgann is slowly coming too, but having been connected to the BioShip probably took a toll on her. Robin scans the room again, trying to find his other three friends. Kaldurs arms light up enough to cast a soft glow, they cant rely on it, but it does help Robin spot something new. Horror dawns on his face hes sure, as he once again stumbles to his feet and rushes across the space.
Where the entrance caved, arm and some of his torso pinned, is Wally. A small pool of blood has formed below him, shiny in Kaldurs light, and Robin has to force the tremble from his hands. He presses two fingers to Wallys throat, finds a pulse far slower than a speedsters should be, but a sign of life nonetheless.
"Is he..?"
"Alive, but pinned and... he wasnt in his seat when we were hit, he needs medical."
"The puddle isnt growing very fast, I assume the rocks are putting pressure on his wounds. To move him could be fatal, however if the pile shifts..."
"He'd be crushed. Could lose his arm or... worse." Robin finishes. "I have some first aid supplies, we should get him out. Hopefully our distress signal went out..."
"I can help, keep the pile steady while you guys get him out." M'ganns voice has a strain to it, but shes standing on her own and determination shines in her eyes.
Robin steeles himself, carefully grabbing hold of Wally as Kaldur grips the large chunk of mountain, Mgann raises her hands, and as one they move. As soon as the rock is up, Robin pulls Wally out of the way. They all hold their breath as Kaldur drops his rock and Mgann keeps the trembling wall steady.
While they need a way out, theyre still missing two team mates and that wall could kill them all if it falls wrong. There focus right now is keeping Wally alive until a new plan can form. So Robin makes quick work of cleaning- as best he can- and binding the bleeding wounds on his best friend. There isnt much he can do about his broken ribs, just glad they arent puncturing anything, hes in rough shape and thats just from what Robin can see. They work together to get to the side of the cave, Mgann tells them the Biship is unresponsive, and that Konner and Artemis arent answering yet.
They hold onto the yet. Because they will answer eventually.
Everyone else is out of range. But she keeps a look out for familiar minds. They just have to wait for now.
...
Wally hurts all over. He hasn't hurt like this in a while, wonders idily what he did to anger...
No that... that wasnt right.
He was... on a... Mission!
With... not Uncle Barry... not Uncle Hal...
Was it a callaboration with the Bats? Or Speedy?
No he doesnt go by Speedy any more.
Oh!
He was on a mission with the team!
And they were ambushed in the sky, they got hit by something and... oh gods, he needed to check on the team! There was a cave in, they could be hurt!
A groan escapes the gingers lips, as his body refuses to comply with his need to get up.
"Dont move Wally, youre hurt!" M'ganns worried voice reaches his ears and rings inside his head, though he doesnt know which one he actually gets.
"We've got you Walls." Robins voice comes from above him, his pillow then.
"Just rest my friend." And Kaldur, alright so theyre all more or less okay good...
He still peels his eyes open, met with mostly darkness and darker dark blobs, his friends he assumes. His mouth feels and tastes like a desert, but he forces his vocal cords to work,
"Cave in... pushed Arty... and Kon..."
"Of course you did. You've been quite the hero today Wally. Im sure rescue will be here soon, you did good."
"You...all ok?"
"Yeah, little banged up, but we'll be fine bud."
If they dont die from lack of everything. Great, this would be quite the way to die.
"We'll get out of here Wally, dont worry." M'gann is gentle as she take his hand, the one not tingling on the edge of numbness.
He gives it a light squeeze and silence falls again. Hes almost dozed off again when Mgann gasps, and her voice fills their heads.
"Artemis, Konner! Are you guys okay?"
"I think we're in one piece. You guys? Baywatch pushed us out of the way, is he.."
"Im here Arty."
"And we're fine my friends. Do you perhaps have an escape on your side?"
"No, looks like our crash and whoever our unexpected company was, sealed us in."
"The league should be able to see the disturbance in the mountain though." Konner adds.
"Alright, I guess we're back to hanging tight."
...
Light flashes behind closed eyelids.
Fingers twitch as raspy barely there breaths fill the once silence.
Rocks moving, Dust billowing, voices echoing around them with no desernable words.
Warmth to numb limbs, water to dry lips, air to shriveled lungs. Pressure to weeping wounds.
Hands in hands, refusing to let go.
Safe.
#whumptober2022#no.12#altpromptno.5#cave in#mayday mayday#Young Justice#fic#blood#injuries#dwindling oxygen#briefly implied child abuse#children in danger#angst#wally whump#wally west angst#bamf wally west
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